In preparation for my Shoshoni adventures, I've been reading a book called The Essence of the Bhagavad Gita. It basically is a (well-written) Spark Notes version of the most popular sacred text in Hinduism--it explains how one becomes united with the divine, and how to erase all suffering. While Shoshoni uses the Guru Gita for all (or most) things chanting, the two texts are quite similar and give a myriad of techniques for how to be enlightened and content.
One part of this book that really struck me was the author Paramhansa Yogananda's view on atheism. The ultimate goal in the Bhagavad Gita is to become united with God--no matter the form of the divine. What I like about Hinduism is the polytheistic nature of the religion. "Oh, you have that God?" they'll say, "cool--add him/her to the list!" Yet as someone who was not raised with a strict religion, I have struggled with putting my entire life into the hands of another being. I cannot definitively say there is no God, but oftentimes I have questioned the idea of a man in the sky who goes bowling whenever it's thundering and decides the fate of every being. As a kid, I used to think, "but there just aren't enough hours in a day to hear that many prayers!" I may have watched Bruce Almighty too many times in my youth.
However, the Essence of the Bhagavad Gita has a much more abstract view on the divine and how it can be channeled through the self: "True, God doesn't really have a human form: He is pure, absolute Bliss--infinite, eternal, and ever-conscious, as Shankaracharya later claimed. Shankara wanted to persuade people that the forms in which they had clothed God were purely for their own devotional upliftment: They were not literal realities" (81).
That, to me, is much more tangible--ironic, how I place more belief in the unseen. But I do often feel a greater force pushing humanity. I don't necessarily see someone who will instantly make my life happier, but I can't completely ignore a massive shift in human kind. My first resistance has thus been fixed.
Another main portion of the Bhagavad Gita deals with the self--there are quite a few passages about the physical self being different from the astral/casual body (although there are MANY vocab terms so I may be mixing them up). I love the idea of separating the ego from the larger self, but because Western culture is hellbent on attributing achievements to a person's worth, it takes quite a bit of practice to see there is a self who just...is, rather than a self who does. I've talked about this in terms of status, but as a person who has spent much of her life relying on external approval--even for the little things--it can be a challenge to see that criticizing your work is not akin to criticizing your self.
This distinction is quite universal. Even though I'm studying a Hindu text, my best friend (who is Catholic) distinguishes the sin between the sinner.
I tried to refute this advice by saying "well, if we put a gap between our achievements and ourselves, won't we all turn into a bunch of lazy bums?" Yet let's think back to a time when we were all sure that the world revolved around us and everything we did, we were.
Yes, my friends, that was a scary time...and that time was adolescence. Everything everyone said was surely a reference to myself, every annoyed facial expression must have been directed towards me. My ego enjoyed hanging over my head and going "har dee har har, you think you're good enough? Think again!" And cackling like there was no tomorrow. And at that point, when my ego was the most prominent its ever been in my physical existence, what did I get done? What did I accomplish?
I wallowed like a boss in my room and learned to scare the shit out of my parents. Bam.
However, when we start to realize that there is a world outside our own ego's limits, that's when we leave room to do--to stop wondering if so and so thinks you look weird when you start pick axe-ing up the wazoo (been there). Without the ego pressing on our every whim, on our whole being, there is more room for compassion and joy. When you stop wondering and equating, you start doing. You can waste a lot of time waiting for people to tell you your work is of sufficient quality--that you are of sufficient quality. By all means, create, and let your achievements bring out the best in you, but "don't wait anxiously for His smile of approval, but live in the thought that you have it already, for the freer you feel in yourself, the happier you will be" (70).
I'm still working on a lot of this advice The Essence of the Bhagavad Gita has given me, and at first glance, I was frustrated that after learning so much at Shoshoni my first time around, I reverted back to my old habits. I was convinced that once learned and forgotten, these gems of advice were doomed to never stick. But enlightenment doesn't just spring it's shiny face at you once you stop practicing. It can be easier to slip back into old habits once surrounded by tension. Here, Paramhansa Yogananda presents us with this story of Arjuna's spiritual journey: "he was discouraged, rather, because his hopes of spiritual experience had not yet been fulfilled. Torn between two worlds, but believing in the upward path, he sat back in his 'chariot' and cried, 'I can do no more!'" (62). But Krishna reminds us that once failed does not mean always failed--it just gives us a good story to give at dinner parties (I may have added that last bit. Do gods and goddesses have dinner parties?). The ego is something we hold onto tightly, but with meditation and patience, we can let it go and start being compassionate and all that wholesome stuff.
And so, I leave you with one last quote to help all my fellow spiritual novices: "Even Arjuna's tears of despondency are spiritually wholesome, for they also express an unfulfilled longing for divine truth, and rivet the mind on higher aspiration: his unquenched longing for the indescribable joy of divine communion" (63).
Namaste.
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