objects and that there the matter ends, and nothing else is happening. This is not the
case. When we cease thinking of objects but yet maintain consciousness, the energy
that is diverted to the objects gets driven back to oneself and something surprising
takes place. Instead of our energy flowing towards the objects, the energy of the
objects begins to flow towards us. We can imagine why we must be strong.
The strength of personality that is referred to here is consequent upon the converging
of objective forces upon oneself due to the withdrawal of the senses from their
functioning, which otherwise divert the energy of the body to objects and deplete
one’s strength completely by indulgence. Hence, brahmacaryapratiṣṭhāyām vīryalābhaḥ
(II.38). Automatic strength manifests itself in one’s system due to this practice of the
spirit of the withdrawal of the senses from objects; and it is then that the object
becomes friendly with us.
Our asking for the object is really not a manifestation of love for the object. It is a
kind of hatred, metaphysically speaking, because if the object is not different from us,
why do we ask for it? To regard anyone as different from us is not love; it is a subtle
dislike. If I always consider you as different from me, would you like it? You would
like me to consider you as one with myself; that is real friendliness. But my asking for
a thing, loving a thing, craving for a thing is a subtle indication that it is different
from me. Thus, hatred is the undercurrent of love and, therefore, there is
bereavement and a running away of objects from oneself—a consequence which is
most unexpected. Hence, loves end in bereavements and the senses are defeated in
their purpose. Foolishly they run after things, thinking that they will get the things.
The way of getting the thing is not by asking for it or going towards it, but by
withdrawing oneself from it, because then alone the natural laws are allowed to
operate—wherein the objects stand in harmony, in tune with the self of a person.
Then it is that the strengths of nature flow towards the person, and energy
automatically effloresces. That is the essence of the meaning of this sutra:
brahmacaryapratiṣṭhāyām vīryalābhaḥ (II.38).
Aparigrahasthairye janmakathaṁtā saṁbodhaḥ (II.39). When we do not keep things with
us which are not expected to be contributory to the maintenance of our life, we are
supposed to be living a life of austerity. This austere living, which does not allow the
entry of thoughts regarding things which are unnecessary, releases the tension of the
system. Our lack of memory of previous lives and our not knowing the future is due
to a tethering of the mind to the body to such an extent that it does not allow the
reflection of anything in itself other than this present body. The love of the mind for
this body is so much that it does not allow anything to enter it except this bodily
complex. The sutra tells us that when the mind is free from this attachment to the
body by eliminating ideas of appropriation, gathering of things, accumulating of
goods, etc., the attachment slowly gets loosened; and the loosening of attachment to
the body is simultaneously followed by a reflection of other things with which the
mind is really connected.
The mind is really connected with everything in the world. It is not connected merely
with this body; that is a false notion. Because of this false notion of the identification
of the mind with this present body alone, there is a complete lack of knowledge of
one’s relationship with any other thing and every other thing. Thus, we are like
ignorant people knowing nothing of the past or the future. But when this attachment
to the body is loosened, it eliminates itself automatically, and things begin to reflect