Readings on Upanishads
Unless we are fit to undertake spiritual study and practice, we won’t benefit from them. What does spiritual fitness mean? How is the Principle of Competence (adhikārī-vāda) connected with spiritual fitness?
In the earlier post, we saw what part of me survives death and what doesn’t. That raises an obvious question—what happens afterwards? Where do I go? What do the books say—and does it make sense?
What really dies when I die? Does anything of me survive death? Where does this surviving part of me go? What does my future look like after I die? Many questions, but are there any definitive answers? Is there a way to think that may help me deal with the reality of death?
Is the world that we see a “material” entity made up of atoms and molecules—or is there something more to it? Is the world alive in some way or form? Is it conceivable that the world of the living and the nonliving could itself be a living entity—perhaps a Cosmic Person (virāṭ)?
Does God have form or is God formless? Is God compassionate and loving? Or is God beyond all such qualities? Is God a person—or is God impersonal? How do we determine this? Does it even matter?
Did the world come about gradually or did it manifest all at once? When a disciple asked this question to Holy Mother Sarada Devi, her answer was direct: “Everything came into being at once, not gradually.” What are the implications of that answer, keeping in mind the theory of evolution and the religious stories about creation?
Oneness may be an enticing idea, yet it is only an “idea,” not what we normally see or experience every day. What we have to deal with in our daily lives is not oneness, but its polar opposite—many-ness. Oneness is simple, many-ness is complicated. Unity is peaceful, diversity is noisy.
We live in the midst of continuous change. It is everywhere—outside wherever I look and inside whenever I care to see. Is there anything I can do to not get swallowed by the change?
“You” is clearly whoever is in front of me. “Me” is myself, whatever my notion of “self” may be. “This” is whatever is relatively closer to me than “that” which is farther away. How are these personal and demonstrative pronouns employed in Vedanta?
Having addressed a few questions about the world and about the self, we must now turn our attention to God, who is probably the most significant among the triad of religious inquiry. What kind of questions come to mind when we begin to think about God? Here are a few.
What is the role of relationships in our lives? Why are some relationships happy and fulfilling, and some others not? How to build a successful relationship that ensures mutual happiness and growth? Have relationships anything to do with spiritual life?
Hospitality is not just about food. Even a kind word or a smile or a friendly nod goes a long way. If God is in everyone and in everything, what excuse do I have to be nasty to others? If I want to change my life for the better, all I need to remember is that, no matter in which direction I look, I am seeing God and no one else.
Are the four puruṣārthas—moral living (dharma), wealth (artha), pleasure (kāma), and freedom (mokṣa)—”goals” that are mandated in the Hindu tradition? Or is each of them only a possible means to happiness?
“A man once fed a peacock with a pill of opium at four o’clock in the afternoon. The next day, exactly at that time, the peacock came back. It had felt the intoxication of the drug and returned just in time to have another dose.” What lesson does this story have for you and me?
When does service become sacred? How does serving others become a spiritual practice? Who is the one who serves and to whom is service offered? If ultimately everything is really one, what purpose is served by service?
What makes a truth "grand"? Is it possible to compare one truth with another? Which is the grandest of all truths? is it true that it can free me from anger and fear, attachment and delusion?
What does “love” really mean? There is a lot to learn about it from the life and teachings of Sarada Devi.
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 older I grow, the more I am drawn to peace, even more than to happiness. When I am at peace with myself, I see clearly what makes me happy and what doesn’t—and this teaches me what I should do and what I shouldn’t do. When I am at peace with the world around me, I see clearly why there is suffering—and this teaches me what I can do to minimize the suffering.
No one knows what happens after death. We know what happens to the body, but hardly anything about what happens to the person. People who are curious about what happens after death are in no hurry to die in order to get that knowledge. When we are still living, we have the freedom to hope, to speculate, to imagine, to dream about what might happen after death.
We don’t have just one dream every night. Most of us have more than one dream. We effortlessly pass from one dream to the next. When we wake up, we remember only the “last” dream, the one we had just before we woke up. …
It is helpful to look at the world as a giant TV screen. An HD TV, no less, with 3D capability. Like any TV watching, so long as we see it from a distance, it is possible to enjoy it, or hate it, or be horrified by it, or at times get bored by it …
The first of the Four Practices (sādhana-catuṣṭaya) is discernment (viveka). What does it really mean? What does it do? How do I practice it? How does it help my spiritual life?