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Vol 7 No 2, 1987
Growth
Beyond Self: By Carolyn Lee
"You must deal with your lack
of qualification first. Traditionally, people have been
invited to the Great Process of spiritual Realization only
once they have exhibited the qualifications for it. They had
to struggle to make false gestures of all kinds and suffer
and escape for a long period of time before they could
receive the esoteric Teaching or be invited into the Company
of the Adept."
Human maturity in contemporary secular society is commonly assumed to mean achieving a state of fairly peaceful coexistence with the pain and fragility of life, while actively maintaining a range of friendships and intimate familial relations. The mature person is presumed to be generous, resilient, capable of commitment, and socially useful. Attaining even this conventional maturity is no mean feat today and is certainly worthy of respect. But from a spiritual point of view, the vision of human wholeness is something more. Real maturity is that point of growth wherein body and mind are fully and freely submitted to a higher Reality. In ultimate terms it is whole bodily Enlightenment or the full Realization of the Divine. The focus of our attention here, however, is the necessary preparation of the body-mind for moment-to-moment heart-submission to God (or the Divine Condition and Reality), and the disposition of service and devotion based on that submission. The condition, in popular terms called sainthood, corresponds in Heart-Master Da's schema to the fourth stage of life (see "The Seven Stages of Life") or the true beginning of a spirit-based existence. Both the Sufi1 and Christian traditions regard an analagous level of human maturity, variously expressed as "purity of heart" and "self-becoming emptied". as an essential prerequisite for true spiritual practice.2 "You must know that the principle and foundation of Sufism and knowledge of God rest on saintship (wilaya)", wrote a Persian Sufi.3 In the Sufi understanding, general sainthood (wilayat amma) is distinguished from the wilaya khassa of the advanced mystics who have become annihilated in God. And in the New Testament the members of the church at Ephesus are exhorted to put aside their childishness and the illusory desires of their old selves in order to grow "in all ways into Christ" - in other words to become humanly mature so that a higher transformation can occur.4 According to the Koran a saint is a "friend of God" in whom there is no fear or sadness. In the Indian tradition the bhakta or saint is a lover of God or a true "devotee", In the words of Ramakrishna, a bhakta par excellence of modern times: "Do you know how a lover of God feels? His attitude is: 'O God, Thou art the Master, and I am thy servant. Thou art the Mother, and I am Thy child'."5 But before the practitioner can realize such steady surrender and intimacy with God a profound process must take place. In St. Paul's terms, he or she must "be renewed by a spiritual revolution".6 1. The Sufi tradition, or Sufism, is commonly understood to be the mystical stream of Islam. But see p. 50. 2. New Testament, Matthew 5:8; Javad Nurbakhsh, in the Tavern of Ruin: Seven Essays on Sufism (New York: Khanigahi-Nimatullahi Publications, 1978), p. 10. 3. Quoted in Annemarie Schimmel, The Mystical Dimensions of Islam (Chapel Hill, N. C.: The University of North Carolina Press, 1975), p.199. The tradition of Sufi writings on sainthood dates from the ninth century;. 4. New Testament, Ephesians 4-14,16,22. 5. The Gospel of Sri Ramakrishna, trans. Swami Nikhilananda (New York: Ramakrishna-Vivekananda Center, 1974), p,192. 6, New Testament, Ephesians, 4:24.
Conversion How does a man or woman become willing to undergo the real trial of human maturity, which must precede the fullness of spiritual practice? There must be a turning point, not necessarily encapsulated in a single dramatic event, but a profound shift of intent from worldly goals toward spiritual truth. The process that unfolds on the basis of this crisis of change is "metanoia", in the language of the early Christian church, or an inspired submission of the will to all the forms of purification and growth that spiritual preparation requires. There is no avoiding struggle and conflict during this period, which may continue for many years, if not for life. At the same time the duration and intensity of the process largely depends upon the clarity and force of the initial insight. Stories of such profound illumination and the immediate change of life that followed are common to all spiritual traditions. A tale from the Sufi tradition recounts the conversion of Ibrahim Ibn Adham:  "One night he heard a strange sound on the roof of his palace in Balkh. The servants found a man who claimed to be looking for his lost camel on the palace roof. Blamed by the prince for having undertaken such an impossible task, the man answered that his, lbrahim's, attempt at attaining heavenly peace and true religious life in the midst of luxury was as absurd as the search for a camel on top of a roof. Ibrahim repented and repudiated all his possessions."7 7.Annemarie Schimmel, Mystical Dimensions, p. 109.
The legend of the conversion of Gautama the Buddha is an archetypal presentation of the revolution that can occur when the transitory and painful nature of human existence is truly grasped. The prince Siddartha (as he was named at birth) was sequestered from childhood from the realities of existence until one day he mounted his chariot and made an excursion from his palace into the outside world. The story goes that on the way he saw an old man and asked his charioteer, "What man is this?" The man replied, "He is an old` man, and every living being is destined to become like him." On the following days the prince went out again and saw, in turn, a sick man and a corpse. He enquired in the same way of his charioteer and learned that these conditions also were the fate of all men. Siddhartha was so deeply disturbed by these sights that on the fourth day when he saw a monk and learned what that meant, he decided to renounce the world. Nothing could alter his resolve, neither the pleasures of female company nor even the birth of his son, and so he abandoned the palace, pausing as he went to catch a glimpse of his sleeping wife with their newborn child in her arms. Gautama's renunciation was that of the spiritual hero undeflected in his purpose by any human concern. In such exceptional cases the humanizing process-may be fulfilled naturally during the years of childhood and adolescence, leaving no unresolved conflicts or stunted growth to delay the rapid unfolding of full Enlightenment. For ordinary mortals it is a different matter. St. Teresa of Avila relates in her autobiography how she had to struggle every inch of the way in the initial stages. She understood with her mind the emptiness of the world, but emotionally she remained deeply attached to it. She describes what an agony it was for her to take the habit and how she had to force herself to do it, being more in fear of hell and purgatory than moved by the desire for God. Inside the convent her struggle continued until at last, after many years, she realized a change had occurred that transformed the basis of her practice. In the phrase of her contemporary, St. John of the Cross, she had passed through the "dark night of the senses" 8 and become fully converted to the life of the spirit. In her own words: "More than eighteen of the twenty-eight years which have gone by since I began prayer have been spent in this battle and conflict which arose from my having relations both with God and the world. During the remaining years . . . the conflict has not been light, but its causes have changed; as I believe I have been serving God and have come to know the vanity inherent in the world, everything has gone smoothly."9
8. In the mystical theology of St. John of the Cross the "dark night of the senses" precedes the "dark night of the spirit (soul)". The first night pertains to the struggle with self while the second night purifies the "spirit" or deep unconscious levels of the being. 9. The Autobiography of St. Teresa of Avila, trans. Allison Peers (Garden City, N. Y.: Doubleday & Co., 1960),pp. 109-10. 
The Monastic Choice Like countless, practitioners of many traditions, St. Teresa chose the monastic setting as the most favorable place the undergo the purifying ordeal that would prepare her for God's service and company. She was an inheritor (and a reformer) of the monastic tradition in the West, which is deeply indebted to Benedict of Nursia (480-547), whose "little Rule for beginners" has profoundly influenced the organization and practice of Christian religious communities right up to the present. St. Benedict was both a genius and a realist in his knowledge of men. He saw that most monks would be beginners all their lives, but, at the same time, he envisaged the monastery as a place where true heart-conversion would be promoted by every reasonable and human means. His intention was to lead the monk through "twelve degrees of humility" to a state of complete surrender or loss of self. In his Rule the means to this end are obedience to superiors, the renunciation of all personal possessions, and "the giving up of the body", which includes the requirement of celibacy. There is no qualification for entry save the conviction of a personal "call" or "vocation", which the aspirant was traditionally required to prove first by enduring a trial of admission and then by meeting the demands of the novitiate: "Admission to the religious life should not be made easy for newcomers.... If he [the aspirant] shows patience and persists in his petition for several days despite harsh treatment and reluctance to admit him, he shall be permitted lodging in a guest room.... "10 In Sufi communities the practice was similar. A newcomer was commonly made to wait days outside the Master's door and was treated very rudely at first. Even upon acceptance, he had to undergo three years of service before being clothed in the dark blue khirga of the novice. Like Benedict's monks, Sufi novices were schooled in humility. Sometimes they were ordered to beg, not so much for the purpose of supporting themselves but so that they would suffer scorn and abuse and come to esteem themselves "the meanest of God's creatures".11 10. The Rule of St. Benedict, trans. Anthony C. Meisel and M. L del Mastro (Garden City, N. Y.: Doubleday & Co., 1975), p. 93. 11. Annemarie Schimmel, Mystical Dimensions, p. 101.
Buddhist monasticism, founded by Gautama himself, was developed under a system of rules known as the Vinaya, a term derived from vi-nayati, meaning "to lead away" from evil, or "to discipline". The monk is required to abide by the essential conditions of poverty, celibacy, and inoffensiveness, or..:'non-harming'", and, in addition, to accept over two hundred disciplinary rules known as the pratimoksha, which were read twice a month to the community or sangha. The recitation of the pratimoksha was an occasion for the confession of all lapses from the rule and for the taking of appropriate disciplinary measures. One of the severest forms of punishment was the brahmadanda, which consisted in declaring a person socially dead, such that his presence was completely ignored. According to tradition, this penalty was applied on one occasion at the instruction of Gautama to a monk called Channa: "Let Channa say whatever he likes, the brethren should neither speak to him, nor exhort him, nor admonish him." As the story goes these measures were so effective in Channa's case that he underwent a profound change and soon attained to the state of an arhat, or one who has transcended bondage to the body-mind.12 12. H. Kern, Manual of Indian Buddhism (Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass, 1974), p. 87. Such a story pays eloquent tribute to the role of the sangha in the preliminary stages of spiritual formation. In Western monasticism the "Chapter of Faults" (at which mistakes and transgressions from the Rule were publicly admitted) had the same function as confession at the recital of the pratimoksha for the Buddhists. In both cases it was the painful exposure to the eyes of the community, as much as the prescribed penance, that served to break down the egoic barriers of pride and privacy in the monk and awaken in him a sense of humility and compassion for his fellows.   Both St. Benedict and John Cassian (another founding father of Christian monasticism) regarded the discipline of community life as an indispensable aid to the growth of patience and tolerance. John Cassian wrote as one who had lived the life of a desert hermit and had seen the self-delusion to which the solitary life could lead if the-practitioner was not already established in "perfection of heart": "Somebody who has no dealings with other human beings may seem to himself patient and humble, but as soon as there is an occasion of some disturbance he immediately reverts to his former nature. In fact the vices that were in hiding suddenly show themselves. They come forth like unbridled horses, well fed and too long left uncontrolled; eagerly and fiercely they break from their stalls and cause the downfall of the one driving the chariot.... The semblance of patience which we thought we had when we lived among brothers, which came from respect for them and public expectations, is lost through the carelessness which follows complacency." 13 13. John Cassian, Institraioner, 8.18, quoted in Michael Casey, "The Virtue of Patience in the Western Tradition", Cistercian Studies (XXI, 1986), p. 11. Cassian's image of uncontrolled emotions and sensual passions as unbridled horses recurs in several spiritual traditions. The Sufis saw the energy of the nafs, or base instincts, as forces to be "broken in" like unruly horses and trained to the service of God. The Kathopanishad paints a similar picture, emphasizing the need for discrimination: "When a man lacks discrimination and his mind is uncontrolled, his senses are like the restive horses of a charioteer. But when a man has discrimination and his mind is controlled, his senses, like the well-broken horses of a charioteer, lightly obey the rein."14 14. The Upanishads, Breath of the Eternal, trans. Swami Prabhavananda and Frederick Manchester (Hollywood, Calif.: Vedanta Press, 1983), p. 29.
The Limitations of Monastic Philosophy The virtue of monastic or ashram life in purifying and strengthening the human personality lies in its continual frustration of the wayward tendencies of the practitioner by the demands of a strict daily routine, manual work, absence of worldly distractions, and the "annoyance" of the brethren (Cassian's term!). While structures for counseling often existed, especially to aid the novice, detailed analysis of personal problems and the dramatization of unresolved emotions were severely discouraged as concessions to the egoic self. Certainly there was wisdom in this approach, but it also had its limitations. Even a cursory review of monastic philosophy reveals a preponderance of words such as "force", "fight", "overcome", "combat", "warfare", "struggle", "deny", etc. A picture emerges of a military campaign between a presumed "higher self' add the subhuman habits of the "lower- self'. Victory appears to mean the vanquishing or stamping out of the lower self, in the assumption that a superior being will emerge from the ashes. This picture is somewhat exaggerated, but it points to the repressive tendency inherent in the traditional attitude toward spiritual preparation, not merely in the monastic context, but altogether. The reason the vast majority of would-be spiritual practitioners never get beyond the foundation stage may lie not merely in the strength of egoic refusal (which all the disciplines were designed to counter), but also in this life-negative strategy, which stifles love, the only impulse that unlocks the heart. The traditional approach can also prove self-defeating on psychological grounds by failing to appreciate that direct opposition to an unwanted tendency energizes rather than weakens that tendency, because attention is concentrated in it. Thus, ascetic practices and deliberate mortification by no means eradicate the desires of the flesh and the distractions of the mind. Such desires and distractions can be suppressed very effectively and even for life, as in the case of many Indian yogis and other advanced practitioners of ascended forms of meditation.15 But for the ordinary spiritual aspirant, behavioral suppression is more likely merely to internalize the problems in potentially alarming mental and psychic forms. And forcible attempts to manipulate the mind are inevitably ineffective. As Heart-Master Da has expressed it, "Try not to think of a tree. It is impossible, because you must keep the thing in mind in order to try not to think it."16
15. In some forms of meditation, energy is drawn up from the base of the body and attention is concentrated in the "higher" centers of the brain, producing visionary and mystical experiences. Also see "The Seven Stages of Life", pp. 4-7. 16. Bubba Free John (Heart-Master Da), The Enlightenment of the Whole Body (San Rafael, Calif.: The Dawn Horse Press, 1978), p. 340. 
The Lessons of Asceticism Many practitioners have, by observing themselves and others, come to the conclusion that excessive asceticism is a dead end. Gautama the Buddha made this discovery during his own sadhana.17 By long fasting he became as thin as a skeleton and finally grew so weak that he fell down in a faint. In the original story the gods behold his crumpled form with a certain dry humor: "Some gods said: `The Sramana Gautama is dead'; others, however, remarked: 'Such is the state of Arhats'."18 17. The Sanskrit word sadhana, meaning "discipline", commonly or traditionally refers to practices directed toward the goal of spiritual and religious attainment. Heart-Master Da uses the term without the implication of a goal, to mean appropriate action generated not as a means to Truth but as a life-practice based on prior understanding and Divine Realization. 18. H. Kern, Manual of Indian Buddhism, p. 19. When he recovers consciousness, Gautama concludes that mortification is not the way to Enlightenment and promptly ceases his ascetical practices. But the episode ends with an ironic twist, because the five friars who have traveled with him up till that point are now disillusioned, and so they abandon him. 
Like Gautama's five friars, a famous Indian ascetic called Tapasviji represents the conventional ascetical view, even to an extreme degree. His life is instructive in showing how the practice of tapas (austerities), initially taken on to frustrate the tendencies of the ego, can turn into a self-fulfilling life-style. His biography includes an amusing story of Krishna's intervention in his exaggerated practices. At the age of 115 years Tapasviji decided to perform tapas for three years standing naked on his left leg (the other crossed over at the knee) with both arms uplifted and holding the branch of a tree. During this time thousands of people came to rrlarvel and to offer him milk, which was the only sustenance he received. At the end of three years a strange sadhu (wandering renunciate) approaciied him, claiming that such ugra tapas (rigorous penance) was inappropriate. Tapasviji did not reply as he had made a vow of silence. When the stranger repeated himself but still received no response, he forced Tapasviji's right leg to the ground, breaking it in the act. Tapasviji cried out in pain, and the stranger massaged and healed the injured leg. Then he disappeared, and Tapasviji resumed his former posture. A few days later he had a vision of Krishna, who explained that it was he who had taken the form of the sadhu. He instructed Tapasviji to cease his penance immediately. I Although he obeyed at once on this occasion, Tapasviji continued to apply himself regularly to such feats for the rest of his long life, apparently never able to receive Krishna's lesson.19 19. For a complete account of the life of Tapasviji, see T. S. Anantha Murthy, Maharaj: A Biography of Shriman Tapasviji Maharaj, a Mahatma Who Lived for 185 Years (San Rafael, Calif.: The Dawn Horse Press, 1986).
 The Ordeal of Solitude To do justice to Tapasviji, there is evidence to suggest that he was a true devotee of the Divine, and that he radiated blessing to others, whatever the idiosyncrasies of his practice. The same may be said of St. Anthony, a fourth-century Christian saint who gave up his possessions and withdrew to, the Egyptian desert. He found a tomb in-which to live (a choice reminiscent of the Buddhist practice of meditating in a cemetery) and later an abandoned fortress where he supposedly stayed for twenty years, living on bread and water and sleeping little. Tradition has it that throughout this period he was tempted by Satan in the guise of terrifying demons and in the alluring form of a woman, but worst of all by simple boredom! The ordeal was evidently transforming, as Anthony is said to have emerged physically vigorous and to have radiated a perfect equanimity; he was "neither overcome with sadness nor with an excessive joy" 20 20. The quotations given here have been translated from a French version of St. Athanasius's fourth-century life of St. Anthony. A complete English translation of the Life exists in Ancient Christian Writers, vol. 10, trans. Robert T. Meyer (New York: Newman Press, 1950). The legend of St. Anthony of Egypt is continuous with the shamanistic traditions of the pagan world, which used long periods of isolation as a means for bringing candidates through the ordeal of self-knowledge and preparing them for the reception of supernatural powers. It is said of Anthony that the enjoyment of blisses and angelic visions followed the completion of his struggle with the demons.  The School of Pythagoras An example of an initiatory trial in the classical Mediterranean world was that required of the neophyte in the school of Pythagoras, a Greek philosopher and mystic, who is said to have undergone his own training in the esoteric schools of ancient Egypt. For Pythagoras the mature practice of philosophy was a profound matter requiring a rigorous preparation. A newcomer Iwas expected to have studied the essence of Pythagorean wisdom and to be willing to endure a five-year probation period, which included the practice of total silence in the presence of those who had been longer in the school. Through study of the self and the natural world, the student was expected to learn reverence for life and to begin to sense the deeper reality beneath its transitory display. By training in the art of quiet attention and a natural economy of action, he was to "surmount and vanquish these passions: gluttony, sloth, lust and anger".21 21. The Golden Verses of Pythagoras, ed. Raghavan Iyer (New York: Concord Grove Press, 1983), p. 18.
There is a legend that actual admission into the school required of the student an all-night vigil in a secluded place, where he gave his whole attention to a given mathematical symbol, such as a triangle, preparing to expound its mythic significance to the whole assembly the next day. When the neophyte stood before the school, his consideration was severely tested by questions and opposition from Pythagoras and members of the community. This ordeal was a test not merely of the candidate's level of insight, but also of his capacity to receive and withstand criticism in other words, of his human maturity. 
Karma Yoga We have so far examined the trial of human maturity solely within a renunciate context, be it a monastery, an esoteric school, or a hermit's cave. But is it necessary to leave the world? In fact, most spiritual traditions have also acknowledged a "householder" discipline, or the potential for spiritual preparation in the crucible of family life and the workaday world. In general, however, householder sadhana- r karma yoga, as it is known in India, has been regarded as second best, to be tolerated only until such time as a practitioner is free of family obligations and in a position to embrace a celibate,, renunciate circumstance. The Bhagavad Gita (ca. 500 B.C.) is remarkable for its time in praising karma yoga truly practiced as a full and sufficient means for leading a spiritual aspirant to perfection: "By worshipping with his own proper action Him from Whom beings have their origin, Him by Whom all this universe is pervaded, Man finds perfection." "Better one's own duty, though imperfect, than the duty of another well-performed; performing action prescribed by one's own nature, one does not incur evil. "With intelligence unattached at all times, with conquered self, free from desire, by renunciation, one attains the supreme perfection of actionlessness."22 Expressions of this wisdom can be found in the Tibetan tradition of the eighty-four Siddhas or Realized Masters, several of whom immeasurably surpassed the foundation stages and attained Liberation, or full Enlightenment, by the art of transforming their worldly tasks into meditation. Camaripa, for example, was a shoemaker instructed by his Guru to meditate on the "Dharma", or Buddhist Teaching, through the images of his craft: "Let the mental distortion and conceptions be the leather. On the board of friendliness and compassion, with the drill of the guru's instructions, sew properly with the cords of giving up the eight worldly concerns. "23 The story goes that "for twelve years he meditated without distinguishing the words of his guru and the making of shoes, and took no notice of day and night". There are similar stories of a tailor, a player of the vina and even of a thief, who was drawn into practice for the sake of obtaining magical powers but became Enlightened through the intensity of his sadhana. 22. The Baghavad Gita, ch. 18, v. 46, 47, 49. 23. Buddha's Lions: The Lives of the Eighty-Four Siddhas, trans. James B. Robinson (Berkeley, Calif.: Dharma Publishing, 1979), pp. 70-71.
Hatha Yoga The Indian tradition of hatha yoga, now widely known in the West, appreciates the psychophysical nature of human and spiritual development and emphasizes prior preparation of the body before the arousal of kundalini shakti (the energy associated in yogic philosophy with spiritual awakening) can safely begin. Hatha ("force" or "power") is expressed by the strengthening and purifying of body and mind through prescribed postures, techniques of breathing, cleansing and dietary practices, etc. One traditional text compares this bodily preparation to the learning of the alphabet, which must precede higher study: "As by learning the alphabet one can, through practice, master all the sciences, so by thoroughly practicing first physical training one acquires the knowledge of Truth (Tattva Jnana) that is the real nature of the human soul, being identical with the Supreme Spirit pervading the universe."24 24. Gheranda Samhita, ch. 1, v, 5, quoted in B. K. S. lyengar, fight on Yoga (New York: Schocken Books, 1977), p. 32. 
The Discipline of Study Most traditions of preparation involve the constant study of sacred texts so that the practitioner may be thoroughly grounded in the lineage of wisdom proper to his tradition and be able to test his (or her) life against it. In many cases the process of st dy precipitates the original crisis o#-conversion. This was certainly so in the life of St. Augustine of Hippo (354-430), a brilliant man who spent years agonizing over the truth of ortlcodox Christianity in the light of the philosophical debates of his time before he finally submitted to it.25 25. See The Confessions of St. Augustine, trans. Rex Warner (New York: The New American Library, Mentor Books, 1963), Book VIII, ch. 12. A much more immediate response to the impact of sacred reading is told in the autobiography of St. Ignatius of Loyola. Ignatius was a distinguished Spanish soldier who, when confined to bed recovering from battle wounds sustained at the siege of Pamplona (1491), picked up some books on the life of Christ and the saints, for want of the more diverting chivalric literature to which he was accustomed. He began to notice the happiness that came over him whenever he turned to these books and resolved to give himself up to the life they recommended.26 In all the great spiritual cultures there has been a strong emphasis on the memorization and daily recitation of sacred scripture. It was said among the Sufis that "a disciple who does not know the Koran by heart is like a lemon without scent".27 In other words, the disciple was expected to be so steeped in the sacred word that it had become the most intimate and essential part of him. Christian monks devoted themselves to lectio divine (sacred reading), which involved a deep meditative study of the Bible, with the intention of uncovering levels of allegorical and spiritual meaning not immediately obvious. The painstaking copying of holy books was required in all traditions once an oral culture of transmission was no longer deemed sufficient. This was a highly demanding task (especially for peasant monks unused to quill and parchment), but it was undertaken as an opportunity to honor the sacred scriptures. In some traditions (notably the Christian and Islamic), highly elaborate decoration of the text arose in response to an impulse to glorify the written form of the revelation. 26. The Autobiography of St. lgnatiur of Loyola, trans. Joseph F. O'Callaghan (New York: Harper & Row, 1974), pp. Off. 27. Quoted in Annemarie Schimmel, Mystical Dimensions, p. 107.
 The Grace of the Teacher While individual study, both of scripture and of secondary literature, has always had a primary place in the traditional preparation of spiritual aspirants, it is usually of only limited benefit to the student without the intervention and illumination of one who has realized the Teaching in some fundamental sense. St. Augustine, for example, might not have embraced the Christian gospel had he not recognized in his bishop, St. Ambrose, a living expression of that wisdom. In a similar manner, Namkhai Norbu Rinpoche, a contemporary practitioner of Tibetan Dzogchen (meaning "Great Perfection"), relates how his many years of rigorous monastic studies and initiations did not bear fruit in him until he met his principal Teacher, who brought him to a true understanding of all he had learned."28 28. Namkhai Norbu Rinpoche, The Crystal and the Way of Light (New York: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1986), p. 8. Throughout the history of human culture there has been a tradition that the greatest of all Teachers is the God-Realizer, whose living presence reveals the Divine Reality. At the same time, religious history is full of the evidence of the misunderstanding and abuse of such Beings, not merely by those indifferent or actively opposed to them, but also by many who aspire to discipleship and spend years in their physical company. Even at best, the common experience of most of the great Adepts has been to Teach and associate with large numbers of people who approached them reverently but nevertheless conventionally, in much the same way and for the same kinds of reasons that they would visit a temple, church, or other sacred site. That is to say, they would come for the purpose of obtaining a blessing, receiving an answer to prayer, or accumulating merit in the exoteric religious sense. The few who have sought out an Adept in order to receive and practice a Wisdom-Teaching have traditionally been thoroughly tested in their motive, human maturity, and self-knowledge before being initiated into higher spiritual practice. They have had to be profoundly prepared to awaken to the truth that the Realized Teacher is the Teaching or the Divine Way himself (or herself). The play of this process between a great Realizer and his would-be devotee is told in an account of the life of Ramana Maharshi (1879-1950), an Enlightened Adept of modern times. Among the spiritual aspirants who approached him in his ashram at Arunachala in South India was a schoolteacher by the name of Natesa Mudaliar, who had been inspired by reading the works of Swami Vivekananda and desired personal instruction in Advaita Vedanta29 from Ramana Maharshi. On his first visit to the ashram Mudaliar was unsatisfied by Ramana Maharshi's total silence during his gatherings with disciples. After staying for a time he left in disappointment and spent years in fruitless search for other Teachers. Eventually he made his request for guidance in a letter to Ramana Maharshi. He received a reply from the ashram saying that Ramana Maharshi did not respond to letters but that he was invited to return to the ashram. Mudaliar returned at once and sat with Ramana Maharshi every day for a year, but still he received no word from him. At that point he could bear it no longer and so addressed Ramana Maharshi directly with his deep urge for instruction. The Adept merely replied that his Grace was always being given. Shortly thereafter Mudaliar had a series of dreams in which he was aware of receiving instruction and initiation, although still no verbal communication took place in the waking state. After further years of wandering, resisting Ramana Maharshi's advice that he return to the world, Mudaliar finally gave up and went back to his work and family, consoling himself by composing songs in praise of his Guru. In the end Mudaliar did obtain, more fully than most others, the verbal instructions he had so long desired, and he played an important part in recording Ramana Maharshi's Teaching. The trial he had to undergo, which must have brought him more than once to despair; was perfectly suited to teach him many lessons about his assumptions and motives, to test his fidelity and perseverence, and to prepare him to recognize and receive Ramana Maharshi's spiritual transmission, without which he could not hope to realize the Teaching.31 29. Advaita Vedanta (literally, "the non-dualistic end of the Vedas") is an ancient tradition of Hindu philosophy, based on the highest wisdom of the Upanishads. Its philosophy points to Reality or "Brahman" as transcendental and prior to all phenomena. Its ultimate Realization is that there is no distinction between the individual, the world, and Brahman or the Divine Reality. 30. For a full account of this story see Arthur Osborne, Ramana Maharthi and the Path of Self Knowledge (New York: Samuel Weiser, 1973), pp. 90-93.
 Buddhi and Radical Understanding
The essentials of spiritual preparation in all traditions could be seen to converge in the awakening of a higher human faculty expressed in the Hindu scriptures as buddhi, variously translated as "resolute-natured insight", "intuitive determination", or "discriminative intelligence".31 31. The Bhagavad Gita, trans. Winthrop Sargeant (Garden City, N.Y.; Doubleday & Co., 1979), pp. 136,138,141, 146,147, 148, 160, 163. These definitions point to a combination of strength and understanding, which aptly describes the genius of buddhi. The faculty of wisdom blossoms when the will is mature enough to command the energies of the body-mind naturally and easily. In the image from the Kathopanirhad quoted earlier, this converted will is the rein that smoothly drives the chariot of the senses in the man of discrimination. In Buddhism and Advaita Vedanta, buddhi grants direct insight into the transient nature of conditional existence and, ultimately, grants the intuition of the Transcendental Self. In Sufism and Christianity buddhi can be related to. the capacity for discernment and hidden knowledge of God, which arises in one who is empty of self. As a higher faculty of mind buddhi is never lost, but it is obscured in those still "attached to enjoyment and power".32 32. Ibid., p. 141. Heart-Master Da has founded the Way of the Heart on a similar principle, which he has called "radical understanding". Radical understanding involves a profound enquiry into all human motives, including the religious motive. It is not enough to see that life is suffering and death inevitable, and on that basis to embrace a spiritual alternative to the usual life. The would-be practitioner has to get down to the real root of his suffering, to acknowledge his unrelenting search for relief and release, and to reach the point 6f-discovering that his suffering is his own activity. Radical understanding is the recognition that the whole-gamut of striving in the material and spiritual realms stems from a subtle stress or recoil deep in the body-mind, a fearful sense of separation from the Divine. One who considers spiritual practice from this point of view has to confront the fact that religious aspirations are another expression of the egoic search for happiness and consolation and are no less a form of suffering than all the more commonplace forms of distraction and indulgence. Until steady and penetrating insight reveals the moment-to-moment action of self-contraction, the problem-based search automatically continues. In the words of Heart Master Da: "All ordinary activity is founded in this dilemma, this self-created. contraction. "Traditional spiritual life is a search in this same form. There is dilemma, and there is the spiritual method, which is an attempt to overcome this dilemma. When the individual begins to see again the dilemma that motivates his method, that seeing is understanding. Where this dilemma is understood, there is the re-cognition of a structure in consciousness, a separation. And when that separation is observed more and more directly, the person begins to see that what he is suffering is not something happening to him, but it is his own action. It is as if he is pinching himself without being aware of it. "33 33. Heart-Master Da Love-Ananda, The Method of the Siddhas (San Rafael, Calif.: The Dawn Horse Press, 1987), p. 3.
 Spiritual Preparation in the Way of the Heart The process of spiritual preparation in the Way of the Heart, which presumes non-separation from the Divine as our true condition, releases obstructions by real self-understanding rather than opposes them in the traditional manner by techniques of asceticism. 
The key to freedom from the demons of the body, mind, and psyche (shown attacking St. Anthony in our cover picture) is to recognize them for what they are our own activity of self-contraction, which can be observed, understood, and transcended. But this is not, of course, a momentary or superficial matter. It is a constant, fiery process involving the exposure of all our emotional-sexual conflicts, including the childish strategy (or weakminded dependence) and adolescent strategy (or phasing between weak-minded dependence and reactive independence), which result from failed adaptation in the first three stages of life. Great discipline is required in this ordeal, but not the discipline of suppression. As in the traditional yamas and niyamas ("actions to avoid" and "actions to observe"), a commitment to general rules of discipline is clearly necessary, but for optimum growth the individual must be faced with a demand to go beyond his or her particular egoic tendencies in creative and positive ways that are specifically personal. In the words of Heart-Master Da: "True change and higher human adaptation are not made on the basis of any self conscious resistance to old, degenerative, and subhuman habits. Change is not a matter of not doing something. It is a matter of doing something else - something that is inherently right, free, and pleasurable. What is not used becomes obsolete, whereas what is opposed is kept before us."34 Thus, true renunciation is not idealistic self-denial but a free impulse beyond self possession and toward self-transcendence. It occurs spontaneously when we understand that every moment of unhappiness is self chosen and that happiness is our native state. For one who is already happy, renunciate disciplines can be easily assumed because happiness is no longer dependent on the quality of arising experience. Prior happiness, which is fundamentally undisturbed by changing conditions in the body-mind, is the foundation of the insight and wisdom (buddhi/prajna) spoken of in the Bhagavad Gita: "When he (the disciple) leaves behind all desires ... And is contented in the self by the self Then he is said to be one whose insight is steady."35 Spiritual life must be founded in happiness, not in a struggle to achieve it. True spiritual preparation, therefore, must involve the purification of all strategies of unhappiness and unlove, the transformation of our "hearts of stone" into "hearts of flesh",36 or our conversion from the fearful separation we have assumed all our lives, to ecstatic relationship with All that Is. 34, Heart Master Da, The Enlightenment of the Whole Body, pp. 323-24. 35, The Bhagavad Gita, trans. Sargeant, p. 152. 36. Old Testament, Ezekiel 11:19 and 36:26. The Vision of Sainthood - Conversion - The Monastic Choice - The Limitations of Monastic Philosophy - The Lessons of Aceticism - The Ordeal of Solitude - The School of Pythagoras - Karma Yoga - Hatha Yoga - The Discipline of Study - The Grace of the Teacher - Buddhi and Radical Understanding - Spiritual Preparation in the Way of the Heart |
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