confusion—even in advanced stages of concentration and meditation—and the Guru
had to come to their aid. There was a case in this very ashram—many, many years
back. I was not here at that time. A brahmachari started concentrating in a wrong
manner. He got stuck in the middle of the eyebrows and he became cataleptic,
unconscious, and people who did not know what was happening were under the
impression that he was in a state of samadhi. This condition led to great catastrophic
results—he passed away, and his body disintegrated. It was very unfortunate. But
these things happen on account of an overenthusiastic estimation that one has about
oneself, while not knowing the difficulties that one has kept buried within. Again, to
come to the point, we should be able to scrub out those extraneous fungi that have
grown over ourselves which have, unfortunately, become one with us. There are
certain accretions to our personality which we mistake for our own self. These
accretions are the prejudices, the notions, the emotions, the feelings, the desires, and
whatnot. These things have become one with us. They are like our babies whom we
are fondling constantly, and we cannot get away from them; they are with us—they
are us—and these things are our obstacles. Thus, together with an attempt at these
techniques, such as the retention of the breath and the concentration of the mind,
there should be a daily self-analysis. We have to maintain what is called a spiritual
diary, if we like, with queries commensurate with our own stage of evolution and our
own peculiar difficulties. Also, one has to guard oneself. The more is the protection
that is provided to us, the less is it that we must deal with.
When we progress further—either in the capacity to retain the breath or in the ability
to concentrate the mind—we will find that buried treasures will come up, and these
‘treasures’ are the devils; they are not the nectar. This is very important to remember.
When we churn the ocean, we do not first get the nectar; we get the poison, and the
fumes, and the venom, and the suffocating noise, and the humdrum, and the
clattering disturbance created by those silent ‘friends’ who have been keeping quiet
up to this time, lying in ambush to attack when the opportunity arises. They are like
coiled snakes sitting in a corner—and we have not observed them. Coiled snakes are
nevertheless snakes, and these are the submerged and subjugated emotions which
have not been sublimated. These things pertain to the natural desires and the
biological needs of the human individual. Even our normal needs such as hunger and
thirst—if they are pressed down too much, and if we violate them beyond a certain
limit, they set up reactions. I am mentioning only the least of known problems,
namely hunger and thirst. We cannot go on starving ourselves under the impression
that we are yogis, because this will set up reactions of a peculiar nature, and then we
know what will happen. Therefore, no need, no necessity, no emotion, no feeling and
no inclination can be regarded as unimportant or non-essential, because these little
straws which have no apparent weight will become heavy like an iron hill later on,
and it is this little particle of dust sticking to our eyes that will prevent us from
looking at that glorious light of the sun.
Hence, a daily self-analysis should accompany the actual positive practice of the
retention of the breath and the concentration of the mind. This self-analysis is not an
easy thing, because we can go to bed every day with the notion that we are well off
and our balance sheet is clear, which will be quite the contrary. So it is necessary,
until we are able to see the light of truth by ourselves, to take the guidance of a
superior and find out if our diary is properly maintained and our balance sheet is
properly cast, and there is no mistake in our calculations. Evidently, there are
mistakes which will be indicated by the moods with which we get up in the morning,