A touching moment occurred at the start of a meditation session in Southampton at The Yoga Sanctuary. The class were encouraged to consider what they bought with them to their meditation, in terms of how they felt about the start of a new course and how they felt at that given moment in time. One participant’s responses stood out from the rest.
Initially confessing to feelings of vulnerability, the student’s fears (let’s call her Jane for the sake of convenience and confidentiality) were unpacked before the group as she spoke about concerns she carried like excess luggage of a weighed-down traveller embarking on a long journey. The heaviest and perhaps most striking bit of baggage contained a fear of being duped, of becoming involved in a cult, and of losing her identity.
The emotional intensity of this outpouring was palpable. There was no trace of cynicism in Jane’s voice, no defensive positioning in her posture. There were no platitudes either; just a genuine offering and an honest response to an open question. In front of class, she was opening up, blossoming like a flower, revealing a delicate and fragile interior. By doing so and speaking from the depth of being, she was touching everyone with a radiant light and, as witnesses, to be unmoved by such beauty would have been unnatural.
Jane’s trepidation is a fear many share when embarking on a spiritual journey, especially one that involves transcending boundaries of culture and nationality, coupled with an inherent mistrust of religion we sometimes carry because of its historical uses and abuses. Am I becoming embroiled with a bunch of fanatics and fundamentalists? Do I have to give up family and possessions to reach the Promised Land? Will I lose myself in the process? These are valid questions to ask.
Class members began responding to Jane with well-meant nuggets of advice before a timely intervention from the teacher bought a halt to proceedings. ‘Please,’ he said ‘don’t give advice. If you’re going to offer support, it’s more helpful to provide examples based on personal experience. Otherwise Jane gets bombarded with opinions that will only increase this feeling of insecurity.’ The voices stilled in abashed silence. Wisdom prevailed.
He continued by authorising Jane’s fears, praising her honesty and integrity in a soft, light-hearted manner. In essence, his teaching was that we all carry baggage for as long as we need, and it is right for us to carry these fears and doubts until, eventually, trepidation resolves through personal experience. Self-discovery is the most effective form of education.
Hopefully Jane was reassured by the teacher's response.
Whilst this class wasn’t specifically focussed on Advaita, such teaching accords with its methodology. Enquirers are advised to retain their misgivings until doubt is resolved. Doubt, however, can only be resolved, according to advaita, through pramānas (valid means of knowledge). This is because, as Shankara put it, ‘knowledge and ignorance cannot co-exist in the same individual, for they are contradictory like light and darkness.’
In Indian philosophy it's generally accepted that there are six pramānas. The three main ones Advaita concerns itself with are: perception (pratyaksa), testimony (āgama and also known as āptavākya or śabda pramāna) and inference (anumāna). Perception is knowledge gained by senses, testimony is knowledge gained through scripture (be that as revealed by a guru or through direct comprehension of text) and inference is knowledge gained through the application of logic and reason.
The spontaneous words of the teacher encouraged Jane to apply these three pramānas. He implied: don’t give up your questions until what you have seen or felt for yourself agrees with testimony and use inference, if you will, to draw parallels between life experience and textbook or third-party knowledge.
By adopting such a process of thinking and verifying, before accepting, you can’t lose your way as each resolved question, doubt, or fear, becomes a waypoint, a solid mark of understanding to which one can return when the path becomes obscured.
Pramana, in this sense, acts as a compass. It guides through its needle of enquiry. By following pramana’s arrow, identity doesn't get lost. Accumulated baggage obscuring identity may fall by the wayside and the Self one finds may not be the same as the self one fears to lose. The revealed self, however, shines in the naked light of truth.
Jane’s response to the question at the start of a meditation session became a beacon for those who shared her experience. Her honesty and integrity cast a light and illuminated a way ahead, even if only for a few footsteps. For this, thanks are given.
Namaste.