The Buddhist Vision of Peace

Originally printed in the September - October 2003 issue of Quest magazine.
Citation: Mullin, Glenn H. "The Buddhist Vision of Peace." Quest  91.5 (SEPTEMBER - OCTOBER 2003):176-179, 184.
 

By Glenn H. Mullin

Theosophical Society - Glenn H. Mullin is a Tibetologist, Buddhist writer, translator of classical Tibetan literature and teacher of Tantric Buddhist meditation. Mullin has written over twenty-five books on Tibetan Buddhism. Many of these focus on the lives and works of the early Dalai Lamas.During the lifetime of the Buddha there lived a murderer called Angulimala, or "Thumb Necklace." He was known by this name because from each of his victims he removed a thumb, which he wore on a string around his neck.

The Buddha heard of Angulimala and decided to attempt to bring him to the path of peace. At the time it was rumored that Angulimala had robbed and killed almost a thousand people, and that his necklace was made of 999 human thumbs.

In order to meet Angulimala face-to-face, the Buddha set off alone and on foot through the forest where the deadly criminal was believed to be in hiding. Angulimala saw the Buddha approach. He sprang out from behind him, club in hand, and attempted a strike. The Buddha, however, had anticipated the move, and deftly side-stepped the blow. The attack continued at length; but the Buddha remained fearless, keeping his eyes fixed on his attacker and remaining constantly out of reach.

Eventually Angulimala became so exhausted that he fell to the ground. The Buddha sat beside him, placed his arm lovingly over his shoulder, and spoke consolingly to him. The distraught criminal began to weep violently, for never before had anyone shown him such love or forgiveness. They sat like this for several hours, Angulimala's body shaking with uncontrollable sobs.

This experience of compassion completely transformed Angulimala. He asked the Buddha to ordain him as a monk and to allow him to live with the Sangha community. The Buddha accepted. Angulimala took up the practices of meditation and self-purification, and eventually attained sainthood.

One of the most popular Tibetan folk heroes is the eleventh century yogi Milarepa. Numerous episodes from his life are quoted as evidence of the powers of love.

One day a hunter and his dog were out chasing deer. In its attempt to escape, the deer happened to wander into the meadow where Milarepa sat in meditation. Beholding his profound sense of calmness and his aura of kindness, the exhausted animal came and lay down beside him in the hope of finding refuge. A few moments later the hunting dog appeared on the scene, and it too lay down beside Milarepa.

Finally the hunter arrived. At first he was determined to kill his prey, but after a short period in the presence of Milarepa he was so moved by the sage's saintliness that he vowed to give up forever the cruel habit of killing wild animals. He asked to be accepted as a disciple, and in fact himself later became a famous yogi.

Another popular Buddhist figure is the Third Dalai Lama, who lived during the sixteenth century. Even as a young man the fame of his learning and saintliness had spread throughout Asia. News of his greatness reached the ears of Altan Khan, warlord chieftain of the terrible Tumed Mongols. Altan was intrigued by what he had heard of this marvelous teacher and therefore invited him to come and instruct the peoples of Mongolia. The Third Dalai Lama arrived in 1578.

His wisdom, compassion, and presence impressed the great Khan, who asked his people to turn away from the path of war and hatred, and instead to cultivate the way of peaceful co-existence. This singular event marked the end of the age of terror that the Mongols had wreaked upon their neighbors, from Korea and Japan in the east to Europe in the west. From that time onward the Mongolians have followed the spiritual legacy laid down for them by the Third Dalai Lama.

The basic intent behind all of the Buddhist anecdotes of this nature is to point out that peace in one's environment is brought about not by subduing the outside world, but by subduing one's own mind. Stated simply, the ultimate contribution an individual can make to the cause of peace and harmony begins at home. If I can become more peaceful, loving and saintly, this will immediately cause these qualities to spread into my immediate environment. The result is a chain reaction that forever spreads outward.

Conversely, if I do not cultivate a peaceful, loving, and compassionate nature within myself, then I cannot really contribute to peace in society as a whole. No matter what public statements I make or what physical demonstrations I engage in, nothing done in the name of peace has any meaning as long as my own character remains violent and intolerant.

Numerous techniques for developing a peaceful and loving mind have been preserved and developed in the various Buddhist traditions. An important writer on the subject in classical India was Shantideva, whose eighth century work A Guide to the Bodhisattva Way, or Bodhisattva-charya-avatara, is as popular with Buddhist teachers today as it was at the time of its composition some twelve hundred years ago.

In this text Shantideva comments, "It is impossible to cover the entire world with leather, but by covering one's feet with sandals the same effect is created. Likewise, it is impossible to bring this world into harmony by destroying all harmful beings that exist; but by covering one's mind with the gentleness of loving patience the whole world becomes harmonious."

From the Mahayana point of view we need to make this contribution to world harmony not only because it is a sensible and desirable thing for ourselves personally, but because it is our spiritual obligation.

This theme is approached from a number of angles.

Firstly, although the world may be somewhat of a harsh environment, we owe our very existence to it. Someone else gave birth to us; the food that we eat is grown and brought to us through the kindness of others; the clothes we wear in order to protect ourselves from the elements come to us through the kindness of others; the houses we live in and the materials from which they are made entail the services of others. It may be argued that these services are not necessarily done out of a conscious act of kindness; the Buddhist answer is that an unconscious kindness should nevertheless be appreciated for whatever benefits it has given to us.

A second contemplation looks at our responsibility from the viewpoint of reincarnation. Here it is posited that, although any one-world system will have its beginning and end, existence itself is beginningless. Therefore we have had countless previous lives.

Moreover, our relationships with others is not something constant; those who are strangers or even enemies in this life may well have been friends, relatives, and even parents to us in some previous life. Over the trillions of trillions of past lives there is no living being with whom we have not at one time or another had a friendly relationship, and who has not at one time or another shown kindness to us. Consequently there is no living being to whom we do not owe a debt of kindness.

In addition, all beings unconsciously want to be loved and to receive kindness. It is only out of the forces of delusion that anyone acts with cruelty and unpleasantness. Harmful beings are as if driven by the inner blinding negative forces of the three root delusions: attachment, hatred, and ignorance. These forces control them and render them powerless.

It is our responsibility to remain calm in the face of adversity, kind in the face of unkindness. We must attempt to diffuse rather than to further intensify their delusions.

Shantideva gives the example, "If someone attacks you with a stick, why become angry at the person when in fact it is the stick that causes you the pain? If you argue that it is the person that propels the stick, remember that the person is in turn propelled by delusion. So the real enemy is only delusion, and it is only this that needs to be destroyed. . . And how is delusion destroyed in the world? Only by first destroying it from within one's own mindstream."

From the Buddhist perspective, the ultimate solution to the world's problems is nothing more and nothing less than our own enlightenment. And it is precisely this—the wish to achieve full enlightenment in order to contribute to the well-being of the world—that constitutes the basis of the Bodhisattva path.

The importance of the mind and its attitudes are constantly stressed in the Buddhist tradition.

Shantideva writes, "What is generosity? It is not the act of giving nor of dispelling poverty;otherwise, as the omniscient beings of the past have attained the perfection of generosity there would no longer be any poverty on earth. The perfection of generosity is the possession of a generous mind, an attitude that wishes to share with others and to see them separated from need."

Buddha once said, "The mind is like a horse; the body and speech are like the cart. Wherever the horse goes, the cart will automatically follow."

Thus by cultivating a peaceful mind endowed with love, kindness, and compassion, our every deed of body and speech becomes a contribution to peace.

SIX CAUSES AND ONE EFFECT

One of the principal meditation techniques used to cultivate this type of attitude is that known as "the six causes and one effect," a method transmitted by Maitreya Buddha to Asanga (about 3rd century) and later refined by Shantideva. The method is given this name because the six causal meditational steps prepare the mind for the experience of the resultant Bodhisattva aspiration.

This meditation begins with the preliminary of developing a sense of equanimity towards all beings. One thinks about the three types of living beings those who have brought us happiness or pleasure ("friends"), those who have brought us difficulties or suffering ("enemies"), and those who have done neither ("strangers"). One then contemplates how even in this lifetime friends become enemies or strangers, strangers become friends or enemies, and so forth, and that over our stream of millions of lifetimes our relationship with others is constantly changing. Therefore friends, enemies and strangers should all be held in equal respect.

This preliminary—that of developing a sense of equanimity toward others—is a very useful daily exercise. In terms of generating a mind of peace and harmony it is an indispensable step, and is likened to preparing the field in which we shall plant the seeds of the enlightened attitude. When it has been firmly established as a daily habit one can proceed with the actual "six causes and one effect."

The first of the six causes is to contemplate how in one of our billions of previous lifetimes each living being has been a mother to us. This step is called "recognizing all beings as a mother." They have also been friends, brothers and sisters, enemies and so forth; but here it is the mother image that is emphasized because of the exceptional nature of motherhood and the emotional tone it encompasses.

The second cause is to contemplate the many ways in which a mother shows kindness to a child, not only giving it life but also protecting and caring for it at great personal sacrifice.

Next is the cause called "the aspiration to repay kindness." If each being has at one time or another been a mother to me and has brought me all the benefits that a mother instinctively does, my debt to each living being is immeasurable. I should try to repay this debt.

This leads to the fourth and fifth "causes." How does one repay their kindness? By always treating them with love and compassion. Here love means the aspiration to see them have happiness and its causes, and compassion means the aspiration to see them be free from suffering and its causes.

This leads to the sixth "cause," that of a sense of universal responsibility. One must think, "May I personally take responsibility for the happiness of others, and help them in any way that I can to remain free from suffering."

At this point a very strong question arises, "But do I have the wisdom, skill, and power to contribute significantly to universal happiness and freedom from sufferings? And if not, who does?"

The obvious answer is that one's ability to contribute in this way is dependent upon the level of one's enlightenment. Therefore the aspiration arises, "May I achieve full enlightenment in order to be able to fulfill love and compassion, and to be of maximum benefit to the world."

This is the type of contemplation to be pursued daily by the Mahayana Buddhist in order to maintain attitudes conducive to peace and harmony.

There is a Tibetan proverb that states, "Before accomplishing self-progress you cannot accomplish other-progress." The meaning is that first one makes one's own spiritual base firm; only then can one make a real social contribution.

Conversely, once one's own spiritual balance has been established one's energies naturally become a contribution to the well-being of others. One's every thought becomes meaningful, every word helpful to others, and every bodily action of universal benefit.

Shantideva wrote, "The Bodhisattva spirit is like a magic elixir; when one possesses it everything that one touches turns to gold." The meaning is that when love and compassion are present, every encounter with others inspires peace and harmony.

The world is large and its problems many. However, history has proved again and again that a single individual can make a difference. This is true in both a negative and a positive sense: an evil person can bring great suffering and darkness to others; and an enlightened being can bring great happiness and enlightenment. If it is our wish to contribute to peace and happiness in the world not only in this lifetime but throughout the rosary of our future incarnations, it is important that we begin the pacifying by removing attachment, hatred, and ignorance from within our own mindstream, and by replacing these negative traits with qualities such as nonattachment, love, compassion, and wisdom.

Ours is the kaliyuga, "the dark age" in which aggression, violence, and strong delusion dominate the world atmosphere. The intensity of the times is like a great fire that either destroys or purifies those who dwell within it.

The choice is our own: to be destroyed by the world atmosphere, or to use it to our own advantage. By using it to our own advantage, enlightenment is more easily attained now than it is in less intense times.

Alternatively, if in this desperate age we do not take up the armor of love, compassion, kindness, and tolerance, then we easily become caught in the strong wind of the present world trend, and our life energies then automatically add to the negative atmosphere rather than contribute to peace and harmony.

As the Dalai Lama has said, "We all live on this planet together; whether or not we like it, we depend upon one another for our peace and happiness . . . .

"Technology has given us a lot of physical benefits, but it still has not brought about a world free of violence and hatred. It has not produced an atmosphere of peace and harmony. If anything, it has increased our ability to kill and has increased humanity's collective fear and suffering.

"Peace is an inner quality. We cannot talk about a peaceful world as long as the human spirit is dominated by hatred. Peace can only be achieved in human society when the individual human beings cultivate qualities such as love and compassion within themselves. Love is our only hope, our only tool for peace. If anything can save humanity in this time of crisis, it is only the power of love,compassion, and tolerance."

American Theosophist May 1987


Violence of War

Originally printed in the September - October 2003 issue of Quest magazine.
Citation: Prem, Sri Krishna. "Violence of War." Quest  91.5 (SEPTEMBER - OCTOBER 2003):180-183.

By Sri Krishna Prem

Wars are psychic events that have their birth in the souls of men. We like to put the blame for them upon the shoulders our favorite scapegoat, upon imperialism, nationalism, communism, or capitalism, whichever be our chosen bogey. Not any or all of these are really responsible, but we ourselves we harmless folk who like to think that we hate war and all its attendant horrors. We may have had no finger in the muddy waters of politics or finance, we may have written no articles or even letters tending to inflame national, racial, or communal passions, yet we are all sharers in the responsibility.

Every feeling of anger, hatred, envy, and revenge that we have indulged in the past years, no matter whom it was directed against and however "justified" it may seem to us to have been, has been a handful of gunpowder thrown on to the pile which must, sooner or later, explode as now it has done.

But it is not he or they who struck the match that is or are responsible for a world in flames, but we who have helped to swell the pile of powder. For what is it that we have done? The states of hatred, fear, etc., that have entered our hearts and there met with indulgence are, as always, intolerable guests. We hasten to project them outside ourselves, to affix them like posters upon any convenient wall. Doubtless there was something in the nature of the wall that made it a suitable vehicle for that particular poster, but, all the same, the poster came from us and was by us affixed.

Whether we look at the psychology of individuals, or at those aggregates of individuals which we call national states, the process is the same. That which we hate or fear in ourselves we project upon our neighbors. He who fears his own sex desires discerns impurity in all whom he meets; in the same way, nations that are filled with hatred, fear, and aggressive desire perceive the images of those passions burning luridly upon the ramparts of other nations, not realizing that it is they themselves who have lit and placed them there. Thus arises the myth of the peace loving nations and individuals, just because we project our own aggressive desires upon our neighbors and thus secure the illusion of personal cleanliness.

This is not to say that the responsibility of all nations is alike, any more than is that of all individuals. Some of us have sinned more deeply than others, but the assessment of such responsibility is never easy. It is more important and also profitable for us to remember that all hatred, fear, envy, and aggressive desire, by whomsoever and however "privately" entertained, has been the fuel which prepared and still maintains the blaze. Every time we feel a thrill of triumph at the destruction of "the enemy", we add to it, for each time we do so we are making others the scapegoats for the evil in ourselves. This is not mere philosophic talk; it is not even religion; it is sheer practical fact which any psychologist will confirm.

None of us, not the most determined conscientious objector, not the most isolationist of neutrals, can escape his share of responsibility. Indeed, it is often just those who do not partake in the actual physical fighting who do most with their thoughts to increase the conflict. Fighting men, after a few months of experience have been gained, are often to a surprising degree free from hatred, while those who sit in comfortable isolation only too frequently indulge their own baser excitements and passions by exulting in vicarious horrors, making a cinema show out of the agonies of others, fighting to the last drop of (others) blood, and fanning the flames of hatred and violence with the unseen wind of their own thoughts and feelings.

For there is that in all men which welcomes war; yes, welcomes it even to the point of willingness to undergo its sufferings. In almost all men there is much that social and religious convention will not in normal times permit to find expression. There is a caged beast in the hearts of most of us, a beast whose substance we should like to gratify, but cannot for fear of consequences. Usually he nourishes his subterranean life on the scraps of fantasy and daydream that filter down to the den where he sits, brooding on deeds of violence and cruelty by which he may be revenged for his confinement; and each time we indulge in fantasies of hatred or revenge those thoughts sink down and add to his ferocious energy. Sometimes we can feel him straining against the confining bars, but in normal times "God" and the policemen keep him down, so that only occasionally does he escape and the world is shocked by some deed of atrocious cruelty. When this occurs, society decides that that man's cage is too weak to hold its beast, and, fearing the example on others if one should be allowed to escape with impunity, hurriedly proceeds to destroy both man and beast.

It is necessary to add that the beast is not destroyed by the killing of the body which was its cage. Unseen by men it roams about, freed of its cage of flesh, free also to enter in the heart of any man who will give it temporary shelter and to urge him to the vile deeds that it loves. If men in general became aware of the extent to which this happens, they would not be so eager to kill those who commit ghastly crimes—nor their personal enemies either. This is what happens in normal times. But in times of war all is different. "Cry havoc and let loose the dogs of war" is no mere poetic metaphor. The hell-hounds from within are loosed. All that was "sinful" and forbidden before is now encouraged in the service of the State. Hatred, violence, ferocity, cruelty, as well as every variety of deceitful cunning, all these become virtues in those who direct them against "the enemy". Even those whose States are not at war feel the contagion and, taking sides in the struggle, indulge their beasts in imagination.

Thus do the periods of war and peace succeed one another through the weary centuries of history. It is not intended to deny that in certain circumstances the open and outer violence of armed resistance may not be the lesser of two evils, for in the present state of humanity the alternative is too often a violence of thought and feeling, an obsessive brooding over hatred and revenge that is far worse than outward fighting. But never will violence bring violence to an end. As long as we nourish the brutes within our hearts with the desire-laden thoughts that are their lifeblood, so long will they break out from time to time, and so long will periodical wars be inevitable.

The only way to real peace is the taming of those inner beasts. We who have created them, bone of our bone and flesh of our flesh, must weaken them by giving them no food, must re- absorb them into our conscious selves from which in horror we have banished them, and finally must transmute their very substance by the alchemy of spirit. And that is yoga: only in yoga is peace.

The world is just one's thought; with effort then it should be cleansed by each one of us. As is one's thought, so one becomes; this is the eternal secret (Maitri Upanishad). Those who care for peace and hate war must keep more vigilant guard over their thoughts and fantasies than in normal times. Every exulting thought at news of the destruction of the "enemy" (as though man had any enemy but the one in his own bosom), every indulgence in depression at "our own" disasters, every throb of excitement at the deeds of war in general is a betrayal of humanity's cause. Those who enjoy a physical isolation from the fighting are in possession of an opportunity that is a sacred trust. If they fail to make use of it to bring about peace in that part of the world-psyche with which they are in actual contact, namely, their own hearts, above all, if they actively misuse that opportunity by loosing their beasts in sympathetic fantasy, then they are secret traitors to humanity. As such, they will be caught within the web of karma that they are spinning, a web that will unerringly bring it about that, in the next conflict that breaks out, it will be on them that the great burden of suffering will fall. Of all such it may be said that he who takes the sword in thought and fantasy shall perish by the sword in actual fact.

This is the great responsibility that falls upon all, and especially upon all who by their remoteness from the physical struggle are given the opportunity of wrestling with their passions in some degree of detachment, and so actually lessening the flames of hatred and evil in this world.

None can escape, for all life is one. As soon should the little finger think to escape the burning fever which has gripped the body, as any to escape the interlinkedness of all life. Neutral or conscientious objector, householder or world-renouncing sannyasi, none can escape his share of responsibility for a state of things that his own thoughts have helped to bring about; for neither geographical remoteness, nor governmental decree of neutrality, nor yet personal refusal to bear arms can isolate the part from the whole in which it is rooted.

It is in the inner worlds of desire that wars originate, and from those inner worlds that they are maintained. What we see as wars upon this physical plane are but the shadows of those inner struggles, a ghastly phantom show, boding forth events that have already taken pace in the inner world, dead ash marking the destructive path of the forest fire, the troubled and unalterable wake of a ship whose prow is cleaving the waters far ahead.

In war or peace we live in a world of shadows cast by events that we term "future", because, unseen by us as they really happen, we only know them when we come across their wake upon this plane.

Sri Krishna's words, pronounced before the Kurukshetra battle, "by Me already have they all been slain", refer not to any remorseless, divine predestination, but to this very fact, and they are as true of those whose bodies will perish in the coming year as they were of those who fought in that war of long ago.

Until we understand and face this basic fact, wars are inevitable, and struggling in the wake of troubled waters that ourselves have made, fighting with shadows that ourselves have cast, we shall continue to cry out against a hostile and malignant Fate, or if of a more submissive nature, to pray to God to save us from its grip. But prayers and out cries alike are useless: "Not in the middle regions of the air, nor in the ocean depths; not in the mountain caves, nor anywhere on earth is there a spot where man can escape the fruit of his evil deeds." In the inner worlds we have made war: in those same inner worlds we must make peace, for "Mind is the forerunner of all things, by mind are all things made. He who with desire-polluted mind thinks or acts evil, him sorrow follows as the wheel the foot of the ox." (Dhammapada)

The American Theosophist February 1986

Sri Krishna Prem (1898-1965), was born Ronald Nixon. As a young man, he was fascinated by Buddhism and  the Pali language. In 1924, he accepted the post of Reader in English at Lucknow University in India and later accepted initiation into the Vaishnava religion and was considered the first westerner to ever become a Vaishnava.  He later founded a Hindu ashram, with his guru Yashoda Mai, in the foothills of the Himalayas. His works include, The Yoga of the Kathopanishad, The Yoga of the Bhagavad Gita, and Intiation into Yoga.


Feed Them and They Will Come

Originally printed in the September - October 2004 issue of Quest magazine. 
Citation: Bland, Betty. "Feed Them and They Will Come." Quest  92.5 (SEPTEMBER - OCTOBER 2004):162.

Theosophical Society - Betty Bland served as President of the Theosophical Society in America and made many important and lasting contributions to the growth and legacy of the TSA. When we first moved from the South to northeastern Pennsylvania, our kitchen window overlooked a backyard that was sparsely planted with a few large rocks and some struggling patches of grass. That first summer, we wondered if songbirds lived this far north, or much else for that matter. Except for the ever-present chipmunks, wildlife seemed scarce for a yard that backed up to a strip of woods.

Being nature lovers, we couldn't resist trying to transform our rough little patch of potential into something closer to paradise. Soon we had a variety of shrubs and flowers, a circulating fountain, and a number of bird feeders.

The yard bloomed and so did the wildlife. A pair of mourning doves moved in, followed by downy woodpeckers, finches, deer, and wild turkeys. We did discover the deer to be a questionable blessing (as anyone who has tried to grow any outdoor plants can attest), but overall we were pleased to see the parade of interesting "critters" through our little patch of paradise.

Children bloom in the same way when their inner natures are fed. The critical nutrients of love and feelings of value and self-worth need to be available in plentiful supply. Continual administrations of caring patience and interested attention create an environment that draws out the best qualities in the growing personhood of each little individual. Qualities of self-assurance, assertiveness, openness, and daring begin to gather within the developing ego.

Just as we saw the arrival of deer in our lush garden of delicacies, parents begin to see hints of a less pleasing picture as they enjoy the fruits of cultivating these qualities in their children. "No, I want to do it myself!" is the clarion call when parents are trying to rush the little darlings into readiness for a timely departure. And that's just the beginning. Then there are arguments over what to eat, what to touch, and when to go to bed, which in turn grow into discussions about homework, what to wear, and how late to stay out. This independence, such a desirable trait in an adult, is a most trying characteristic for parents to endure as it unfolds slowly over the years. (Yet when those years are behind us, it seems they were all too brief and we would bring them back if we could.)

However, sometimes our efforts bring unanticipated consequences. To return to the story of our backyard paradise, I can tell you that those woods harbored more than the aforementioned harmless creatures. They also harbored large bears. One morning we went out to find the one-inch steel rods that had held up our bird feeders twisted into grotesque shapes and the feeders strewn on the ground. And there at the back of the yard with a large rotund belly lay a black bear finishing off the last of the bird seed.

Being aware of the dangers of such a visitor, I called the local wildlife authorities and was told, "Lady, if you feed them, they will come." The only remedy offered was to stop putting out bird feeders. I was amazed that bears would be attracted to bird seed, but I have since learned that this is quite a common problem. Bears can smell fresh bird seed from miles away!

The growth of our own inner nature works in a similar way. First the newly developing ego needs to cultivate a sense of identity and strength, similar to humanity's development over eons. During those times the garden of self has to be nourished and encouraged to draw all things to it. But in maturity the focus must be changed. What were once necessary parts of our development can later become hindrances. Sometimes it takes an event like a visit from a bear to make us realize that it is time to change. Once we have gained strength of ego through careful care and feeding, a time comes when we must begin taking responsibility for the kinds of creatures that are coming to inhabit our minds.

As Madame Blavatsky so eloquently states in the Fragment III of The Voice of the Silence:

Now, for the fourth prepare, the Portal of temptations which do ensnare the inner man. If thou would'st not be slain by them, then must thou harmless make thy own creations, the children of thy thoughts, unseen, impalpable, that swarm round humankind, the progeny and heirs to man and his terrestrial spoils.

Our thoughts are the children of our own making and they swarm around us, influencing all that we do for good or ill. Thoughts of harm to others, anger, selfishness, violence, degradation, pettiness, jealousy, and irritation (to name just a few) cling to us, creating a dense atmosphere and tripping us up at every turn. They were not the intended fruits when we first began our garden, but they were a part of our nature all along and finally materialized when they gained sufficient strength.

Within our inner sanctuary, we can scatter selected seeds. We can cultivate thoughts that are outwardly turned in an attitude of helpfulness and concern for others, or we can continue putting out the bird seed of selfishness and wonder why the bears keep coming to our doorstep. Every day, every moment, with every activity, we are deciding what aspects of ourselves we want to encourage. We can choose which kinds of thoughts we want to inhabit our world.

What are you attracting to your inner garden? Feed them and they will come.


Unveiling the Mystery of Bhajan

Originally printed in the September - October 2004 issue of Quest magazine. 
Citation: Elwell, Elizabeth."Unveiling the Mystery of Bhajan." Quest  92.5 (SEPTEMBER - OCTOBER 2004):177 -179, 185.

By Elizabeth Elwell

Theosophical Society - Elizabeth Elwell, Ph.D. is a retired teacher and school principal. She lived in India from 1960-1989. During that time she spent ten years in the ashram of Prashanti Nilayam here she was given the work, at the request of Sathya Sai Baba, to teach bhajans.Coming home to the United States after spending nearly thirty years in India was a traumatic experience. For the final ten of those years I had lived in the spiritually charged atmosphere of an ashram, where my assigned role was to teach antiphonal chants known as bhajans to the hundreds of foreigners who arrived regularly from every quarter of the globe. Here at home everything had changed. I had to learn all over again, for example, how to pump gas and open childproof pill bottles; as for television, it was ages before I could distinguish the program from the advertisements. I had come home primarily to help nurse my terminally ill mother and had not anticipated becoming involved in any public way with the bhajan work that had kept me so busy in India. However, almost immediately I was asked to give a talk about bhajan singing. One sings bhajans and rarely talks about them—so obviously I would have to learn a new way to approach bhajan in order to explain it to others.

Bhajanis a Hindi word derived from the Sanskrit bhaj, meaning"to serve, honor, revere, love, and adore." Generally speaking, prayers, psalms, anthems, rosaries, hymns, and oratorios like the Messiah are all bhajans. Bhajan also refers to a spiritual practice, originating in Vedic times in India and now used all over the world, in which names of God are chanted by a lead singer and repeated by the congregation.

My life in the ashram had been busy and very practical. I had to learn to read Sanskrit in order to translate bhajans for the learners and really had no time to consider bhajans in a scholarly or analytical way. Fortunately, I had a friend here in the States who had visited the ashram many times, and I turned to her for advice. We began a conversation that has never really ended, and thus we were led to many exciting discoveries. It all began so simply . . .

"Well, let's see," said my friend,"what is a bhajan composed of?"

"It's a tune, some words, and singers," I replied.

"Well, a tune is sound, words are sound and . . ."

"A singer sings sound."

"Everything is sound. Maybe the singers are also sound."

"Maybe sound reaches sound!"

Our jaws dropped open; we knew we were on to something. Then, in a classic example of synchronicity, the very next day we received a notice that a lecture on sound was to be given at a local retreat center.

We attended, of course, and were shown a film about sound being used as a healing agent by many different practitioners. Both of us sat bolt upright, however, when a short piece of film showed a Swiss researcher named Hans Jenny making sounds with a violin bow that he scraped against the edge of a metal plate on which lycopodium powder (spores of the club moss) had been spread.

As he scraped the bow and produced a sound, the particles immediately arranged themselves into a simple pattern. As he made higher notes there was an instant of chaotic movement and then the pattern reappeared, this time a more complex one. The higher the sound, the greater the complexity became."Oh my, they resemble the diagrams of the chakras in Leadbeater's book," my friend whispered. We observed the various patterns made by more solid materials, like iron filings, which were very different in design.

So, in our first exploration effort, we had discovered that sound had the power to influence matter. Sound could destroy one pattern and create another of finer complexity. In the Hindu pantheon, Shiva creates and destroys, destroys and creates with his dance.

"Do you suppose singing the Name is creating and destroying something? Is it evolutionary and getting rid of the gross vibrations in us?" my friend asked. I could answer from my own experience:"Yes, most assuredly!" I knew that I had a body within myself that had not been there a dozen years ago. It wasn't composed of flesh and bones, but rather qualities like steadiness, a more refined love, patience, an indestructible contentment along with more intuitive skill at nurturing and caring for others. It had been tested and had proven strong and vibrant. A dozen years earlier not one person who knew me would have used the word"patient" to describe me. In fact, I thought one of the reasons I had been given the job of teaching bhajans was to develop this subtle body. Teaching bhajans would make me practice more than I would otherwise. I knew that I had been in a vigorous washing machine that had temporarily left me free of nagging, negative memories and bad dreams and that I looked at myself and the world in an entirely new way. I had developed a totally new paradigm of myself, the world in which I lived, and my role in that world.

Some of the questions Hans Jenny asked during the film were: How do we reach the primal cause of vibration? What part does chaos play? In my own experience, chaos is a common and recurring element in spiritual growth. It is like a storm that abruptly starts and just as abruptly stops. One just has to ride it through. While it lasts, one feels totally confused or terribly self-conscious and skinless. The most disconcerting experience for me is to be barraged by a torrent of negative thoughts and emotions having a nature different from any thoughts and emotions experienced before, in this lifetime at least. Then the chaos lifts as suddenly as it appeared. There is peace and a refreshed feeling. In time, one becomes aware of a greater degree of inner strength.

Jenny's experiment had given us our first clue, but all our layperson's explorations and speculation took a great leap forward with the publication of a book entitled The Elegant Universe by physicist, mathematician, and string theorist Brian Green. Oh, how we cheered on the super-string theory, which is the latest attempt to put forth a"theory of everything" and identify the very ground of matter,"mater," or"Ma," the grand Mother from whom all creation is born.

The super-string theory, or string theory for short, speculates through mathematics that the smallest indivisible stuff of which everything in the cosmos is made are one-dimensional stringlike formations that are the fundamental building blocks of everything! These strings or filaments oscillate at different frequencies, all vibrating their own creative identity in mass and force by their own"song." Does this mean that all things, huge and minute, have a vibratory identity composed of the full orchestra of strings of which they are composed? Is there indeed a great cosmic symphony to which we belong and to which we must become attuned?

At least we could now envision a universe tightly packed with oscillating strings in which we, also tightly packed with oscillating strings, live and have our being. Perhaps our own strings are a bit out of tune? The major part of the cosmos has been going along so well for 15 billion years, except, perhaps, for us newcomers who now need some tuning up and tuning in. We know that the spoken word can cause change when it enters another person; for instance, shout"Stop!" and the other person freezes. Shout"Stop, thief!" and the other person runs away. We have to remember that speech can vibrate the musical tunes and patterns of sound that make up language. If we think of space as being full rather than empty, then our spoken words disturb and rearrange the existing patterns outside ourselves as well as inside ourselves. At last we felt that we had a clue as to how mantras worked! Since some Indian bhajans often contain multiple mantras as their core construction, this was an exciting moment for us.

Mantras have been used for thousands of years as spiritual power generators, allowing spiritual practitioners to change from roughly hewn humans to near-perfect beings. A lama newly from Tibet, when asked by us what that change was that occurred, put his hand out and picked up the clean glass in front of him. Then he took his table napkin and draped it over the glass."You are like this," he said, holding the covered glass high."Now you must become like this," and he pulled away the napkin, leaving us looking at the sparkling clear glass."So our task is to reveal our Real Self?" He nodded.

This was an enlightening concept. What exactly must be removed? When brass or silver becomes tarnished, the tarnish has to be removed by repeated rubbing before the object shines forth again in all its glory. In our case, we are told by the masters of the mystical sciences that it is our wrong thinking about who we really are, our wrong habits of thought and action, and our negative feelings that obscure our real identity. A big point made by my spiritual teacher was that our thoughts, our words, and our deeds must all be alike. Someone whose thoughts, words, and deeds are not the same has a fractured spiritual body, and the true divinity of the person's atmic nature cannot shine through. Healing and mending our broken spirits is the reconstruction work that happens when bhajans are sung wholeheartedly. When we need to peel a potato, we look for a potato peeler. If we want to chop wood, we search for an axe. To untangle hair, we need a comb. What tool do we have to repair a spiritual body? Obviously, a spiritual tool is needed.

But why antiphonal chanting and singing? That is because two major disciplines are involved: listening and following. By listening deeply with complete self-abandon, we cut out our own ego static and acquire the grace to simply follow, to absorb into our being the rhythm, tune, words, and total feeling of the music so deeply that we can reproduce them exactly. Bhajan singing requires much discipline; the world is blocked out and concentration is at its peak. Healing can now begin.

We all know that when we eat food, it is somehow, without our being aware of it, transformed into energy, intelligence, emotion, and a healthy body. The vibratory body called a potato becomes a part of the vibratory body called a blood cell, but we don't really know the details of how this happens, nor are we aware of it. In the same way, the vibrations of the Name get transformed into love, fortitude, courage, sacrifice, service. We don't really know how this happens, nor are we aware that it is happening. When our body gets fat, we begin to make some association between the food we eat and the girth we have reached. The Name is considered food for the spiritual body. When we notice in some testing situation that we have a degree of patience heretofore unknown to us, we may make some association between our spiritual practice and this new strength within us. As for me, I first experienced bhajan singing as if it were a washing machine. I felt myself clean, free of nagging, negative thoughts. When I returned to the United States after so many years in the ashram, I discovered I had an indestructible contentment and a more intuitive ability to nurture and care for another. Beyond this, as to how singing the Name effected these changes, as to the science of bhajan, I had and still have only the words of the masters of the mystical sciences.

This journey of discovery, of unveiling some of the mystery of this highly developed, poetic musical art form and spiritual practice, has come in bits and pieces. With new discoveries, things that have happened over the years have taken on deeper meaning. For example, when I first began to sing bhajans, my teacher had been very concerned that I identify my sruti, the key or keys that defined my voice range. She said that I must always use this sruti and practice each song until, when I was tapped to lead a bhajan, I could easily find this sruti, even while another person was singing in an entirely different one. I now understand this to mean that I must always sing in a sruti that keeps my feet on the ground. I must not sing too high and thereby abandon, so to speak, the vibratory nature of my physical and most gross body, for it is with and within this body that I must attempt to bring to maturity a much more subtle body and a body that, unlike my gross physical body, is in an embryonic state, a body that vibrates at a much higher frequency, a body of virtue, a love body. I now understand that it is this subtle body that is nurtured by chanting the Name.

One word from my teacher has led me to look in an entirely new way at bhajan as a spiritual practice."How's your bhajana?" he asked. I heard my mouth say,"It's good," but simultaneously my brain registered,"You don't understand what he is asking." We just looked at each other and nothing more was said. Why had he used the word bhajana? Then one day I read,"Life is a song . . . pass your days in song. Let your whole life be a bhajana." How could my whole life be a bhajana? I like to sing, but to think of doing nothing but singing—that would be too much, even ridiculous. Might the role of bhajan in my life be, more complicated than I had understood?

If bhajan described a way of life that I must come to understand and practice, then I needed more clues, more guidance. Curiosity captured me. What would be the elements of bhajana as a way of life? Sometime later, I found an answer. One short sentence in a book told me that success in bhajana as a way of life would require seven elements. Each of these elements was indicated by a little Sanskrit word, but when I consulted the dictionary I found that the concepts involved in each word were not little at all.

Sound was one concept, of course. I began to think about myself in terms of sound and soon realized that I had a lot of work to do to make my life a bhajana. I express myself as sound in obvious audible ways, such as in the manner and force in which I speak, laugh, and move around. However, I know that I can make a lot of"noise" silently by emanating vibrations of moodiness, irritation, or pleasure. Although my thoughts are not spoken, nevertheless, the message is loud and clear. It occurred to me that I especially needed to look at myself as sound from the perspective of how well I blend. Do I have any integrity at all as a human being? For example, unless a violin sounds like a violin, it is not a violin, however much it may look like one. If it does not sound like a violin, it cannot harmonize with other instruments as a violin. In the world of the symphony orchestra, an unrefined violin, an instrument whose wood and frets and strings are crudely formed, would sound dreadful, just a noise maker, a bothersome, disruptive presence. In a world guided by human values, what crude sounds do I make? Am I a fully human being in the choir of humanity?

Of course, sound was only one of the seven elements. Some of the other components to explore were: one's individual sound; one's hearing and listening skills; one's tempo and absorption in the song; one's mastery of the song; one's rhythm and beat; one's melody and harmony; the loveliness of one's voice; one's ways of thinking and feeling; one's emotions and attitudes; the nature of one's love and intentions; and finally, the variety included in one's life, the continuity of its song, and the artistry of its overall composition. One word from my teacher precipitated a whole chain of events of learning and exploration, enough to continue for a lifetime.

From the chanting and dancing of our Native Americans, from the drummers of Africa, from the whirling of the ecstatic Sufis, from the glorious hymns of the Christian church to the droning voice art of Tibet, wherever songs are sung to God wholeheartedly with pure intent, some miracle occurs."In the beginning was the Word," and from that original sound, galaxies and universes were organized. Vibration is the creative principle of ourselves and our world. We ourselves are the"Word" made flesh, and by bhajan singing we stabilize and harmonize that Word, echoing it back to the source in a healing and creative song.


Elizabeth Elwell, Ph.D. is a retired teacher and school principal. She lived in India from 1960-1989. During that time she spent ten years in the ashram of Prashanti Nilayam here she was given the work, at the request of Sathya Sai Baba, to teach bhajans.


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