In
social life, in addition to the words that concern material
life and occupations, there will be those that express sensations,
feelings and emotions. Here the habit of outer silence proves
of valuable help. For when one is assailed by a wave of sensations
or feelings, this habitual silence gives you time to reflect
and, if necessary, to regain possession of yourself before
projecting the sensation or feeling in words. How many quarrels
can be avoided in this way; how many times one will be saved
from one of those psychological catastrophes which are only
too often the result of uncontrolled speech.
Without
going to this extreme, one should always control the words
one speaks and never allow one's tongue to be prompted by
a movement of anger, violence or temper. It is not only the
quarrel that is bad in its results, but the fact of allowing
one's tongue to be used to project bad vibrations into the
atmosphere; for nothing is more contagious than the vibrations
of sound, and by giving these movements a chance to express
themselves, one perpetuates them in oneself and in others.
Among
the most undesirable kinds of idle talk must also be included
everything that is said about others.
Unless
you are responsible for certain people, as a guardian, a teacher
or a departmental head, what others do or do not do is no
concern of yours and you must refrain from talking about them,
from giving your opinion about them and what they do, and
from repeating what others may think or say about them.
It
may happen that the very nature of your occupation makes it
your duty to report what is taking place in a particular department,
undertaking or communal work. But then the report should be
confined to the work alone and not touch upon private matters.
And as an absolute rule, it must be wholly objective. You
should not allow any personal reaction, any preference, any
like or dislike to creep in. And above all, never introduce
your own petty personal grudges into the work that is assigned
to you.
In
all cases and as a general rule, the less one speaks of others,
even to praise them, the better. It is already so difficult
to know exactly what is happening in oneself - how can one
know with certainty what is happening in others? So you must
totally abstain from pronouncing upon anybody one of those
final judgments which cannot but be foolish if not spiteful.
When
a thought is expressed in speech, the vibration of the sound
has a considerable power to bring the most material substance
into contact with the thought, thus giving it a concrete and
effective reality. That is why one must never speak ill of
people or things or say things which go against the progress
of the divine realisation in the world. This is an absolute
general rule. And yet it has one exception. You should not
criticise anything unless at the same time you have the conscious
power and active will to dissolve or transform the movements
or things you criticise. For this conscious power and active
will have the capacity of infusing Matter with the possibility
to react and refuse the bad vibration and ultimately to correct
it so that it becomes impossible for it to go on expressing
itself on the physical plane.
This
can be done without risk or danger only by one who moves in
the gnostic realms and possesses in his mental faculties the
light of the spirit and the power of the truth. He, the divine
worker, is free from all preference and all attachment; he
has broken down the limits of his ego and is now only a perfectly
pure and impersonal instrument of the supramental action upon
earth.
There
are also all the words that are uttered to express ideas,
opinions, the results of reflection or study. Here we are
in an intellectual domain and we might think that in this
domain men are more reasonable, more self-controlled, and
that the practice of rigorous austerity is less indispensable.
It is nothing of the kind, however, for even here, into this
abode of ideas and knowledge, man has brought the violence
of his convictions, the intolerance of his sectarianism, the
passion of his preferences. Thus, here too, one must resort
to mental austerity and carefully avoid any exchange of ideas
that leads to controversies which are all too often bitter
and nearly always unnecessary, or any clash of opinion which
ends in heated discussions and even quarrels, which are always
the result of some mental narrowness that can easily be cured
when one rises high enough in the mental domain.
For
sectarianism becomes impossible when one knows that any formulated
thought is only one way of saying something which eludes all
expression. Every idea contains a little of the truth or one
aspect of the truth. But no idea is absolutely true in itself.
This
sense of the relativity of things is a powerful help in keeping
one's balance and preserving a serene moderation in one's
speech. I once heard an old occultist of some wisdom say,
"Nothing is essentially bad; there are only things which are
not in their place. Put each thing in its true place and you
will have a harmonious world."
And
yet, from the point of view of action, the value of an idea
is in proportion to its pragmatic power. It is true that this
power varies a great deal according to the individual on whom
it acts. An idea that has great impelling force in one individual
may have none whatsoever in another. But the power itself
is contagious. Certain ideas are capable of transforming the
world. They are the ones that ought to be expressed; they
are the ruling stars in the firmament of the spirit that will
guide the earth towards its supreme realisation.
Lastly,
we have all the words that are spoken for the purpose of teaching.
This category ranges from the kindergarten to the university
course, not forgetting all the artistic and literary creations
of mankind that seek to entertain or instruct. In this domain,
everything depends on the worth of the creation, and the subject
is too vast to be dealt with here. It is a fact that concern
about education is very much in vogue at present and praiseworthy
attempts are being made to make use of new scientific discoveries
in the service of education. But even in this matter, austerity
is demanded from the aspirant towards truth.
It
is generally admitted that in the process of education a certain
kind of lighter, more frivolous, more entertaining productions
are necessary to reduce the strain of effort and give some
relaxation to the children and even to adults. From a certain
point of view, this is true; but unfortunately this concession
has served as an excuse to justify a whole category of things
which are nothing but the efflorescence of all that is vulgar,
crude and base in human nature. Its coarsest instincts, its
most depraved taste find in this concession a good excuse
to display and impose themselves as an inevitable necessity.
They are nothing of the kind, however; one can relax without
being dissolute, take rest without being vulgar, enjoy oneself
without allowing the grosser elements in the nature to rise
to the surface. But from the point of view of austerity, these
needs themselves change their nature; relaxation is transformed
into inner silence, rest into contemplation and enjoyment
into bliss.
This
generally recognised need for entertainment, slackening of
effort and more or less long and total forgetfulness of the
aim of life and the purpose of existence should not be considered
as something altogether natural and indispensable, but as
a weakness to which one yields because of lack of intensity
in the aspiration, because of instability in the will, because
of ignorance, unconsciousness and sloth. Do not justify these
movements and you will soon realise that they are unnecessary;
there will even come a time when they become repugnant and
unacceptable to you. Then the greater part of human creation,
which is ostensibly entertaining but in reality debasing,
will lose its support and cease to be encouraged.
However,
one should not think that the value of spoken words depends
on the nature of the subject of conversation. One can talk
idly on spiritual matters just as much as on any other, and
this kind of idle talk may well be one of the most dangerous.
For example, the neophyte is always very eager to share with
others the little he has learnt. But as he advances on the
path, he becomes more and more aware that he does not know
very much and that before trying to instruct others, he must
be very sure of the value of what he knows, until he finally
becomes wise and realises that many hours of silent concentration
are needed to be able to speak usefully for a few minutes.
Moreover, where inner life and spiritual effort are concerned,
the use of speech should be subjected to a still more stringent
rule and nothing should be said unless it is absolutely indispensable.
It
is a well-known fact that one must never speak of one's spiritual
experiences if one does not want to see vanishing in a flash
the energy accumulated in the experience, which was meant
to hasten one's progress. The only exception which can be
made to the rule is with regard to one's guru, when one wants
to receive some explanation or teaching from him concerning
the content and meaning of one's experience. Indeed, one can
speak about these things without danger only to one's guru,
for only the guru is able by his knowledge to use the elements
of the experience for your own good, as steps towards new
ascents.
It
is true that the guru himself is subject to the same rule
of silence with regard to what concerns him personally. In
Nature everything is in movement; thus, whatever does not
move forward is bound to fall back. The guru must progress
even as his disciples do, although his progress may not be
on the same plane. And for him too, to speak about his experiences
is not favourable: the greater part of the dynamic force for
progress contained in the experience evaporates if it is put
into words. But on the other hand, by explaining his experiences
to his disciples, he greatly helps their understanding and
consequently their progress. It is for him in his wisdom to
know to what extent he can and ought to sacrifice the one
to the other. It goes without saying that no boasting or vainglory
should enter into his account, for the slightest vanity would
make him no longer a guru but an imposter.
As
for the disciple, I would tell him: "In all cases, be faithful
to your guru whoever he is; he will lead you as far as you
can go. But if you have the good fortune to have the Divine
as your guru, there will be no limit to your realisation."
Nevertheless,
even the Divine, when incarnate on earth, is subject to the
same law of progress. His instrument of manifestation, the
physical being he has assumed, should be in a constant state
of progress, and the law of his personal self-expression is
in a way linked to the general law of earthly progress. Thus
even the embodied god cannot be perfect on earth until men
are ready to understand and accept perfection. That day will
come when everything that is now done out of a sense of duty
towards the Divine will be done out of love for Him. Progress
will be a joy instead of being an effort and often even a
struggle. Or, more exactly, progress will be made in joy,
with the full adherence of the whole being, instead of by
coercing the resistance of the ego, which entails great effort
and sometimes even great suffering.
In
conclusion, I would say this: if you want your speech to express
the truth and thus acquire the power of the Word, never think
out beforehand what you want to say, do not decide what is
a good or bad thing to say, do not calculate the effect of
what you are going to say. Be silent in mind and remain unwavering
in the true attitude of constant aspiration towards the All-Wisdom,
the All-Knowledge, the All-Consciousness. Then, if your aspiration
is sincere, if it is not a veil for your ambition to do well
and to succeed, if it is pure, spontaneous and integral, you
will then be able to speak very simply, to say the words that
ought to be said, neither more nor less, and they will have
a creative power.
Of
all austerities the most difficult is the austerity of feelings
and emotions, the tapasya of love.
Indeed,
in the domain of feelings, more perhaps than in any other,
man has the sense of the inevitable, the irresistible, of
a fatality that dominates him and which he cannot escape.
Love (or at least what human beings call love) is particularly
regarded as an imperious master whose caprice one cannot elude,
who strikes you according to his fancy and forces you to obey
him whether you will or not. In the name of love the worst
crimes have been perpetrated, the greatest follies committed.
And
yet men have invented all kinds of moral and social rules
in the hope of controlling this force of love, of making it
amenable and docile. But these rules seem to have been made
only to be broken; and the restraint they impose on its free
activity merely increases its explosive power. For it is not
by rules that the movements of love can be disciplined. Only
a greater, higher and truer power of love can subdue the uncontrollable
impulses of love. Only love can rule over love by enlightening,
transforming and exalting it. For here too, more than anywhere
else, control does not consist of suppression and abolition
but of transmutation - a sublime alchemy. This is because,
of all the forces at work in the universe, love is the most
powerful, the most irresistible. Without love the world would
fall back into the chaos of inconscience.
Consciousness
is indeed the creatrix of the universe, but love is its saviour.
Conscious experience alone can give a glimpse of what love
is, of its purpose and process. Any verbal transcription is
necessarily a mental travesty of something which eludes all
expression in every way. Philosophers, mystics, occultists,
have all tried to define love, but in vain. I have no pretension
of succeeding where they have failed. But I wish to state
in the simplest possible terms what in their writings takes
such an abstract and complicated form. My words will have
no other aim than to lead towards the living experience, and
I wish to be able to lead even a child to it.
Love
is, in its essence, the joy of identity; it finds its ultimate
expression in the bliss of union. Between the two lie all
the phases of its universal manifestation.
At
the beginning of this manifestation, in the purity of its
origin, love is composed of two movements, two complementary
poles of the urge towards complete oneness. On one hand there
is the supreme power of attraction and on the other the irresistible
need for absolute self-giving. No other movement could have
better bridged the abyss that was created when in the individual
being consciousness was separated from its origin and became
unconsciousness.
What
had been projected into space had to be brought back to itself
without, however, annihilating the universe which had thus
been created. That is why love burst forth, the irresistible
power of union.
It
brooded over the darkness and the inconscience; it was scattered
and fragmented in the bosom of unfathomable night. And then
began the awakening and the ascent, the slow formation of
Matter and its endless progression. It is indeed love, in
a corrupted and darkened form, that is associated with all
the impulses of physical and vital Nature, as the urge behind
all movement and all grouping, which becomes quite perceptible
in the plant kingdom. In trees and plants, it is the need
to grow in order to obtain more light, more air, more space;
in flowers, it is the offering of their beauty and fragrance
in a loving efflorescence. Then, in animals, it is love that
lies behind hunger and thirst, the need for appropriation,
expansion, procreation, in short, behind every desire, whether
conscious or not. And among the higher species, it is in the
self-sacrificing devotion of the female to her young. This
brings us quite naturally to the human race in which, with
the triumphant advent of mental activity, this association
reaches its climax, for it has become conscious and deliberate.
Indeed, as soon as terrestrial development made it possible,
Nature took up this sublime force of love and put it at the
service of her creative work by linking and mixing it with
her movement of procreation. This association has even become
so close, so intimate, that very few human beings are illumined
enough in their consciousness to be able to dissociate these
movements from each other and experience them separately.
In this way, love has suffered every degradation, it has been
debased to the level of the beast.
From
then on, too, there clearly appears in Nature's works the
will to rebuild, by steps and stages and through ever more
numerous and complex groupings, the primordial oneness. Having
made use of the power of love to bring two human beings together
to form the biune group, the origin of the family, after having
broken the narrow limits of personal egoism, changing it into
a dual egoism, Nature, with the appearance of children, brought
forth a more complex unit, the family. And in course of time,
with multifarious associations between families, individual
interchanges and mingling of blood, larger groupings were
formed: clans, tribes, castes, classes, leading to the creation
of nations. This work of group formation proceeded simultaneously
in the various parts of the world, crystallising in the different
races. And little by little, Nature will fuse these races
too in her endeavour to build a real and material foundation
for human unity.
In
the consciousness of most men, all this is the outcome of
chance; they are not aware of the existence of a global plan
and take circumstances as they come, for better or for worse
according to their temperament: some are satisfied, others
discontented.
Among
the contented, there is a certain category of people who are
perfectly adapted to Nature's ways: these are the optimists.
For them the days are brighter because of the nights, colours
are vivid because of the shadows, joy is more intense because
of suffering, pain gives a greater charm to pleasure, illness
gives health all its value; I have even heard some of them
say that they are glad to have enemies because it made them
appreciate their friends all the more. In any case, for all
these people, sexual activity is one of the most enjoyable
of occupations, satisfaction of the palate is a delight of
life that they cannot go without; and it is quite normal to
die since one is born: death puts an end to a journey which
would become tedious if it were to last too long.
In
short, they find life quite all right as it is and do not
care to know whether it has a purpose or a goal; they do not
worry about the miseries of others and do not see any need
for progress.
Never
try to "convert" these people; it would be a serious mistake.
If they were unfortunate enough to listen to you, they would
lose the balance they have without being able to find a new
one. They are not ready to have an inner life, but they are
Nature's favourites; they have a very close alliance with
her, and this realisation should not be needlessly disturbed.
To
a lesser degree, and above all, in a less durable way, there
are other contented people in the world whose contentment
is due to the magic effect of love. Each time an individual
breaks the narrow limitations in which he is imprisoned by
his ego and emerges into the open air, through self-giving,
whether for the sake of another human being or his family,
his country or his faith, he finds in this self-forgetfulness
a foretaste of the marvellous delight of love, and this gives
him the impression that he has come into contact with the
Divine. But most often it is only a fleeting contact, for
in the human being love is immediately mixed with lower egoistic
movements which debase it and rob it of its power of purity.
But even if it remained pure, this contact with the divine
existence could not last for ever, for love is only one aspect
of the Divine, an aspect which here on earth has suffered
the same distortions as the others.
Besides,
all these experiences are very good and useful for the ordinary
man who follows the normal way of Nature in her stumbling
march towards the future unity. But they cannot satisfy those
who want to hasten the movement, or rather, who aspire to
belong to another line of more direct and rapid movement,
to an exceptional movement that will liberate them from ordinary
mankind and its interminable march, so that they may take
part in the spiritual advance which will lead them along the
swiftest paths towards the creation of the new race, the race
that will express the supramental truth upon earth. These
rare souls must reject all forms of love between human beings,
for how ever beautiful and pure they may be, they cause a
kind of short circuit and cut off the direct connection with
the Divine.
For
one who has known love for the Divine, all other forms of
love are obscure and too mixed with pettiness and egoism and
darkness; they are like a perpetual haggling or a struggle
for supremacy and domination, and even among the best they
are full of misunderstanding and irritability, of friction
and incomprehension.
Moreover,
it is a well-known fact that one grows into the likeness of
what one loves. Therefore if you want to be like the Divine,
love Him alone. Only one who has known the ecstasy of the
exchange of love with the Divine can know how insipid and
dull and feeble any other exchange is in comparison. And even
if the most austere discipline is required to arrive at this
exchange, nothing is too hard, too long or too severe in order
to achieve it, for it surpasses all expression.
This
is the marvellous state we want to realise on earth; it is
this which will have the power to transform the world and
make it a habitation worthy of the Divine Presence. Then will
pure and true love be able to incarnate in a body that will
no longer be a disguise and a veil for it. Many a time, in
order to make the discipline easier and to create a closer
and more easily perceptible intimacy, the Divine has sought,
in his highest form of love, to assume a physical body similar
in appearance to the human body; but each time, imprisoned
within the gross forms of Matter, he was able to express only
a caricature of himself. And in order to manifest in the fullness
of his perfection he waits only for human beings to have made
some indispensable progress in their consciousness and in
their bodies; for the vulgarity of man's vanity and the stupidity
of his conceit mistake the sublime divine love, when it expresses
itself in a human form, for a sign of weakness and dependence
and need.
And
yet man already knows, at first obscurely, but more and more
clearly as he draws nearer to perfection, that love alone
can put an end to the suffering of the world; only the ineffable
joy of love in its essence can sweep away from the universe
the burning pain of separation. For only in the ecstasy of
the supreme union will creation discover its purpose and its
fulfillment.
That
is why no effort is too arduous, no austerity too rigorous
if it can illumine, purify, perfect and transform the physical
substance so that it may no longer conceal the Divine when
he takes on an outer form in Matter. For then this marvellous
tenderness will be able to express itself freely in the world,
the divine love which has the power of changing life into
a paradise of sweet joy.
This,
you will say, is the culmination, the crown of the effort,
the final victory; but what must be done in order to achieve
it? What is the path to be followed and what are the first
steps on the way?
Since
we have decided to reserve love in all its splendour for our
personal relationship with the Divine, we shall replace it
in our relations with others by a total, unvarying, constant
and egoless kindness and goodwill that will not expect any
reward or gratitude or even any recognition. However others
may treat you, you will never allow yourself to be carried
away by any resentment; and in your unmixed love for the Divine,
you will leave him sole judge as to how he is to protect you
and defend you against the misunderstanding and bad will of
others.
You
will await your joys and pleasures from the Divine alone.
In him alone will you seek and find help and support. He will
comfort you in all your sorrows, guide you on the path, lift
you up if you stumble, and if there are moments of failure
and exhaustion, he will take you up in his strong arms of
love and enfold you in his soothing sweetness.
To
avoid any misunderstanding, I must point out here that because
of the exigencies of the language in which I am expressing
myself, I am obliged to use the masculine gender whenever
I mention the Divine. But in fact the reality of love I speak
of is above and beyond all gender, masculine or feminine;
and when it incarnates in a human body, it does so indifferently
in the body of a man or a woman according to the needs of
the work to be done.
In
summary, austerity in feelings consists then of giving up
all emotional attachment, of whatever nature, whether for
a person, for the family, for the country or anything else,
in order to concentrate on an exclusive attachment for the
Divine Reality. This concentration will culminate in an integral
identification and will be instrumental to the supramental
realisation upon earth.
This
leads us quite naturally to the four liberations which will
be the concrete forms of this achievement. The liberation
of the feelings will be at the same time the liberation from
suffering, in a total realisation of the supramental oneness.
The
mental liberation or liberation from ignorance will establish
in the being the mind of light or gnostic consciousness, whose
expression will have the creative power of the Word.
The
vital liberation or liberation from desire gives the individual
will the power to identify itself perfectly and consciously
with the divine will and brings constant peace and serenity
as well as the power which results from them.
Finally,
crowning all the others, comes the physical liberation or
liberation from the law of material cause and effect. By a
total self-mastery, one is no longer a slave of Nature's laws
which make men act according to subconscious or semi-conscious
impulses and maintain them in the rut of ordinary life. With
this liberation one can decide in full knowledge the path
to be taken, choose the action to be accomplished and free
oneself from all blind determinism, so that nothing is allowed
to intervene in the course of one's life but the highest will,
the truest knowledge, the supramental consciousness.
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The
Mother
from "On Education"