The Complete Works of Yogy Ramacharaka. William Walker Atkinson
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be has the power of the Universe back of him. This gives him a strength and courage unknown to the man who stakes his entire happiness upon the success of some particular thing, and who feels that he is doomed to despair if that thing does not succeed. The unattached man allows the stream of life to play upon him, and through him, and takes a fierce joy in being a part of it all. He goes out into a crowded thoroughfare, and sees the movement of the people, and feels it all to be a part of himself—he feels himself as a part of it all. He is conscious of the activity, growth and motion of the mass of people, and enjoys it all. He is not afraid, for he knows what it all means. He is moved from one sphere of activity to another, and knows it to be the work of the forces behind him, which are friendly to him. He works away, from the very joy of it, and takes the keenest interest in the masterful performance of his task. And, because of this he does the best of work. But for the results of the work—that is, for the reward praise—he cares nothing. He can turn to another task with equal pleasure, and forget all about the one just completed. He is not attached to it—it has not entangled him in its meshes.
Such a man is sure to draw a proper support from his work—it comes to him as his right. Those who have mastered Karma Yoga, while not caring for the vanities and show of life, nevertheless find themselves supplied with a recompense sufficient to supply their wants and to render them comfortable. Of course their v;ants are comparatively few—their tastes are always simple, and manifest in the desire for fewer things but better ones—but they draw their means of support to them as the tree or plant draws nourishment from the soil, water and air, They do not pursue wealth any more than they pursue happiness, and yet happiness comes to them unasked, and the means of support are found at their hand. The man who has freed himself from the entanglements of the material life, finds a keen joy in the mere living, that the attached man never finds even in his most successful moments.
Anything, if sought as the expected source of happiness, when finally found is seen to carry in its bosom the sting of pain. But if one ceases to look upon the thing as the source of happiness, and regards it as simply one of the incidents and accompaniments of life, then the poison is neutralized and the sting is blunted. If one looks to Fame as the thing that will bring the long sought for happiness, he will And when he becomes famous that his success has brought with it many painful things that will kill the joy of his attainment. But to the one who is freed and who works for the love of work without allowing himself to be attached, Fame may come as an incident and its pain will not be in evidence.
Many things to which men devote their entire lives bring more pain than happiness. And this simply because men look to the thing for happiness instead cd to themselves. The moment one pins his chance of happiness to an outside thing or person, he opens the door to pain and unhappiness. For no outside person or thing can satisfy the longings of the soul, and the disappointment which will come—and which must come, of necessity—from such dependence upon person or thing, causes pain and sorrow instead of the expected happiness.
Even Love, that noble emotion, is the snurce of pain to the attached person. The Yogi Philosophy preaches the doctrine of Love—more Love—still more Love. And yet it also teaches that when Love is selfish it brings pain in its train. When we say we love a person, we osually mean that we wish that person to love us, and are unhappy if that Love is denied. True love is not like this. Unselfish love flows out toward the loved one, and asks nothing in return. Its joy lies in the happiness of the loved one, rather than in the selfish demand for a return of the love. True love is constantly saying to itself, “Give, give, give,” while the selfish, material love is continually demanding of the other person “Give, give, give to me." True love radiates like the sunlight, while selfish love would draw to itself like the whirlpool. If one loves another in such a way that if the other’s love be withdrawn all happiness will fade out of life, then that first person is the slave of circumstances—slave of the other’s emotions or passions. He is attached in such a way that he must suffer the pain of disappointment, neglect or change. And he usually has such pain come to him, for such a love, being mortal, must die, and its death will bring great pain and suffering to the one who relies upon it for happiness. The love of the freed and unattached person is different. It is not a lesser lover—it is the greater of the two—but it is not attached to the personality of the other, nor is it dependent upon the manifestation of affection on the part of the other. It is Love—pure Love, and not the passionate, selfish thing that passes current as the real thing, of which it is merely a base counterfeit.
Edward Carpenter says of Love: “Who loves the mortal creature, ending there, is no more free—he has given himself away to Death.
“For him the slimy black Form lies in wait at every turn, befouling the universe;
“Yet he who loves must love the mortal, and he who would love perfectly must be free: (“Love—glorious though it be is a disease as long as it destroys or even impairs the freedom of the soul,) “Therefore if thou wouldst love, withdraw thyself from love – "Make it thy slave, and all the miracles of nature shall lie in the palm of thy hand.” And again: “Seek not the end of love in this act or in that act—lest indeed it become the end; “But seek this act and that act and thousands of acts whose end is love – “So shalt thou at last create that which thou now desirest; “And when these are all past and gone there shall remain to thee a great and immortal possession, which no man can take away.”
In Lesson I of this course we refer to the first precept of the first part of the manual: “Kill out ambition." And to the fourth precept of:he same part: “Work as those work who are ambitious.” This apparently paradoxical statement of truth, gives the keynote of work without attachment. In the lesson named we have endeavored to give the student a view of the two sides of the shield, and to show him how one may kill out ambition and yet work as those work who are ambitious. We advise the student to re—read that part of the lesson, when he finishes the present one.
The fundamental idea of non-attachment—the secret of work—is to avoid becoming entangled in the unreal things of life—the delusions which fool so many people. Men are so apt to tie themselves to the things they create, or to the things for which they are working. They make themselves slaves instead of masters. They attach themselves to certain desires, the desires lead them this way and that way, through swamp and over rocky roads, only to leave them worn and weary at the end. These desires come from the undeveloped part of the mind, and while they are perfectly right in their place, they belong to the past of the developed man who has outlived them He does not fear them, for he sees them as part of himself—he knows their origin and history and recognizes the part they have played in his development, and the development of the race, but he has outgrown them, and allows them to bind him no longer. He refuses to be entangled with them. As Carpenter says:
“Slowly and resolutely—as a fly cleans its legs of the honey in which it has been caught—“So remove thou, if it only be for a time, every particle which sullies the brightness of thy mind:
"Return into thyself—content to give, but asking no one, asking nothing;
“In the calm light of His splendor who fills all the universe—the imperishable indestructible of ages –
“Dwell thou—as thou canst dwell—contented.”
The same poet says of desire:
“When thy body—as needs must happen at times—is carried along on the wind of passion, say not thou, ‘I desire this or that’;
"For the 'I' neither desires nor fears any anything but is free and in everlasting glory, dwelling in heaven and pouring out joy like the sun on all sides.
‘Let not that precious thing by any confusion be drawn down and entangled in the world of opposites, and of Death and suffering,
“For as a light-house beam sweeps with incredible speed over sea and land, yet the lamp moves not at all.
“So while thy body of desire is (and must be by the law of its nature) incessantly in motion in the world of suffering, the ‘I’ high up above is fixed in heaven.
“Therefore I say let no confusion cloud thy mind about this matter;
“But ever when desire knocks at thy door,