Thus, a thing in this world is neither good nor bad. We cannot make any remark
about any object in this world wholly, unlimitedly or unconditionally; all remarks
about things are conditional. Things are useful, helpful and contributory to the
freedom of the soul under a given set of circumstances, but they are the opposite
under a different set of circumstances. Not knowing this fact, the mind flitters from
one thing to another thing. This is the character of what is known as rajas—the
principle of diversity and distraction. The remedy for this illness of distraction of the
mind is austerity, or self-restraint. The great goal of yoga that has been described all
this time will remain merely a will-o’-the-wisp and will not be accessible to the mind
if the condition necessary for the entry of consciousness into the supreme goal of
yoga—namely, freedom from distraction—is not fulfilled.
While desire is a bondage when it is caught up in diversity, it is also a means to
liberation when it is concentrated. The concentrated desire is exclusively focused on
a chosen ideal; and the freedom of the mind from engagement in any other object
than the one that is chosen is the principle of austerity. We limit ourselves to those
types of conduct, modes of behaviour and ways of living which are necessary for the
fulfilment of our concentration on the single object that has been chosen for the
purpose of meditation. We have to carefully sift the various necessities and the needs
of our personality in respect of its engagement, or concentration, on this chosen
ideal.
This is the psychological background of the practice of self-control. Self-control does
not mean mortification of the flesh or harassment of the body. It is the limitation of
one’s engagements in life to those values and conditions which are necessary for the
fulfilment of the chosen ideal and the exclusion of any other factor which is
redundant. It is a very difficult thing for the mind to understand, because sometimes
we mix up needs with luxuries, and vice versa, and what is merely a means to the
pampering of the senses, the body and the mind may look like a necessity or a need.
Also, there is a possibility of overstepping the limits of self-restraint which, when
indulged in, may completely upset the very intention behind the practice. Diseases
may crop up, distractions may get more intensified, and the practice of concentration
may become impossible.
While indulgence in the objects of sense is bad, overemphasis on excessive austerity
beyond its limit also is bad. Moderation is to be properly understood. It is difficult to
know what moderation is, because we have never been accustomed to it. We have
always excesses in our behaviours in life. There is always an emphasis shifted to a
particular point of view, and then that becomes an exclusive occupation of the mind.
The difficulties and the problems encountered by great masters like Buddha, for
example, in their austerities, are instances on hand.
Enthusiasts in yoga are mostly under the impression that to take to yoga is to
mortify—but it is not. The subjection of the personality to undue pain is not the
intention of yoga. The intention is quite different altogether. It is a healthy growth of
the personality that is intended, and the obviating of those unnecessary factors which
intrude in this process of healthy growth of the personality—just as eating is
necessary, but overeating is bad, and not eating at all is also bad. We have to
understand what it is to eat without overeating or going to the other extreme of not
eating at all.