Where do we look for answers? Usually somewhere outside, for most of our questions are related to the world, by which I mean something or someone who is somewhere out there. We spend the day dealing with people and things in the world and we spend the night dealing with people and things in our dreams, except for a few fortunate minutes in deep sleep when we are not dealing with anybody or anything anywhere. But that kind of dreamless sleep is a teeny-weeny fraction of our time. Most of our lives are really spent in service of whatever is outside. There is a reason for this. The Kaṭhopaniṣad (2.1.1) says:
पराञ्चिखानि व्यतृणत् स्वयंभू: तस्मात् पराङ्पश्यति नान्तरात्मन् ।
parāñcikhāni vyatṛṇat svayambhūḥ, tasmāt parāṅ paśyati, na antarātman.
“The Supreme Being destroyed the senses by projecting them outward. That is why a person sees what is outside, not the inner self.”
Our senses are designed to receive sights, smells, sounds, tastes, and touch from the outside. All we need to do is open our eyes and the world of color and form fills our being. Similar is the case with the other senses. The process is effortless and it feels natural. What is not natural is to turn our attention to the inside. Looking inside requires enormous effort and doesn’t feel natural at all. The Upaniṣad continues:
कश्चिद्धीर: प्रत्यगात्मानमैक्षत् आवृत्तचक्षुरमृतत्वमिच्छन् ।
kaścit dhīraḥ pratyag-ātmānam aikṣat āvṛtta-chakṣuḥ amṛtattvam icchan.
“Yearning for immortality, a wise person turns the senses inward and beholds the inner self.”
Turning the senses inward is easier said than done. Encountering the ātman is difficult. Not many want to do it, which is not surprising, because many don’t even know that there is an inner self. The Upaniṣad (1.3.12) acknowledges that:
एष सर्वेषु भूतेषु गूढोऽऽत्मा न प्रकाशते ।
eṣa sarveṣu bhūteṣu gūḍho’tmā na prakāśate.
“Hidden in all beings, the ātman does not reveal itself.”
Then what hope have we of seeing the ātman? Can it ever be seen? Here is the Upaniṣadic assurance:
दृश्यते त्वग्र्यया बुद्ध्या सूक्ष्मया सूक्ष्मदर्शिभि: ।
dṛśyate tu agryayā buddhyā sūkṣmayā sūkṣma-darśibhiḥ.
“But (the ātman) is seen through the sharp and subtle intuition of those who perceive subtle realities.”
Looking inside is neither easy nor natural. It demands heroic effort, but—and this is important—looking inside is not impossible. Very few feel the urge to do it and, among those who do, only a handful succeed in doing it well. Nevertheless this hasn’t stopped a small number of brave and courageous people in every generation from giving it a serious try. By and large, though, most people tend to follow the path of least resistance. They surrender meekly to the outgoing senses and the dispersed mind.
It is because of this kind of extroverted disposition that we are more likely to ask questions such as “Why is this world the way it is?” instead of: Why am I seeing the world this way? We turn to the news media or social networks with this question in mind: “What’s happening in my neighborhood / my city / my country?” How often have we asked ourselves: Why am I so curious? Even in religious pursuits, we tend to ask: “Why did God create this world?” or “Why is there evil in the world?”, even “Who is God?”, instead of looking within and wondering: Who is asking all these questions?
Not that the outward-directed questions shouldn’t be asked or are somehow inherently wrong, but the amazing rarity of self-directed questions confirms the Upaniṣadic observation that the senses were “destroyed,” as it were, by their outgoing tendency. Why “destroyed”? Because it is this going out and getting muddied in the mind-boggling, intoxicating insanity of the world that is responsible for the stress, anxiety, fear, anger, and hatred in the human heart.
In deep sleep, both the mind and the senses are withdrawn and we experience no stress, no anxiety, no fear, no anger and no hatred—none of the things that produce so much pain and suffering. It is easy to see the correlation between suffering and looking out. None of us can sleep indefinitely and who amongst us wants that anyway? Is it possible to reclaim the peace and bliss of deep sleep even when we are not sleeping? Is it possible to be free from stress and anxiety even when we are in the midst of the din and bustle of the world?
The answer is a resounding yes, with this qualifier: I must first look within and then look outside while remaining within. Looking out while looking in is what is meant by looking at everything subjectively. In an 1899 letter to his disciple E. T. Sturdy, Swami Vivekananda described this as “the true Indian principle of looking subjectively for the cause of the objective” (CW 8. 472). In another letter, written three years earlier, this time to his disciple and stenographer J. J. Goodwin, Swamiji says: “We Vedantists in every difficulty ought to ask the subjective question, ‘Why do I see that?’ ‘Why can I not conquer this with love?’” (CW 8. 383). In the same year, to another disciple Mary Hale, Swamiji wrote:
“The fact being that the Lord is in us, we are He, the eternal subject, the real ego, never to be objectified, and that all this objectifying process is mere waste of time and talent. When the soul becomes aware of this, it gives up objectifying and falls back more and more upon the subjective.” (CW 6. 378)
We see the emphasis on the subjective pop up with remarkable regularity in Swamiji’s public lectures as well. For instance:
“It is the subjective world that rules the objective. Change the subject, and the object is bound to change; purify yourself, and the world is bound to be purified. This one thing requires to be taught now more than ever before.” (CW 1. 426)
“We cannot possible conquer all the objective environments. We cannot. The little fish wants to fly from its enemies in the water. How does it do so? By evolving wings and becoming a bird. The fish did not change the water or the air; the change was in itself. Change is always subjective. All through evolution you find that the conquest of nature comes by change in the subject. Apply this to religion and morality, and you will find that the conquest of evil comes by the change in the subjective alone. That is how the Advaita system gets its whole force, on the subjective side. To talk of evil and misery is nonsense, because they do not exist outside. If I am immune against all anger, I never feel angry. If I am immune against all hatred, I never feel hatred.” (CW 2. 137-38)
“We, as Vedantists, must always look at things from an introspective viewpoint, from its subjective relations. We, as Vedantists, know for certain that there is no power in the universe to injure us unless we first injure ourselves.” (CW 3. 166)
The implications of “looking subjectively for the cause of the objective” are staggering. The practice isn’t easy, but when we begin to emphasize the subjective, there is a radical change in whatever we see outside. When we look out while looking in, what we see is shockingly different from what we saw earlier. The change outside is directly related to the change inside. As long as I see myself in human terms, I cannot but see others around me in the same way. But when I behold the divine light inside, I am able to see the same divine light outside as well. In fact, the terms “inside” and “outside” become superfluous then.
Even before I have perfected the practice, I will already begin to see the world differently. For instance, māyā will no longer be something “out there” in the world. I will see that it is “in here” within me and responsible for all the mischief—my twisted thinking, my mindless actions, my selfish relationships. This is how māyā keeps me immersed in the darkness of ignorance. Looking out while looking in has the power to neutralize māyā and to lift the veil of ignorance.
When I persist with the practice against all odds, it will be increasingly difficult for me to condemn or hate others, for the problem is not that they are bad but that I am making the mistake of seeing a human being where I should have seen a divine being. It’s my mistake, not theirs. Would my seeing them differently change them? Not necessarily. What will change, though, is my attitude toward them. The way I speak of them, the way I relate to them, the way I deal with them—all of this will be different if I see them differently. Very likely, in time it will also bring about some change in the way they see me.
Looking out while looking in will make me calmer and less judgmental. Most distractions in meditation spring from the thoughts arising from me judging others and from the stress created by others judging me. These will be significantly reduced, improving the quality of my japa and meditation. I’ll also become more tolerant, more patient, more forgiving. When I see others make mistakes, instead of getting annoyed, irritated or angry, I’ll look within and see that I make mistakes too, so what’s the big deal if someone else also makes mistakes? Mistakes need to be corrected, of course, but the way I’ll do it will be different now. There will be more compassion, less irritation; more love, less anger.
When I see others do something well, I’ll be able to appreciate it better and be more generous with my praise, for I’ll look within and be reminded of the joy I’ve had from a thing done well. I will want to see the same joy in the heart and on the face of the person standing before me. It needs no saying that my getting calmer and less judgmental will improve my interpersonal relationships, bringing about greater peace and harmony in my family and in my community.
If I notice such changes in me, it is a sign that my practice is going well. All I need to do is stay the course with patience and perseverance. I’ll behold the ātman—my own true self—when my practice reaches perfection and when I no longer have to make effort to look out while looking in. It will become as natural as breathing. No longer will there be any distinction between what is “in” and what is “out.” There will just be the one abiding reality everywhere, inside me and outside me. That reality is me—the ātman. Period. This is how the Chāndogya Upaniṣad (7.25.2) describes the experience:
आत्मैवाधस्ताद् आत्मोपरिष्टाद् आत्मा पश्चाद् आत्मा पुरस्ताद् आत्मा दक्षिण आत्मोत्तरत: आत्मैवेदं सर्वम् ।
Ātmā-eva-adhastād, ātmā-upariṣṭād, ātmā paścād, ātmā purastād, ātmā dakṣiṇataḥ, ātmā-uttarataḥ, ātmā-eva-idaṁ sarvam.
“The ātman is below, the ātman is above, the ātman is behind, the ātman is in front, the ātman is to the south, the ātman is to the north. The ātman alone is all this.”
Profound peace, unending bliss, eternal freedom, total fulfillment—everything that anyone would want comes from the direct encounter with the ātman. My experience of me as I really am returns me to myself. The exile is over.