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WHAT IS MEDITATION

Definition of Meditation

The word meditation, dhy¡nam, implies a certain mental activity ⎯ m¡nasa karma. The definition of
meditation is sagu¸a brahma vi¿aya m¡nasa vy¡p¡raÅ: “mental activity in relation to Brahman in the form of
Ì¿vara”. Vy¡p¡ra means any activity. It is qualified by the word m¡nasa, meaning mental. Whenever a word
is qualified by an adjective, there should be a need for it. People who use words carefully do not use adjectives
without reason. Words are meant to communicate. When I want to convey an object as distinct from another, I
use an adjective. If I say, a tall tree, then the word ‘tall’ is an adjective. If all the trees are of the same height, I
do not need to say ‘tall’ tree or ‘short’ tree. An adjective has the capacity to negate certain other things by
qualifying a given noun. The adjective ‘tall’ negates other trees, which are not as tall as this tree, and
distinguishes it from other trees. But you cannot say “sweet sugar”, “good sadhu” and so on. These are
redundant expressions. If there is ‘bitter’ sugar or ‘sour’ sugar, then one is constrained to use an adjective
‘sweet’ for sugar. One who is good is called sadhu. There is no good sadhu. We do see such expressions as
“mental attitude”, and “intellectual knowledge”. Unless there is a “dental knowledge,” there is no need to use
expressions as “intellectual knowledge.” Knowledge always happens in the intellect. Attitude is always mental,
there is, therefore, no need to say “mental attitude.”

If meditation is an activity, qualified by the word ‘mental’, it negates all physical activities from its purview.
However, it implies other activities belonging to the same group. Any thinking is mental activity. Sadness is
also a mental activity, as it is a mental expression of one’ s emotion. If this is meditation, then one is always in
meditation. In dream also, one will be always in meditation, because there is a lot of mental activity in dream.
Before we understand what meditation is, we must be clear in distinguishing it from other mental activities so
that nothing else is accepted as meditation. In the phrase, m¡nasa vy¡p¡raÅ, the word ‘m¡nasa’ is an adjective
distinguishing meditation from other activities. Therefore, we have to define what kind of activity will
constitute meditation. In a definition, we distinguish an object not only from other objects belonging to the
same group, but also from everything else. The definition should point out to only one thing. Meditation is a
certain kind of directed action.

Understanding Ì¿vara

The definition of meditation as “mental activity in relation to Brahman in the form of Ì¿vara”, cannot be
understood properly without understanding Ì¿vara. The scriptures say that the cause of the entire universe,
jagat, is Brahman. The entire jagat includes everything known and unknown. It is caused by Brahman, and is
not separate from Brahman. That Brahman is called sagu¸a-brahma, or Brahman manifest in the form of
creator. Sagu¸a-brahma is Ì¿vara, the Lord who is the cause of this entire world. The word ‘cause’ includes
not only the intelligent being involved in the manifestation of the jagat, but also the material necessary for its
creation and maintenance. The material cause cannot be separate from the maker, unlike in the case of the
potter and the clay. The pot and potter are separated by space. Once the potter makes a pot, it is a product that
is separate from him, and exists in a different location. The separating factor here is space, which is itself a
product, itself a creation. Time and space are also part of the jagat. In classical physics, they thought time and
space were absolute, but not any longer. We have been saying this for ages. The Taittir¢ya UpaniÀad
beautifully unfolds the fact that the world is more of a manifestation than a creation per se. Space, therefore, is
also part of the jagat. There is no space separating the material from the maker, as the maker and the material
are identical. Then alone, the very concept that the jagat is not separate from its cause is assimilable. If the
maker and the material are identical, then the cause is also the material. The logic here is simple. Any object
that is produced — like your shirt — involves a maker. The jagat is intelligently put together; it is sustained in
accordance with natural, physical laws. If we contemplate upon these aspects of the jagat, it becomes evident
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that the creation of jagat involves an intelligent being, with unlimited knowledge and power. If the jagat
were a human creation, it would imply that when the person ran out of knowledge or skill, he would have to
seek knowledge from a greater source, which alone can be the creator.

When the tailor makes a shirt by cutting and putting together the fabric, the fabric becomes an integral part of
the shirt. Where the shirt is, there the fabric is, because the shirt cannot be independent of its material. In other
words, no product can exist independent of its material cause. The effect is always sustained by the material
cause. The effect is but a kind of value addition. It is the same fabric alone that exists in the form of shirt, in the
form of pants, in the form of a T-shirt, or in the form of a handkerchief. The fabric is the material, and any
product of fabric is not independent of it. Imagine a shirt without fabric or any other material. You just cannot
imagine. When you think of shirt, you think of fabric, but you can think of fabric without thinking of shirt.
Similarly, the jagat is not independent of its cause; Brahman, in the form of Ì¿vara, pervades the entire jagat,
just as the fabric pervades the entire shirt. This intelligent, all-knowing, conscious being called Ì¿vara is the
one who puts it all together, in the form of the universe, who sustains it, and is capable of taking it all back.
Otherwise any creation can be a big problem, because somebody can create something but may not be able to
maintain it. Somebody can run it, but he or she may not be able to stop it from running out of control. If you
cannot take it back, your creation can turn into a monster, like Frankenstein. This example illustrates the
limitations of human endeavours.

The jagat is a manifestation involving a power, known as ¿akti. Ì¿varaÅ, being the creator of this jagat, is not
separate from the material cause, and hence is all-pervasive. This means that Brahman, with reference to the
manifestation of the jagat, is called sagu¸a-brahma, or Ì¿varaÅ. If Ì¿varaÅ is all-pervasive, several questions
arise: does he pervade me or not? is Ì¿vara a ‘he’ or a ‘she’? Ì¿vara, the all-pervasive, maker of everything,
definitely includes my body, my mind, and my senses. From the standpoint of the material cause, the Lord is
feminine; from the standpoint of the maker, the Lord is masculine. We can see both masculine and feminine
aspects of Ì¿vara in the form of Ardhan¡r¢¿vara. DakÀi¸¡m£rti is another such form. DakÀi¸¡m£rti wears
different types of earrings in each ear. The two different earrings indicate that ‘he’ is also a ‘she’.

If Ì¿vara pervades me, why do I still identify as an individual? My awareness as an individual is limited to
where my body ends, to the extremities of my body. For example, if a bullet goes through the space between
my fingers, I can then say, “Thank god! It missed me!” This is so because I exist in the fingers, but not in the
spaces between them. Since there is a place where I am, and where I am not, I have carved out of Ì¿vara a
place for myself, which is the body. The forest pervades the tree, but the tree does not pervade the forest.
Likewise, Ì¿vara pervades the individual, but the individual does not pervade Ì¿vara. This is called the relative
level, the level of the individual. The wave arises from the ocean, belongs to the ocean, and merges with the
ocean. One wave can identify itself as a big wave, and another wave can feel small. The wave comes and goes;
the ocean pervades the wave but the wave has its own location, horoscope, and size. Likewise, the individual is
connected to Ì¿vara. Therefore, Ì¿vara is the altar for you to connect with, and meditation is an activity that
highlights this connection. Ì¿varaÅ can be called R¡ma, K¤À¸a, Govinda, Jesus, or Allah. God is not going to
be confused, you can call him by any name. If he is confused, then definitely he is not God. The Lord is
invoked in a particular form, and this invocation becomes a special, directed action for which Bhagav¡n is the
object of the altar. To say that everything is Ì¿vara implies that all forms are Ì¿vara, and that he can be invoked
in any form.

I can invoke Ì¿vara in any element of nature, like the sun. All natural phenomena are manifestations of Ì¿vara.
I can do this because the total is never separate from anything within it. If you want to touch the ocean, do you
have to go in a boat and touch every part of the ocean? This is not necessary. Touching a wave as it comes to
the shore is as good as touching the ocean. Any manifestation ⎯ sun, moon, ocean, or wave ⎯ itself becomes
an altar for invoking Ì¿vara. Traditionally, a certain form representing Ì¿vara is given to us along with certain
names. When you think of a given name, you recognise Ì¿vara. Suppose I ask you what is R¡ma? You say
R¡ma is an incarnation of Bhagav¡n an avat¡ra. There is no problem here. Similarly, if you ask a sadhu in
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the Himalayas, “What is Lux?” He will know that Lux is a toilet soap even though he is away from
mainstream society. This means that ‘Lux’, representing a bath soap, is a name lodged in his head. The Lever
Brothers, who produced this soap, named it ‘Lux’ by putting together a group of letters. Furthermore, they have
done an excellent marketing job. There are many soaps, and you are familiar with all of them, but Lux becomes
your favourite soap. Similarly, R¡ma, K¤À¸a, and Durga are all forms of God. When I ask you to think of
God, you will immediately recollect your favourite form; this is called your iÀ¶a devat¡. The Lever brothers
have spent so much money to create in your head a favourite soap. Here, without our spending a single cent,
we have Ì¿varaÅ in the form of R¡ma and so on as iÀ¶a devat¡. We have to be grateful to our ancestors for
giving us this iÀ¶a-devat¡.

IÀ¶a-devat¡ dhy¡nam is two-fold. First, the iÀ¶a-devat¡ has a particular form. Here, we have to be very clear,
we are not worshipping a form, we are worshipping the deity. There is no such thing as idol worship, there is
only worship. People who do not understand the meaning of worship have devised the term “idol worship”.
We do not worship a particular idol, or the stone it is made of. If this were the case, we would go about
worshipping every stone that we find in our path. Instead, we invoke Ì¿vara in a particular form, be it stone, or
wood. Sometimes, we invoke the Lord in a lump of turmeric, as during Ga¸apati p£j¡. By invoking Lord
Ga¸apati in the turmeric mound, we are not worshiping turmeric, we are worshiping Ga¸e¿a. This capacity to
see Ì¿vara in everything arises from the profundity of our culture and religious tradition.

Types of Vyaparah

According to the Vedic tradition, all activities fall within three categories. These activities are neither
categorised by the type of action nor by the results, but rather by the means of action. You can relate to Ì¿vara
by special karmas, which are divided according to the mode of action. The first is k¡yika (pertaining to the
body), the second is v¡cika (involving speech), and the third is m¡nasa (concerning the mind). Thus there are
three types of karma. P£j¡ is k¡yikaÆ-karma because the body is involved. For example, when you perform
p£j¡, there is an altar, no matter whether the Lord is being invoked in the form of R¡ma, K¤À¸a, or áiva. You
then light a lamp. You offer flowers and incense, you chant, do prostration, and show ¡rati. These are cultural
forms of worship. P£j¡ is a karma, an action in the form of ritual. Therefore, p£j¡ is a type of physical
activity, a k¡yika vy¡p¡raÅ. K¡ya is physical body, which includes hands, speech and the mind, when one
performs p£j¡. P£j¡ also includes the materials required, and the altar. K¡yikaÆ-karma produces results which
the other karmas cannot; it is more efficacious in terms of producing ad¤À¶am, or grace. We need a lot of
grace, as we do not know what is in store for the future. We always gather grace by earning it. Another method
of earning grace is through charity. All actions performed for public utility, such as constructing a well or a
temple, produce grace. Such actions are called p£rta karma, and they earn a lot of grace, a lot of pu¸ya.
Grace is not something that God goes about giving everyday; grace is earned by the individual. It is not up to
God to decide who is going to get some grace today through a lucky dip. Grace is a possibility, a phalam,
which results from noble actions. Since we do not know which particular set of actions was responsible for
good results in this life, we call it ‘grace’. Even to be alive is an example of grace. There are different types of
pu¸ya: pu¸ya that gives you this knowledge, and pu¸ya that makes you win a lottery etc. These are all
different types of pu¸ya gathered in this life or other lives, and form part of the karma that brought you into
being. Grace is a graceful expression for karma-phalam, which is responsible for being at the right place at the
right time. Otherwise, there is no such thing as grace; it is only what we have earned. As karma-phalam, grace
is something positive, something desirable.

If K¡yikaÆ-karma is p£j¡, then kirtan, or the recitation of any Vedic hymn, constitutes vacikam karma. In
keerttan, there are no physical limbs involved. In other words, v¡cika vy¡p¡raÅ includes both singing
devotional songs, and Vedic recitation and study. Finally, in m¡nasa karma, you relate to the Lord on a purely
mental level. Relating to Ì¿vara mentally is meditation. For example, in the chanting of the mantra “Hare
R¡ma, Hare R¡ma, R¡ma R¡ma Hare Hare, Hare Krishna, Hare Krishna, Krishna Krishna Hare Hare”, you
are addressing R¡ma and K¤À¸a, both are Hari. The word ‘Hari’ standing for Ì¿vara connotes one who
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removes the problem, who removes all p¡pas. Like the other two karmas, meditation also produces results.
Meditation produces immediate results in the very act itself. In the repetition of mantras, there is a laya, or a
certain absorption. Therefore, the results of meditation are visible. Meditation does produce a little ad¤À¶a, a
little pu¸yam perhaps, but v¡cika-karma results in more ad¤À¶a than meditation. The maximum pu¸ya resides
in k¡yika-karmas alone. All three types of karma produce pu¸ya, but k¡yika has the greatest potential for
producing ad¤À¶a because all the three kara¸as, or instruments of worship, are used in p£janam.

The Nature of the Mind

The definition of meditation, as we saw earlier, is sagu¸a brahma vi¿aya m¡nasa vy¡p¡raÅ, or mental activity
for which the altar, the object, is the Lord. Sagu¸a brahma is Ì¿vara, the Lord. Let us now look into the
visible results of meditation. In order to understand the visible effects of meditation, we need some insight into
the nature of the mind. The mind is always busy, and its nature is restless. In the G¢t¡, Arjuna says, “I can
perhaps stop the wind with my hand, but not this mind”. Restlessness itself is the mind. The mind is
entrenched, turbulent, and very powerful. How then, can one sit and meditate?

The nature of the mind is like a movie film. A film in the movie camera is always moving. Since the film is
moving at a certain speed, it can record the motion – each frame is still and motionless, and every motion has
many frames. When these frames are run at a particular speed, they give you the appearance of motion.
Similarly, when I move my hand, you are able to record and recognise its motion. This implies that the mental
frame is also changing, to keep up with the motion. The shifting nature of the mind is called momentary v¤tti.
A mode of thought is called v¤tti in Sanskrit, and the v¤tti is inevitably momentary.

When you look into the nature of thinking, it is very interesting to observe how the mind moves from one
object to another. There are many simultaneous tracks, and nobody knows how the mind is going to land upon
the next thought. For example, you walk out, you see a car, a Mercedes Benz. It draws your attention. You
think of Germany. You think of Hitler. You cannot think of Germany without thinking of Hitler. Thinking of
Hitler, you inevitably become depressed. Your mind travels from Benz to Germany, Germany to Hitler, Hitler
to the holocaust…. and so on. This whole line of thinking has emerged from just seeing a car!

I can give you another example: I saw a Honda. Honda in India is pronounced as ‘Honda,’ with the sound value
of the vowel ‘o.’ Honda rhymes with ‘bonda’, which is a fried snack. This is how my mind moves, from Honda
to bonda. Bonda brings to my mind a story that I know. A very orthodox man from Kerala, was going from
Chennai to Mysore by train to fix up an alliance for his daughter. As he was about to enter the train, along
came a vendor shouting, “Pondaaa…, pondaa…!!” In Malayalam, ‘ponda’ means “do not go”. “Pondaaa,
pondaa”, “do not go, do not go!” Just as he was embarking on a journey to fix up alliance for his daughter, this
vendor comes and seems to repeatedly tell him to not go! Being very orthodox, the man interpreted it as a bad
omen. He thought that perhaps he should not go. Just then, the train was about to leave, and people started to
board it. Somehow, with great difficulty, the man gathered the courage to overlook the omen. After all, it was
just a vendor selling something. It was not a personal message meant only for him. Once again, as he was
about to board the train, the vendor returned. “Mysore pondaaa, Mysore pondaa”, shouted the vendor as he
passed by the man. ‘Mysore bonda’ is a special type of bonda. Our man could no longer ignore these ominous
words. He was going to Mysore, and was getting into a carriage labelled ‘Mysore’, and the vendor says,
“Mysore ponda!” The man thought: “By god! This message must be for me alone! The vendor is telling me to
not go to Mysore”. Thinking thus, the man cancelled his plan and went back. From where did I start the entire
story? This is how our mind moves. Just because of one rhyme, our mind moves in a given track. In this way,
the mind is busy the entire day. Such is the nature of the mind.

Thinking is the privilege of a human being. However, it can become a problem, because thinking can often
lead to worry and depression. You cannot become worried or sad without thinking. In deep sleep you are not
sad, because you do not think. Similarly, without thinking you cannot be angry, or enter into a spell of
emotion. You often think that the process of thinking is mechanical, and that you have no say over it. For
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instance, if I were to tell you to get angry just now, you cannot comply. Why can you not get angry? Is it true
that you can never become angry? No. But you cannot be consciously angry. You do not consciously choose
anger and sadness. That is why if somebody is angry, it is of little use to say, “do not be angry”. Anger happens
even when one does not want to be angry. Once a person said to me, “Swamiji, I do not get angry at all”. Now,
just because he said that he never gets angry, I wanted to test him. I told him “You will get angry!” He
responded by saying, “No Swamiji, for the past four years I have not been angry at all”. “You will get angry”, I
kept on telling him. I also said, “How can you avoid anger? I know your father, I know your grand father, and
you cannot but get angry.” He lost his composure and retorted, “Swamiji! Keep my father and my grandfather
out of this, okay!” Therefore you do not have a say over certain conditions of the mind, because the mind is
mechanical. It reacts more than it acts.

Restraining the Mind

There is a logical method by which we can gain control over the mind, a method revealed by our scriptures. The
mind can be channelled properly by directing it towards a deliberately chosen occupation. This special
occupation is relating to Ì¿vara. Of course, the mind can be occupied with anything, but choosing an
occupation, which relates you to Ì¿vara, is very important. Therefore, relating to Ì¿vara is an action that is
performed by reciting a chant like “OÆ Nama¿¿iv¡ya”. Similarly, we have many Vedic mantras given by the
sages. In these chants, you invoke Ì¿vara by the words áiva or N¡r¡yana, and offer your salutations to the
Lord. This is a mental action, or japa: the sagu¸a brahma vi¿aya m¡nasa vy¡p¡raÅ that was mentioned
earlier. The mind is predictable, and the process of repeating the name of the Lord ensures that after the first
chant, the mind is likely to chant the same thing again. Since I have chosen to chant OÆ Nama¿¿iv¡ya, I have
given myself an occupation where I can discern what we call a distraction. Anything other than what you have
set yourself to do for that period becomes distraction. For instance, when you are thinking of a serious
mathematical problem and trying to solve it, chanting OÆ Nama¿¿iv¡ya at that time can be a distraction!
Distraction is a relative term, much like the word ‘weed’. Who is to decide what is a weed? A bunch of grass
becomes weeds only when you are trying to grow flowers in a flowerbed. On the contrary, if you have a lawn,
grass is not weed at all. At that point, something else is classified as a weed! Actually, there are no weeds; there
are only plants and trees. The grass does not think that it is a weed. From this example, we can understand that
a weed is just your notion of what you don’t want in your garden. Likewise, distraction is also relative, and is
pertinent only with reference to what you want to do at a particular point in time.

Once you have deliberately given yourself a special, mental occupation, just see what happens: you are
chanting, OÆ Nama¿¿iv¡ya, OÆ Nama¿¿iv¡ya, OÆ Nama¿¿iv¡ya, OÆ Nama¿¿iv¡ya, and you suddenly think
of your colleague Sivaram. “I didn’ t see him in the office at all today, or yesterday…what happened to him? I
think, he mentioned that his wife has been admitted in the hospital, to the maternity ward”. What happened
now? OÆ Nama¿¿iv¡ya has completely disappeared. As far as the process of ordinary thinking is concerned,
this is natural. However, while chanting, this thinking becomes a distraction to the chanting. This is an
intelligent way of having a say over your thinking. One trains oneself. This is the reason why children were
initiated into chanting mantras at a young age. Therefore, anything other than what I want to do becomes a
distraction. Each time the mind wanders, you bring it back. Lord K¤À¸a in Bhagavad G¢t¡ tells us that the
nature of the mind is to move away, but the purpose of meditation is to bring it back. Initially, you may have
difficulty in being able to bring the mind back, but when you persist, it becomes easier with practice. Practice
accounts for your capacity to bring the mind back immediately.

When you bring the mind back, you discover a space within yourself to examine the types of thinking that you
engage in at different points in your life. Therefore you can pick and choose the patterns of thought
consciously, and gradually bring the mind under your control. You can actually choose the kind of thinking you
should have, and need not get into a state of despair if in the process, you uncover some fear or anxiety. Most
of our fears can be traced to childhood. It is a package deal. As a child everybody is innocent, everybody picks
up fear, anxiety and insecurity. When these fears are unresolved, they become part of the unconscious mind.
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Each time we encounter a person or situation that reminds us of the initial fear, the unconscious mind gets
triggered. Therefore, throughout our lives, these anxieties keep controlling us. “Unconscious mind” is the term
used by modern psychologists, but our ¿¡stra calls it ‘ka¿¡ya”. Ka¿¡ya is coloration.

The key to overcoming the influence of the unconscious is to know how to handle the patterns of thinking. Only
then can you welcome fear. To welcome fear, you must have space. When you ask a panditji or a swami for
advice on how to overcome fear, they will often tell you to chant the Hanum¡n C¡lisa. Hanum¡n C¡lisa will
not take fear away. The Hanum¡n C¡lisa will bless you in hundred different ways, but it is not going to work
to help you overcome fear. After one month you will come to me and say, “Swamiji, I have been chanting the
Hanum¡n C¡lisa, but nothing has happened, and I am still afraid”. Do you know why? Because when you want
to go away from fear, then you have a fear of fear. Fear has nothing to do with the efficacy of Hanum¡n
C¡lisa. Hanum¡n C¡lisa will not work for the removal of fear, simply because fear need not be removed. In
fact, fear is to be welcomed. Suppose there is a fear of death. It is part of the unconscious mind and can be
traced to childhood. Actually, in this case, you are not welcoming death, you need not welcome death at all,
because when it comes you are not there to welcome it! Therefore, when it comes, you just let it come. One
good thing about death is that it comes only once. When I give the example of the fear of death, I mean fear of
an event, fear of loss of fame, name, position, status, power, job, and so on. These kinds of fears should be
welcomed. When you welcome fear, there is no fear.

Human psychology must be understood. We have to be very careful in dealing with it. This is a highly
responsible job. Teachers like us have to be very responsible. When we give advice, the advice should be
something that stems from a sense of responsibility. The more I avoid fear by diverting myself into other
thoughts or pursuits, the fear becomes all the more entrenched. If I welcome fear, then I have no fear of fear.
Otherwise, I have a fear of fear of fear of fear of fear; the whole body becomes a bundle of fear. When I
welcome fear, it is just magic. You can say, “I welcome fear, I am not afraid of fear”. Immediately, you have
space. This space comes from meditation. Otherwise even to say that is very difficult. When you are under the
spell of fear, you will forget what I have said: welcome fear. Instead, you will think, “No, no, I am afraid to
welcome fear. I am afraid, I am afraid…” Space, therefore, has to be discovered within you. That is where
meditation is helpful. This is the immediate result of meditation. Meditation, therefore, gives me the space to
look at my own emotions, and the ways of my thinking so that I become a swami. A swami is one who has
mastery over the mind. Everyone can be a swami.

The Nature of the Meditator

The next question we must look into is, “Who is the meditator?” This is very important, because one cannot
suddenly sit somewhere and meditate. There must be a meditator. The meditator is the basic person in you. We
are going to look into this practice now. The basic person in you is the one who sees me when you open your
eyes. I request you to look at me and let your eyes pay attention to me. Having done that, can you try not to see
me? Can you do that? It is not possible. We understand the fact that seeing is not will-based. Clapping is will-
based. Seeing is not will-based, it is based on the object of sight, or the eyes. If the eyes are open, and the
object is there in front of the eyes, then you will see it — the sight takes place. This seer is the basic person, the
doer comes later. Similarly, you first see a flower and then go on to pluck it, especially if it is your neighbour’
s flower! Seeing the flower is an action that is not will-based, but the doer who plucks it is using the will.

The cognitive person is the basic person, and is generally free from preference. The basic person is highly
objective. For example, you see a hill and say, “this is a hill”. You see a bus, and it is just a bus to you. You
hear a sound, and it is a sound, that’s all. Only afterwards, you pick and choose what you want to do, based on
your own likes and dislikes. Suppose three persons are standing there, one is Guptaji, the other person’s name is
Sharmaji, the third person’s name is Mishraji. You call out to Guptaji, and he responds; to Sharmaji, and he
responds; you call out to Mishraji and he also responds. Then you say, ‘Idiot’, and all the three respond! But
what did they hear? ‘Idiot’. They only heard the word ‘idiot’. The ears do not think about the meaning of the
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word ‘idiot’. The eardrums only vibrate and the meaning of the sound is picked up because you know the
meaning of the word idiot. You respond because you think, “Somebody is calling me”. You think “Why is
somebody calling me an idiot?” It is because you bought the idea. Somebody called you an idiot long ago when
you were a child, and then you felt bad and thought, “I am not an idiot. Why did they call me an idiot?”
However, gradually, you bought the idea. There is a doubt inside: “Maybe I am an idiot”. Therefore, all the
three men responded. From this example we can see that the cognition comes first, and the response comes
later. Basically, you are a cognitive person. It is this person who is an individual, is the meditator. There is a
method by which the cognitive person becomes the meditator.

An individual is always related to something other than himself or herself. There is no such thing as an
unrelated individual. As an individual confined to this body-mind-sense-complex, I am a j¢vaÅ , an individual
related to the total. An individual is related to the total like a tree is related to the forest. The tree is not only
related to the forest, but also to other trees. Similarly, as an individual, I am related to other individuals. For
example, I am a son to my parents. Even here, I will relate differently to my father and my mother. I might tell
my father certain things, which I will not tell my mother. Again, my anger towards my father is not the same as
my anger towards my mother. Therefore I am a son or daughter to my parents, I am brother or sister, to the
siblings, and so on. Then, from the standpoint of grandparents, I become a grandson or granddaughter. In
relation to a spouse, I become husband or wife, to my own children, I again become father or mother.

In all these varied relationships, there is only one individual. This single person is related to different
individuals as son, father; daughter, mother; husband, wife; sister, brother; uncle, aunty; friend, employer,
employee and so on. When I think of myself related to my parents, I am a son, or daughter, but if in the next
moment, I happen to see or think of my brother, I then become a brother or a sister. This shift in the individual
consciousness is quite automatic. The person is always displaced or replaced by another person: uncle is
displaced by a son, the son by the father, and so on. The question now is what happens when you think of God?
At that point, you are no longer a father, son, daughter, aunt, grandmother or an enemy. You are just an
individual related to God, a devotee. Therefore, this devotee comes into being when one is related to Ì¿vara.
What does this mean? Relating to Ì¿vara is not like relating to any other individual because Ì¿vara is not any
one of them. This is very important to understand. It does not help to relate to Ì¿vara without understanding
Ì¿vara.

You cannot be a spasmodic devotee who comes into being in fits and starts, comes now and then goes away.
Similarly, like a bout of a recurring fever you come under the bout of devotion for a few minutes, and then
afterwards it is gone. If we say that everything here is Ì¿vara, then Ì¿vara is the total, and he is not separate
from anything. Just as the individual tree in the forest, pervaded by the forest all the time, recognises the totality
of the forest, a devotee has a similar relationship with Ì¿vara. This relationship is there all the time, and is
irreplaceable, as it is an objective reality. That is why, during meditation, one has to be relaxed, for relaxation
cultivates objectivity.

To be objective is to recognise the reality that, as an individual, I remain related to the total, which is not inert,
and which is Ì¿vara. Since I am a conscious being, and the total is also a conscious being, I am related to it at
all times. This reality has to be invoked within the devotee as a result of recognising Ì¿vara as the total. The
individual has therefore to assume the roles of father, mother, son, daughter, and so on after recognising the
devotee in him or herself. I am therefore a devotee father, devotee mother, devotee son, and devotee daughter.
The devotee is the basic person in the awareness of Ì¿vara, assuming different roles. Our main problem is that
we are occasional devotees: sometimes “evening devotees”, sometimes “Sunday devotees”. The aim is to make
the devotee pervade each and every relationship, and this is called yogaÅ. When you relate to Ì¿vara as an
individual you are settling accounts with the total. Therefore, prior to meditation, the person must first bring
the devotee into being. It is not the meditation itself that brings the devotee out of the individual. On the
contrary, one has to become familiar with the basic person at the beginning of the meditation, before one
actually meditates. Everyday you have an appointment with a lot of people. Once you start meditating, you can
8
consider that you now have an appointment with the Lord in the mornings. It is an appointment with myself.
To have an appointment with myself means that I have to drop being an uncle, being an in-law, being a
husband, wife, mother, or father. You drop all roles.

The meditator is therefore arrived at by being totally objective. This basic person, the individual, a conscious
being, remains related to Ì¿vara, the total. Whether the tree recognises the fact or not, standing in the forest, it
remains related to the forest. That the forest pervades the tree is already an existent fact. However, this existent
fact is not there in the tree’s awareness, just as connection with the totality that is Ì¿vara is not often cognised
by the individual. More often than not, Ì¿vara comes and goes in the human mind. Therefore, m¡nasa, v¡cika,
and k¡yika karmas are essential to fix the awareness of the total within the individual by removing the
obstacles that stand in the way of this cognition. Karma produces both seen and unseen results, which are
essential to prepare the individual for self-knowledge.

The basic person is already free from tension. One does not need to become free from tension. Tension is
something that happens unwittingly, and therefore we have to unwind ourselves. As we learn to unwind
ourselves by being objective to the body and the mind, we will be free from tension. We assume that we are
ignorant and limited, and that any knowledge that we gain is superimposed upon our ignorance, and in the wake
of self-knowledge, the ignorance departs. If ignorance has an impermanent quality and can go, then you are not
really gaining any knowledge, you are only removing ignorance. This means that the knowledge is already
there, and is just inhibited by ignorance, ignorance of the Self. Knowledge is connected to Ì¿vara; in fact,
Ì¿vara is all knowing. Since Ì¿vara pervades us, we have the capacity to access this knowledge. Knowledge is
defined as the removal of ignorance, and this is true with reference to everything, including self-knowledge.
You are already free from saÆs¡ra, or any notions of self-limitation. You just need to know that you are free.

Lord K¤À¸a on the Meditator:

In the Bhagavad G¢t¡, Lord K¤À¸a directs us step by step in meditation. Lord Krishna mentions an important
point about the meditator when he says: “May one meditate after having kept the external world external, and
after having established a rhythmic pattern of inhalation and exhalation”. We must then analyse what is exactly
meant by the term “external world,” a world external to the senses. The sense organs are the reporters of the
external world to the mind in the form of colours, sounds, smells and so on. These forms are already external to
the sense organs. Therefore, how can I follow Lord K¤À¸a’s advice when the external world is already external?
The main thing to learn from this is that all things are not external to us, some are ‘internal’ as well. True, the
stars are external, the moon is external, and the mountains are external, but when it comes to people we know, it
is easy to see how the ‘external’ also becomes ‘internal”. People with whom we are in close contact every day
get loaded in our heads like stow-away travellers, even without our knowledge. Before we meditate, we must
first unload the people from inside our heads.

A person gets loaded in your head mainly because you want this person to be different from what she or he is.
The husband wants to change his wife, right from the day of marriage; the wife wants the husband to change
even before the marriage has begun. Like this, 25 years pass by with both trying to change each other. It is
impossible to change a person unless the person himself or herself wishes to change. Even K¤À¸a could not
change Durhyodhana despite being an incarnation of Ì¿vara. Nobody can change anybody, but if somebody
wants to change, nobody can stop it either. Bhagav¡n provides the help, but first one has to decide to change.
If you decide to change, you must first learn how to unload people from your head. When you want to change a
person and you cannot, your wish turns into helplessness and this turns into frustration. Once a person becomes
the source of your frustration he is not only outside, but he is also inside. The person might have moved to
Timbuktu, but he continues to be in your head always. If you look into the fifth and sixth chapters of the G¢t¡,
Lord K¤À¸a spends a lot of time discussing the meditator. The meditator is first arrived at by unloading the
people within by simply dropping the wish for a person to change. You have to understand that all impressions
of people in our minds are based on our perceptions. Therefore, you recognise that this is how the person is in
 9
your perception. When you understand that your perceptions may be wrong, you have accepted this reality.
Acceptance of this reality is objectivity. To the external world you are objective, to your body you are
objective, to your breathing you are objective, and to your mind you are objective. Once you acquire this
objectivity, you arrive at the meditator, or the basic person related to Ì¿vara.

The Practice of Meditation

Sit erect, with your hands on the lap, fingers lightly clasped, and thumbs separately touching each other. In the
sixth chapter of the Gita, Lord K¤À¸a gives us some important steps for meditation. The body, especially the
trunk, is samam, or perpendicular to the base. This is the sitting posture. The body must be relaxed, but stable.
This means that for the entire length of the meditation, you are in the same posture, but without tension or
discomfort. Your sitting posture must have a broad base, and should be comfortable. You need not sit in a
given posture, but once you choose a posture, you have to practice sitting in it for a length of time. In the
beginning, you may have some difficulty, but with practice, you get accustomed to comfortably sitting for long
periods of time in the same posture. You can see how I can sit straight all through the talk, for 6 hours a day.
When you can sit in the same posture comfortably for forty-eight minutes, then you have ¡sana-siddhi. forty-
eight minutes indicate one muhurtam. If you can sit in the same posture for this length of time, it gives you
¡sana-siddhi. The scriptures recommend the svastika-¡sana, or a cross-legged seated posture, for meditation.
This ¡sanam will not guarantee a successful meditation; its only purpose is to make you comfortable. The
posture must be comfortable enough for meditation but not too comfortable, or else you may fall asleep.

Once you sit in the posture, do not look up or down, left or right, but look straight ahead. The eyes are gently
closed, and focussed on the tip of the nose. The eyes must not be tightly shut. The closing of the eyes should be
a conscious process where the upper eyelids touch the lower softly. Look straight ahead and gently close your
eyes. Again, open your eyes and then close them, with the upper and lower eyelids softly touching each other.
Even in the simple act of closing the eyes, you can find relaxation.

In the next step, we practice keeping the external world external by a few visualisations. Visualise a range of
mountains. Relating to these mountains, you are a non-demanding, appreciative, and conscious person.
Similarly, you do not want the ocean to be different from what it is. Think of a group of trees in a park, and
again, you are the same appreciative, objective person. Also, with regard to people in general — people of
different cultures, religions, and nationalities — you can be objective, taking them as they are. Tall or short,
male or female, if you do not nurse any prejudice in yourself, you are objective to all of them. Think of your
mother, and the love and care you have for her, without disturbing these sentiments. If you have a certain
agenda of wanting her to be different from what she is, you experience a sense of helplessness. A wish
unfulfilled can become a source of frustration if it is not acted upon. Action, in this case, can be in the form of
prayer since no other effort is productive. For the time being, accept that this is how your mother is. Given her
background, she cannot be different unless she wants to change. Visualise your father and recognise “this is
how he is or was according to my perception.” The same thing is true of your spouse, children, siblings, or
friends — this is how they are in your perception. If any person bothers you, objectify that person, and grant
him or her freedom to be what the person is. This is how to deal with that person objectively, pragmatically. I
am not saying that you should approve of the person’s behaviour. You simply acknowledge that this is how the
person is in your perception, and unload all of them from your head, granting them freedom to be what they are.
This is deliberately done every time one sits in meditation.

Next, bring your attention to your own body. Visualise the body, part by part, from the top to the bottom, in
this order: Begin with visualising the top of the head, then forehead, eyebrows, eyelids, nose, lips, chin, right
ear lobe, right cheek, left earlobe, left cheek, the whole face, the back of your head. Visualise the neck, right
shoulder, and right hand, Visualise the left shoulder, and the left hand all the way up to the fingertips. Visualise
the chest, abdomen, and back, from the shoulders down. Next, bring your attention to the legs. Visualise the
right thigh, the knee, below the knee, ankle, and foot. Visualise the left thigh, the knee, below the knee, ankle,
10
and foot. Now visualise the entire body and understand that is how the body is with respect to height, weight,
gender, age, health, colour and looks. Visualise the whole body in one sweep of vision and look at it as a
breathing statue, a living, breathing statue. When you accomplish this step, you are totally objective to your
body.

The next step in the meditation process is called pr¡¸av¢kÀa¸am, witnessing the breath. This must not be
confused with pr¡¸¡y¡ma, which is a form of breathing exercise. In pr¡¸av¢kÀa¸am, you watch your own
breathing. As you breathe, be conscious of the inhalation, and exhalation. If you have difficulty observing your
breathing without changing your normal rhythm, consciously breathe in and out for a few breath cycles.
Observing your breathing can be a very rewarding technique to quieten your mind during the day whenever you
get excited, agitated, or angry. Watching your breathing brings about a certain objectivity and composure.

The next step is to be conscious of the sensation of touch. Notice which parts of your body touch the floor and
one another. Observe how the clasped fingers on your lap touch each other. Be conscious of the upper and
lower lips touching each other, the eyelids touching one another.

After successfully accomplishing the previous step, begin to watch your own mind. The watched mind is
generally quiet; just let it be so. The one who is conscious of this mind is you. This person relates to Ì¿vara
mentally, and is the meditator. The meditator is already related to Ì¿vara, but Ì¿vara is invoked in a particular
form that one can visualise. Place a flower, and offer your salutations at this altar. You can also say a prayer of
your own. For example, you can say, “Oh Lord grant me the serenity to accept gracefully and cheerfully what
I cannot change. Grant me the courage, the will, to change what I can. May I have the wisdom to see the
difference between what I cannot change and what I can”. The one who watches the mind is the basic person
who relates mentally to Ì¿vara, either by doing a mental p£j¡ or by chanting a mantra that helps you connect
with Ì¿vara.

Now start chanting the name of Ì¿vara in your mind; this is called japa. If you do not have a mantra, you can
use Om Ì¿¡ya namaÅ. This means, “unto the Lord, Ì¿a, my namask¡ra, my salutations”. Mental chanting has
nothing to do with breathing, and is not connected to your voice. We have to ensure that the chant is not
synchronised with the breathing rhythm, or with the subtle use of the voice. The interval between two
successive chants is a crucial space that needs to be observed. Your commitment is to chanting the mantra but
you must also be conscious of the interval so that there is less distraction. All distractions take place in that
interval, and being conscious of the intervals reduces distraction. If it is a long chant, pause between segments
of the chant. When you stop chanting, be conscious of the fact that you are not using your will, and you are just
yourself. You are conscious of the interval in order to avoid distraction to the chant. Once you are
comfortable with the rhythm of the chant, try speeding it up. Notice that when you chant faster, your breathing
is likely to be disturbed. When this happens, it means that the chanting is not purely mental. In a subtle way,
the voice has joined the mind. After this, resume normal chanting.

You can use a simple technique to detach the chanting from the voice and the breath. Do simple mental
arithmetic: think of a number and multiply it by ten; to this, add 15 and then subtract 25. Mark the place in the
mind where you arrive at the answer, and immediately place the chant in that precise spot, and begin chanting.
Observe how the chanting is now happening in a much deeper level of the mind. You can see the difference.
This is the place from where you manage your emotions, a place of freedom and creativity. Resume chanting,
and after a while do simple arithmetic in the mind again, to increase the depth of absorption. Observe that
chanting is doing, and in the process of doing, you are comfortable. When you drop the chant, you see yourself
as not doing, but you are still comfortable with whatever is happening in each moment. In this way, during the
entire meditation, one can pick up and drop the chanting several times. As the basic person, notice that you do
not need any effort to be yourself. By just being objective to the world, to your body, to your breathing, and
to your mind, you are an objective, cognitive and conscious person. You can hear words or sounds, but your
 11
will is suspended for the time being. Free will, being a privilege, can be used or be suspended. In this way, as
a simple conscious person, you are aware of what is happening in each moment without tension, without effort,
and without the use of the will. When I say “Om... Om... Om... Om... He Govinda”, hearing takes place. You
have no judgement, you are alive to the moment by just being yourself. If you are comfortable being yourself,
you can acknowledge this fact by saying to yourself: “I am comfortable being myself. I need no comforting
from outside. I am a source of comfort to everyone else because I need no comforting from outside”. What a
discovery it is that you need no comforting from outside.

Mental Chanting or Japa

Human freedom lies not in the use of free will, but in the ability to suspend it. Suspension of free will is a
natural state for a human being. When the will is suspended by objectifying the body, mind, and breath, you
get greater insights about which functions within you are will-based, and which are not. For example, you do
not use your will to breathe. It just happens. Similarly, hearing takes place. You do not will to hear, but you
hear whenever your mind is awake, and your ears can hear, and there is a sound to hear. The regular practice
of japa helps us have a better hold on the use of free will.

In meditation, the less we imagine, the more we are at home with the reality of our limitlessness. When we
visualise objects known to us, it is not an exercise in pure imagination. In fact, it is mere recollection. When
you think of stars, you already know what stars are and you simply highlight that particular knowledge, in the
absence of the stars. Currently, there are many methods of meditation where you are asked to imagine chakras,
situated at different parts of the body. Although this method may have something to offer in terms of turning
the mind inward, it is not encouraged by classical teachers.

Meditation can involve both mental p£j¡ and the repeated chanting of a mantra (japa). By themselves, the
mantras cannot bring about changes in your life. Repeated recitation of the mantra potentiates it. In other
words, you lend power to the mantra by your faith and commitment. People may think that repeating mantras
can make the mind mechanical, but this is not so, as long as you are conscious of what you are doing. You
give yourself an occupation that is predictable, and then if the mind is distracted, you simply bring it back.
Mental chanting has to be purely mental. Associating the act of chanting with your voice and your breathing
neutralises the earlier steps of the objectification of the body and breath. Japa has to be completely a mental
exercise. The voice should not join, even in a subtle way, nor should the chanting be synchronised with the
breathing. Some schools of meditation instruct you to synchronise the chant with your breath. One portion of
the chant is mentally recited with the inhalation, and the other with the exhalation. One example of this is the
so-called ‘so%ham’ meditation, where you synchronise “SO….” with the inhalation, and “HAM…” with the
exhalation. This is not mental chanting mainly because m¡nasa kriy¡ has nothing to do with speech or breath.
To acquire these qualities in the practice of japa takes a number of years. Only then do you become a master
over your emotions and patterns of thinking. Regular practice of japa creates a lot of space and absorption in
the self, as a result of which you have access to yourself. The place in the mind from where you chant is the
place where all creativity, awareness, and alertness are possible.

Another important aspect of the mantra is that it should be meaningful. You cannot chant some meaningless
sound and call it a mantra. Certain schools of meditation specialise in giving b¢ja (seed) mantras by
themselves without explaining their meaning. There are fourteen b¢ja mantras that are regularly doled out as
“meaningless sounds.” The chanting of the b¢ja mantras by themselves is contrary to our definition of
meditation, as it does not fulfil the criteria of “sagu¸a-brahma”. Only the name of Ì¿vara , recognised by the
meditator, has the capacity to bring out the devotee from the basic person. Meditation is a serious thing, and if
you are chanting a meaningless sound, you cannot be serious. Therefore, the mantra has to be meaningful.
12
Meditation is mental prayer. It is centred on the Lord. In modern meditation they give you a mantra. They
call it a mantra and say it has no meaning. The situation can become something like this:

This person, an American, was sitting cross-legged with his eyes closed and he was meditating. His wife, who
was a very practical woman, returned from work, and asked him: “Tom! What are you doing?”

“I am meditating.”

“What is meditation? What do you do in meditation?”

“I do something.”

“What for?”

“To get relieved of stress.”

“Stress? What stress have you got? I do everything. I go to work, I cook. I dish-wash. I do the laundry. I do the
vacuuming.”

“I have my own stress.”

“What do you do in meditation?”

“I chant a mantra.”

“What is a mantra?”

“It is a sound. It has no meaning, but it was specially chosen for me.”

“Somebody has chosen a meaningless sound specially for you? How? On what basis? Looking at your nose?
How did he choose?”

“Well. You do not know. It is an Indian stuff. It is a real thing.”

“Did you pay him anything?”, she asked. She was a practical woman.

“Yes. I paid a hundred dollars.”

“You paid a hundred dollars for a meaningless sound. I can give you a hundred such mantras for ten dollars. I
have been asking for a new vacuum cleaner and you haven’t got it for me. You have paid a hundred dollars for
a meaningless sound. What is this sound?”

“I am sorry. I cannot tell you.”

“Why not?”

“I have taken an oath of secrecy. I cannot reveal it to anybody.”

They do all these things. They ask you to sign a form in which it is written that you will not reveal it to anybody
else. Then only business can continue.

“You won’t tell me?”

“It is a secret thing. I have signed a paper. I cannot go against that. I cannot tell any body.”

“Am I any body? I am your wife.”

“So what? A secret is a secret.”

 13
“You cannot give it to me, your wife, who has given everything to you? I am sorry. I am getting out of this
house.”

She put everything in a suitcase. She came back. He was still sitting eyes closed. She shouted at him: “I am
getting out of the house for good. Let me see whether your mantra is going to cook for you, do laundry for
you”. She walked out.

He opened his eyes fully. Then he said: “My God, the mantra works!!”

The mantra worked for both the husband and the wife. The mantra was not one-sided. She got rid of a person
who paid hundred dollars for a meaningless sound, and he got released from stress.

Japa must not be associated with any visual images in the form of iÀ¶a devat¡. In fact, visualising the iÀ¶a-
devat¡ must be done before the japa. It is a type of meditation that is entirely different from the action called
japa. The meditator then performs two kinds of actions, both mental: in one, he/she visualises the i˦a-devata
and performs a mental p£j¡; the other action is the repeated chanting of the mantra without visualising any
form. During the process of meditation, it is not possible to both chant and visualise a deity. The mind is so
momentary that it may give you a semblance of doing both things simultaneously, but this is just a distraction.
We must understand that even Ì¿vara is not a matter for imagination. That is why the background knowledge is
so crucial. Ì¿vara is not a matter for belief; Ì¿vara is a matter for understanding. Even though we may live with
people everyday for a number of years, we are still trying to understand them. Many times, we discover new
things about our own spouse or parents. Just as we cannot take the knowledge of anyone for granted, Ì¿vara
also must be discovered and understood over a period of time. Relating to Ì¿vara begins this process of
discovery.