Yoga: Uniting East and West

Selvarajan Yesudian, Elisabeth Haich

• Publisher: Routledge
• Year: 2018
• Print ISBN: 9780367027926
• eBook ISBN: 9780429674112
• Edition: 1
• Topic: Philosophy
• Subtopic: Philosophy History & Theory

In this book, first published in 1956, the two authors, representatives of two different worlds and two entirely different attitudes, explore the wide domain of Eastern and Western philosophy. They put forward the theory that it is in Yoga that the two worlds meet.

I
————

What is Yoga?

‘With the sword of the understanding
of thyself thou shalt rend asunder in
thy heart every doubt arising from
ignorance, and thou shalt achieve thy
permanence in Yoga….

Bhagavad Gita

each of us, sooner, or later, comes to a momentous point in life when he suddenly realizes that he is living, alive in space and time, standing between past and future. But his memory can cast only a tiny ray of light on an extremely small part of the past. Beyond this point everything is lost in mist as dim and uncertain as the future whose secrets are inscrutable. He begins to sense the great questions: whence?—whither?—why?

At some time or other he was born and sometime he will die. This he knows, but not from his own experience. Had he grown up alone on an uninhabited island, never seeing that people are born and die, he would have no idea that man is born, for he should have no memory of such a thing. Likewise he would be ignorant of the fact that, in accordance with the laws of nature, he will someday die. However, as he is living among people, he knows from the example of others that everyone on earth was once born and, since he is here now, will sometime have to die.

But where was he before birth? Where does he go after death? And why must he travel on this path between these two stations?

Whoever has pondered over such questions has opened his eyes to behold the infinite wisdom acting through all manifestations of life. He sees the geometrical, mathematical, physical, and chemical laws within every created form. He finds it impossible that a long lifetime full of experiences, beauty, joy and sorrow, happiness and hardship—oft-times with great achievements—can emerge from a void and fade away into nothing. He cannot accept a doctrine which holds that life is blind, arbitrary, pointless and without reason or guiding principle. But if there is an inner principle and if there is a point to it all, what is this principle, what is the point? What power brings man onto this earth and calls him away again when his time has come? And what is the meaning back of it all?

All of these questions are answered for us when we can realize who is coming from somewhere, going somewhere, and living for some purpose.

The answer to this question who? seems to be very simple: ‘I’—Yes, but do we know who this ‘I’ really is?

If I concentrate on myself and begin to explore, I discover some very remarkable things. First of all I notice that there is not just one self within me but several. Here is an example. While I am reading a book, something flashes into my mind that happened during the day. I relive the experience, continue the line of thinking, and wonder what I should do in the matter. Suddenly I notice that I have read on to the end of the page which I should now turn in order to read further. Thus, while I have been thinking over past events, ‘someone’ has been reading, letter by letter, and, word by word, on to the end of the page. But who? For I cannot recall a single word that this other person in me has read while my thoughts were wandering.

A second example probably comes within everyone’s experience. I am saying my prayers. While I repeat the words, tomorrow’s duties come to mind and I begin to plan what I should do and how to go about it. Suddenly I realize I have come to the ‘Amen’. Who in me has said this prayer while I was thinking about other things? An even more interesting case occurs when I am obliged to add a column of figures and my thoughts stray elsewhere. But someone in me is adding the figures and writing down the total. Astonished, I look at the figures and add them up again, this time with more care, assuming that the sum written down is probably wrong because my thoughts were drifting. Now, however, to my great surprise, I find these figures are completely correct. The ‘person’ who was adding them up within me can add correctly, has written the total without a mistake, and done so with my own hand. The astonishing fact is that whereas I have said the prayer countless times since childhood, to the point that it has become completely routine, I was faced with this column of figures in this order for the first time just now and, therefore, was certainly not adding them up as a purely habitual operation. This ‘person’ within me who was adding these figures had to add each individual digit with understanding in order to reach the sum recorded. But who is this ‘someone’? Obviously myself, but unconsciously. And who, at the same time, was thinking about other things? Likewise myself, but consciously. Thus there can be no doubt that within me there is more than one self. On the other hand, I have only one consciousness and am able to direct this consciousness towards one or the other of my selves according to my interest and will.

Furthermore, I can observe that there is still ‘someone’ else living within me who does not occupy the same plane with the self that thinks, adds, subtracts and reads. This third ‘inner person’ stands above the others, observing me, criticizing me, teaching, judging and advising me and demanding an accounting for all my actions and all my thoughts. When I am ruffled or upset, this inner person remains calm and unperturbed, knowing no excitement. But when I am in distress he helps me.

How often have we heard—perhaps even experienced ourselves—that in a moment of great danger, someone escaped only through doing what he was later unable to explain, having done it as if ‘another person’ had been acting within him. In the moment of danger, ‘someone’ stepped into his place, someone who must be omniscient, for by acting through him, this ‘someone’ saved him from something which actually did not happen until later. Therefore, this ‘someone’ must know the future.

Once, during a delicate operation, a famous surgeon was concentrating on his patient and his exacting work. Suddenly he leaned forward, his body completely covering the open incision in his patient’s abdomen. A split second later the glass shade of the operating lamp exploded. A shower of splintered glass fell harmlessly onto the surgeon’s back instead of into the open wound in the patient’s body. In vain, the surgeon’s assistants asked him why he had suddenly bent over his patient. He was unable to give any explanation. ‘Someone’ had acted in him and through him. At the critical moment he experienced this ‘someone’ as his own self, feeling that this ‘someone’ knew exactly what he was doing and why. Afterwards, however, he no longer felt himself identical with this ‘someone’. He was no longer able to remember what had caused him to make this movement and save his patient. Who was acting within him and manifesting this knowledge of the future?

One day in our house in Madras, my mother, upon entering the bathroom, suddenly saw a cobra. She started to back away but slipped and fell flat on the floor. ‘Don’t budge’, her inner voice commanded. As if frozen, she lay still while the snake coiled up on her breast to enjoy the warmth of the body. A long time later—probably after hearing a sound from outside—the cobra slid down and disappeared in the garden. Had my mother made the slightest move, she would most certainly have been bitten. Afterwards, she found it impossible to explain how she had been able to lie there without a quiver. Not until she was in safety did she become paralyzed with fright. Who was it in her that was so cool and relaxed in the moment of danger? Who knew that this was the only way of escaping death?

Without doubt this ‘someone’ who comes to our aid in moments of danger is again our own self. But it is a part of our inner being that stands above the rest in knowledge, power, strength and morals, in fact, in everything. It has power over us. When it is displeased, it tortures us, for a guilty conscience is the greatest of agonies. On the other hand, when we can satisfy this ‘higher person’ within us, we experience an intense feeling of happiness unequalled by anything else on earth. In moments of great nervous strain this self takes possession of our consciousness. We feel that it is our self, yet so high above us that we recognize it only as the voice of conscience. As if it were another person, we feel we cannot raise our own consciousness high enough to feel ourselves identical with it. This self, however, can take possession of our consciousness at will. Who is this higher self? Who are the other ‘everyday’ selves that think, calculate, ponder and err within us? And how can it be possible that my self and my consciousness are not one and the same?

Consciousness is a condition of the self. If we wish to get better acquainted with it, we must first understand:

what is the ‘self’?

God is everywhere. God fills universal space. The universe lives because God fills it with his Being. God is Being. God is Life, and Life is God. In the Gospel according to St. John we find: ‘And the Word (logos) was God. The same was in the beginning with God. All things were made by him; and without him was not anything made that was made.’ (John 1; 1–3).

From the tiniest one-celled creature all the way up to the most highly developed forms, everything is filled with life. Wherever we look we see thousands of manifestations of life in various stages of development. On the highest earthly rung of this ladder stands man.

How does man feel the presence of life in himself? He experiences his existence as his self and expresses this feeling in the first person saying ‘I am’.

If therefore life is God and if life in the consciousness of man appears as a feeling of his self, of his ‘I am’, then this Tis God within us. This is also proven by the Bible; for when Moses asked what God’s name was, God replied ‘eheje’, signifying ‘I am that I am’ (Exodus 3; 14). This means the self which is eternally present, for the statement is neither ‘I was’, nor ‘I shall be’ but ‘i am’, that is, the uninterrupted, eternal being, god!

Does man know that his self is life, that is, God within him? No. Mankind is not aware of this. The consciousness of the average man moves on a much lower level; by and large, man is far too limited to lift his consciousness up to union with God. The fact that this possibility exists, however, was proven by the greatest masters, the divine teachers who lived in our midst in a material human body while their consciousness was identical with God. ‘I and my Father are one’, said Christ (John 10; 30). In his own life, Christ proved that union with God is possible even during life in the human body, that the body is no impediment, and that divine consciousness is an attainable goal for every one. As if impelled by an unquenchable thirst, mankind forever feels the urge to climb upwards towards the highest goal. This endless striving after the ultimate aim is one of the characteristics which differentiate man from animals. Animals do not want to be more than they are. A dog is satisfied to remain a dog and a horse has no wish to be anything more than a horse. No animal tries to distinguish himself from his fellows through special achievements. Only man feels an inner urge to be more than he is; unconsciously he feels the hidden possibilities within himself. This inmost driving force is the spur of the divine self within us that is always leading us onward, urging us not to be satisfied with the results we have achieved, but to stride on forward and upward until we have reached the supreme goal. Mountain climbers follow this instinct when they undergo all kinds of physical hardships, pushing onward and upward, overcoming their difficulties, until they reach the uppermost peak. Along the way they meet much that is delightful. Sunny clearings and green meadows invite them to rest. Crystal streams quench their thirst. But the mountaineers do not remain among these beauties. Pausing only for short spells, they press on, higher and higher, scaling the naked rocks, for their souls find no peace until they have reached their goal, the topmost point, the majestic summit.

Generally we do not realize that this urge is back of our everyday haste, our constant efforts to excel each other, and the passion for record-breaking achievements, so common among our various sports. Each of us would like to reach the pinnacle of success in all we undertake. Each would like to become omniscient, omnipotent, perfect. But there is only one perfection—God. If man therefore really wishes to become all-knowing and all-powerful, this means he must become God. Is it possible for each individual to become a God? No, but man’s consciousness can lift itself above his human existence and rise up into union with God. This possibility was likewise proven by Christ when he said: ‘Is it not written in your law, "I said, Ye are gods?”’ (John 10; 34; Psalms 82; 6).

But why cannot the average man unite his consciousness with God at will? To answer this question, we must first understand:

what is consciousness?

Consciousness is a condition of the self. If I look at myself face to face, become conscious of my self, and perceive this, there arises a condition or state. This state has various levels depending on how much I understand my self. The less I recognize of myself, the more limited, and the narrower is my consciousness. In proportion as I progress in self-understanding, my consciousness expands. The highest level will be reached when I shall have recongnized my self in its entirety. This state is perfect: for it is three in one and one in three: recognition, the recognized and the recognizer,—they are one and the same: I myself.

The average person is not able to experience this condition, because he does not know his self.

Everything that has been created, was created by the Word—logos—which was God before the beginning of creation. Hence, throughout the Universe, every form of life is a manifestation of God. The extent of the manifestation, however, depends on the level of the intelligence manifesting itself. We can easily see the difference between the consciousness of the plant world and that of the animal world—and again between the consciousness of the latter and that of the highest earthly level, man. The difference is so great that in the case of plants for example, we can scarcely say that they have consciousness. Nevertheless, the facts prove that the behaviour of plants is such as to show the evidence of an initial, low level of consciousness.

In expressions of life we can observe various degrees of consciousness. The seemingly lifeless material plane is the lowest. But we know that crystals possess wonderful properties. They develop and grow according to strict geometrical rules. Then too, they have positive and negative radiations, which is a further proof that matter is not lifeless. The next plane is the plant kingdom where we find organic manifestations of life. Then come the animals with instincts, urges and feelings. Finally there is man to whom the slow, sure processes of development have given the ability to grow out of the animal condition and put his foot on the stairway leading to new possibiliti...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Half Title
• Title Page
• Copyright Page
• Original Title Page
• Original Copyright Page
• Foreword
• Contents
• Introduction
• I What is Yoga? …
• II The Path of the Orient
• III The Path of the Occident
• IV The Two Paths Meet