Teachers, Mentors, Gurus

Reflections on the Guru Principle

Śrīdhara Mahārāja explaining "Die to Live."

In an earlier article, we spoke of the need to ask “Why?” We wrote about the taboos placed on this question by authoritarian society. Inquiry is not meant to be irreverent and impertinent. Questions should not be asked merely to be questioning or clever. Real inquiry should strive for meaning.

The Vedas say, athāto brahma-jiñāsa, “Now is the time to make inquiry into Spirit.” True spiritual inquiry begins with self-examination, but inward truth-seeking inevitably turns outward. I may make so much progress alone, but sooner or later I will benefit from the advice and experience of other truth-seekers. The most-experienced and adept of truth-seekers may become my teacher.

I’ve been asked to write something explaining the nature of guru, or the guru principle.

Of course, if spirituality is a purely personal question, there would seem to be no need for a guru. Each one of us dies alone. Each one of us has to make the trip to the spiritual beyond alone. Who can tell us what awaits us on that ultimate journey?

Thesis Antithesis, Synthesis

This is especially true if there is no final destination. If this physical world is all in all, and no spiritual reality exists independent of the time-space continuum, then the entire exercise of spiritual practice is a waste of time.

Of course this defies Pascal’s Wager. Blaise Pascal was a French philosopher and mathematician. His famous quote was, “The heart has reasons that reason cannot know.” An odd expression for one who dedicated his life to rational thought in mathematics. And yet Pascal said life is a wager. Either God exists or he doesn’t. If he doesn’t exist and we do nothing, there is no loss. If he does exist and we do nothing, we lose. On the other hand if God exists and we act as if immortal life with God matters, we win.

It may be only a 50/50 proposition, but if we lose, we lose our immortal soul. Not exactly a proof for God’s existence, but worth thinking about.

Again, if there is no immortal soul and there is no God, then spiritual practice may be meaningless. You needn’t read further.

And yet, if we are immortal, if there is a conscious entity who survives the destruction of the body, we must face a deeper question. What is the nature of immortality? How do we become aware of our own immortality? What is enlightenment or illumination? Is immortality static or dynamic?

Static immortality implies that we reach a state of divine equality and balance, or samādhi, in eternal life. After achieving this state there can be no further growth or development: we have reached IT, nirvana, oneness. This is certainly a possibility. In fact, most meditation societies aim at just such a goal.

And yet, such a state denies the dynamic aspect of reality. In our own experience, reality involves give and take, positive and negative, yin and yang, masculine and feminine. If spiritual reality exists, why would it be devoid of all dynamic?

Another great philosopher in Western truth-seeking was Georg Frederich Hegel. One of the key concepts he developed was the evolution of ideal reality through thesis, anti-thesis, and synthesis. A thing or thesis implies its opposite or antithesis. The union of opposites evolves into a new thing, a synthesis.

The Chinese have a practical way of demonstrating Hegel’s concept. Yin is white and negative. Alone it has only negative power. Yang is positive power. Without a receptive energy positive power has nowhere to go. Combined, the negative and positive, the feminine and masculine create a powerful dynamic: the flow between positive and negative defines the world. Scientists examine the positive and negative aspects of material nature. The flow of charged particles create electricity and many other forces.

Why then, should spiritual reality be a dead and static thing? What if immortality is positive? What would the nature of positive immortality? Generations of truth-seekers have dedicated their sojourn in the material world to this question. Jesus Christ spoke of God as his “Father.” He said, “In my Father’s house are many mansions.” What did he mean by this? Of course, we understand how to read this metaphorically, but what if he had a more dynamic meaning in mind?

These are all complex questions, difficult to sort out. Our mundane lives are filled with so many survival issues that we often find ourselves with no time to contemplate the universe. Sex, money, love, property. As William Wordsworth put it, “The world is too much with us...getting and spending we lay waste our powers.”

The central argument of the Hindu epic, the Mahābhārata is found in the Bhagavad-gītā, the deepest wisdom teachings of that great tradition. Those teachings begin with Arjuna’s dilemma.

Arjuna is not a delicate intellectual. He is a great warrior. He is to India’s tradition what Achilles or Hector are to Greek Mythology. He has fought the ghost warriors of the Nivata-Kavacha, killed man-eating Rakshasas, wrestled Naga serpents, and dueled with various kings and princes. He is well-known as a dangerous archer and a powerful wrestler. His strength is rivaled only by his brother Bhima himself.

And yet, unlike the ruthless Achilles who drags the dead body of his rival Hector behind his chariot, Arjuna has a conscience. Just at the moment when the conflict is about to begin, he flinches. Kurukshetra is a war which will define the ancient world. We are told that militaristic kings gathered there to dominate the world and exterminate opposition. Arjuna’s job was to put a stop to their terrorism. Cruel tyrants and despots were ready to destroy India’s traditions and establish themselves as absolute dictators. Arjuna’s duty is to stop them.

The Great Conversation

And yet, Arjuna has a conscience. He sees friends and relatives in the ranks of the soldiers gathered before him. His grandfather, Bhishma and his guru Drona are aligned against him, ready to kill him and the rest of his family, What are they fighting for?

He stops his chariot between the two warring parties for a moment of reflection. His brother Bhima is the general of his forces. He will fight with or without Arjuna. But without Arjuna’s military might they will assuredly lose. And Arjuna is torn. What should he do?

Arjuna accepts Krishna as guru

He consults his friend, Krishna. Now if Krishna were merely a friend, perhaps we wouldn’t take the conversation so seriously. But Krishna is a mysterious figure in the Mahābhārata; one with strange and divine powers. His help has been sought out by both sides. Arjuna’s rival, the envious Duryodhana, usurper of the throne has also asked for Krishna’s help in winning the war. Krishna responds by awarding Duryodhana with his own army; his personal advice and help is reserved for Arjuna.

Krishna Reveals Himself

So Krishna’s advice is not merely the counsel of a friend; Arjuna knows he needs Krishna’s wisdom to win the war. This is why Krishna rides with Arjuna: not merely as a personal friend, but as a mystic personality who may reveal important secrets about how to win the war.

At the moment of Arjuna’s crisis, he has given up on winning the war. He doesn’t see how any good can come from battle. The conflict has gotten the better of his conscience. As Hamlet puts it, “Thus conscience does make fools of us all.”

Arjuna’s crisis of conscience leads to a profound discussion about death, reality, immortality, duty, karma, dharma, the nature of the universe, time, creation, the subtle influences that drive us, and the subjective evolution of consciousness.

The Circle of Life and Death

Finally, Krishna reveals the power behind the mystery: We are told that Krishna is the Lord God Himself, come to reveal truth and dispel ignorance. The battle is pre-ordained as terrorist kings are doomed. The earth is weary of war. This war is to end all wars. God has his purpose which must not be questioned. Surrender to God is the active principle of positive immortality.

Arjuna is awe-struck. He surrenders and the conflict of war which may be seen as the struggle of material existence continues.

But the truths found in this great wisdom tradition never see the light of day without Arjuna’s conflict of conscience. He empties himself completely before he can accept divine truth. This emptiness or negativity may be seen as a kind of darkness or death. Krishna’s teachings are life, positive light. The Hegelian synthesis is seen in Arjuna’s surrender: Die to Live.

Die to Live. This is a synthetic way of condensing Hegelian dialectic into an aphorism. It was the favorite aphorism of my gurudeva, His Divine Grace Om Vishnupada 108 Paramahamsa Bhakti Rakshaka Shridhar dev Goswami. Die to Live.

The key to Arjuna’s conclusion is found here. Die to Live. Surrender. Before he discovers Krishna as the Supreme Godhead, he first surrenders to Krishna as guru.

Surrender begins with sincere inquiry. It progresses through emptiness. We cannot sincerely inquire as long as we have the answers. When we understand our helplessness, our impotence before death, our inability to grasp the true nature of immortality without the help of a mentor or spiritual preceptor, we can approach a teacher.

We resent the idea that someone can teach us something. It is natural. Our ego tells us that we can find out what we need by ourselves. If spiritual life is universal, then why can’t I understand it intuitively? Why would I need anyone’s advice? I know my own pain better than anyone else. Who is qualified to inform me about my own spiritual life?

Even the word “guru” sounds perjorative. It stands for authoritarian teaching, absolute expertise, cultish, supernatural, intellectualism.

One of the most famous “gurus” of the 20th century, J. Krishnamurti, had his “school” in Ojai, California not far from where I grew up. I was first exposed to his teachings when I was a high school student. My Russian teacher had one of his books on his desk. I liked some of his ideas. Later I met some of his followers

He spread the idea that “truth is a pathless land,” it can’t be found through any organization, creed, dogma, priest or ritual. Later it seemed to me that he had made his living as a guru by preaching that we don’t need gurus. He taught that you don’t need a teacher. He wrote books explaining that books were unnecessary. And so it goes.

Of course, I was a teenager when I concluded that this was an absurd premise. I recently studied his teachings again last year before visiting Kiev, Ukraine on a speaking tour. I wanted to see if I was being unfair. I found tapes of his lectures on the internet. He had a series on “education.” Since I work as a teacher, I thought this would be a good place to get an unbiased review of his teachings. At the time of the recording Krishnamurti had established a school to disseminate his teachings. On the recordings I listened to the teachers were discussing with the master what should be taught in their school. They were faced with a real-life, practical problem. Students were paying enrollment fees to study at the Krishnamurti school. They asked, “What would they teach?”

The nonguru guru’s response was a study in circumlocution. Krishnamurti responded by saying “Is that an important question? What do you want to teach? Why do we need teaching at all? What is the point of education?” The titles of his talks betray their content: “The energy in emptiness,” “freedom from the known,” “Why are we afraid to be nothing?” As he spoke with the teachers of his famous Ojai school, he left them with exactly nothing. Nothing to teach, nothing to learn. Only the message: “I have nothing to teach you.”

One may consider this as his humility. Many people certainly do. It’s well and good to say I’m not a teacher. But there is something destructive in insisting that no one can teach. And there is something terribly disingenuous in making a living teaching that you can’t teach or writing books that say books have no value. Krishnamurti was the guru of those who need no guru. Back in the 1960s, I was a bit of a rebel. I had no need for a guru, I thought. So Krishnamurti was a good place to start.

But getting back to Arjuna, here we have a man in true spiritual crisis. He’s crying out to the gods in anguish. And yet before long, he realizes he’s standing before God Himself.

In his moment of doubt, Arjuna tells Krishna, karpanya-doṣapahata-svahāva...(BG2.7) “I am weak. Overcome. I have no idea what to do or what is dharma. Consider me your disciple. I surrender. (śiṣyaḥ te’ham śādhi mām tvām prapannam)

Without surrender, there can be no progress. Real inquiry must be made on the basis of surrender. Only when we are truly empty can we be filled with knowledge.

Śrīdhar Mahārāja often told me the story of the piano teacher who charged two different prices: a regular price for new students and double for intermediates. The teacher had to unteach them what they had learned wrong and then reteach them starting from the beginning, so he charged them double.

A little knowledge is a dangerous thing. In fact one of the greatest learning disabilities is the idea that “I know this.” As a working language teacher I always discover two obstacles to learning in my students: “This is too difficult,” and “”I already know this.” These are the two greatest challenges to learning anything.

I reject what is too difficult or technical and filter it out. It’s boring, so I can’t learn it. I reject what I already know. Why learn something if I know it?

One of the most difficult things to teach a 2nd language learner is the alphabet. Students think, “I know this. This is too easy.” After five years of English lessons they still can’t spell their name. They don’t have the patience to relearn something elementary in a new way.

The question of identity is the most difficult to relearn. “I know who I am: I’m American, I’m an English speaker.” Who can teach me about my real identity?

We can only learn about our true identity when we are emptied of all previous misconceptions. This may come about as a result of trauma, loss, true inquiry, or a divine and saintly nature. The burning hunger for spiritual self-discovery may not occur when we are self-satisfied with ordinary mundane material existence. But sometimes it appears like a flash of lightning as it did to Saul on the Road to Jerusalem, to Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane or to Arjuna at the Battle of Kurukshetra. Only in that emptiness is it possible to surrender one’s self completely to guidance from an enlightened soul.

Positive immortality is possible only for surrendered souls. But what is surrender? How does one arrive at complete dedication in divine love? And what is the nature of positive immortality?

The positive immortality of surrendered souls implies participation in the living and dynamic world of the sweet absolute: Kṛṣṇa, Reality the Beautiful. Positive immortality means to join the play of the sweet absolute; to join the dance of divine reality in the highest plane. Lesser concepts of immortality are insipid.

The oneness of God, or the Divine Light, is a popular view of immortality. We are drops in the ocean of consciousness, motes of light that seek reunion with the spiritual sun of Godhead. But this is one-dimensional. The generalized idea of Spirit is that of a nondefinite consciousness, unknown and unknowable, nirvana. But the Kṛṣṇa conception of Divinity supercedes both mundane phenomenal and undefined numinous existence. Surrender opens us to receive mercy from that higher plane. Through surrender the jiva or spirit soul can transcend the sterile immortality of the nondifferentiated plane of consciousness.

And above the nondifferentiated spirit plane, immortality is positive and dynamic. Even there, we find gradation: There is the the Fatherhood of Godhead in Vaikuṇṭha, where Vishnu is worshipped in awe and reverence. There is the Kingdom of God in Ayodhya, where Ram rules with Rajya-Rama. Kṛṣṇa is King also in Dvārakā and Prince of Mathurā. In all these transcendental planes, surrender is coin of the realm. Surrender is the language spoken by residence of all these divine planes. But surrender reaches its highest level in Vrindabana.

Those enlightened beings who have a taste of this higher reality are the best spiritual guides for they have been touched by the most powerful and dynamic aspects of positive immortality.

It is uncommon for a conditioned soul to come into contact with those who are familiar with this plane of surrender. Such divinely realized souls are true masters and teachers. By inquiring from them, serving them and surrendering to them one may be enlightened completely.

Krishna tells Arjuna, tad viddhi praṇipātena paripraśnena sevaya upadekṣyanti te jñānam jñaninas tattva-darṣinaḥ,

You may the truth from a truth-seer (tattva-darṣinaḥ) through sincere inquiry, service, and surrender. (praṇipātena paripraśnena sevaya). This advice, first given thousands of years ago, holds today.

I need a teacher to learn to drive a car, play music, or speak French. Why would it be unnecessary for my spiritual life? Of course, we think spiritual life is intuitive. But in point of fact what is intuitive is not necessarily spiritual. I love sweets. It is intuitive for me to eat sugar. And yet, my Doctor tells me I have Diabetes. Sweets will make be go blind, lose the use of my limbs, and die from insulin shock.

This is counter-intuitive.

I can’t understand how sugar is dangerous. Still, I follow the doctor’s advice and avoid honey. My senses tell me it is good. But the higher authority of the doctor is there. If I avoid sweets I feel better.

Sex is fun. And yet, sex has consequences: pregnancy and babies come to mind. It is counter-intuitive to get married and follow the norms of society. And yet I am happier in a monogamous relationship. Drugs are fun. And yet addiction is deadly. Many aspects of life are counter-intuitive.

Education teaches me to live a pleasurable life by avoiding immediate certain pleasures. Spiritual educations goes beyond mundane education. Why should I not accept its peculiar demands? If God exists, if immortality has any importance, why not seek from those who have seen the truth? Why not lay aside my egoistic preconceptions that I already know everything and seek guidance from a more evolved soul? Am I perfect?

If God exists, and if he is infinite, he must have the power of self-revelation. And if I am so busy with my animal life that I have little awareness of divine life, why not seek help from those to whom God has revealed Himself?

I have seen that God Consciousness, or Divine Consciousness, or Krishna Consciousness may not be “intuitive.” Since I am distracted by so many other things in my daily life I have ignored the set of skill required for a true apprehension of the divine. Why not seek out the company of those souls who can deliver me true divine guidance?

That's me on the left, taking guidance from Goswami Maharaja