without an intervening screen of human frailty. And what will God
tell you to do in this state of absolute freedom, of kaivalya? He will
tell you to carry on in the world, but never to forget Him.
There is a story of a monk who strove for many years for eman
cipation. Despairing of ever reaching it, in spite of all his practices, he
decided to climb the mountain next to his home, and there either to
perish or to find illumination. He put his few goods in a backpack
and set off up the mountain. Near the summit he met an old man
coming down the mountain. Their eyes locked, and illumination took
place. The monk's sack dropped to the ground. After moments of
blissful silence, the monk looked at the old man and asked, "And now
what shall I do?" Without words, the old man indicated the sack, sig
naled for him to shoulder it again and pointed back down the valley.
The monk picked up his pack and went back down the valley. That
was illumination on the mountain. What followed was kaivalya down
in the valley.
I too live in the valley, in order to serve the needs of my students.
I live in yogic practice (sadhana) in contact always with asmita, the
subtle and individual "I" that is devoid of the growth of ego or pride.
I am also a hatha yogi, which means I want my students to see the sun,
to experience their own sun, their own soul. My students call me their
guru. Gu means darkness and ru means light. My course as a san
nyasin might have taken me into total reclusion, but I still feel it is my
duty to serve, to be a guru in the sense of replacing the darkness with
light. This is my dharma, my enduring duty. I have to be content with
the divine restlessness that drives me on.
When I was young, I wanted to be an artist in my yoga practice.
On first seeing the beautiful hands of Yehudi Menhuin, I thought, "I
want artist's hands of such quality as that, rather than my coarse
ones." I developed them to an incredible degree of sensitivity. But the
motivation was not only yogic but also artistic. This impulse also fired
my performances and my enjoyment of their reception. As a young,
II. K. s. I Y 1·: N l; A ll