WE HAVE STATED THAT in addition to meaning work, psychologically the word karma also implies causation. Any word, any action, any thought, that produces an effect is called a karma. Thus the law of karma means the law of causation, of inevitable cause and sequence. Wheresoever there is a cause, there an effect must be produced; this necessity cannot be resisted; and this law of karma, according to our philosophy, is true throughout the whole universe. Whatever we see or feel or do, whatever action there is anywhere in the universe, while being on the one hand the effect of past work, becomes, on the other, a cause in its turn and produces its own effect.
It is necessary, together with this, to consider what is meant by the word law. By law is meant the tendency of a series to repeat itself. When we see one event followed by another, or sometimes happening simultaneously with another, we expect this sequence or coexistence to recur. Our old logicians and philosophers of the Nyāya school call this law by the name of vyāpti. According to them all our ideas of law are due to association. A series of phenomena becomes associated with certain things in our mind in a sort of invariable order; so whatever we perceive at any time is immediately referred to similar facts in the mind. Any one idea or, according to our psychology, any one wave that is produced in the mind-stuff, or chitta, must always give rise to many similar waves. This is the psychological idea of association, and causation is only an aspect of this grand pervasive principle of association. This pervasiveness of association is what is, in Sanskrit, called vyāpti. In the external world the idea of law is the same as in the internal—the expectation that a particular phenomenon will be followed by another and that the series will repeat itself. Strictly speaking, therefore, law does not exist in nature. It is really an error to say that gravitation exists in the earth or that there is any law existing objectively anywhere in nature. Law is the method, the manner, in which our mind grasps a series of phenomena; it is all in the mind. Certain phenomena, happening one after another, or together, and followed by the conviction of the regularity of their recurrence, thus enabling our minds to grasp the method of the whole series, are explained by what we call law.
The next question for consideration is what we mean by law’s being universal. Our universe is that portion of Existence which is conditioned by what the Sanskrit philosophers call deśa-kāla-nimitta, or what is known to European philosophy as space, time, and causation. This universe is only a part of Infinite Existence, thrown into a peculiar mould composed of space, time, and causation. It necessarily follows that law is possible only within this conditioned universe; beyond it there cannot be any law. When we speak of the universe we mean only that portion of Existence which is limited by our minds—the universe of the senses, which we can see, feel, touch, hear, think of, imagine. This alone is under law; but beyond it, Existence cannot be subject to law, because causation does not extend beyond the world of our minds. Anything beyond the range of the mind and the senses is not bound by the law of causation, because there is no mental association of things in the region beyond the senses, and no causation is possible without association of ideas. It is only when Being or Existence becomes moulded into name and form that it obeys the law of causation and is said to be subject to law—because all law has its essence in causation.
Therefore we see at once that there cannot be any such thing as free will; the very words are a contradiction, because the will is something that we know, and everything that we know is within our universe, and everything within our universe is moulded by the conditions of space, time, and causation. Everything that we know, or can possibly know, must be subject to causation, and that which obeys the law of causation cannot be free. It is acted upon by other agents and becomes a cause in its turn. But that which has become converted into the will, which was not the will before, but which, when it fell into this mould of space, time, and causation, became converted into the human will, is free; and when this will gets out of the mould of space, time, and causation, it will be free again. From freedom it comes, and it falls into the mould of bondage, and it gets out and goes back to freedom again.
The question has been raised as to whence this universe comes, in what it rests, and whither it goes; and the answer has been given that from freedom it comes, in bondage it rests, and into that freedom it goes back again. So when we speak of man as no other than the Infinite Being, which is manifesting Itself through him, we mean that only one very small part thereof is man; this body and this mind which we see are only one part of the whole, only one speck in the Infinite Being. This whole universe is only one speck in the Infinite Being; and all our laws, our bondages, our joys and our sorrows, our happinesses and our expectations, are only within this small universe; all our progression and regression are within its small compass. So you see how childish it is to expect a continuation of this universe—the creation of our minds—and to expect to go to heaven, which after all must mean only a repetition of this world that we know. You see at once that it is an impossible and childish desire to make the whole of Infinite Existence conform to the limited and conditioned existence which we know. When a man says that he will have again and again this same thing which he is having now, or, as I sometimes put it, when he asks for a comfortable religion, you may know that he has become so degenerate that he cannot think of anything higher than what he is now, anything beyond his insignificant present surroundings. He has forgotten his infinite nature, and his whole idea is confined to these little joys and sorrows and heart-jealousies of the moment. He thinks that this finite thing is the Infinite; and not only so, but he will not let this foolishness go. He clings desperately to trishnā, the thirst after life, what the Buddhists call tanhā and trissā. There may be millions of kinds of happiness and beings and laws and progress and causation, all acting outside the little universe that we know; and after all, the whole of this comprises but one section of our infinite nature.
To acquire freedom we have to get beyond the limitations of this universe; it cannot be found here. Perfect equilibrium, or what the Christians call the peace that passeth all understanding, cannot be had in this universe, nor in heaven, nor in any place where our minds and thoughts can go, where the senses can feel, or of which the imagination can conceive. No such place can give us that freedom, because all such places would be within our universe, and it is limited by space, time, and causation. There may be places that are more ethereal than this earth of ours, where enjoyments are keener; but even those places must be in the universe, and therefore in bondage to law. So we have to go beyond, and real religion begins where this little universe ends. These little joys and sorrows and this knowledge of things end there, and Reality begins. Until we give up the thirst after life, the strong attachment to this our transient, conditioned existence, we have no hope of catching even a glimpse of that infinite freedom beyond. It stands to reason then that there is only one way to attain to that freedom, which is the goal of all the noblest aspirations of mankind, and that is to give up this little life, give up this little universe, give up this earth, give up heaven, give up the body, give up the mind, give up everything that is limited and conditioned. If we give up our attachment to this little universe of the senses and of the mind, we shall be free immediately. The only way to come out of bondage is to go beyond the limitation of law, to go beyond causation.
But it is a most difficult thing to give up the clinging to this universe; few ever attain to that. There are two ways to do it mentioned in our books. One is called “Neti, neti” (“Not this, not this”); the other is called “Iti” (“This”); the former is the negative, and the latter is the positive, way. The negative way is the more difficult. It is only possible for men of the very highest, exceptional minds and gigantic wills, who simply stand up and say, “No, I will not have this,” and the mind and body obey their will, and they come out successfully. But such people are very rare. The vast majority of mankind choose the positive way, the way through the world, making use of their bondage in order to break that very bondage. This is also a kind of giving up; only it is done slowly and gradually, by knowing things, enjoying things, and thus obtaining experience and knowing the nature of things until the mind lets them all go at last and becomes unattached. The former way of obtaining non-attachment is by reasoning, and the latter way is through work and experience. The first is the path of jnāna-yoga, characterized by the refusal to do any work; the second is that of karma-yoga, in which there is no cessation from work. Almost everyone in the universe must work. Only those who are perfectly satisfied with the Self, whose desires do not go beyond the Self, whose minds never stray out of the Self, to whom the Self is all in all—only those do not work. The rest must work.
A current of water, rushing down of its own nature, falls into a hollow and makes a whirlpool, and after turning around a little there, it emerges again in the form of the free current to go on unchecked. Each human life is like that current. It gets into the whirl, becomes involved in this world of space, time, and causation, whirls round a little, crying out, “my father, my brother, my name, my fame,” and so on, and at last emerges out of it and regains its original freedom. The whole universe is doing that. Whether we know it or not, whether we are conscious or unconscious of it, we are all working to get out of the whirl of the world. The aim of man’s experience in the world is to enable him to get out of its whirlpool.
What is karma-yoga? The knowledge of the secret of work. We see that the whole universe is working. For what? For salvation, for liberty. From the atom to the highest being, working for the one end: liberty of the mind, of the body, of the spirit. All things are always trying to get freedom, to fly away from bondage. The sun, the moon, the earth, the planets, all are trying to fly away from bondage. The centrifugal and centripetal forces function throughout the whole universe. Instead of being knocked about in this universe and, after long delay and thrashing, getting to know things as they are, we learn from karma-yoga the secret of work, the method of work, the organizing power of work. A vast mass of energy may be spent in vain if we do not know how to utilize it. Karma-yoga makes a science of work; you learn by it how best to utilize all the activities in this world. Work is inevitable; it must be so. But we should work to the highest purpose. Karma-yoga makes us realize that this world is a world of five minutes, that it is something we have to pass through, and that freedom is not here, but is only to be found beyond. To find the way out of the bondages of the world we have to go through it slowly and surely. There may be exceptional persons, such as those about whom I just spoke, who can stand aside and give up the world as a snake casts off its skin and looks at it as a witness. There are, no doubt, these exceptional beings; but the rest of mankind have to go slowly through this world. Karma-yoga shows the process, the secret and method of doing it to the best advantage.
What does it say? Work incessantly, but give up all attachment to work. Do not identify yourself with anything. Hold your mind free. All that you see, the pains and the miseries, are but the necessary conditions of this world. Poverty and wealth and happiness are but momentary; they do not belong to our real nature at all. Our nature is far beyond misery and happiness, beyond every object of the senses, beyond the imagination. And yet we must go on working all the time. Misery comes through attachment, not through work. As soon as we identify ourselves with the work we do, we feel miserable; but if we do not identify ourselves with it, we do not feel that misery. If a beautiful picture belonging to another is burnt, a man does not generally become miserable; but when his own picture is burnt how miserable he feels! Why? Both were beautiful pictures, perhaps copies of the same original; but in one case very much more misery is felt than in the other. It is because in one case he identifies himself with the picture, and in the other he does not.
This feeling of “I and mine” causes the whole misery. With the sense of possession comes selfishness, and selfishness brings on misery. Every act of selfishness or thought of selfishness makes us attached to something, and immediately we are made slaves. Each wave in the chitta that says “I and mine” immediately puts a chain round us and makes us slaves; and the more we say “I and mine,” the more the slavery grows, the more the misery increases. Therefore karma-yoga tells us to enjoy the beauty of all the pictures in the world, but not to identify ourselves with any of them. Never say “mine.” Whenever we say a thing is ours, misery immediately comes. Do not say “my child” even in your mind. If you do, then will come misery. Do not say “my house,” do not say “my body.” The whole difficulty is there. The body is neither yours, nor mine, nor anybody’s. These bodies are coming and going by the laws of nature, but the Soul is free, standing as the witness. This body is no more free than a picture or a wall. Why should we be attached so much to a body? Suppose somebody paints a picture; why should he be attached to it? He will have to part with it at death. Do not project that tentacle of selfishness, “I must possess it.” As soon as that is done, misery will begin.
So karma-yoga says: First destroy the tendency to project this tentacle of selfishness, and when you have the power of checking it, hold it in and do not allow the mind to get into the wave of selfishness. Then you may go out into the world and work as much as you like. Mix everywhere; go where you please; you will never be contaminated by evil. There is the lotus leaf in the water; the water cannot moisten or stick to it; so will you live in the world. This is called vairāgya, “dispassion” or “non-attachment.” I believe I have told you that without non-attachment there cannot be any kind of yoga. Non-attachment is the basis of all the yogas. The man who gives up living in houses, wearing fine clothes, and eating good food, and goes into the desert, may be a most attached person. His only possession, his own body, may become everything to him; and while he lives he will struggle day and night to preserve his body. Non-attachment does not mean anything that we may do in relation to our external body; it is all in the mind. The binding link of “me and mine” is in the mind. If we have not this link with the body and with the things of the senses, we are non-attached, wherever and whatever we may be. A man may be on a throne and perfectly non-attached; another man may be in rags and still very much attached. First we have to attain this state of non-attachment, and then we have to work incessantly. Karma-yoga teaches us the method that will help us in giving up all attachment, though it is indeed very hard.
Here are the two ways of giving up all attachment. One way is for those who do not believe in God or in any outside help. They are left to their own devices; they have simply to work with their own will, with the powers of their mind and discrimination, thinking, “I must be non-attached.” For those who believe in God there is another way, which is much less difficult. They give up the fruits of work unto the Lord; they work but never feel attached to the results. Whatever they see, feel, hear, or do is for Him. Whatever good work we may do, let us not claim any praise or benefit for it. It is the Lord’s; give up the fruits unto Him. Let us stand aside and think that we are only servants obeying the Lord, our Master, and that every impulse for action comes from Him every moment. Whatever worship you offer, whatever you perceive, whatever you do—give up all unto Him and be at rest. Let us give up our whole body and mind and everything as an eternal sacrifice unto the Lord and be at peace, perfect peace, with ourselves. Instead of pouring oblations into the fire, as in a sacrifice, perform this one great sacrifice day and night—the sacrifice of your little self. “I searched for wealth in this world; Thou art the only wealth I have found; I sacrifice myself unto Thee. I searched for someone to love; Thou art the only beloved I have found; I sacrifice myself unto Thee.” Let us repeat this day and night, and say: “Nothing for me. No matter whether the thing is good, bad, or indifferent, I do not care for it. I sacrifice all unto Thee.” Day and night let us renounce our seeming self until renunciation becomes a habit with us, until it gets into the blood, the nerves, and the brain, and the whole body is every moment obedient to this idea of self-renunciation. Go then into the battlefield, amidst the roaring cannon and the din of war, and you will find yourself free and at peace.
Karma-yoga teaches us that the ordinary idea of duty is on the lower plane; nevertheless all of us have to do our duty. Yet we may see that this peculiar sense of duty is very often a great cause of misery. Duty becomes a disease with us; it drags us on for ever. It catches hold of us and makes our whole life miserable. It is the bane of human life. This duty, this idea of duty, is the midday summer sun, which scorches the innermost soul of mankind. Look at those poor slaves to duty! Duty leaves them no time to say prayers, no time to bathe; duty is ever on them. They go out and work; duty is on them. They come home and think of the work for the next day; duty is on them. It is living a slave’s life, and at last dropping down in the street and dying in harness, like a horse. This is duty as it is understood. The only true duty is to be unattached and to work as free beings, to give up all work unto God. All our duties are His. Blessed are we that we are sent here. We serve our time; whether we do it ill or well, who knows? If we do it well, we shall not think of the fruits. If we do it ill, we shall not worry. Let us be at rest, be free, and work. This kind of freedom is very hard to attain. How easy it is to interpret slavery as duty—the morbid attachment of flesh for flesh as duty! Men go out into the world and struggle and fight for money or for some other thing. Ask them why they do it, and they will say, “It is my duty.” But it is only the absurd greed for gold and gain, and they try to cover it with a few flowers.
What is this duty after all? It is really attachment—the impulsion of the flesh. And when an attachment has become established, we call it duty. For instance, where there is no marriage, there is no duty between husband and wife. When marriage comes, husband and wife live together on account of attachment; and that kind of living together becomes accepted after generations; and when it becomes so accepted, it becomes a duty. It is, so to say, a sort of chronic disease. When attachment becomes chronic, we baptize it with the high-sounding name of duty. We strew flowers upon it, trumpets sound for it, and sacred texts are said over it. The whole world fights and men earnestly rob each other for this duty’s sake.
Duty is good to the extent that it checks brutality. To the lowest kinds of men, who cannot have any other ideal, it is of some good; but those who want to be karma-yogis must throw this idea of duty overboard. There is no duty for you and me. Whatever you have to give to the world do give by all means, but not as a duty. Do not take any more thought of it. Be not compelled. Why should you be compelled? Everything that you do under compulsion goes to build up attachment. Why should you have any duty? Resign everything unto God. In this tremendous fiery furnace where the fire of duty scorches everybody, drink this nectar of resignation and be happy. We are all simply working out His will and have nothing to do with rewards and punishments. If you want the reward you must also have the punishment; the only way to get out of the punishment is to give up the reward. The only way to get out of misery is to give up the idea of happiness, because these two are linked to each other. On one side there is happiness; on the other there is misery. On one side there is life; on the other there is death. The only way to get beyond death is to give up the love of life. Life and death are the same thing looked at from different points. So the idea of happiness without misery, or of life without death, is very good for schoolboys and children; but the thinker sees that it is all a contradiction in terms and gives up both. Seek no praise, no reward, for anything you do. No sooner do we perform a good action than we begin to desire credit for it. No sooner do we give money to some charity than we want to see our names blazoned in the papers. Misery must come as the result of such desires.
The greatest men in the world have passed away unknown. The Buddhas and the Christs that we know are but second-rate heroes in comparison with the greatest men, of whom the world knows nothing. Hundreds of these unknown heroes have lived in every country, working silently. Silently they live and silently they pass away; and in time their thoughts find expression in Buddhas or Christs, and it is these latter who become known to us. The highest men do not seek any name or fame from their knowledge. They leave their ideas to the world; they put forth no claims for themselves and establish no schools or systems in their name. Their whole nature shrinks from such a thing. They are the pure sāttvikas, who never make any stir but only melt down in love. I have seen one such yogi,1 who lives in a cave in India. He is one of the most wonderful men I have ever seen. He has so completely lost the sense of his own individuality that we may say that the man in him is entirely gone, leaving behind only the all-comprehending sense of the Divine. If an animal bites one of his arms, he is ready to give it his other arm also and say that it is the Lord’s will. Everything that comes to him is from the Lord. He does not show himself to men, and yet he is a magazine of love and of true and sweet ideas.
Next in order come the men with more rajas, or activity—combative natures, who take up the ideas of the perfect ones and preach them to the world. The highest men silently collect true and noble ideas, and others—the Buddhas and the Christs—go from place to place preaching them and working for them. In the life of Gautama Buddha we notice his constantly saying that he is the twenty-fifth Buddha. The twenty-four before him are unknown to history, although the Buddha known to history must have built upon foundations laid by them. The highest men are calm, silent, and unknown. They are the men who really know the power of thought; they are sure that even if they go into a cave and close the door and simply think five true thoughts and then pass away, those five thoughts of theirs will live through eternity. Indeed, such thoughts will penetrate through the mountains, cross the oceans, and travel through the world. They will enter deep into human hearts and brains and raise up men and women who will give them practical expression in the workings of human life. These sāttvika men are too near the Lord to be active and to fight, to be working, struggling, preaching, and doing good to humanity, as they say, here on earth. The active workers, however good, have still a little remnant of ignorance left in them. Only while our nature has yet some impurities left in it can we work. It is in the nature of work to be impelled ordinarily by motive and by attachment. In the presence of an ever active Providence, who notices even the sparrow’s fall, how can man attach any importance to his own work? Is it not blasphemy to do so when we know that He is taking care of the minutest things in the world? We have only to stand in awe and reverence before Him, and say, “Thy will be done.”
The highest men cannot work, for in them there is no attachment. Those who rejoice in the Self and are satisfied with the Self and are content in the Self alone—for them there is no work to do. Such are indeed the highest among men; but apart from them everyone has to work. In working we should never think that we can help even the least thing in this universe. We cannot. We only help ourselves in this gymnasium of the world. This is the proper attitude for work. If we work in this way, if we always remember that our present opportunity to work thus is a privilege which has been given to us, we shall never be attached to anything. Millions like you and me think that we are great people in the world; but we all die and in five minutes the world forgets us. But the life of God is infinite. “Who can live a moment, breathe a moment, if this All-powerful One does not will it?” He is the ever active Providence. All power is His and within His command. Through His command the winds blow, the sun shines, the earth moves, and death stalks upon the earth. He is the All in all; He is all and in all. We can only worship Him. Give up all fruits of work; do good for its own sake; then alone will come perfect non-attachment. The bonds of the heart will thus break, and we shall realize perfect freedom. This freedom is indeed the goal of karma-yoga.
1 A reference to Pavhari Baba.