The Complete Works of Swami Vivekananda/Volume 2/Jnana-Yoga/The Freedom of the Soul
CHAPTER X
THE FREEDOM OF THE SOUL
(Delivered in London, 5th November 1896)
The Katha Upanishad, which we have been studying, was written much later than that to which we now turn — the Chhândogya. The language is more modern, and the thought more organised. In the older Upanishads the language is very archaic, like that of the hymn portion of the Vedas, and one has to wade sometimes through quite a mass of unnecessary things to get at the essential doctrines. The ritualistic literature about which I told you which forms the second division of the Vedas, has left a good deal of its mark upon this old Upanishad, so that more than half of it is still ritualistic. There is, however, one great gain in studying the very old Upanishads. You trace, as it were, the historical growth of spiritual ideas. In the more recent Upanishads, the spiritual ideas have been collected and brought into one place; as in the Bhagavad Gitâ, for instance, which we may, perhaps, look upon as the last of the Upanishads, you do not find any inkling of these ritualistic ideas. The Gita is like a bouquet composed of the beautiful flowers of spiritual truths collected from the Upanishads. But in the Gita you cannot study the rise of the spiritual ideas, you cannot trace them to their source. To do that, as has been pointed out by many, you must study the Vedas. The great idea of holiness that has been attached to these books has preserved them, more than any other book in the world, from mutilation. In them, thoughts at their highest and at their lowest have all been preserved, the essential and the non-essential, the most ennobling teachings and the simplest matters of detail stand side by side; for nobody has dared to touch them. Commentators came and tried to smooth them down and to bring out wonderful new ideas from the old things; they tried to find spiritual ideas in even the most ordinary statements, but the texts remained, and as such, they are the most wonderful historical study. We all know that in the scriptures of every religion changes were made to suit the growing spirituality of later times; one word was changed here and another put in there, and so on. This, probably, has not been done with the Vedic literature, or if ever done, it is almost imperceptible. So we have this great advantage, we are able to study thoughts in their original significance, to note how they developed, how from materialistic ideas finer and finer spiritual ideas are evolved, until they attained their greatest height in the Vedanta. Descriptions of some of the old manners and customs are also there, but they do not appear much in the Upanishads. The language used is peculiar, terse, mnemonic.
The writers of these books simply jotted down these lines as helps to
remember certain facts which they supposed were already well known. In a
narrative, perhaps, which they are telling, they take it for granted that it
is well known to everyone they are addressing. Thus a great difficulty
arises, we scarcely know the real meaning of any one of these stories,
because the traditions have nearly died out, and the little that is left of
them has been very much exaggerated. Many new interpretations have been put
upon them, so that when you find them in the Purânas they have already
become lyrical poems. Just as in the West, we find this prominent fact in
the political development of Western races that they cannot bear absolute
rule, that they are always trying to prevent any one man from ruling over
them, and are gradually advancing to higher and higher democratic ideas,
higher and higher ideas of physical liberty, so, in Indian metaphysics,
exactly the same phenomenon appears in the development of spiritual life.
The multiplicity of gods gave place to one God of the universe, and in the
Upanishads there is a rebellion even against that one God. Not only was the
idea of many governors of the universe ruling their destinies unbearable,
but it was also intolerable that there should be one person ruling this
universe. This is the first thing that strikes us. The idea grows and grows,
until it attains its climax. In almost all of the Upanishads, we find the
climax coming at the last, and that is the dethroning of this God of the
universe. The personality of God vanishes, the impersonality comes. God is
no more a person, no more a human being, however magnified and exaggerated,
who rules this universe, but He has become an embodied principle in every
being, immanent in the whole universe. It would be illogical to go from the
Personal God to the Impersonal, and at the same time to leave man as a
person. So the personal man is broken down, and man as principle is built
up. The person is only a phenomenon, the principle is behind it. Thus from
both sides, simultaneously, we find the breaking down of personalities and
the approach towards principles, the Personal God approaching the
Impersonal, the personal man approaching the Impersonal Man. Then come the
succeeding stages of the gradual convergence of the two advancing lines of
the Impersonal God and the Impersonal Man. And the Upanishads embody the
stages through which these two lines at last become one, and the last word
of each Upanishad is, "Thou art That". There is but One Eternally Blissful
Principle, and that One is manifesting Itself as all this variety.
Then came the philosophers. The work of the Upanishads seems to have ended
at that point; the next was taken up by the philosophers. The framework was
given them by the Upanishads, and they had to fill in the details. So, many
questions would naturally arise. Taking for granted that there is but One
Impersonal Principle which is manifesting Itself in all these manifold
forms, how is it that the One becomes many? It is another way of putting the
same old question which in its crude form comes into the human heart as the
inquiry into the cause of evil and so forth. Why does evil exist in the
world, and what is its cause? But the same question has now become refined,
abstracted. No more is it asked from the platform of the senses why we are
unhappy, but from the platform of philosophy. How is it that this One
Principle becomes manifold? And the answer, as we have seen, the best answer
that India has produced is the theory of Maya which says that It really has
not become manifold, that It really has not lost any of Its real nature.
Manifoldness is only apparent. Man is only apparently a person, but in
reality he is the Impersonal Being. God is a person only apparently, but
really He is the Impersonal Being.
Even in this answer there have been succeeding stages, and philosophers have
varied in their opinions. All Indian philosophers did not admit this theory
of Maya. Possibly most of them did not. There are dualists, with a crude
sort of dualism, who would not allow the question to be asked, but stifled
it at its very birth. They said, "You have no right to ask such a question,
you have no right to ask for an explanation; it is simply the will of God,
and we have to submit to it quietly. There is no liberty for the human soul.
Everything is predestined — what we shall do, have, enjoy, and suffer; and
when suffering comes, it is our duty to endure it patiently; if we do not,
we shall be punished all the more. How do we know that? Because the Vedas
say so." And thus they have their texts and their meanings and they want to
enforce them.
There are others who, though not admitting the Maya theory, stand midway.
They say that the whole of this creation forms, as it were, the body of God.
God is the Soul of all souls and of the whole of nature. In the case of
individual souls, contraction comes from evil doing. When a man does
anything evil, his soul begins to contract and his power is diminished and
goes on decreasing, until he does good works, when it expands again. One
idea seems to be common in all the Indian systems, and I think, in every
system in the world, whether they know it or not, and that is what I should
call the divinity of man. There is no one system in the world, no real
religion, which does not hold the idea that the human soul, whatever it be,
or whatever its relation to God, is essentially pure and perfect, whether
expressed in the language of mythology, allegory, or philosophy. Its real
nature is blessedness and power, not weakness and misery. Somehow or other
this misery has come. The crude systems may call it a personified evil, a
devil, or an Ahriman, to explain how this misery came. Other systems may try
to make a God and a devil in one, who makes some people miserable and others
happy, without any reason whatever. Others again, more thoughtful, bring in
the theory of Maya and so forth. But one fact stands out clearly, and it is
with this that we have to deal. After all, these philosophical ideas and
systems are but gymnastics of the mind, intellectual exercises. The one
great idea that to me seems to be clear, and comes out through masses of
superstition in every country and in every religion, is the one luminous
idea that man is divine, that divinity is our nature.
Whatever else comes is a mere superimposition, as the Vedanta calls it.
Something has been superimposed, but that divine nature never dies. In the
most degraded as well as in the most saintly it is ever present. It has to
be called out, and it will work itself out. We have to ask and it will
manifest itself. The people of old knew that fire lived in the flint and in
dry wood, but friction was necessary to call it out. So this fire of freedom
and purity is the nature of every soul, and not a quality, because qualities
can be acquired and therefore can be lost. The soul is one with Freedom, and
the soul is one with Existence, and the soul is one with Knowledge. The
Sat-Chit-Ânanda — Existence-Knowledge-Bliss Absolute — is the nature, the
birthright of the Soul, and all the manifestations that we see are Its
expressions, dimly or brightly manifesting Itself. Even death is but a
manifestation of that Real Existence. Birth and death, life and decay,
degeneration and regeneration — are all manifestations of that Oneness. So,
knowledge, however it manifests itself, either as ignorance or as learning,
is but the manifestation of that same Chit, the essence of knowledge; the
difference is only in degree, and not in kind. The difference in knowledge
between the lowest worm that crawls under our feet and the highest genius
that the world may produce is only one of degree, and not of kind. The
Vedantin thinker boldly says that the enjoyments in this life, even the most
degraded joys, are but manifestations of that One Divine Bliss, the Essence
of the Soul.
This idea seems to be the most prominent in Vedanta, and, as I have said, it
appears to me that every religion holds it. I have yet to know the religion
which does not. It is the one universal idea working through all religions.
Take the Bible for instance. You find there the allegorical statement that
the first man Adam was pure, and that his purity was obliterated by his evil
deeds afterwards. It is clear from this allegory that they thought that the
nature of the primitive man was perfect. The impurities that we see, the
weaknesses that we feel, are but superimpositions on that nature, and the
subsequent history of the Christian religion shows that they also believe in
the possibility, nay, the certainty of regaining that old state. This is the
whole history of the Bible, Old and New Testaments together. So with the
Mohammedans: they also believed in Adam and the purity of Adam, and through
Mohammed the way was opened to regain that lost state. So with the
Buddhists: they believe in the state called Nirvana which is beyond this
relative world. It is exactly the same as the Brahman of the Vedantins, and
the whole system of the Buddhists is founded upon the idea of regaining that
lost state of Nirvana. In every system we find this doctrine present, that
you cannot get anything which is not yours already. You are indebted to
nobody in this universe. You claim your own birthright, as it has been most
poetically expressed by a great Vedantin philosopher, in the title of one of
his books — "The attainment of our own empire". That empire is ours; we have
lost it and we have to regain it. The Mâyâvâdin, however, says that this
losing of the empire was a hallucination; you never lost it. This is the
only difference.
Although all the systems agree so far that we had the empire, and that we
have lost it, they give us varied advice as to how to regain it. One says
that you must perform certain ceremonies, pay certain sums of money to
certain idols, eat certain sorts of food, live in a peculiar fashion to
regain that empire. Another says that if you weep and prostrate yourselves
and ask pardon of some Being beyond nature, you will regain that empire.
Again, another says if you love such a Being with all your heart, you will
regain that empire. All this varied advice is in the Upanishads. As I go on,
you will find it so. But the last and the greatest counsel is that you need
not weep at all. You need not go through all these ceremonies, and need not
take any notice of how to regain your empire, because you never lost it. Why
should you go to seek for what you never lost? You are pure already, you are
free already. If you think you are free, free you are this moment, and if
you think you are bound, bound you will be. This is a very bold statement,
and as I told you at the beginning of this course, I shall have to speak to
you very boldly. It may frighten you now, but when you think over it, and
realise it in your own life, then you will come to know that what I say is
true. For, supposing that freedom is not your nature, by no manner of means
can you become free. Supposing you were free and in some way you lost that
freedom, that shows that you were not free to begin with. Had you been free,
what could have made you lose it? The independent can never be made
dependent; if it is really dependent, its independence was a hallucination.
Of the two sides, then, which will you take? If you say that the soul was by
its own nature pure and free, it naturally follows that there was nothing in
this universe which could make it bound or limited. But if there was
anything in nature which could bind the soul, it naturally follows that it
was not free, and your statement that it was free is a delusion. So if it is
possible for us to attain to freedom, the conclusion is inevitable that the
soul is by its nature free. It cannot be otherwise. Freedom means
independence of anything outside, and that means that nothing outside itself
could work upon it as a cause. The soul is causeless, and from this follow
all the great ideas that we have. You cannot establish the immortality of
the soul, unless you grant that it is by its nature free, or in other words,
that it cannot be acted upon by anything outside. For death is an effect
produced by some outside cause. I drink poison and I die, thus showing that
my body can be acted upon by something outside that is called poison. But if
it be true that the soul is free, it naturally follows that nothing can
affect it, and it can never die. Freedom, immortality, blessedness, all
depend upon the soul being beyond the law of causation, beyond this Maya. Of
these two which will you take? Either make the first a delusion, or make the
second a delusion. Certainly I will make the second a delusion. It is more
consonant with all my feelings and aspirations. I am perfectly aware that I
am free by nature, and I will not admit that this bondage is true and my
freedom a delusion.
This discussion goes on in all philosophies, in some form or other. Even in
the most modern philosophies you find the same discussion arising. There are
two parties. One says that there is no soul, that the idea of soul is a
delusion produced by the repeated transit of particles or matter, bringing
about the combination which you call the body or brain; that the impression
of freedom is the result of the vibrations and motions and continuous
transit of these particles. There were Buddhistic sects who held the same
view and illustrated it by this example: If young take a torch and whirl it
round rapidly, there will be a circle of light. That circle does not really
exist, because the torch is changing place every moment. We are but bundles
of little particles, which in their rapid whirling produce the delusion of a
permanent soul. The other party states that in the rapid succession of
thought, matter occurs as a delusion, and does not really exist. So we see
one side claiming that spirit is a delusion and the other, that matter is a
delusion. Which side will you take? Of course, we will take the spirit and
deny matter. The arguments are similar for both, only on the spirit side the
argument is little stronger. For nobody has ever seen what matter is. We can
only feel ourselves. I never knew a man who could feel matter outside of
himself. Nobody was ever able to jump outside of himself. Therefore the
argument is a little stronger on the side of the spirit. Secondly, the
spirit theory explains the universe, whiles materialism does not. Hence the
materialistic explanation is illogical. If you boil down all the
philosophies and analyse them, you will find that they are reduced to one;
or the other of these two positions. So here, too, in a more intricate form,
in a more philosophical form, we find the same question about natural purity
and freedom. Ones side says that the first is a delusion, and the other,
that the second is a delusion. And, of course, we side with the second, in
believing that our bondage is a delusion.
The solution of the Vedanta is that we are not bound, we are free already.
Not only so, but to say or to think that we are bound is dangerous — it is a
mistake, it is self-hypnotism. As soon as you say, "I am bound," "I am
weak," "I am helpless," woe unto you; you rivet one more chain upon
yourself. Do not say it, do not think it. I have heard of a man who lived in
a forest and used to repeat day and night, "Shivoham" — I am the Blessed One
— and one day a tiger fell upon him and dragged him away to kill him; people
on the other side of the river saw it, and heard the voice so long as voice
remained in him, saying, "Shivoham" — even in the very jaws of the tiger.
There have been many such men. There have been cases of men who, while being
cut to pieces, have blessed their enemies. "I am He, I am He; and so art
thou. I am pure and perfect and so are all my enemies. You are He, and so am
I." That is - the position of strength. Nevertheless, there are great and
wonderful things in the religions of the dualists; wonderful is the idea of
the Personal God apart from nature, whom we worship and love. Sometimes this
idea is very soothing. But, says the Vedanta, the soothing is something like
the effect that comes from an opiate, not natural. It brings weakness in the
long run, and what this world wants today, more than it ever did before, is
strength. It is weakness, says the Vedanta, which is the cause of all misery
in this world. Weakness is the one cause of suffering. We become miserable
because we are weak. We lie, steal, kill, and commit other crimes, because
we are weak. We suffer because we are weak. We die because we are weak.
Where there is nothing to weaken us, there is no death nor sorrow. We are
miserable through delusion. Give up the delusion, and the whole thing
vanishes. It is plain and simple indeed. Through all these philosophical
discussions and tremendous mental gymnastics we come to this one religious
idea, the simplest in the whole world.
The monistic Vedanta is the simplest form in which you can put truth. To
teach dualism was a tremendous mistake made in India and elsewhere, because
people did not look at the ultimate principles, but only thought of the
process which is very intricate indeed. To many, these tremendous
philosophical and logical propositions were alarming. They thought these
things could not be made universal, could not be followed in everyday
practical life, and that under the guise of such a philosophy much laxity of
living would arise.
But I do not believe at all that monistic ideas preached to the world would
produce immorality and weakness. On the contrary, I have reason to believe
that it is the only remedy there is. If this be the truth, why let people
drink ditch water when the stream of life is flowing by? If this be the
truth, that they are all pure, why not at this moment teach it to the whole
world? Why not teach it with the voice of thunder to every man that is born,
to saints and sinners, men, women, and children, to the man on the throne
and to the man sweeping the streets?
It appears now a very big and a very great undertaking; to many it appears
very startling, but that is because of superstition, nothing else. By eating
all sorts of bad and indigestible food, or by starving ourselves, we are
incompetent to eat a good meal. We have listened to words of weakness from
our childhood. You hear people say that they do not believe in ghosts, but
at the same time, there are very few who do not get a little creepy
sensation in the dark. It is simply superstition. So with all religious
superstitions There are people in this country who, if I told them there was
no such being as the devil, will think all religion is gone. Many people
have said to me, how can there be religion without a devil? How can there be
religion without someone to direct us? How can we live without being ruled
by somebody? We like to be so treated, because we have become used to it. We
are not happy until we feel we have been reprimanded by somebody every day.
The same superstition! But however terrible it may seem now, the time will
come when we shall look back, each one of us, and smile at every one of
those superstitions which covered the pure and eternal soul, and repeat with
gladness, with truth, and with strength, I am free, and was free, and always
will be free. This monistic idea will come out of Vedanta, and it is the one
idea that deserves to live. The scriptures may perish tomorrow. Whether this
idea first flashed into the brains of Hebrews or of people living in the
Arctic regions, nobody cares. For this is the truth and truth is eternal;
and truth itself teaches that it is not the special property of any
individual or nation. Men, animals, and gods are all common recipients of
this one truth. Let them all receive it. Why make life miserable? Why let
people fall into all sorts of superstitions? I will give ten thousand lives,
if twenty of them will give up their superstition. Not only in this country,
but in the land of its very birth, if you tell people this truth, they are
frightened. They say, "This idea is for Sannyâsins who give up the world and
live in forests; for them it is all right. But for us poor householders, we
must all have some sort of fear, we must have ceremonies," and so on.
Dualistic ideas have ruled the world long enough, and this is the result.
Why not make a new experiment? It may take ages for all minds to receive
monism, but why not begin now? If we have told it to twenty persons in our
lives, we have done a great work.
There is one idea which often militates against it. It is this. It is all
very well to say, "I am the Pure, the Blessed," but I cannot show it always
in my life. That is true; the ideal is always very hard. Every child that is
born sees the sky overhead very far away, but is that any reason why we
should not look towards the sky? Would it mend matters to go towards
superstition? If we cannot get nectar, would it mend matters for us to drink
poison? Would it be any help for us, because we cannot realise the truth
immediately, to go into darkness and yield to weakness and superstition?
I have no objection to dualism in many of its forms. I like most of them,
but I have objections to every form of teaching which inculcates weakness.
This is the one question I put to every man, woman, or child, when they are
in physical, mental, or spiritual training. Are you strong? Do you feel
strength? — for I know it is truth alone that gives strength. I know that
truth alone gives life, and nothing but going towards reality will make us
strong, and none will reach truth until he is strong. Every system,
therefore, which weakens the mind, makes one superstitious, makes one mope,
makes one desire all sorts of wild impossibilities, mysteries, and
superstitions, I do not like, because its effect is dangerous. Such systems
never bring any good; such things create morbidity in the mind, make it
weak, so weak that in course of time it will be almost impossible to receive
truth or live up to it. Strength, therefore, is the one thing needful.
Strength is the medicine for the world's disease. Strength is the medicine
which the poor must have when tyrannised over by the rich. Strength is the
medicine that the ignorant must have when oppressed by the learned; and it
is the medicine that sinners must have when tyrannised over by other
sinners; and nothing gives such strength as this idea of monism. Nothing
makes us so moral as this idea of monism. Nothing makes us work so well at
our best and highest as when all the responsibility is thrown upon
ourselves. I challenge everyone of you. How will you behave if I put a
little baby in your hands? Your whole life will be changed for the moment;
whatever you may be, you must become selfless for the time being. You will
give up all your criminal ideas as soon as responsibility is thrown upon you
— your whole character will change. So if the whole responsibility is thrown
upon our own shoulders, we shall be at our highest and best; when we have
nobody to grope towards, no devil to lay our blame upon, no Personal God to
carry our burdens, when we are alone responsible, then we shall rise to our
highest and best. I am responsible for my fate, I am the bringer of good
unto myself, I am the bringer of evil. I am the Pure and Blessed One. We
must reject all thoughts that assert the contrary. "I have neither death nor
fear, I have neither caste nor creed, I have neither father nor mother nor
brother, neither friend nor foe, for I am Existence, Knowledge, and Bliss
Absolute; I am the Blissful One, I am the Blissful One. I am not bound
either by virtue or vice, by happiness or misery. Pilgrimages and books and
ceremonials can never bind me. I have neither hunger nor thirst; the body is
not mine, nor am I subject to the superstitions and decay that come to the
body, I am Existence, Knowledge, and Bliss Absolute; I am the Blissful One,
I am the Blissful One."
This, says the Vedanta, is the only prayer that we should have. This is the
only way to reach the goal, to tell ourselves, and to tell everybody else,
that we are divine. And as we go on repeating this, strength comes. He who
falters at first will get stronger and stronger, and the voice will increase
in volume until the truth takes possession of our hearts, and courses
through our veins, and permeates our bodies. Delusion will vanish as the
light becomes more and more effulgent, load after load of ignorance will
vanish, and then will come a time when all else has disappeared and the Sun
alone shines.