A short biography by John M Evans. Part 4

Now Shankara turns to the central technique of his philosophy, the action of burrowing beneath the mind’s mental contents by the practice of intelligent enquiry. There is no blankness here, but a determined assault on the citadel of the ego using all of man’s faculties.

“Who is your wife? Who is your son? Supremely wonderful indeed is this (world). Of whom are you? From where have you come? O brother, think of that truth here.”

There is a method much used in India whereby the meditator deals with various aspects of himself, the mind, the feelings &c, and realizes that they are not actually HIM (or her). It is sometimes called neti neti, or ‘not this, not this.’ In some form it has also been used in Hua Yen Buddhism and elsewhere. However, a modern advocate of Advaita, Ramana Maharshi, believed that the system merely played around within the mind, creating more and more imaginings at the psychological level. He recommended the method of ’self-enquiry’ which aimed at focusing awareness directly at the ‘point’ where thoughts of ‘I’, and hence the ego, begin. The answer then comes from beyond the mind and not, as in the case of neti neti, from the intellect.

Nevertheless, as Ramana was always prepared to point out, most concentrative methods would, in the end, come round to a form of self-enquiry - it just took longer, that was all. The difference then is in the answer. More particularly, from whence that answer comes!

Most sages will advise students to keep good company. The presence of a master, or at least other committed path-seekers, is held to be essential, especially for beginners. Shankara was no exception.

Through the company of the good, there arises non-
attachment..
.
It is with higher minds around you, that you can persist in your efforts to rise above samsara, the world of birth and death. Scriptures and good books are of great value, but the greatest aid of all is the presence of a living, enlightened master.

O Distracted one!…Is there not for you the One who
commands?…it is the association-with-good-people
alone that can serve as a boat to cross the sea of
change.

This stanza sometimes includes the query, ‘Why dissipate mentally over the lips of your lady?’ When we look outwards, we leave the Reality. When we look inwards, we leave the world. This is the paradox of the Advaitins.

Dressing up, playing the holy man, working on our very Western neuroses about Identity, are not the answers to our suffering. They are mere psychological fixes, a patchwork of cheap darns to keep us functioning in a way never intended.

One ascetic with matted locks, one with a shaven
head, one with hairs pulled out one by one, another
parading in his ochre robes - these are fools who,
though seeing, do not see. Indeed, these different
disguises or apparels are only for their belly’s sake.

Strong stuff for a teacher in India, the land of wandering sadhus and ash-smeared fakirs. Again Shankara reminds us of the Buddha, with his ‘Middle Way’ between asceticism and sensuousness. ‘All is vanity, all is vanity.’

True renunciation is not the sacrifice of all the things of the world, but the rejection of the ego-mind which projects its fancies on such things.

The song then returns to the contemplator’s enquiry into the subject in himself.

Who are you? Who am I? From where did I come? Who
is my mother? Who is my father?…

Again we are asked to delve into the depths and examine our consciousness and the space within it and the objects it contains. Who are they? What relationship have I to them? Who on earth am I?

…Thus enquire, leaving aside the entire world-of-
experience, which is essenceless (empty) and a mere
dreamland, born of imagination.

This enquiry prompts an equanimity of mind, an even-temperedness which in itself is necessary for spiritual accomplishments. Hence self-enquiry and stillness go hand in hand. Indeed, they cannot exist without each other.

Strive not, waste not your energy to fight against
or to make friends with your enemy, friend, son, or
relative. Seek the Self everywhere…

And, in the words of the Gita, ‘Who sees all beings in his own Self, and his own Self in all beings, loses all fear.’

Leaving desire, anger, greed, and delusion,
the seeker sees in the Self, ‘He am I.’

This is the famous ‘That Thou Art’ of the Upanishads. Not the mantra ‘I am Brahman’ practised at the psychological level by many, but the deeper realization of the true sage.

Once again we find an echo of Buddhism here as the verse uses the ‘Three Fires’ as its obstacles to emancipation. In his commentary, Sri Chinmayananda quotes a saying generally attributed to Shankara, ‘Desire, anger, greed are looters that stand within the body, ready to plunder the Knowledge-Gem - therefore, be vigilant! Be vigilant!’

Shankara ends his poem/hymn with a prayer for the enlightenment of his hearers.

O Devotee of the lotus-feet of the teacher! may you
become liberated soon from samsara. Through the
discipline of the sense-organs and the mind, you will
come to experience the Lord that dwells in your
own heart.

A short biography by John M Evans. Part 3

Of Shankara’s work we have many examples, much of it highly intellectual in nature. Modern scholarship, however, has resisted many of the texts of the popular kind attributed to Shankara. Hymns, songs, and slight tales do not fit the academics’ image of this uncompromising figure who sometimes takes on the mien of a dark, Protestant missionary. And yet the songs and stanzas reflect his thought despite the lilt. In India, they are the Word itself to many ordinary Vedantists.

The Bhaja Govindam is described as a manual of Advaita. It comprises thirty-one stanzas, of which Shankara is said to have composed the first twelve, the chorus and the final four. The remaining fourteen are attributed to each of his fourteen disciples.

According to tradition, the poem was provoked by an incident in the street when Shankara and his retinue were passing through Benares. He happened to hear an old pandit repeating the rules of grammar by rote. No doubt the pandit earned his living by teaching grammar and periodically picked up a few coins by reciting his knowledge in the streets.

Shankara saw nothing but futility in the exercise, especially for an old man of some accomplishment and learning.

‘Grammar rules will not help you at the time of death,’ he told the teacher. ‘While living, strive to realize the deathless state of purity and perfection.’

This was followed by the famous ‘bouquet’ of twelve stanzas, while his disciples composed one each. Finally, Shankara blessed the combined effort with four exquisite ’stanza-flowers.’

The whole work summarizes the philosophy of Advaita Vedanta and provides practical instruction for ears which are ready to hear. Swami Chinmayananda says of it, ‘Here the fundamentals of Vedanta are taught in simple, musical verses so that, even from early childhood, the children of the rishis can grow up amidst the melody of Advaita.’

The first two stanzas deal with wealth and passions, or rather the craving for both.

O Fool! Give up the thirst to possess wealth.
Create in your mind, devoid of passions,
thoughts of Reality …

Again and again in the non-dual religions there comes the injunction to concentrate on the reality of Being. It may be to meditate on consciousness as Brahman; the ‘guarding of the One’ of the Taoists; to keep awareness unwaveringly on the ‘I-thought’; or the mindfulness of the Buddha. This central concentration allows something else to act other than the grasping ego.

The other side of the coin is a deliberate surrender of the constant craving for wealth, possessions and outlets for the passions. It is impossible to give up these outward-going tendencies without finally resting in the unity of being. Conversely, it is not possible to concentrate on inner awareness and, at the same time, be buffeted by the swirling temptations of worldly forms.

Be content with the rewards of your actions.

This is a sentiment, linked with the Eastern view of karma, which has many antecedents in the spiritual literature of the world. ‘Take no heed for the morrow,’ which of course will take care of itself. And the dictum ‘As you sow, so shall you reap.’ But perhaps the closest to the meaning Shankara intends is found in the Bhagavad Gita.

Set thy heart upon thy work, but never on its
reward. Work not for a reward; but never cease to
do thy work. Do thy work in the peace of Yoga (unity of
Being) and, free from selfish desires, be not moved in
success or failure. Yoga is evenness of mind…

The Eastern perspective differs from the Western viewpoint in that it is not the possessions or objects of desire which are inherently wrong (the root of all evil), but the fact of the craving for them.

The beginning of the poem is very much concerned with the impermanence of bodily existence, one of the Buddha’s Three Signs of Being. Stanza four re-emphasizes this point.

The water-drop playing on a lotus petal has an
extremely uncertain existence; so also is life
ever unstable. Understand, the very world is consumed
by disease amd conceit, and is riddled with pangs.

Students of Tibetan lamas are sometimes asked to meditate in graveyards or over rotting corpses. Death is not shirked. It is the visible sign of corporeal instability.

Here, like the Buddha, Shankara pulls no punches. Understand impermanence, he says, and you will get to the heart of the matter. A seeker of enlightenment once heard a disciple of the Buddha explain his teachings as ‘Coming to be, ceasing to be.’ It was enough. He immediately attained the ‘Spotless Dharma Eye’ of the liberated man. The consequences of not comprehending this lesson are driven home in a later verse.

As long as there dwells breath in the body, so long
will they enquire of your welfare. Once the life
leaves, the body decays, even the wife fears that
very same body.

Gruesome, but clear. The poem continues for a while in the same vein, covering various attachments to the world and enjoining only one attachment — to Brahman, the Supreme.

Next: Shankara’s philosophy and method.