has also, correspondingly, very little control over the object. So, where can there be
implementation? Where can there be materialisation?
The communion that we are seeking—which is samadhi, the aim of yoga—is the total
merger of the subject with its ideal of meditation. There it has total control over the
object, whatever that object be. For this purpose it is that the mind is directed
towards the object. The object does not necessarily mean any isolated little bit of
matter, though that also can be taken as a prop for concentration in the earliest
stages. But the intention is not merely to end there. If we have an ultimate aim of
reaching the ocean, we may take the help of a little mountain stream to row our boat.
Though we have used a stream, the intention is not merely to row on the stream or
river, but to reach the ocean. Likewise, the little bit of material content, which is the
object of our concentration in the initial stages, becomes the diverting medium of the
mind towards the ocean of the Absolute. That is the ultimate aim.
Thus, the point that we have to emphasise is that in concentration it is not our mind
thinking about something else, or something outside or external. It is not our mind—
it is we that are thinking. We should not use the word ‘my mind’, as if we are behind
the mind and we are only operating the mind, like a driver driving a vehicle. It is the
subject in its completeness, in its compactness, in its totality, in its wholeness, that
attends upon the object. This point cannot be forgotten; and if it is missed, there is
no concentration. For this purpose it is necessary to understand how far it is possible
for us to be totally integrated.
Can it be possible for us to unite our thought, will and emotion at one stroke?
Whenever I think of a thing, my emotion also goes there. Is it possible? I may think
of a table or a chair—can my emotion also be there? It is not possible. This is the
weakness of the human mind: it cannot unite its various faculties. Where the heart is,
there the will is not; where the will is, there thought is not, and where everything is—
memory is gone. So, naturally, there is a failure—utter failure. All the faculties which
we call the psychological organ should be gathered up into a single focus of energy. It
is a terrible task. But, naturally, yoga is a terrible task. Who said it is simple? We
have to sacrifice ourselves, and that is perhaps the greatest of sacrifices we can
conceive. But afterwards we will see that it is a great joy. How can it be a pain to us to
integrate our personality? Can we even imagine that it is a sorrow? Would we call it a
joy to be dissipated? It is very strange, indeed, that we find joy in a life of dissipation,
disintegration and dismemberment of the faculties of the mind. It is very strange that
people should live like this.
But a little bit of effort, continued for a sufficient length of time, will bear its fruit and
we will amply be given the reward thereof. We will see what it is, and then we will not
open our eyes to see anything else. Then we would not like to hear any sound, and we
would not like to have any other contact. Once we visualise it, we will be stunned
from the bottom of our hearts, and we will not have occasion to be attracted towards
anything else afterwards. It will be all beauty, all grandeur, all magnificence, all
power and all abundance in every respect.
Towards this objective, the mind has to move continuously. ‘Non-stop’ is the word
that is used. “Like oil poured from one vessel to another” is the analogy that is
usually given. When we pour oil from one vessel to another, it is a continuous stream
of pouring oil; it does not break into bits or drops. ‘Taila dharavatu’ is the term used.