In Vedanta Treatise, Swami Parthasarathy remarks upon the necessity for daily reflection on kernels of knowledge absorbed through study and cautions students not to proceed further until such nuggets have been thoroughly absorbed. As commonsense as this advice may seem, there is a temptation to overreach the bounds of personal understanding in the pursuit of spiritual enlightenment. We read about enlightened sages and want to experience states they describe and the sooner the better!
So it’s tempting to accelerate through available literature, grasping a bit of this, and a bit of that, without fully assimilating teachings presented to us. This can lead to a state where the ultimate destination becomes shrouded by mists of misunderstanding; we become tangled in vaporous notions and clarity is obscured within a fog of confusion.
This, at least, is what suggests itself from personal experience of reading Swami Dayananda’s Bhagavad Gita Home Study Course. The opening couple of chapters were relatively easy to grasp, given a broad introductory understanding of precepts involved in Advaita. There was Arjuna, on the battlefield, getting ready to face his cousins. He was in a state of confusion over how best to proceed, fearing the calamities of warfare and bloodshed that would ensue. His advisor and charioteer, Krisna, was present, ready to offer moral support and reasoning that would enable Arjuna to pursue the right course of action and overcome the seeming difficulties of his situation. So far, so good.
Now, on page 420 of this three-volume undertaking, I’m in a better position to emphasise Arjuna’s initial distress. To say that my understanding seems clouded would be an understatement. Rather, it is night and I’m wondering where I left the torch! There seems to be no other option than to grope my way back through this unlit terrain, cautiously avoiding any obstacles on the way, until I return to the comfort of familiar territory. Maybe once I get back to that place, I’ll be in a better position to figure out how to proceed.
Advaitin literature is persistent in its assertion that a teacher is required to help the student find his or her way through the smog of maya, yet it also advises that a teacher appears when the student is ready. Until such times, one is left to one’s limited devices, relating knowledge to restrictive realms of subjective experience. Eventually, waves of knowledge may erode boulders of ignorance, but this is a gradual process and without guidance from someone who’s personally experienced the ocean’s reflection, future prognosis of achieving one’s goal is, at best, uncertain.
In the absence of a teacher and with limited understanding, however, studying Vedanta isn’t a futile occupation. Shruti (scripture) contains many useful aspects that can make a real difference to the way one perceives the self, others, and the surrounding world. It also contains helpful analogies and metaphors that have the potential to deepen understanding. Here, a further caution may need adding: whilst reading may generate an intellectual appreciation of what is being discussed, there is, however, no substitute for practical observation, involvement, and personal experience.
Take, for example, the much cited metaphor of ocean and wave that is used as means for portraying the illusion of differentiation in terms of jiva and Atman. If the reader has only conceptual knowledge or an intellectual appreciation of the ocean, such a metaphor is of limited use. One can appreciate that the wave is generated by the ocean, is an aspect of the ocean, and without the ocean there can be no wave. All this can information can be gained through textbook knowledge of the subject.
Such knowledge, however, is vastly inferior to perceptual knowledge of the ocean, whereby one has first-hand experience of the ocean’s properties. Through perceptual knowledge, a surfer for example, is likely to get a whole lot more from the metaphor used to convey a relationship between jiva and Atman. The surfer may project properties of a sea that can generate a wave with potential to propel and drown; an impersonal mass of water to which life and death hold no significance. Caught in the undertow of a wave, the surfer may be in a better position to appreciate aspects of chaos and calm, inherent within this body of water.
Those who are actively involved in such a way with their studies are in a better position to make connections through first-hand experience and in such cases, understanding becomes something that is ‘felt’, not simply absorbed. It resonates through personal experience, becomes memorable and stays within the mind for a long time. Text book knowledge, on the other hand, has a propensity to be forgotten unless it is of practical use.
With this in mind, I recognise a need to backtrack along the learning path, to further acquaint myself with materials encountered on route. Teachings must be internalised and personalised if they are to have a long-lasting effect on practitioners. The experience must be lived for the lesson to be learnt. So, after a holiday of ocean surf and sea spray, it’s probably time to go back over material covered so far in Swami Dayananda’s Home Study Course, and look at further ways in which such information can be turned to practical use and implementation.