We are emotional fever bags buffeted by out-of-control feelings and tormented by desires. We seek fervently for morsels peace and joy and, in our ignorance, toss gallons of petrol on the flames of our disquiet.
When was the last time you were truly OK with your life? When there was nothing, absolutely nothing, that troubled you?
We go through life and there is always an undercurrent of tension. Something, somewhere is not the way we would like it to be.
The kitchen sink drips despite many visits by the plumber. Your child persists in spending time on the wrong kind of screen. Your best friend pooh-poohs you when you talk about global warming and the need for each person to do their bit. Your politicians become more feckless by the day. Kakistocracies take root in more countries.
How, in the midst of all this, can you find pure, unadulterated joy in your life?
Goshan was a wealthy businessman but he was racked with misery. His restless mind would not let him be. He knew there was more to life than the amassing of wealth, the achievement of fame and acquisition of power.
He gave away his vast fortune and found his way to the Master and stayed at his hermitage. In the evenings, after the days teachings, he caroused with the local rich kids. His unrest persisted and, one day, he begged the Master for permission to take the vows of a monk. With the Master’s consent he shaved his head, wore the traditional ochre robe and went out to beg for his food.
On the first day he stopped in front of a mansion. It belonged to one of his wealthy, carousing friends who did not recognize him in his new garb. The rich merchant called out to his wife, “Honey, there is a wandering sannyasi at the door. He looks healthy enough. He should be working and earning his keep rather than troubling those who are gainfully employed. You know the bunch of bananas on the dining table? They are overripe and turning rotten and you were going to throw them out. Give them to him instead.”
There was a surge of anger in Goshan as he accepted the alms. He turned the corner and threw the bananas in the trash receptacle. He would go hungry.
On the second day Goshan was passing in front of the king’s palace when a uniformed soldier appeared and asked him to step inside. “Why?” inquired Goshan.
It turned out that it was the king’s birthday and he had the custom of honoring the first sannyasi who passed his palace on that day.
Goshan was escorted into the royal dining room and given the tastiest delicacies from the royal kitchen. The king served him personally and attended to all his needs. And then the king asked for his blessings before Goshan left.
Goshan narrated these happenings to the Master and received his final teaching.
“On the day you see that the rotten bananas and the royal feast are the same, on that day you will be free of your suffering and find everlasting joy, my son,” said the Master.
A century and a half ago, Swami Vivekananda gave the same teaching in his epic poem The Song of The Sannyasin.
“Have thou no home. What home can hold thee, friend?
The sky thy roof, the grass thy bed; and food
What chance may bring, well cooked or ill, judge not.”
Sage advice and given by many masters.
But how, oh HOW, does one get to that stage? You feel the disgust when you get rotten bananas. Your saliva appears when dishes from the royal kitchen come in front of you. You cannot, cannot, cannot control this volitionally.
What you can do is recognize how far you are from the equanimity the Master enjoined on you. And, day-by-day, bit-by-bit, you can chip away at the rock of your likes and dislikes.
When something ‘good’ happens and you are elated, note this and don’t indulge in the feeling. When something ‘bad’ happens, don’t wallow in misery. Know that it, too, will pass.
You will have to do this persistently for many decades.
And, gradually, you will recognize the truth imparted by the Master and Swami Vivekananda.
Peace!
