Commentary on the text “Yoga Vasistha,” Chapter 4
Vasistha continued:
“O Rama, true heroes are those who have learned to control the mind governed by misunderstanding and delusion. Only through such control over the mind can the suffering of this seeming world, the cycles of birth and death, and the endless chain of tragedy be stopped. I am imparting to you the very essence of all teachings. Listen attentively and let it permeate your whole life with its sweet Spirit. Lack of freedom, attachment, is the striving for pleasures. The abandonment of pleasures is Freedom. Therefore, regard all pleasures in this world as a poisonous swamp vapor. Blind renunciation is undesirable. Investigate deeply and seriously the nature of sensory pleasures and abandon all striving for them. Then you will be able to live happily.”
The holy siddha Naropa gave Tilopa these instructions: “Naropa, it is not samsara that holds you, but your attachment to it.”
Vasistha says that samsara itself consists of attachments and the striving for pleasures. What does he mean? He means that within us there is a false notion of “I,” the ego, which unlawfully ascribes to itself independent self-existence. It is precisely this that gives rise to the craving for pleasures. It does not matter what kind of craving it is: the desire to be loved, the desire to be recognized, the desire to possess something, to be admired, to never be criticized, attachment to another person. Any of these desires becomes what Vasistha calls a “poisonous swamp vapor” as soon as that desire plants a seed in consciousness and awakens the demon of egoism.
In and of themselves, that is, without the demon of egoism, all these things are harmless. There is nothing bad in them, but as soon as these energies evoke a sense of ego, which takes root through these desires, at that very moment samsara begins. This is exactly why many kings, unable to cope with this demon of egoism, abandoned everything and went into the forest to practice, becoming hermits or monks.
The striving for pleasures does not mean experiencing ordinary everyday things. When you simply eat, this cannot be called striving for pleasures, since it is service to the body; when you simply engage in service, establish some accepted everyday matters, if there is no personal attachment, clinging, or egoism in this, then it is not samsaric activity. Samsaric activity begins when the false “I” is activated, when preferences or aversions are strong in it, when there is a strong divisive consciousness and strong clinging to something, no matter what: external or internal.
External and Internal Objects of Attachment
These may be certain external objects, but monks are not supposed to cling to external objects; for them this is a stage already passed. Such objects are usually clung to by those who are not accustomed to detaching themselves from them.
But it happens that one who has detached himself from external objects can hold on very well to internal objects, which are subtler and invisible, and therefore can hold him even more fiercely than external objects until the person himself discovers the harmfulness of these internal objects.
Such internal objects may include:
- Conceptual thinking
- Being bound by a single vision, a single theory
- A habitual stereotype of thinking, when a person gets stuck in the mind
As they say: “He is stuck in the mind; it is useless to talk to him.” That is, a person strongly bound by conceptual thinking attaches great importance to it. For example, in the course of my work I have often encountered certain missionaries. It would seem that these are people driven by the best of intentions, but it is impossible to have a dialogue with them because they are not going to listen to you at all, on principle. Their task is to lock your mind onto virtuous quotations from their sacred scriptures. And when I say, “Let us listen to each other a little,” they answer, “No, you are mistaken. Listen to me! Here is the path, I will save you.” And then I say, “I will not fight with you and destroy your faith, because it is useless.” This is a typical example of subtle clinging connected with concepts.
There are other varieties of grasping that are connected with a subtle grasping at the ego, at the “I.” They manifest in the fact that a person is very sensitive about some inner status of his own, constantly thinks about how others evaluate him, and continually reflects on this subject, sometimes even painfully, reacting very strongly to criticism, although it would seem that the patriarchs gave the instruction: “Those who curse you are your best friends.” This too is strong grasping, which is samsara, a strong discrimination that does not allow one to open up to something new. To a person who is showing him something, he says: “No, I cannot do that.” But what is it in you that cannot? This is that very ego.
There are other varieties. For example, subtle spiritual experiences. Suppose a person, without preparation, nevertheless accidentally broke through into a dark retreat due to an oversight by the senior monks and guru (this has happened; such things occur). He made his way in there, but received certain experiences that greatly impressed him. Visions, deities, visual three-dimensional images—all of this causes his mind to become very strongly excited, and an extremely powerful clarity is generated. Then he loses the view, the vision, and begins to reflect intensely on these experiences. That is, it sometimes happens that such samsara is an inner clarity to which the ego contrives to become attached and to create from it some kind of picture.
It happens that a person experiences bliss and feels great discomfort when he thinks that one day he will have to give up this bliss.
Finally, the highest form of such inner samsara may be emptiness, attachment to samadhi.
I myself was successfully caught on this hook in my early years of practice by this form. When the mere thought that I would have to speak, to come out of samadhi for a long time, to acknowledge something outside emptiness, filled me with horror. This life, for me, as it were, no longer existed; there was only emptiness and samadhi. That is, the ego somehow manages even here to create grasping for itself. And only thanks to the spiritual teacher was all of this completely self-liberated.
It is precisely such grasping, which gives rise to a subtle form of egotistical self-satisfaction, that is samsara.
The Principle of Investigation Instead of Blind Renunciation
Vasishtha then says: “Blind renunciation is not desirable.”
Why is it undesirable? Because blind renunciation is always like a time bomb carried in one’s pocket. An external renunciation has occurred, but there has been no genuine renunciation, and therefore at any moment it may surface and confront you with some serious experience for which you may not be ready.
Blind renunciation means superficial rejection, suppression without investigation, without examination and deep self-liberation. If you have blindly renounced something, this does not mean that it has actually left you. Perhaps it means that you will still have to look in the eye that which you blindly renounced and once again deeply self-liberate it anew.
Rishi Vasishtha says: “Investigate deeply and seriously the nature of sensory pleasures.”
What does it mean to investigate deeply and seriously? It means understanding that any sensory pleasure in itself is the principle of Shakti, of energy. This energy is essentially empty; it is not connected with anything. And at the moment of investigation, to discover such emptiness is complete self-liberation.
When you have discovered its lack of essence, its emptiness, it will no longer impress you, no matter how it manifests. It is like seeing a mannequin from afar, but it seemed to you to be a person, so you decided to approach in order to find out what kind of person it was. But when you came closer and examined it, you saw that it was not a living person, but a mannequin. And all your interest in it immediately disappeared.
In the same way, investigation into the nature of sensory pleasure and its self-liberation forever completely removes any dependence on the energy of sensory pleasure. Such investigation is usually carried out through contemplative presence, which can look any experience in the eye and not lose itself, but instead self-liberate it.
That is why we say that the principle of anuttara tantra is higher than sutra. Anuttara tantra works with integration, with unification. And when such unification is genuine, dependence on sensory pleasure leaves you naturally. It is said that a klesha self-liberates, transforming into wisdom.
Practical Work with Harsh Energies
Vasishtha says: “Then you will be able to live happily.”
For example, a person suppresses anger within himself, the desire of rajas. Outwardly, he has achieved a certain control over it, but deep down he has touched neither anger, nor fear, nor other harsh energies; he has simply hidden them somewhere very deep, afraid to approach them, feeling that these energies are uncontrollable. But the moment he falls into the energy of stress, fear, or anger, he feels paralyzed before it, like a rabbit before a boa constrictor, not knowing what to do with it. Because Shakti is so strong that the natural state is simply swept away, like a feather by a powerful hurricane. This means that such a person has not deeply explored the nature of fear, the nature of anger, has not worked with it in contemplative presence. And if this manifests, it means that he will not know how to unite with it.
There are practices of conscious work with fear. There is even a book called “The Places That Scare You.” A yogin, going to any wrathful places, generates this anger and remains in presence, holding the consciousness of a wrathful deity. For example, two disciples were practicing in the mountains in Crimea, and the spiritual mentor gave a lay disciple the task of frightening them. These were my disciples, who were practicing in Crimea and slept in tents at night. The lay disciple from Simferopol decided to imitate a boar and, with loud grunting, stamped around the tent, dressed in some kind of sheepskin coat, while the two of them trembled with fear sitting inside the tent. They were so shocked by this experience (but it was on the instruction of the spiritual mentor, who decided to teach them a lesson in life and practice in the mountains) that it left an imprint, and when one of them came to the next retreat, he could not sit it out for more than three days. Every time the same time approached as the year before, he became very frightened. As a result, he left.
These are non-self-liberated harsh energies which, if suppressed, will constantly pursue you. But when you are not afraid of your fear, when you allow yourself to be consciously afraid and look fear in the face, admit it, while at the same time you have self-liberation, and with full trust you allow it to be afraid and integrate with this fear, then suddenly a new space opens within you that is greater than fear. You discover within yourself the same wrathful, terrifying Shakti, which is even greater than that which can cause fear. Then you can think: “If I am such an immense cosmic wrathful deity, then I myself will strike fear into anyone! So what can frighten me?!” If you unite with fear skillfully, then you yourself reign as a universal wrathful deity, and at some point fear disappears, because its essence is emptiness. This is exactly how the ancient saints practiced, pacifying all their kleshas, cutting off hopes and fears.
The Path to True Freedom
When, then, can we be happy and free? At the moment when we can bring the principle of awareness, like wide-open space, into any experience. For example, into the experience of fear, pain, sexual pleasure, greed, enjoyment of food, sensual attachment (what is called “worldly love”), any experience connected with pride, the desire to possess—that is, into everything that manifests in the human body.
When such a principle of awareness is brought in, and brought in correctly, no energies or desires can withstand it, because it is like the philosopher’s stone: it transforms everything. And then suddenly we feel that awareness is truly the philosopher’s stone; it is what transforms everything, the only thing that can liberate and save you.
And then suddenly all egoistic dependence on any experiences, on sensual pleasures, leaves a person. He sees that all these experiences were unreal from the very beginning and bound him in the same way that a person can be frightened by a rope that appears to be a snake at night. He sees that the wide-open space of awareness is much stronger and deeper, and nothing can impress or bind him anymore.
