The self-existent created the senses outward: therefore, one sees outside and not the âtman within. A wise person, with his senses turned away, (from their object), desirous of immortality, sees the âtman within (Kaṭha Upaniṣad, II, 1.1).
Birth is the first big movement out. Out of the darkness you are ‘thrown’ into the light of the world. A mighty event. The time before that – the stay in the womb – prepared you for it. In that humid, warm darkness, Mother Nature made the body and mind grow and ‘drilled’ the sensory openings. In this way you became, assuming a good course, what you are now: a fully equipped, sentient living being.
What has always intrigued me is the unconscious of that whole process. And I don’t even mean the miracle of the conception and growth of the fetus, how everything ‘as a matter of course’ knows what to do. What fascinates me most is that the contact with ‘outside’ – with the world around you – begins without any awareness of an inside, of a Self. In this way you build up an identity through the outside, without first having knowledge of who you really are. The senses fly out and probe the world, but the possessor of that delicate, dependent creature inside has no knowledge of himself. Almost every adult feels endearment at the sight of a newborn. He sees the beauty of selflessness, of innocence in the unsuspecting eyes. Yet, because of this lack of self-awareness, we actually go out into the world blind.
We all have an “I” feeling. It’s a condition of being here. But that’s something other than the awareness of Self, the true knowing of yourself. We are here without really knowing who or what we are. That’s pretty crazy. Each of us reaches out longingly, but at the same time it is unclear to whom the satisfaction of that longing is meant. When you say ‘I am fulfilled’ or ‘I am dissatisfied,’ who do you mean? And are we perhaps moving in the wrong direction in our longing for fulfillment? Rather away from the fulfillment we are actually seeking, than towards it?
The corona crisis whistles us back from the game we play with the world. We are thrown back on ourselves. With this, the crisis confronts us on a more fundamental level not only with our behaviour, but also with our idea of identity. As if we are stuck on a seesaw with an overweight on one side: the unbridled thirst for things outside of ourselves. The balance requires attention for the counterpart – the clear, honest look inside, at the self.
Yoga is one of the ways to provide that clarity, and thus, can provide an opening to true fulfillment. The Kaṭha Upaniṣad (I.3.3) provides a wonderful metaphor for sensory activity, self-knowledge and fulfillment. The representation is that of a chariot, manned by a charioteer leading a pair of horses. The charioteer represents the finest part of thought, intelligence (buddhi). This controls with the reins – the sensory thinking (manas) – the horses, representing the senses. This is how direction and gait are determined, the roads they travel.
Our ignorance is that we have forgotten that all this is in the hands of the Self, that which we are at our deepest. You could call that Self the ‘ultimate beneficiary’. Real fulfillment only takes place in the Self. Unfortunately, in a way we have gotten so drunk of ourselves and so entangled in the ride that we have forgotten.
The beginning of the turnaround is the silencing of the wild noise, something we are now forced to do from the outside. Yoga begins with the art of restraint. Freedom follows. Only when there is control can the horses trot or gallop freely in the open field. Only then do they become the ‘noble’ animals that they are – according to our imagination – by nature.
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