THE ASCENT TO MOKSHA SWAMI KRISHNANANDA The Divine Life Society Sivananda Ashram, Rishikesh, India Website: www.swami-krishnananda.org CONTENTS Publisher's Note Discourse 1: The Art of Receiving Knowledge Discourse 2: Understanding and Exceeding Our Limitations Discourse 3: Our Place in the Cosmos Discourse 4: Self-Restraint is Self-Recognition Discourse 5: The Essence of Spiritual Life Discourse 6: Self-Control is the Essential Nature of Consciousness Discourse 7: The Essence and Importance of Morality in Sadhana Discourse 8: Bringing Consciousness to Rest in Meditation Discourse 9: The Creation of Pleasure and Pain Discourse 10: Satisfaction is a State of Consciousness Discourse 11: The Definition and Tests of Reality Discourse 12: Defining the Object of Meditation Discourse 13: Our Preparation for Meditation Discourse 14: The Importance of Having Clarity of Our Ideal Discourse 15: Evolving of Personality Through the Practice of Meditation Discourse 16: Entering the Realm of Impersonal Forces Discourse 17: The True Relation of Subject and Object Discourse 18: The Stages of Spiritual Yoga or Meditation PUBLISHER'S NOTE This is a series of discourses that Swamiji gave in the ashram's Bhajan Hall from April to September 1972. It is the first series that was recorded on tape. Some of these discourses were uploaded as individual talks, but now they have been put together into a single series. Discourse 1 THE ART OF RECEIVING KNOWLEDGE In the art of the reception of knowledge, we have to be prepared in the same manner as any good artist would equip himself or herself for the execution of the task. We are at the feet of Masters or Gurus, we are in institutions and in holy places for the reception of higher knowledge, and this process of the receiving of knowledge is an art which demands of the seeker an uncanny preparation and a suitable disposition of the mind. It is not possible to commence a work of art with either an intellectual or an emotional prejudice. Such an efficient work cannot be commenced when we are intensely tired, fatigued, or exhausted either physically or mentally, or when we are in a very exasperated mood. When we are not prepared to receive anything from outside, when the system is in an intense state of ebullition and activity, the function of art cannot be successful, nor can knowledge be received in such a condition. The precondition of the reception of knowledge is the capacity to receive. What is important is not the nature of knowledge that comes to us, but the state in which we are and the condition of the entry of knowledge into our personality. Under given conditions, we can either receive knowledge or repel it. Nature is abundant, full of resources, never poverty stricken at any time; still, with all this richness and plenitude of nature we can intensely suffer pangs and agonies of life when we cannot receive this abundance into ourselves. Knowledge is one aspect of the universal nature, and when it tries to gain entry into ourselves we have to be prepared to properly receive it. Most students of spiritual life who practise yoga are too enthusiastic, beyond the permissible limit. Overenthusiasm is not a virtue because anything that is beyond its limits is likely to come back to its original state, and when the heat subsides there will be no enthusiasm and no energy to move forward. The prejudice of the emotion and the intellect has to be avoided very carefully when we are eager to receive the knowledge that can save us from the pains of life. There is a vast difference between reception of knowledge in the schools and colleges of arts and science in the world, and the reception of knowledge in the school of life. We are likely to commit the error of entertaining the notion that we can gain the higher knowledge of life in the same way as we can learn the arts and sciences in institutions such as colleges and universities. There is a vast difference, a gulf of difference between the two processes. An inability to understand the difference between the two types of knowledge reduces even an enthusiastic seeker of Truth to a failure in life. It is not learning or information that we are trying to gather in holy places. It is not knowledge in the ordinary sense of the term. What is the distinction between the knowledge we are familiar with, and the saving knowledge for which we are cursing, for the sake of which we are at the feet of Masters, and in search of which we are hunting institutions in the world? What is the difference? It is all the difference conceivable. Learning does not save us, though it can help us in a limited purpose. We can be in various kinds of difficulties. There are degrees of problems of life, and it is only the outer crust of the difficulties of life that can be encountered by what we call learning or education in the modern sense of the term. But we have deeper problems that we can think of in times of leisure and satisfaction. We can be in pain from which no one can save us, and such catastrophes can befall us when it will look as if the whole world is of no utility to us. At that time it is that the higher knowledge will come to our aid. When the ground under our feet seems to give way, when the whole of life seems to lose meaning for us, when we do not know whether we are to live or to die – when we are face to face with such conditions, learning does not help us because learning will vanish like a wisp of wind when such excruciating pains of the spirit come and engulf us. We should not, therefore, commit the mistake of thinking that we can gain that wisdom of life which we can use in times of utter desolateness by giving mere lip sympathy to the benefits of life. Knowledge, in the true sense of the term – the knowledge which we are really after and which brings our mind to a permanent state of composure, giving it the final touch of satisfaction – can be had only if we pay the price for it. The price for this knowledge is high enough. All our time mostly goes in the preparation for the reception of this knowledge. Most of our efforts are in the direction of equipping ourselves for receiving this august guest, the illumination of knowledge, into our personal life. Just as when a distinguished guest comes to our house we are eager to make the place clean, sweep the cobwebs, dust the floor, decorate the seats, and so on, a sort of preparation is demanded of us for the reception of the higher illumination, the knowledge that we are seeking. It should be clear to us at the very outset that knowledge is not very much interested in us. We are interested in it. It is not too eager to thrust itself into us. It is we that cry for it from birth to death, and in order to receive it, we may have to prepare the ground in a proper manner. The cobwebs within us are the prejudices of personality, which hardly die in any individual. It is easy to imagine that we are well off in culture and the learning of the spirit. As long as we are contented with the achievements that we have made in life, knowledge is far off from us. A self-contented person is contented even with knowledge. That is the meaning of contentment. So if we are already filled, we cannot be filled again with something else: Empty thyself, and then only I can fill thee, not before that. This emptying of oneself is a very hard job. There have been honest seekers, sannyasins even, monks, sadhakas, brahmacharins, who have abandoned homestead and chattel and come in search of Truth; they have spent years in lonely places, secluded spots, and after maybe ten years, twenty years, fifty years of apparent effort in what they thought was the proper direction, dissatisfaction came down upon their heads like a dark cloud. If we study the lives of sadhakas, even honest seekers who are really enthusiastic about realising Truth, it would be really a psychological history of specific personalities. It is seen that in the end, years of effort appear to go in vain because while the effort was there, it was not properly directed. The enthusiasm was there, but the intelligence was lacking. Our intelligence should go together with our emotional upsurge. It is not enough if we merely weep and cry. We have also to understand. It is true that we have to weep. There are occasions when weeping is essential, but that is not the only thing that we are called upon to do. Our agony of the spirit, which is an emotional upsurge, has to be simultaneously illumined with the light of understanding. This is what is called the wisdom of life, quite different from what we call learning, education, or holding a degree. Wisdom is different from learning. There is an old saying: Knowledge comes, but wisdom lingers. It will not come so quickly, because the prerequisites for the reception of this wisdom are awfully lacking in the majority of persons. The greatest defect in all of us is inadequate understanding of the circumstances in which we are placed. We may be good people who are honestly seeking redress from pains of every kind, and we may have spent years leading a holy and pure life.