You cannot be surprised that under these conditions of continued
disappearance of functions, the unfortunate student asks: “What becomes
of the mind itself? If you suppress all the functions, what is left?”
In the Indian way of teaching, when you come to a difficulty, someone
jumps up and asks a question. And in the commentaries, the question
which raises the difficulty is always put. The answer of Patanjali is:
“Then the spectator remains in his own form.” Theosophy answers: “The
Monad remains.” It is the end of the human pilgrimage. That is the
highest point to which humanity may climb: to suppress all the
reflections in the fivefold universe through which the Monad has
manifested his powers, and then for the Monad to realise himself,
enriched by the experiences through which his manifested aspects have
passed. But to the Samkhyan the difficulty is very great, for when he
has only his spectator left, when spectacle ceases, the spectator
himself almost vanishes. His only function was to look on at the play
of mind. When the play of mind is gone, what is left? He can no longer
be a spectator, since there is nothing to see. The only answer is: “He
remains in his own form.” He is now out of manifestation, the duality
is transcended, and so the Spirit sinks back into latency, no longer
capable of manifestation. There you come to a very serious difference
with the Theosophical view of the universe, for according to that view
of the universe, when all these functions have been suppressed, then
the Monad is ruler over matter and is prepared for a new cycle of
activity, no longer slave but master.
All analogy shows us that as the Self withdraws from sheath after
sheath, he does not lose but gains in Self- realisation.
Self-realisation becomes more and more vivid with each successive
withdrawal; so that as the Self puts aside one veil of matter after
another, recognises in regular succession that each body in turn is not
himself, by that process of withdrawal his sense of Self-reality
becomes keener, not less keen. It is important to remember that,
because often Western readers, dealing with Eastern ideas, in
consequence of misunderstanding the meaning of the state of liberation,
or the condition of Nirvana, identify it with nothingness or
unconsciousness—an entirely mistaken idea which is apt to colour the
whole of their thought when dealing with Yogic processes. Imagine the
condition of a man who identifies himself completely with the body, so
that he cannot, even in thought, separate himself from it—the state of
the early undeveloped man—and compare that with the strength, vigour
and lucidity of your own mental consciousness.
The consciousness of the early man limited to the physical body, with
occasional touches of dream consciousness, is very restricted in its
range. He has no idea of the sweep of your consciousness, of your
abstract thinking. But is that consciousness of the early man more
vivid, or less vivid, than yours? Certainly you will say, it is less
vivid. You have largely transcended his powers of consciousness. Your
consciousness is astral rather than physical, but has thereby increased
its vividness. AS the Self withdraws himself from sheath after sheath,
he realises himself more and more, not less and less; Self-realisation
becomes more intense, as sheath after sheath is cast aside. The centre
grows more powerful as the circumference becomes more permeable, and at
last a stage is reached when the centre knows itself at every point of
the circumference. When that is accomplished the circumference
vanishes, but not so the centre. The centre still remains. Just as you
are more vividly conscious than the early man, just as your
consciousness is more alive, not less, than that of an undeveloped man,
so it is as we climb up the stairway of life and cast away garment
after garment. We become more conscious of existence, more conscious of
knowledge, more conscious of Self-determined power. The faculties of
the Self shine out more strongly, as veil after veil falls away. By
analogy, then, when we touch the Monad, our consciousness should be
mightier, more vivid, and more perfect. As you learn to truly live,
your powers and feelings grow in strength.
And remember that all control is exercised over sheaths, over portions
of the Not-Self. You do not control your Self; that is a misconception;
you control your Not-Self. The Self is never controlled; He is the
Inner Ruler Immortal. He is the controller, not the controlled. As
sheath after sheath becomes subject to your Self, and body after body
becomes the tool of your Self, then shall you realise the truth of the
saying of the Upanishad, that you are the Self, the Inner Ruler, the
immortal.
Lecture III
YOGA AS SCIENCE
Brothers:
This afternoon, I propose now to deal first with the two great methods
of Yoga, one related to the Self and the other to the Not-Self. Let me
remind you, before I begin, that we are dealing only with the science
of Yoga and not with other means of attaining union with the Divine.
The scientific method, following the old Indian conception, is the one
to which I am asking your attention. I would remind you, however, that,
though I am only dealing with this, there remain also the other two
great ways of Bhakti and Karma. The Yoga we are studying specially
concerns the Marga of Jnanam or knowledge, and within that way, within
that Marga or path of knowledge, we find that three subdivisions occur,
as everywhere in nature.