Space, Time, and Unity
By Swami Karunananda
In bright red letters over the Grand Archway leading to LOTUS we boldly proclaim: Truth is One, paths are many. This is a variation of the famous saying from the Upanishads,“Ekam sat, vipraha bahudha vadanti,” which means: “Truth is one; seers express it in many ways.” Sri Gurudev used to say, “Hunger is one, foods are many.” Some like spaghetti, others prefer pudding, and then there are those who insist upon salad. How silly it would seem if the salad people one day got together and insisted that salad was the only way to satisfy hunger. And what if the pudding people challenged them, resulting in a big fight. We would quickly see the foolishness. We know that people have different tastes, temperaments, capacities. So of course, they would prefer different food.
When it comes to religion, however, we don’t seem to have the same good common sense. The One Supreme Truth may be called Siva, Krishna, Father, Mother, Jesus, Jehovah, Allah, Buddha, Cosmic Consciousness, or any number of names. Not only do members of different faiths denounce one another, but different groups within the same tradition have problems as well. Saivites argue with Vaishnavites; Protestants and Catholics come to blows; Sunnis and Shiites vie for power.
What to do? What is required is a shift of vision. Imagine the ocean. Water is everywhere; temporarily it takes the form of waves, bubbles, and spray. If we focus on the variations, we forget that it’s all just water. If we can remember the water, see the water always, then we will experience the unity as we enjoy all the changes.
The problem is that our ordinary ways of knowing are based not on unity, but on discontinuity - spatial and temporal. There is space, distance, between the observer and the observed. This separation serves as a doorway through which error and illusion enter. The observer is limited by the parameters and accuracy of his senses. Additionally, his conclusions are colored by his own past conditioning.
There is a time lapse, too, as sense data enters through the instrument of perception (such as the eye), and the nerve impulses travel to the brain, and are finally understood. In yogic terms, we say the information is received by the indriya (organ of perception), displayed on the manas (the recording faculty of the mind), and interpreted by the buddhi (the intellect). Then, the ego sense, ahamkara, “flashes,” and somehow we perceive an object in this mix. We are aware of only the end result; we recognize the object. But the underlying process is beyond our grasp. We see the dots, but the ink that connects them remains invisible.
The master pianist Artur Schnabel once said, “The notes I handle no better than many pianists. But the pauses between the notes - ah, that is where the art resides!” The Tao Te Ching states, “We shape clay into a pot, but it is the emptiness inside that holds whatever we want.” The beauty, charm, and usefulness depend on what lies beyond ordinary sense perception - that which supports, surrounds, and informs the entire creation.
Consider a movie theater. The screen is clear, stable, and neutral. If not for the screen, the unchanging support, we wouldn’t be able to see the show. But who remembers, who sees, the screen? We forget the screen, the only “real” thing as it were, and instead, are captivated by the ephemeral flickering images that pass over it. We get caught up in the action—the triumphs and tragedies - and go up and down with all the changes.
Years back when the first Star Trek movie came out, I went to a premiere showing. The theatre was packed; the mood electric; and I, a sci-fi aficionado, was primed for the experience. The special effects were amazing, beyond anything ever before seen. The dramatic tension built to a crescendo, as the spaceship zoomed into hyperspace for the first time. And I went into hyperspace with them, leaping onto my seat, throwing my arms into the air, and shouting in exultation. In a flash, the entire assemblage followed suit, all but forgetting that we were just watching a movie, in a theatre, in the city of San Francisco. The point is, if we could remember the screen, the underlying reality, and understand the passing images in the proper light, we would never lose our equanimity or balance. Aware of the unity, we would enjoy the diversity.
Every form is a unique, temporary whirlpool on the infinite ocean of consciousness. The whirlpools are ever changing. To realize the unity, we need to experience the ocean. Like light shining through cracks, this Oneness peaks through in the pause between breaths, in the space between thoughts, in the silence between words.
Hindu mythology tells the story of Lord Brahma, the Creator. From his mind were born four sages by name, Sanaka, Sanandana, Sanatana and Sanatkumara. They wanted to realize the highest Truth and sought instruction from God in the form of Dakshinamoorthi. They humbly prostrated before him, requesting his guidance. He sat there in silence, and in the silence, they had the realization they were seeking. The Hindu scriptures declare: “Mouna vakya Prakratitha Parabrahma tattvam.” “The unmanifested supreme principle can only be explained in silence, not by words.”
How can we reach that stillness? The paradox is that the path to stillness resides in action. To go from the darkness of tamas to the purity of sattwa, we need to pass through the activity of rajas. As Sri Gurudev would often say, we need to undo all the damage, all the problems we created. First, we were fine. Then we got de-fined. And now we have to refine ourselves. That is where spiritual practice comes in - all our Hatha Yoga, Karma Yoga, Bhakti Yoga, Raja Yoga, and so on. We perform activity to get to the state of non-doing. In the Bhagavad Gita, this is described as finding the action in inaction and the inaction in action.
Sri Gurudev told the following story. Once a king decided to visit a temple. When it came time to distribute the prasad, he noticed that everyone - the sadhus, the devotees, and the servants who worked in the temple - were all given one cake. In the corner, there was a swami just sitting and doing nothing. He didn't even attend the service, but he was also given a cake. When the king saw that, he demanded, “Who is that fellow? He doesn't seem to be doing anything. Why should he get food? What does he do here?”
The priest gently replied, “Maharaj, he just sits there. We don't know what he is doing. We don't see him doing anything.”
So the king went to where the swami was sitting and questioned him, “Are you getting food here daily?”
“Yes, they are giving it to me.”
“And what do you do for that?”
“Nothing.”
“So you do nothing, and you get food?”
“That seems to be what's happening.”
“Why should you be given food when you do nothing?”
“Well, Maharaj, it seems to be the most difficult job.”
“Ahh, is that so? Well, I can also do nothing.”
“Okay, Maharaj, you can try.
So the king sat there in front of the swami with his eyes closed for a few minutes, and then announced, “See, I did nothing; it wasn’t difficult at all.”
“Sir,” responded the swami, “please excuse me for saying so, but you were not doing nothing. You were thinking of buying a few more horses for your stables.”
Immediately, the king prostrated before the sadhu. “Now I understand. Doing nothing doesn't mean simply sitting. The mind also should be totally still, and that is the most difficult thing to achieve.” The king turned to the priest and said, “In the future, see that this sadhu gets two cakes, not one.”
To achieve that stillness, a lot of rubbing and scrubbing is needed. When the body and mind have been purified, we discover a way to know without discontinuity. Our meditation deepens, and we slip into samadhi. In that state, there is no longer any separation between subject and object. We experience direct intuitive knowledge. The whirlpools of the mind subside, and we realize our true nature, that Supreme Peace that pervades all creation. We see the unity, the inter-connectedness of all life. With that vision, true humility, compassion, and reverence are born. With that understanding, we become dynamic embodiments and instruments of peace, light, and healing.
We can begin now by making the following resolution given by Sri Gurudev: “From this day onward, my life will be all-embracing and harmonious. Let me learn to accept all the various approaches of people, because everyone is looking for the same happiness and joy in life. Let me not condemn anybody because he or she looks a little different, thinks a little different, or acts a little different. Let me realize the spiritual unity behind all the diversity in the creation and remember always that we are members of one divine family. Thus, in my own small, humble way, may I contribute to the peace, joy, and harmony of the world.”
© 2006 Swami Karunananda
Reprinted from Integral Yoga Magazine, Summer 2006
