Commentary on Paramahansa Nityananda's Chidakasha Gita–Number 16
by Swami Nirmalananda Giri

Chidakasha Gita:
Verses 63-66

63. Bhakti in the beginning is selfish. Afterwards, there is no selfishness in it.

When a man attains perfection, the whole universe becomes to him, his guru.

• Bhakti in the beginning is selfish. Afterwards, there is no selfishness in it.

Sri Ramakrishna spoke of “green”–unripe–bhakti and “ripe” bhakti:

“A man with ‘green’ bhakti cannot assimilate spiritual talk and instruction; but one with ‘ripe’ bhakti can.…One cannot assimilate spiritual instruction unless one has already developed love of God.… One can see God through bhakti alone. But it must be ‘ripe’ bhakti, prema-bhakti and raga-bhakti. When one has that bhakti, one loves God even as the mother loves the child, the child the mother, or the wife the husband.

“When one has such love and attachment for God, one doesn't feel the attraction of maya to wife, children, relatives, and friends. One retains only compassion for them. To such a man the world appears a strange land, a place where he has merely to perform his duties. It is like a man’s having his real home in the country, but coming to Calcutta for work; he has to rent a house in Calcutta for the sake of his duties. When one develops love of God, one completely gets rid of one’s attachment to the world and worldly wisdom.…One cannot see God if one has even the slightest trace of worldliness.”

But in the beginning such an exalted state is not possible, because embryonic bhakti is ego-based to a great degree. Such an ego is sattwic, but ego nonetheless. In this condition a person delights in and savors the thought of God, and may even say (as is common in India): “I don’t want to be sugar, I want to eat sugar.” This is considered an adequate rejection of the non-dual view of the goal of human life. It sounds rather cute, a kind of childish wisdom, but analysis reveals its character. Is God something to be licked on like a lollipop? Does God exists for our delectation? Do we really want to devour God? Do we want to control God? “God is the servant of His devotees” is another egoic cliché current in India? This is childish greed, and an equally childish desire to control and be the center of attention. We see this in Christian Fundamentalist hymns. They go on and on about how “I love God” and “God loves me.” The focus of attention is totally on “me.” That is why the central object in Protestant churches is the pulpit from which a hired minister performs for the attendees who expect to be benefited, entertained, challenged, inspired, etc., etc., etc. I well remember a Methodist minister who had been to an Eastern Christian vesper service complaining to a friend: “I didn’t know what to do with no one looking at me!” What a spiritual disease–egotism to a psychotic degree. It is the same with “bhakti” in the beginning. God is a source of constant entertainment. Often when these infants finally get bored with all the playing with dolls and being titillated in various ways, they lapse into a bored cynicism which they then claim is “jnana.”

Yet there are those whose sincerity and purity of heart enables them to develop the realization that in true bhakti the “me” is not the focus at all, but God alone. Then bhakti begins to ripen and they realize how small and insignificant their “love” is at present. So they want to purify and develop themselves so their love will be worthy of its Object. They become more and more absorbed in God–so much so that the contemplative life is understood to be the only spiritual life. Swami Sivananda used to say: “Bhakti begins with two and ends with One.” At first bhakti is nearly all “I,” but in the end it is all “Thou.”

• When a man attains perfection, the whole universe becomes to him, his guru.

Many liberated beings have said that everything was their guru, meaning that they saw the One in all things manifesting as the universe which embodied the wisdom of Spirit. The ability to learn from life itself is necessary as we ascend in levels of consciousness. Further, the Self-realized understand that God is the only guru, teaching us by means of His creation. This is depicted in Swami Sivananda’s thrilling poem, Only God I Saw:

When I surveyed from Ananda Kutir, Rishikesh,
By the side of the Tehri Hills, only God I saw.
In the Ganges and the Kailas peak,
In the famous Chakra Tirtha of Naimisar also, only God I saw.

In the Dedhichi Kand of Misrik,
In the sacred Triveni of Prayag Raj too, only God I saw.
In the Maya Kund of Rishikesh and
In the springs of Badri, Yamunotri and Gauri-Kund to boot, only God I saw.

In tribulation and in grief, in joy and in glee,
In sickness and in sorrow, only God I saw.
In birds and dogs, in stones and trees,
In flowers and fruits, in the sun, moon and stars, only God I saw.

In prayer and fasting, in praise and meditation,
In Japa and Asana, in Tratak and concentration, only God I saw.
In Pranayama and Nauli, in Bhasti and Neti,
In Dhouti and Vajroli, in Bhastrika and Kundalini, only God I saw.

In Brahmakara Vritti and Vedantic Nididhyasana,
In Atmic Vichara and Atmic Chintana, only God I saw.
In Kirtan and Nama Smaran, in Sravana and Vandana,
In Archana and Padasevana, in Dasya and Atmanivedana, only God I saw.

Like camphor I was melting in His fire of knowledge,
Amidst the flames outflashing, only God I saw.
My Prana entered the Brahmarandhra at the Moordha,
Then I looked with God’s eyes, only God I saw.

I passed away into nothingness, I vanished,
And lo, I was the all-living, only God I saw.
I enjoyed the Divine Aisvarya, all God’s Vibhutis,
I had Visvaroopa Darshan, the Cosmic Consciousness, only God I saw.

Glory, glory unto the Lord, hail! hail! hail! O sweet Ram.
Let me sing once more Thy Name–Ram Ram Ram, Om, Om, Om,
only God I saw.

64. What is called Hatha Yoga is selfishness. In Hatha Yoga a man seeks his own goodness. He seeks fame; he can stop the sunrise of tomorrow; he can create a mountain of gold. To say “I am Brahma” is not just. “Thou (O God!) art all; all art thou,” we must say. A yogi is one who thinks the whole universe to be a yogi. He should regard all as himself.

What is called Hatha Yoga is selfishness.

When Nityananda spoke the words that eventually were collected and called Chidakasha Gita, Hatha Yoga was almost totally unknown to the West. He had in mind the situation in India where there were individuals who learned the whole range of practices from adept teachers and then became public figures, renowned for their remarkable physical abilities–and often for impressive psychic abilities, as well. Some of the lesser ones made their way into the West and became the “India-rubber men” featured in carnival sideshows. The motives of them all were money and power. It is of them that this aphorism speaks, though by extension it can be applied by those who take up Hatha Yoga practice for mere physical benefit, catering to obsession with the body.

The real purpose for Hatha Yoga was the maintenance of the health of hermit-yogis whose way of life precluded normal physical exercise. The main object was the ability to sit for many hours–even days and weeks–in meditation without it being detrimental to the yogis’ bodies. Spiritual life was their sole interest. So Nityananda is censuring those who employ an essentially spiritual practice for mere health and physical flexibility–for short-sighted, selfish intentions.

• In Hatha Yoga a man seeks his own goodness. He seeks fame; he can stop the sunrise of tomorrow; he can create a mountain of gold.

This affirms what I have said about the type of Hatha Yogis Nityananda had in mind.

• To say “I am Brahma” is not just. “Thou (O God!) art all; all art thou,” we must say.

Non-dualism (advaita) is true, but not the simplistic “monism” of popular, paper-back Vedanta. There is only One, that is true, but that One is not the finite individual jiva, but the Totality of Being, of which the jiva is a drop, a spark. As Yogananda explained, we should never say: “I am God,” but rather: “God has become me.” The greatest non-dual philosopher, Shankara, wrote in a hymn: “O Lord, though in essence there is no difference between us, I cannot say that You belong to me. Rather, I belong to You. For the wave cannot say: ‘I am the ocean,’ but the ocean can say: ‘I am the wave.’” Quite simple, really, as is most truth.

• A yogi is one who thinks the whole universe to be a yogi. He should regard all as himself.

Now we have the practical result of non-dual consciousness: the whole universe is seen to be Brahman, the inner Self of all sentient beings. Brahman is the real “yogi,” for It unites all within Itself. The individual yogi may employ various practices, but it is only the Being of Satchidananda experienced in meditation that brings about the revelation of the Eternal Union that is the truth of us all.

65. If a man goes to a forest and there lives in a cave, it is just like a beast in a cave. Even the milestones are better than such a man because by the milestones we can count the distance in miles. Such people are of no use whatsoever. A thoughtful man should gradually go on renouncing the world. When a man eats food, it is for his own benefit. Others are not benefited by it. It is not enough if we leave darkness. We must always live in the light. If we have a light on a dark path, we have no fear. There is fear in walking in darkness.

• If a man goes to a forest and there lives in a cave, it is just like a beast in a cave. Even the milestones are better than such a man because by the milestones we can count the distance in miles. Such people are of no use whatsoever.

Nityananda lived in solitude for a great deal of his earlier life, and some of the places where he lived are now ashrams or shrines. But he is thinking of the very many fake “hermits” who live off to themselves, supported by others who trust their motives, and yet are no more than bums with a fixed abode. There are many of these in the Himalayas. When Swami Ramdas was wandering in the north of India he visited the famous Vashishtha Cave where Rama’s guru had done tapasya. He found there a retired merchant who was just living off the kindness of devotees who assumed he was a real yogi. But later a great saint, Swami Purushottamananda, lived there, and after his mahasamadhi one of his disciples Swami Shantanandaji still lives there. So all “hermits” are not equal.

Actually, if a person lives in solitude and does real sadhana, he benefits the whole world, for all is contained in the One. Nityananda, though, is speaking of a lazy opportunist. Frankly, what he says applies to a lot of people in the public eye, especially the institutional cogs that live “dedicated” lives, but have no spiritual dimension to them whatsoever. They truly are of no use whatsoever to anyone–not even to themselves.

• A thoughtful man should gradually go on renouncing the world.

Is this ever true! Every day should be one of renunciation. One evening in Aswan, Egypt, I was sitting outside with Bishop Hedra, the Coptic bishop of Aswan. He told the people to ask me questions, which they did. One lady told we that the fundamentalist Protestant missionaries were just then making a big fuss about when the end of the world would occur, and asked my opinion. I told her: “A true Christian ‘ends the world’ every day.” All agreed.

This principle that every day should be a day of renunciation is very important, for so many begin as fervent renouncers and then not only fall back into their old ways, but start accumulating more and more attachments, until they are more materialistic than ordinary people.

It is also important that renunciation be extended into every aspect of our life, otherwise all kinds of things slip through and render us hypocrites. For example, one time in Kanpur a famous swami was giving a series of talks on the Srimad Bhagavatam. In one talk he made the silly remark that if we have a kaupin (a strip of cloth traditionally used as underwear) it should be very narrow–and he showed with his fingers how narrow it should be. This was supposed to be an ideal of simplicity and renunciation. Yet I had noticed that every day he had worn a different expensive sweater, and I knew that he had hundreds of thousands of rupees in the bank.

In keeping with this guru’s hypocrisy, was a young “sadhu” disciple of his that was living in a thatch hut in Brindaban. He was always well trimmed and well-oiled as he daily displayed himself, walking along the road barefoot with a tiny cloth around his waist and a picturesque (equally well-oiled) kamandalu in one hand. The purpose was obvious: he would live like this for about three years so it would look good on his “resume” when he finally emerged to head a big ashram, all togged up and riding around in his auto with a driver to appointments with his accountants. (Of course, he already had his “M.A” degree.)

So renunciation is a continual practice.

• When a man eats food, it is for his own benefit. Others are not benefited by it.

An Eastern Orthodox monk I knew went to visit a famous spiritual adviser on a desert island. He was greatly impressed by the elder’s spiritual status and wisdom. After speaking with him for a while he asked him to pray for him. To his astonishment the holy man said very forcefully: “No! I can’t pray for you any more than I can eat for you. Pray for yourself–that alone will benefit you.” And this is so, even though I have known monks in the West that often told people–while soliciting money–that they were praying for them and pleasing God on their behalf and holding back God’s “anger” from a sinful world.

This is the fact: sadhana/tapasya is only for the benefit of the ones who do it–it does not spill over onto others, including the world. And that is why there are few things more shamefully false and manipulative than: “Gurudev has done it all for us. We need not work so hard.” “I have done fifteen annas in the rupee for you.” Impossible. We had better get busy and better ourselves, for no one else can do it for us.

• It is not enough if we leave darkness. We must always live in the light.

Spiritual life is a fully positive thing. Virtue is not an absence of vice but the presence of positive goodness. Fundamentalist Protestants love to brag about all the “sinful” things they do not do anymore, or never did do. They boast of all they have been “delivered from.” But as Nityananda says: it is not enough to turn from darkness; we must enter and live in the Light.

This perspective is essential for us. To decide to not be selfish is insufficient–we must decide to be generous. It is of little worth to resolve to not think negatively–we must think positively. Instead of thinking of all kinds of things to not do, we must make a list of positives that we will do. For example, instead of thinking: “I must quit thinking of X,” we should think: “I must always do japa and fix my mind on God.” Then we will not think of wrong things.

To “hate” sin is to love it, for we always think of that which we love. The wise thing is to love goodness–and the highest good: God.

• If we have a light on a dark path, we have no fear. There is fear in walking in darkness.

Meditation is the sure way to Live in the Light, for it lights up our inner and outer being. That is why Krishna said: “Even a little of this dharma protects you from great fear” (Bhagavad Gita 2:40). But to be without meditation is to live in uncertainty and fear. As Krishna also said: “Without meditation, where is peace?” (Bhagavad Gita 2:66).

66. If you perform tapas for thousands of years with the desire for results, it is of no avail. But if you perform tapas for one ghatika without any desire for fruits, you will see all in God and God in all.

No one does anything out of complete indifference. A motivationless act would be ridiculous, and chances are impossible. But a desireless act in the sense of an act free of all egoic desire or attachment is not only possible but necessary for those who seek the higher life.

Tapasya–and all related spiritual activities–should be engaged in for one motive: because it is the true, right, and natural thing to do. As Shankara points out, moksha cannot be produced or obtained–only uncovered and activated. Therefore we have no need to desire moksha or spiritual life, for they are an eternal fact of our existence. But we have lost the awareness of our real Self and need to regain it. Yet we should not be desiring even that, but engage in tapasya simply because that is the way all sentient beings behave when a certain level of evolution has been reached. It is very like the ripening of fruit on the tree: it just happens with no need for volition or intention on the part of the tree.

Those who can live for an hour without desire can do so for the rest of their life, and truly shall “see all in God and God in all.”