The True Desire for Liberation and the Renunciation of the Illusory Ego

Commentary on the Yoga Vasistha, Chapter 6, “The Story of Kacha”

Vasistha said:

Like Sikhidhvaja, Kacha also attained enlightenment. Long ago, while still young, he sought liberation from this world. He approached his father Brihaspati and asked, “You know everything. Tell me, how can one be freed from this cage known as the wheel of life, or samsara?”

The first of the important qualities that Shankara mentions among the qualities of a yogin is viveka, that is, the ability to discern, to distinguish the true from the false. The second is dispassion, detachment (vairagya). The third comprises the six sattvic qualities: tranquility of mind (shama), control over the body and sense organs (dama), patience (titiksha), steadfastness (samadhana), withdrawal (uparati), and faith (shraddha). And finally, the fourth is an ardent longing for liberation (mumuksha).

The Right Desire for Liberation

One must strive for liberation and desire it, but this must be done properly. There are two extremes. The first extreme is when a person falls into eternalism and strives for liberation in the same way that they strove for something in worldly life. In worldly life, people have a great many desires. If they directed the full potential of their desires toward liberation, the entire earth would already have become a pure land overflowing with rishis and siddhas. In worldly life, people strive very intensely for various things, for example: to become rich, gain power, reunite with a loved one, succeed in the arts and receive the title of People’s Artist, become a fashion model, become a prominent politician, attain a high-status position, or, at the very least, stage a revolution, and so on—all these are different worldly desires that people have and fulfill. That is, if a person has above-average potential, their desires are very strong, as is their capacity to achieve their fulfillment—the potential of intention, will, and leadership. Such people already possess, at the very least, the qualities of vira-bhava.

When we embark on the path of liberation, we must, as it were, compress all our desires into one and transform them into a single desire—the desire for liberation (mumuksha). Many people, when reading texts on Advaita Vedanta, believe that even the very desire for liberation is an obstacle because, supposedly, it comes “from the ego” and must be discarded. They read the words of various jnanis about this and think, “Perhaps I should discard this desire for liberation.” As a result, their subtle samskaras remain; that is, desire is still present, because desire cannot simply be discarded so easily, while the new desire that could serve as an alternative and oppose the old ones has not yet become strong, or has been “discarded” altogether. Therefore, such a person often fails on the spiritual path.

Under no circumstances should the desire for liberation be discarded prematurely. One should not think that the desire for liberation is an obstacle on the spiritual path. This is the superficial position of facile Neo-Advaita. Of course, one should cultivate the desire for liberation. Until you become a great seeker of liberation, you cannot move further. If there is no desire for liberation capable of nullifying all other desires, you will never overcome your old petty desires, because the desire for liberation will have been discarded while the former primitive desires remain. They are still with us; they prevent us from concentrating and gathering ourselves together. A lack of determination, an inability to practice, an inability to undergo retreats, an inability to sacrifice everything for the sake of liberation—all these are manifestations of an insufficient desire for liberation.

On the path of jnana, a person says, “I want to attain liberation, but I cannot because my circumstances are such and such.” I tell such a person, “No, you do not want to attain liberation. You are deceiving yourself. You are lying to yourself. How is it possible that you want it, yet some circumstances prevent you?! Revolutionaries wanted a revolution, and they were prepared to do anything. They were prepared to go into exile in Siberia, to be imprisoned, and so on. They truly strove to realize their desire.” I do not approve of their conduct, but I respect them for their loyalty to their ideals. Someone wants to become a millionaire and subordinates their entire life to their career, starting as an ordinary clerk and ultimately achieving what they wanted.

Likewise, when we declare that we wish to attain liberation, we must be prepared to stake everything we have on that desire. Otherwise, we will not be able to fulfill it. Otherwise, a person will think: “Of course, I wish to attain liberation, but summer is my gardening season, and the work cannot wait—I need to tend the vegetable garden.” But that is impossible! If you have a genuine desire, it is total and all-consuming.

For example, if a person wishes to become an Olympic champion, they subject their life to a strict routine, entrust themselves to a coach, and buy the finest sports equipment. They practically live at the stadium. In other words, they are totally devoted to their desire, and then they achieve success.

The secret to fulfilling any desire is simple: you must subordinate your life to the achievement of your goal; you must be prepared to pursue it persistently and continuously for years, even while enduring hardship and overcoming difficulties, doing everything necessary to achieve it. This is precisely how the ancient rishis, siddhas, and yogis practiced the Dharma, and this is how those who are genuinely pursuing liberation practice today. But you can practice in this way only if the power of your desire is great and genuine. Then this desire will not weaken after two years or dissipate; you will not fail when you encounter obstacles or when various situations expose the hidden karmas of your ego—and this is bound to happen. On the contrary, you will think: “Everything only makes me stronger.” After all, none of that is so important if your desire for liberation is strong, is it? Such a yogi is like a warrior who thinks along these lines: “Whatever does not kill me makes me stronger.” They are able to turn everything to the advantage of their goal. They are not overly concerned about difficulties, setbacks, or problems—all of these merely strengthen and temper their spirit, because their desire for liberation is much stronger.

How to Acquire a Genuine Desire for Liberation

But how can one acquire such a desire? One must believe in it very strongly. Faith is the key. At the same time, one should understand that the desire for liberation is a special desire, unlike all others. Indeed, it cannot be desired in an eternalistic, worldly manner. If we desire it in a worldly way, we envision some rosy goal; we are driven by greed, hope, and fear, and all of this is truly selfish—we seek to attain liberation as though it were some coveted fruit. But the desire for liberation is too subtle, and it must be nurtured skillfully, because if it is nurtured ineptly, such a desire for liberation may also become a form of selfishness, serious “horns” on the spiritual path. Here, it is more appropriate to speak of how to overcome this.

One might say that what matters is not so much the desire for liberation as the desire for God. For if I desire liberation, it is something personal, something “mine.” It turns out that I myself run into the very thing I wish to be rid of. It is still a somewhat selfish formulation. The desire for God (the Absolute), however, does not imply selfishness. This desire is such that, if necessary, I will even renounce my own liberation for the sake of realizing God. Paradoxically, this is the direct and highest path to liberation.

Thus, a strong and proper desire for liberation is an indispensable prerequisite for success. Sooner or later, a certain balance of goals and priorities emerges in our consciousness and destiny. And we begin to understand: “Here is the desire for liberation, and here are other desires.” They are like objects on a scale: sometimes one desire weighs more, and sometimes another does. We must carefully observe which desire outweighs the others at any given moment. Sometimes there is the ego’s desire for self-gratification; there are desires for comfort, security, social status, influence over others, power, and primitive sensual pleasures; desire in the form of intellectual curiosity; and the desire for self-expression: “Look at me! See what I am like! I am not like everyone else!”—all of these are different desires as well. Sometimes there are desires for adventure, astral experiences, and siddhis—they can be mistaken for liberation. Sometimes there are desires for the higher heavenly worlds, such as Indra’s heavens. A person thinks: “For now, it is completely unclear what liberation is or when it will come, but the higher heavenly worlds are perfectly understandable.” Yet if they have no steadfast sankalpa of self-liberation, they settle for that and rest on their laurels.

There are a great many such diverse desires. And it is extremely important to single out among them the true, right desire for liberation. It is quite easy to distinguish it from worldly desires, coarse sensual pleasures, and the ego’s obvious impulses and maneuvers when you see where the ego is trying to maneuver, where it is trying to assert itself, display its glory, or become attached to something. These maneuvers are primitive to subtle awareness, and a contemplative yogi sometimes even finds it amusing to observe himself from the outside because he sees all of it himself. A true yogi has an observer who sees all these maneuvers, so he laughs at them and thinks, “Go on, then, go on...” And he does not follow them but puts a stop to them.

One teacher had a monk-disciple who served him and received some delicious yogurt as an offering for a ritual. The teacher asked him to bring it. Since the disciple was very hungry, he thought, “I’ll keep this delicious yogurt for myself and give the old yogurt to the communal feast.” But then he noticed this completely involuntary play of his mind, felt disgusted by it, and did the opposite: he drank the old yogurt and gave the fresh yogurt to everyone. While everyone else was eating it, he did not. Then he was asked:

— Why aren’t you eating such delicious yogurt?

And he replied:

— My mind has already had its fill.

In other words, a yogi engaged in contemplation mercilessly and dispassionately sees all the impulses and maneuvers of his ego. Energies and samskaras still exist on the subtle level, but because his mind is faster and clearer than the movements of the ego, he notices all of this immediately. And he instantly frees his consciousness from it; he does not follow it but simply chuckles inwardly and thinks, “All right, go ahead, my mind, try to fool me.” And the mind, thus put to shame, immediately falls silent and returns to its ground. Such a yogi’s actions are always pure because all of this plays out very quickly and is recognized within a fraction of a second. And it can certainly be overcome if you are an attentive practitioner. But it is much more difficult to overcome subtle experiences that seem to be connected with liberation: astral visions, experiences of subtle-material worlds, astral travel, visions of gods and spirits, and supernatural powers. And here, the desire for liberation is no longer a particular goal but pure presence.

The Desire for Liberation as Self-Sufficiency

It is important to understand correctly what the “desire for liberation” means. At first, for us, the desire for liberation is a declaration. We assert a certain goal but do not fully understand what it is. Yet gradually, the desire for liberation takes shape within us as a desire to be self-sufficient. Liberation is self-sufficiency. We free ourselves from external objects, from being completely bound by them, from the sense organs, from our mind, from the ego, from everything coarse, and from astral experiences. By isolating the subtle part within ourselves, we learn to be self-sufficient solely through this subtle part, when we depend neither on our social circle, nor on external material conditions, nor on external elements, nor even on the body and the elements of the body, nor on astral images and visions—when we become free from all of this. The passionate desire for liberation ceases to be some eternalist concept, as though we desired it in the same way as something worldly and strove toward it. It becomes an inner aspiration for awareness, an inward, boundless devotion to this self-sufficient awareness. And to be so devoted to this self-sufficient awareness, one must truly desire it very strongly.

To desire liberation means to desire to be aware and contemplative every second. Every second, the senses entice us, and external objects tempt us to lose this state, to leave it, and to identify with something. These objects act in two ways: from within and through residual impressions, mental traces (samskaras). And in order to free our mind from them, we must truly desire to abide in awareness, and this desire must not take the form of some egotistical whim—that is something entirely different. An egotistical whim is something childish and frivolous, when we demand something external or strive to attain something external. The desire for liberation is an aspiration toward the Source of self-sufficient awareness every second; it is absolute devotion—or the desire for it—to the inner Source of awareness every second, as this desire grows into faith, sheds its egotistical form, and simply becomes the “breath of the soul,” directed toward awareness, opening oneself to Anugraha, and surrendering to the Absolute. Thus, by gradually nurturing the desire for liberation from the external to the internal, we truly cultivate this very powerful desire.

To desire liberation does not mean dreaming: “Oh, when will I finally enter a very long retreat? When will I perform the greatest ascetic practice—or observe the strictest mauna?” Such a desire is not mature. This does not mean that one should not undertake retreats. Of course, one should. But the true desire for liberation is not a longing for external forms or manifestations of one thing or another; it is absolute, all-consuming devotion and the desire to be aware of this devotion to the supreme Source, the desire to abide in this devotion through contemplation and self-surrender. And over the years, this desire must not weaken; on the contrary, it must only grow stronger.

There is a saying: “A beginner in practice is so unattached that he is ready to renounce even his last garment. But an experienced practitioner, seeing even an old piece of leather on the road, will think, ‘Oh, I could sell this for a profit.’” In other words, some say that in the course of spiritual practice, a person may lose this aspiration for liberation. Their old karmas still overpower them, gain the upper hand, and may produce undesirable shoots (anarthas). But a true yogin does not lose his desire for liberation in the course of spiritual practice; he only develops and strengthens it. That is, over the years it grows stronger and becomes a form of expression of faith (shraddha). And it manifests not only as an unwavering aspiration to remain aware and contemplate, but also in the external manifestation of everything that needs to be manifested.

Whatever such a person may be engaged in—whether immersed in service or activity, or practicing in retreat—their highest desire does not weaken. And such a desire inevitably grows into one-pointed absorption in the natural state, into total devotion to this natural state to the point of self-forgetfulness.

On the relative level, this manifests as high standards for oneself, self-discipline, guru yoga, pure vision, humility, continuous self-liberation, and unwavering, one-pointed abiding in natural contemplation. When such qualities manifest, this truly indicates that a person desires liberation.

External Renunciation and Its Limitations

Brihaspati said:

“Liberation from this cage of life is possible only through complete self-renunciation, my son!”

Vasishtha continued:

Hearing this, Kasa went to live in the forest, giving up all the comforts of life. This did not affect Brihaspati in any way. The wise remain unaffected by meetings and partings. After eight years of solitude and an ascetic life, Kasa met his father again and asked, “Father, for eight years I have lived the life of an ascetic, renouncing everything. Why have I still not attained the state of supreme bliss?”

Brihaspati simply repeated his former words, “Renounce everything,” and left.

Renunciation is an indispensable condition for liberation. At first, Kasa understood renunciation in an external sense and, after eight years of ascetic practice and solitude, had still attained no realization, because he conceived of renunciation as something external. And when he came to his guru, the guru told him, “You must renounce everything.” Kasa was perplexed: what else was there to renounce? And the guru told him, “You must renounce the ego.”

Kacha even threw away the piece of bark with which he had covered his body and continued living in the forest for another three years. He came to his father again and, after greeting him, said, “Father, I have given up even my staff, my clothes, and everything else, yet I still have not realized my true Self!”

Brihaspati said, “By ‘everything’ is meant only the mind, for the mind is everything. Renouncing the mind means renouncing everything.” Having said this, Brihaspati disappeared from sight. Kacha looked within himself, trying to find the mind and renounce it. But no matter how diligently he searched, he could not find anything he could call the mind! Unable to find the mind, he began to reflect, “Physical substances such as the body cannot be considered the mind. Why, then, am I needlessly punishing this innocent body? I must return to my father and ask him where this terrible enemy known as the mind is to be found. Once I know that, I will renounce it.”

Having resolved thus, Kacha found his father and asked, “Tell me what the mind is, and I will renounce it.”

The True Nature of Renouncing the Mind

True renunciation is the renunciation of identification with the mind. It is not, however, the renunciation of the mind or mental activity as such. For example, there is a man sitting in a car who, in his foolishness, has imagined that he is not a man but a car. His friend, wishing to help him and save him from this delusion, says, “You can become a human being, but to do so you must renounce the car; you must get out of it and leave it behind.” When the man leaves the car and sees his human nature, he realizes that the issue was not the car but his mind, which had identified itself with the car.

To renounce the mind, one must first find it, because all acts of renunciation will be performed at this level. The act of renouncing the mind (atma-nivedana, prapatti) cannot be carried out on any other plane. That is, if you renounce only on the external level, it will not help. Genuine renunciation begins only when, through diligent and zealous self-inquiry, you discover the mind as the source of bondage.

“Brihaspati replied:

“Those who know the mind say that it is your ‘I.’ The sense of self-importance within you is your mind.”

Kacha exclaimed, “But that is difficult, if not impossible!”

Brihaspati replied, “On the contrary, it is easier than crushing a flower in the palm of your hand or closing your eyes! That which appears because of ignorance vanishes at the dawn of knowledge. In truth, there is no ego—no sense of self-importance. It appears to exist only because of ignorance and delusion. Where is this sense of ego? How did it arise? What is it? In all beings there is always only one pure consciousness! Therefore, the sense of ego, of self-importance, is merely a word. Renounce it, my son; renounce your own psychological self-limitation. You have no boundaries and are not conditioned by time, space, or anything else!”

Vasistha continued:

Having received this supreme wisdom, Kacha became enlightened. He was free from the sense of self-importance and from the desire to possess anything. Live as he did, Rama. The sense of ego is unreal. Do not believe in it, and do not renounce it. How can one renounce or, conversely, grasp that which is unreal? If the sense of ego does not exist in itself, do birth and death exist? You are that subtlest and purest consciousness, indivisible and free from concepts, yet pervading all beings. Only in the state of ignorance and misunderstanding is the world seen as an illusion; in the state of realization, everything is seen as supreme consciousness. Abandon the concepts of unity and separation and be enlightened. Do not be like that uncomprehending man, and do not suffer as he did!

Rama said:

Your words, like nectar, fill me with bliss. I am in a transcendental state, yet I am still not satiated. Though I am content, I will ask you again, for who can ever have enough of nectar? Who is this uncomprehending man whom you mentioned?”

Vasishtha then tells Rama about a foolish man. He says that there once lived a man who was made of ignorance. He himself was born and raised in the desert, but at some point a certain idea arose within him. He began to think: “I was born from space, I am space, this space is mine.” Then another idea occurred to him: “I must preserve this space and keep it safe.” Having decided this, he built a large house to protect the space. When he saw that the space in his house was safe, he was happy. But when the house began to fall apart after some time, the man started to weep: “Oh, my space! Where has it gone?! Alas, it is lost!” This foolish man is the ego.

“Then he dug a deep pit and felt that the space within it was well protected. Alas, one day this too was lost. Then he made a large pot, dug another pit, and planted a row of four trees. All this was short-lived and brought no happiness to the foolish man.

This is the meaning of the story, O Rama. The man made of ignorance is the sense of self-importance, the sense of ego. It arises just as motion arises in the wind. Its true essence is consciousness. Unaware of this, the sense of ego regards the space around itself as itself and its own. Therefore, it mistakenly identifies itself with the body and with everything it wishes to protect. The body and everything else exist only for a while, after which they are destroyed and disappear. Because of its delusion, the sense of ego weeps from time to time, thinking that it is lost and has died. But when the pot breaks, the space within it remains unharmed.”

The Nature of the Ego and the Inner Instrument

The inner instrument (antahkarana) consists of manas, buddhi, chitta, and ahamkara, which binds all of these together into a single conglomerate, a single substance. The sense of ego is something temporary and unreal; it arises from false notions. Just as in a film, virtual reality, or theater, characters cry, suffer, weep, quarrel, love, or hate one another, while the viewer knows that none of it is truly real and does not worry about it, regarding it merely as entertainment, in the same way our higher Self is never troubled; it is always free. Even if people cry, suffer, weep, quarrel, love, or hate one another, these are merely artificially created concepts, whereas the true Self can never suffer, become attached, or hate. It is like a viewer who cannot truly experience what the actors are portraying, knowing that all the action on the stage or screen is nothing more than a performance intended solely for entertainment.

But why does the ego arise? And can it be said that the ego does not exist? In fact, of course, it does exist. For example, someone says something unpleasant to you, and a movement of the mind and pranas immediately arises within you; the mind begins feverishly evaluating it, as a result of which your state changes. Of course, this is a reaction of the ego. It cannot be said that the ego does not exist. The ego may not be directly visible, but it reveals itself at various moments when an opportunity arises for it to manifest. Or you experience annoyance, rage, or even anger because you have lost something valuable and dear to you—this too is a manifestation of the ego’s samskaras. Or you experience terrible fear, with chills running down your spine, when you walk through the forest in the evening and hear an owl hooting and the leaves rustling in the trees. In other words, it is very easy to bring the ego to the surface and discover that it really does exist. The ego exists, but not as something self-existent; rather, it manifests at the moment of perception through samskaras, evaluations, and judgments.

At the first moment of perception, the subtle evaluative activity of the mind arises, based on previous experience and samskaras. After that, the ego, evaluating the situation in some way, produces decisions and determines its place within that situation. In this way, the ego maintains its status of inviolability. But if, at the first moment of perception, a skillful yogin can cut off evaluative and discursive activity and judgments as if with a fine surgical scalpel, and immediately enter the space of self-liberation instead of identifying with the samskaras that have surfaced, then the ego will not manifest itself. Or it will manifest, but as the playful activity of the true Self (sahaja-spanda), which creates no bondage whatsoever.

“Also, when the body is lost, the essence always remains unharmed. This essence is pure consciousness, subtler than space, O Rama. It is indestructible, was never born, and never dies. This infinite consciousness alone shines as the illusion of this world. Knowing this, always be happy.”

The Twenty-Four Aspects of Discriminating Wisdom

Once we have established the unreality of the ego, that all troubles arise precisely from it, that it constitutes the essence of the inner instrument by uniting manas, chitta, buddhi, and ahamkara in the space of consciousness, and that the condition for liberation is renunciation (and true renunciation is not external renunciation, but renunciation of the ego); once we have established that the ego manifests itself in any given situation through rational and evaluative activity and the formation of a certain separate point, a separate position within that situation, it then becomes very important to understand what constitutes the antidote and the condition for renouncing the ego.

This condition is discriminating wisdom (viveka), which manifests in twenty-four aspects. First, one should understand, at least at the level of the mind, what these twenty-four aspects are. It is not enough to say, “Be aware.” That is the same as saying, “Be healthy!” or “Be happy!” If a person is ill and you simply tell them, “Be healthy!”, it will not help, because such slogan-like incantations do not actually work. If someone comes and says, “I am hungry, I am cold, I have nowhere to live,” and you pat them on the shoulder and say, “Be happy! Look to the bright future with optimism! Everything will be fine!”, it will not work. Something subtler and more concrete is needed here: the person must be fed and offered real help in solving their problem. If a person is ill and you tell them, “Be healthy! Be optimistic! The body is a manifestation of the spirit; a healthy mind resides in a healthy body,” that will not work either. One must display clarity and, by more skillfully integrating view with conduct and the relative with the absolute, work simultaneously on several levels: the level of consciousness, the body, energy, the situation, and the person’s psychological attitudes.

Likewise, when we say, “the ego must be dissolved,” “the ego must be renounced,” or “one must be aware,” we should understand exactly what must be done, how the ego can be “dissolved,” by what means, and what it means “to be aware.” We then say that it is necessary to untie the sixteen knots that bind us and, in fact, form the ego. As long as these knots exist, the ego will exist. These sixteen knots of ignorance (vidya-grantha or ajnana-grantha) must be untied through an alternative, through the twenty-four discernments (pratipaksha-bhavana).

There are twenty-four kinds of clarity that should be generated and directed toward the various parts of our “self” in order to illuminate them with the light of discriminating wisdom (viveka). Twenty-four is merely a number expressing certain facets of discriminating wisdom. If desired, they could be classified more broadly—as thirty-six or one hundred and eight. The number itself is not of fundamental importance. Rather, what is meant is the depth and power with which discriminating wisdom penetrates the various parts of our ego. These twenty-four kinds of discriminating wisdom arise on their own, naturally, if we become properly established in contemplative practice, accompany it with self-surrender, and bring it into our daily lives.

It is precisely the attainment of the twenty-four kinds of discriminating wisdom (viveka) that makes it possible to overcome and untie the sixteen knots of ignorance. When these knots begin to loosen and the twenty-four types of discriminating wisdom appear, we suddenly see that all mental constructs cease to matter.

The Flow of Blessings and Sahaja Samadhi

And what does matter? Total absorption, absolute devotion, and love for the Source. Everything must culminate in such total absorption and love, when one day you enter it and never again leave or emerge from it. It is limited neither by logic nor by descriptions; it is not associated with feeling or personality, nor is it directed toward qualities (gunas), categories, or external objects. And if you continuously abide in such love, a stream of blessings begins to pour down upon you.

The stream of blessings (Anugraha Shakti) is always pouring forth; it is only our lack of attentiveness and openness that prevents us from perceiving it. True sahaja, sahaja samadhi, means that we finally grasp how to open ourselves to this stream of blessings and, once we have opened ourselves to it, no longer lose it, but refine and continually sustain it. All the methods we practice in sahaja kriya are aimed at ensuring that, once we have entered it, we do not leave it, but simply polish and perfect it. As a result of such openness, sooner or later the descending stream of blessings begins to fall upon the vasanas and samskaras and dissolve them. At the very beginning, while there is still no understanding of self-surrender and detachment, this may even be painful, but as the practice progresses, it becomes something joyful and auspicious. In order to remain in such a stream of blessings, besides contemplation and attentiveness, constant vigilant control and an anti-ego attitude are essential.