Sri Ramakrishna Math : The Vedanta Kesari, May 2003

So, for every work, there must be a motivation. But this motivation should be such that it doesn't bring negative reactions and conflicts later. It should be such that it gradually takes the man, stage by stage, towards satiety or satisfaction, toward that experience which is abiding peace or joy. The religious schools have claimed that only in the realization of our real nature, or in popular language, realization of God, can man have this experience. Why? The Vedantists explain it this way: the ultimate truth of things, the ultimate reality of things is the Spirit, which they describe as Brahman, the Ultimate Reality, the Absolute. And what is the nature of that Absolute? It is also called Sat Chit Ananda: It is of the nature of eternal existence (sat), eternal consciousness (chit), and eternal bliss (ânanda). Bliss absolute. So only when you have reached that stage are you presented with a condition from which there will be no fall. Many of the theistic schools of India, which accept a personal God, began their search, not with the idea of finding truth unless it was identified with God. That is a speciality among seekers in the Vedantic schools. Their stress was on happiness. 'We want to enjoy.' That is the natural urge for man. But is there any happiness which will not bring a negative reaction? Is any such happiness possible? In their analysis they found out that if a person is to enjoy, he cannot enjoy alone. He shall have to enjoy with a hundred other people. That will be real enjoyment, even though a man must make personal sacrifices. From this, stage by stage, they concluded that all worldly experiences, and all the joys that are produced by these experiences, cannot be abiding, cannot be permanent. These are all sectional, temporary, limited. We must go to God to get the fullest amount of joy. The theistic schools define Brahman as unlimited joy--ânanda, or bliss. They accept the personal God; God is of the nature of bliss. And as one goes nearer to Him, one attains more peace and joy. It is an intense type of joy, which will not know any lessening of experience. Even the idea of heaven falls short of this ideal. It is an ideal that gives man a goal to strive for.

So value, or meaning, is given to man in different stages of his life. An average man's meaning comes from the acquisition of the wherewithal of life. A little higher come aesthetic and other experiences; a little higher come moral qualifications; a little higher comes work done for the sake of society. Then a stage comes when he finds that even these are not enough. Something deeper is necessary. The idea of meaningfulness of life comes in this way through the understanding of the enduring nature of man, which is the Spirit. And as man bases his ideal on this enduring nature, the value or goal he acquires is also enduring in nature. That is the Vedantic position. The Hindu thinkers believe that the need for the final purpose--which comes with the realization of the infinite nature of things--will continue from life to life, until man has achieved it. When man reaches the infinite, then only his joy becomes infinite. His mind is completely satiated, and he doesn't search for anything more. This is the sign of santosha, or satiety. And all religions in some form or other, in some language or other, try to project this idea.

If a man sacrifices his immediate joys for a nobler idea, it is not that he does not suffer; he suffers physically, and possibly mentally also. But still in his heart of hearts he knows that this is the right thing to do. For the sake of a higher conviction, a man may give up many of his normal pleasures, and normal securities--the covetable goals of the average man. This is one way of giving a sort of meaningfulness to our lives. This again, a little accentuated, can be carried to the extent of basing man's ideal on the permanent nature of things. Vedanta analyzed and concluded that the body lasts only for a hundred years; so you cannot be the body. The mind is constantly changing; you cannot be the mind. But at the same time there must be something abiding, something permanent within you. You are the Spirit. So all your hopes, all your aspirations, all you valuations, should ultimately centre upon the ideal of your real nature. Now, as soon as man has accepted that value, every experience in life will be judged from that goal. Everything will acquire a valuation from that standpoint. A self-sacrificing man who works for the sake of society judges his joys and suffering by the success of his project, not with his immediate imbibing of certain advantages. Similarly, a man who has accepted the highest ideal judges all experiences of life with the idea of getting joy out of them, because of the unerring ideal before him. So this is the idea: valuation changes. In ordinary life it also happens that valuation changes.

There is a story of a disciple of SriChaitanya, the great prophet of Bengal. Sri Chaitanya had a disciple called Sanatana who was all the time engaged in spiritual pursuits, reciting the name of God while quietly sitting on the bank of the Jamuna river. A man came to him. In India the belief is there that if you go to a holy man, you get not merely spiritual things, you may get even worldly things, if the holy man blesses you. So the man went to Sanatana and said, 'Sir, you are a very holy man, and I am a very poor man, starving, suffering. I have got wife and children. Can't you do something for me?' Of course, Sanatana was a great saint, and he did not care for all these things. But he said, 'All right, I need not bless you for that. I have got a more tangible, physical thing for you. There is a diamond--somebody presented me with a diamond. What shall I do with a diamond? I am a monk. So I have left it there, on the bank of the river, covered with sand, under that tree. Go and see!' Immediately the man rushed there and found that there really was a diamond, a big diamond, which would bring him several hundred thousand rupees. Immediately he grabbed it, and even without thanking Sanatana he ran, fearing that the saint might change his mind. But after some time the man came back, pondering, thinking. He went to Sanatana and said, 'Sir, when I got the diamond I was so anxious to have it, and I thought about all the covetable things of life I could get with the help of this money, for which, all these years, I was pining. But once I got it I became curious to know, what is it that makes you so satisfied, so satiated, that you don't want it? As I see, you have no house. You have not enough food, you just live on whatever chance may bring. What is that which you have achieved, by achieving which you don't care for all this wealth of life?' At this the question is raised: How strong is your urge? Go and enjoy for some time, and when the urge becomes strong, then come back. Because you can't have both at the same time, fully. Partially you can have both, but not fully. But the man threw away the diamond, and said, 'I want that. That is a greater thing. Why should I be cheated by a smaller thing?' So this is one idea: of searching for the highest happiness and stage by stage transcending the limited happiness.

The same goal is sought by what is called renunciation -- seeing the defective side of things. A normal man also sees defects, but he doesn't know that something higher, something deeper is there. In an oft-quoted series of verses, King Bhartrihari points out the defects of things: in enjoyment there is the fear of disease; in wealth there is the fear of thieves; in a big family there is the fear of death. If we become very famous and well respected, there is the fear of losing that respect, losing that prestige. In this way he goes on analyzing and analyzing, and he says that even in knowledge there is fear of rivals. So everything, ultimately, is fraught with fear. What can bring fearlessness in man? He concludes by saying that in this world, real fearlessness comes only through renunciation, or dispassion. If you don't want a thing, even if it is lost it doesn't matter.

Even in ordinary life this understanding can occur. A story of an extreme case is told about Rabindranath Tagore, the famous poet of Bengal. Tagore's father was a great leader of the Brahmo Samaj and a very religious man. Rabindranath was coming from the Himalayas, back to Calcutta, and in the train, his purse was stolen. And he writes that for about an hour or so he felt a biting sensation. He was not helpless, he had his ticket, but a biting sensation of being cheated, and a feeling of loss--all of these came to him. After some time, suddenly a thought arose. He was a very rich man. 'If, instead of this man stealing away the thing, I had voluntarily given it to him, then I would not repent so much.' And immediately his mind changed, and he began to think that he had given the purse to the man, freely, as it were. So the same amount of money had been lost, but immediately he began to feel better. And he said that he was able to sleep, also. The two days' journey became pleasant. As soon as the idea of possession was given up, there was no feeling of being let down, no uncomfortable feeling.

In ordinary life, also, we know that if we can give up our hold over a certain thing, the idea of possessiveness in certain situations, then it is a source of joy for us. The fear goes. In Upanishadic language, fearlessness has been identified with God. Fearlessness is the condition which man seeks. Happiness is another name for fearlessness. Happiness is that condition where you don't have the idea of suffering, and fearlessness indirectly, negatively, gives that idea. So the ideal is abhayam, fearlessness. This is another angle from which to look at things, not by having actual possession and getting the happiness, but by giving up the desire for that possession. There may be a hundred diamonds in the shops; if you are not interested in diamonds, what does it matter whether they are there or not? If you don't want a thing, then you can't lose it. You are completely at peace. Peacelessness comes when you want a certain thing, and at the same time are not able to get it. Then only restlessness, peacelessness, comes. So this is the renunciate's method of approaching the same ideal--not through the satisfaction of desires and getting happiness, but by withdrawing the mind from the idea of possession. If some experience comes, the renunciate enjoys it, but not with the idea of holding it. The moment the desire to possess a thing comes, it, as it were, tries to get out of your clutches. As Swami Vivekananda says, nature compels you to give up. But when you give up by compulsion, when you give up with a groan, you complain, and then you give up. If you voluntarily give up, then, of course there is no feeling of suffering. Compare the situations of a beggar and a monk. A beggar has no money. A monk has no money. But the beggar is all the time pining and complaining, whereas the monk is quite satisfied, because he has voluntarily accepted that position. It is a chosen profession for him, you can say. This voluntariness takes away the sting of the experience of the lack of some of the amenities. The monk has given them up for an ideal.

These, then, are the two methods that take man toward that higher goal of life, that higher valuation, which gives meaning to his every action. First, that of the man who searches for joy, who searches for happiness, and stage by stage goes to God, who is full of happiness--a happiness that doesn't know any defects. The other, that of analyzing the experiences in life, seeing that every experience in life is fraught with fear of its defects, and trying to give up the desire. Even if the final goal is farther off, the moment a man gives up the idea of acquisition, the idea of fulfilling his desire--because he knows that desire is fraught with evil--immediately he experiences satiety and peace, at least in regard to that particular thing. So these are the two ways of approaching the same situation, two ways of looking at the same thing.

Every work that we do in life has to be shaped according to this ideal, according to this final value that gives real meaning to life. A valuation comes because of an ideal. On the basis of the ideal you formulate a pattern of your life. You formulate your duties, your activities, your dos and don'ts. Other meanings of life are there, but they are temporary. After every ten or twenty years, you will have to change that meaning they acquired at the age of twenty or twenty-five, and find life uncomfortable. The average man's consideration of immediate joy is not the consideration of the man who is a little evolved. His joy is the ultimate joy, or a little advanced type of joy, even if the means involve a little suffering. I often give an example from ordinary life: to exercise is painful. What is exercise? Giving pain to the body. But because through that exercise you will have much better health--and joy and happiness later, you undergo that pain. So this pain is not really a pain, but a means to joy. That which brings you joy in the process in some sense is joy. Or, in ordinary language you can say it is the price you must pay. It ceases to be a type of suffering. And when an ideal is presented before us--an ideal of liberation, salvation, of knowing one's real nature as the Spirit--the sacrifices that we make on the way give us sustenance, and one type of joy, in not succumbing to the attractions of the moment. Wherever our impulses try to draw us, we try to withdraw ourselves, and we try to pursue our goal. It is a joy to follow the duty that we have prescribed for ourselves, on the basis of our goal. If a student wants to pass with a good score in an exam, he works out a system. The attractions of the moment are many--this match, that match, this play, that play--varieties of things are there, impulses are there. But he controls himself, and tries to reach the goal, with the idea that when he reaches the goal, he will have the maximum amount of joy. So in normal life, meanings will have to be changed every decade, but this acceptance of a final goal of life, of the ultimate nature of things, provides a value which guides man in every walk of life.

All the experiences that life gives us are useful. Every experience is pushing us forward, but if we go forward with conscious understanding, and if we lead our lives with an ideal, then we shall find that neither the little joys and sufferings, nor the little experiences of pleasure and pain will deflect us from realization, or at least from progressing towards that highest goal, the highest value, by which life acquires permanent enduring meaning, and for which we are on this earth.