Life Skills for Inner Peace and Freedom

It is sometimes said that every person who comes into this world has their own unique contribution to make. Each of us has a special gift or talent, and, given the right circumstances—the right shaping influences—our gift will develop and flower.

This way of thinking—that we all have something we can do that others cannot do—is reflected in the old story about the mountain and the squirrel. The mountain said to the squirrel: ‘I can bear on my back a million trees, carrying a billion acorns. What can you do?’ The squirrel said: ‘It’s true, I can’t carry all that. But at least I know how to crack a nut.’

Another way of thinking about how we can best express ourselves and gain fulfilment, is to suggest that we can all become masters—or creative experts—in one fundamental skill or talent which is the source of all other talents. This is the skill in working on the precious material of our own inner life—our mind—with its emotions, imagination, reason, memory, will and so on.

We may say: ‘I agree that we can work with the mind—in fact, that is the only way we can progress in anything. But how can you work on the mind and what is the point of doing so?’

It is true that our whole training and adaptation to life so far has been through developing and applying various mental skills, and it may be hard for us to imagine how our mind can have any use or value that is not related to our practical life. But we also need to recognize and understand that our mind does have a meaning, purpose and potentiality superior to anything that can be expressed outwardly. For the mind is far more than a generator of thoughts and feelings. That is just its surface life. Our mind also has depths and, ultimately, has for its inner support a pure essence, a ground of being, that transcends the mind as we know it, and is without any trace of unrest, imperfection or limitation. It has been called ‘that region of self-experience which knows no horizon’. It is this innermost aspect of our experience that is referred to in the classical texts when they speak of ‘perfect being’, ‘pure consciousness’, ‘waveless bliss’, ‘the heavenly realm within one’s own heart’. In the Chinese tradition the sage Mencius has said: ‘He who gets to the bottom of his own mind, comes to know his own nature. Knowing his own nature, he also knows the way of Heaven.’

Such teachings present us with a deeper view of the mind than is normally considered. It could be said that the common view of the mind is not to have a view about it at all. Our mind gets on with its job and there is no reason to examine it unless things go seriously wrong.

Another view of the mind is that our conscious mind, which runs our practical life, is itself supported, and to some extent ruled, by a deeper phase of the mental life called the unconscious or the subconscious. We are not normally expected to pay much attention to this aspect of our nature. For one thing, we are too busy running our life to bother about such a mysterious principle as the unconscious—unless we are undergoing a course of psycho-analysis. Secondly, it seems there is not much we can do about it anyway.

But a still more profound insight about our inner life is this: those who have really fathomed the mind’s depth, in the sense indicated by Mencius, affirm that the roots of the mind do not exhaust themselves in the so-called unconscious. Our mind’s source is that perfect being, pure consciousness and waveless bliss—the heavenly realm within our own heart. Here we are given a view of human nature as not only rich in the possibility of expressing some special talent in the outer world. Our mind has its very being in that deeper reality, which is perfect, infinite and transcendent. And the innate talent we possess is the capacity to guide and refine our mind in such a way that we can withdraw into, and identify with, this infinite, pure, perfect reality that is the essence and substratum of our being. This deeper reality is our very Self.

We may object to this assertion that our true Self is infinite, perfect, pure being. For surely our fundamental self is our mind, made up of characteristics that are limited and imperfect. But the deepest self-analysis derived from our inner experience when it has been rendered serene, is that our mind is not the Self, but an instrument of the Self. We may look upon our Self as having many instruments. These include our body, with its limbs, hands and feet; our voice, with its power of speech, and song; and our mind itself—what the Vedanta classics call our organs of knowledge and our organs of action. The point about an instrument is that it is something we use, consciously and with a purpose.

These days we have a useful instrument in the form of our smartphone, which is far more than a mere phone. But what appears on the screen is sometimes so enthralling that we cannot lift our eyes from it. The sense that this little gadget is our instrument is forgotten and it seems to exercise an undue power over us.

This is rather like our position with our mind. Everything we do needs thought, thought of a particular kind related to what we are doing. But our mind is so multi-faceted, so quick to see connections and associations, that thoughts are forever streaming into our mind which often have nothing to do with the practical needs of the task in hand. This is part of the wonder of the mind: it is a beautiful dreamer, and this roving habit can be a source of great creativity. Unfortunately the mind does not always function in this positive way. An ancient text speaks of the mind being a source of bondage as well as a means to freedom. Our mind becomes a source of bondage through the many kinds of negative thinking that cloud our understanding, returning repeatedly to our mind like old acquaintances—that is, thoughts of fear, anxiety, worry, resentment, regret, antagonism and so forth.

Not so easy to understand is the fact that the mind also becomes a source of bondage through its tendency to form desires for the things it feels it lacks. This does not refer to our higher aspirations— the desires for wisdom, peace, purity, the well-being of all. It is our selfish desires, related to material gain and gratification, that generate a subtle form of bondage and entangle us in unforeseen, and often unsought, consequences.

There is a deeper philosophical point here too, which is worth reflecting on. From the standpoint of the true Self, desires are not necessary and have no place. Self is perfect fulfilment. So when we are under the influence of some strong desire, we are not being true to what we are. We are, as it were, affirming that we are not the Self, that we are only the body and the mind. This is what our desires assume and perpetuate. Disturbed by desires, we feel ourselves to be small and in need, and we are convinced, delusively, that lasting satisfaction will come when our desire is gratified. Yet even when our aim is achieved, the respite is short-lived, and desire once more agitates the mind and goads it into further thirst-driven activity. Once again, our extrovertive quest claims our time and energy, as our reason is absorbed in calculating the options open to us. Under this influence, our work may become unfocused as our thoughts are elsewhere.

All this mental activity adds to the smokescreen of thoughts that hides the inner peace and freedom. Yet a new and liberating way of functioning is possible. In the Yoga of Self-Knowledge, the real skill we try to develop has two sides. Firstly, there are practices concerned with reducing our unnecessary thoughts and emotions— those which hide our true Self and keep our gaze turned outwards. Secondly we are constantly reminded, through philosophical enquiry and meditation, that our true Self is not the mind but the infinite reality that underlies it. There is a teaching which begins the instructions of the ancient yoga text of the sage Patanjali. ‘Yoga is the ability to restrain the activities of the mind. Then the real Self shines in its true glory.’

We may question how this ancient instruction to restrain the activities of the mind is relevant to the way we live now. Is not such advice life-denying? But for the seeker of higher wisdom, it is not necessary to try to effect a complete closedown of the mental activity—turning our mind into a ghost town. From the standpoint of our practice, it means that we cultivate the ability to step in and influence the mind according to our choice and direction. We all have the innate power to guide our mind from its more restricted states to a condition of tranquillity. To be specific, we can learn to tell ourselves (or our mind): ‘No—I will not think of that—it depresses me. It is not helpful to me right now’. On the positive side, if there is uplifting material to hand, our self-instruction may take the form: ‘Yes, I will absorb my thoughts in that—it expands my consciousness.’ In this way we use the mind as our instrument. We make it our friend and collaborator in our higher purpose.

This interior guidance also includes skill and alertness to bring our mind to peace when intense activity is not needed. What is strange is not the teaching on stilling the mind, but the absence of this basic skill in our normal development. As for quietening the thoughts, this is a sensible way of helping ourselves. For if we think about it, much of our inner pain is caused by uncontrolled thinking and imagining, which we seem to have little power to stop. Problems and worries intensify because we have not learned how to control or restrain our thinking processes, even when we know them to be a source of pain. Above all, it is this uncontrolled mental activity that covers and hides from us the peace and transcendence of our true nature. Thus we become cut off from our source and the light, power, love and knowledge within cannot express itself fully.

There is a Zen verse:

The spring flowers, the autumn moon;
Summer breezes, winter snow.
If useless things do not clutter your mind,
You have the best days of your life.

Alongside the skill in making our mind clear, focused and peaceful, we are reminded that in our true nature, we are much greater than this changing personality. Our quest is for deeper knowledge of ultimate reality, and to see through the veil of appearances, not least, the appearances created by our own mind, which prevent us from enjoying the peace and light of our own inmost nature. Therefore we need faith and trust in our own higher nature, and that when we affirm that nature as pure, peaceful and fulfilled, even now, we are not telling ourselves a story, but uncovering a fact.

Affirmation plays a great role in our quest for the highest wisdom, and such affirmations are always in the present tense—pointing to what is here and now, as the very ground of our being. If we occasionally pause in our activity and fill our mind with thoughts such as:

OM PEACE, LIGHT AND FEARLESSNESS ARE MY NATURE. OM

we will equip ourselves with an effective means of relief and upliftment, based on an idea that is almost limitless in its implications.

How can we begin to apply these inner skills of mind-training and self-awareness? We can only get to know about our mind when we turn within, as in the practice of meditation. And here we will learn how we can—with practice—re-direct our thoughts and calm the mental activity. The calmer our mind becomes, the more meaningful and penetrating will be our self-affirmation. There is a sentence in one of the Psalms which sums up the process:

BE STILL AND KNOW THAT I AM GOD.

In the yogic interpretation of these words, ‘Be still’ means ‘attain inner stillness and relaxation, and in that calm, be sensitive to the divine Presence as your own I’. Our own I here means our own higher Self.

So far it may seem that such a self-development is a private and self-centred activity, which has nothing to do with our outer life. But in this we are mistaken. It is the mastery we have over the inner world of our own mind, which allows us to look at situations calmly and deal wisely with them. And if we can do this, it will naturally have a good effect on those we are with. If we are calm, others will be calm. In a similar way, our worldly efficiency does depend on our ability to focus our mind for as long as we like on the job, and not to be pulled away by hopes and fears which rise up in the mind involuntarily. This is a point which recurs in the classical Taoist text known as The Book of Chuang Tzu. In several stories, the author writes about people who have developed great skill in their occupations, whether carpentry or metalwork, or even statecraft. So often, the expert is asked how he or she managed to bring their skill to such perfection. Always the answer draws attention to the inner state. For instance a carpenter, who specialized in making decorative stands for bells, was urged by his master to reveal the secret of his skill. He answered:

I’m just an ordinary craftsman, but since you ask, there is one thing. When I am about to work on a bell-stand, first of all I expel from my mind all thoughts of congratulation and reward, honour and salary. After that, I negate all thoughts of your praise or blame, and of my own skill or clumsiness. In the end, I am in a position where all distracting emotions have no power over me—my energy is wholly my own. In this way I can approach the wood with a clear and fresh vision. This is how I am ready to find the best way to carry out my work.

This story highlights another important yogic principle: that of not wasting one’s time and energy on non-essentials; of having a real purpose in life and giving that purpose the best of one’s mind and attention. This is a secret of success.

A great source book of higher wisdom, the Bhagavad Gita, also teaches how we can live actively in the world, yet make progress to enlightenment while doing so. In the Gita (2:50) we are told ‘Yoga is skilful living’, which literally translated means ‘Yoga is skill in actions’ (yogah karmasu kaushalam). Once more the teaching is to negate all thoughts of the praise or blame our actions might receive—the fears and hopes which keep us in a state of stress and suspense, rob us of our energy, and stop us from being really focused and one-pointed.

We may say: ‘A little bit of stress is necessary to get me going. I need a deadline. Stress energises me—it doesn’t rob me of energy.’ There is some truth in this, but there is also a danger. Stress of this kind may be useful, if we are its master—if we can turn it on or off according to our choice, if we can say to our stress: ‘Enough, you have served your purpose. Now go.’ But too often, such stress claims too much of our mind, and gets in the way when we really want to focus. Stressful thoughts like: ‘I must do well, I must not fail or disappoint my colleagues’—tend to outlive their welcome and stay around long after they have roused us to action. All stress must in the end be replaced by the calm flow of concentration on the job in hand.

Now here the Bhagavad Gita adds another dimension—a spiritual dimension—to our dealing with life in the world. It teaches that the way to transcend our hopes and fears, is to develop a wider and deeper vision based on the belief that there is a higher Power which pervades the universe and is present in our own hearts as our true Self. This is a principle which is supreme and absolute. It is the real source of the light, power, love and knowledge which is in us. The Gita then focuses on the motive of our action—why we are doing it. If we act purely for personal gain, our actions will make us increasingly self-centred, and will lead to many shocks and disappointments. If we act as a contribution to society, then we will be relieved of some of our selfishness, and will have a happier and more peaceful inner state. But if we offer our actions to God as the supreme spiritual force behind the universe, without clinging to the results good or bad, then we really can learn to free ourselves from selfish concerns and the cares that go with them, and also to thin the veil which hides from us the peace and light of our true Self.

This is action based on a wider perspective, and for a higher purpose. Here the idea is that our little personal world is not everything—that there is the vast system of the universe which is supported and animated by the divine Principle. Getting our actions in harmony with that greater Force brings about inner expansion. It also removes many of the obstacles which create restrictions in our inner life, and opens up our consciousness to the deeper Truth. The same divine Force is equally present in action and in stillness, and the skilful living taught in Adhyatma Yoga will establish us in inner peace in any circumstance.

One final question. Why should we strive for this inner development at all? It is certainly true that if we are satisfied with life as it is, if we are not troubled by the ups and downs, if we are confident that nothing all that seriously disturbing will happen to us—then there is probably for us at this time no need to change our present way of thinking. But many have begun to feel that life does confront us with disturbing riddles and contradictions. On the one hand, we have a deep sense that we ought to be happy, and yet perhaps we are not. We feel that the knowledge we have worked for ought to satisfy us, and yet deep down we know that the range of our understanding is minute compared with what we do not understand. Deep down, we feel we should be free, and we resent any restrictions. And yet it seems that such restrictions are unavoidable, and that our life is shaped by many factors quite beyond our control.

The higher Yoga is based on the fact that these deepest urges of human nature—for happiness, knowledge and freedom—can actually be fulfilled. But fulfilment is not actualised on the outer plane. We have to turn within, to the source of our own being, with the aid of our quietened mind. ‘Be still and know that I am God’ means that within us right now there is a completeness and fulfilment which does satisfy our need to be happy, free, and to know. This is the ‘bliss in the heart’ talked about in the Upanishads. It is the knowledge of which it is said: ‘knowing which nothing remains to be known’. We miss it because we look for it in the wrong place: outside ourselves. Spiritual progress involves seeking fulfilment where it can be found: within our own being. The teachings thus draw our attention to the mind and its powers, and the benefits which come from making our mind tranquil and clear. We are also aware of how this serenity of mind will enable us to discover the higher consciousness that underlies the mind as its inner light and support. And we have gained in our own being some understanding of that higher power that pervades the whole universe, and how we can learn to think and act in harmony with that Power— for our true nature is essentially one with it.

B.D.