Likewise, in this condition of spiritual communion which is the goal of samadhi,
there is a sinking of oneself into the bottom of one’s own being. This is what they call
entering into the nature of the atman. And you will be surprised that the knowledge
of the atman is the knowledge of the universe. It will be surprising indeed how it is
possible for you to know the whole cosmos when you merely sink into your own self.
I have made it clear by an analogy. How is it possible for the waters of a particular
wave near Bombay to recognise its identity with all things that lie between itself and
the wave near New York? That distance has been abolished on account of the organic
connection of the whole ocean, which connects the wave near Bombay with the wave
near New York. Otherwise, there is a lot of distance—thousands of miles of distance.
Hence, entering into one’s own being is identical with entering into everybody’s
being. When I know myself, I know everybody. It is very strange indeed how such a
thing is possible. Knowledge of the bottom of one’s own being can be equated with
the existence of everything else. That is the reason why it is said that the highest of
philosophical endeavours is the knowledge of one’s own self. Atmanam viddhi is the
oriental dictum. “Know thyself” is the occidental one. Know thyself and be free.
How can you be free when you know yourself? You will be putting this question to
yourself. “I can know myself, and yet I can be bound,” may be the doubt. You cannot
be bound, because all the factors that can bind anyone become an embodiment of
that being which is realised, in communion, when you enter into the bottom of your
own being. According to the Sata Sloki of Acharya Shankara, we realise that we are
one with all; that is the first experience. Then we realise that we are the All. There is a
slight distinction, it appears, as the great Acharya mentions. What distinction it is,
we cannot explain in language. Perhaps it is a feeling of the wave in the ocean, when
it sinks down and then suddenly becomes aware that it is the All. But this sinking is
not possible, ordinarily speaking, inasmuch as after a particular stage we are
prevented from going further. We may cross the first gate, second gate, third gate;
some mystics say there are seven gates. When we touch the border of the last gate, we
are told, “No! No entry!” This is the crucial point. The one who tells us “No entry” is
ourself only—our own ego. Somehow, we cannot reconcile ourselves with the idea of
getting united with everybody. This is a very peculiar thing in us. Theoretically,
philosophically, metaphysically it may be very pleasant. “Why should I not become
one with all? It is a wonderful thing!”
But that is not really what our heart wants, because in our daily life, in our activities,
we proclaim the opposite of it. We maintain a status of our own, which will refute the
status of other people. That is why there is conflict, warfare, dislike, and whatnot. If
our real aspiration is a tendency towards communion with the All, that thing called
warfare, or dislike, or animosity, or subtle irritation, or anger, will be unknown. Why
is it that we come in conflict with everything, every day? It is because we do not like
to become one with the All. Therefore, this prejudiced feeling, which is
philosophically and intellectually or rationally suppressed by a kind of analysis, rises
to the surface of consciousness and tells us lastly: “I am here. I am not going to leave
you.” What is our essential nature, which rises at the last moment? During the earlier
stages, we manage to suppress this feeling. We do a lot of japa, we loudly chant
kirtans and bhajans; at that time our ego is suppressed. It is suppressed, but it is not
abolished. Even during the more advanced stages of pranayama and pratyahara, we
may be able to subjugate the ego to a certain extent, put it down with the thumb of
our force. But how long will we keep it down like this?