Chapter:16 Outwitting the Stars
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Chapter21 Chapter22 Chapter23 Chapter24 | |
"Mukunda,
why don't you get an astrological armlet?" "Should
I, Master? I don't believe in astrology." "It is
never a question of belief; the only
scientific attitude one can take on any subject is whether it is true. The law of gravitation worked as efficiently
before Newton as after him. The cosmos would be fairly chaotic if its laws could not
operate without the sanction of human belief. "Charlatans
have brought the stellar science to its present state of disrepute. Astrology is too vast,
both mathematically and
philosophically, to be rightly grasped except by men of profound understanding. If
ignoramuses misread the heavens, and see there a scrawl instead of a script, that is to be
expected in this imperfect world. One should not dismiss the wisdom with the 'wise.' "All
parts of creation are linked together and interchange their influences. The balanced
rhythm of the universe is rooted in reciprocity," my guru continued. "Man, in
his human aspect, has to combat two sets of forces—first, the tumults within his
being, caused by the admixture of earth, water, fire, air, and ethereal elements; second,
the outer disintegrating powers of nature. So long as man struggles with his mortality, he
is affected by the myriad mutations of heaven and earth. "Astrology
is the study of man's response to planetary stimuli. The stars have no conscious
benevolence or animosity; they merely send forth positive and negative radiations. Of
themselves, these do not help or harm humanity, but offer a lawful channel for the outward
operation of cause-effect equilibriums which each man has set into motion in the past. "A child
is born on that day and at that hour when the celestial rays are in mathematical harmony
with his individual karma. His horoscope is a challenging portrait, revealing his
unalterable past and its probable future results. But the natal chart can be rightly
interpreted only by men of intuitive wisdom: these are few. "The
message boldly blazoned across the heavens at the moment of birth is not meant to
emphasize fate—the result of past good and evil—but to arouse man's will to
escape from his universal thralldom. What he has done, he can undo. None other than
himself was the instigator of the causes of whatever effects are now prevalent in his
life. He can overcome any limitation, because he created it by his own actions in the
first place, and because he has spiritual resources which are not subject to planetary
pressure. "Superstitious
awe of astrology makes one an automaton, slavishly dependent on mechanical guidance. The
wise man defeats his planets—which is to say, his past—by transferring his
allegiance from the creation to the Creator. The more he realizes his unity with Spirit,
the less he can be dominated by matter. The soul is ever-free; it is deathless because
birthless. It cannot be regimented by stars. "Man is a soul, and has a body. When he properly places his sense of
identity, he leaves behind all compulsive patterns. So long as he remains confused in his
ordinary state of spiritual amnesia, he will know the subtle fetters of environmental law. "God is
harmony; the devotee who attunes himself will never perform any action amiss. His
activities will be correctly and naturally timed to accord with astrological law. After
deep prayer and meditation he is in touch with his divine consciousness; there is no
greater power than that inward protection." "Then,
dear Master, why do you want me to wear an astrological bangle?" I ventured this
question after a long silence, during which I had tried to assimilate Sri Yukteswar's
noble exposition. "It is
only when a traveler has reached his goal that he is justified in discarding his maps.
During the journey, he takes advantage of any convenient short cut. The ancient rishis
discovered many ways to curtail the period of man's exile in delusion. There are certain
mechanical features in the law of karma which can be skillfully adjusted by the fingers of
wisdom. "All
human ills arise from some transgression of universal law. The scriptures point out that
man must satisfy the laws of nature, while not discrediting the divine omnipotence. He
should say: 'Lord, I trust in Thee, and know Thou canst help me, but I too will do my best
to undo any wrong I have done.' By a number of means—by prayer, by will power, by
yoga meditation, by consultation with saints, by use of astrological bangles—the
adverse effects of past wrongs can be minimized or nullified. "Just as
a house can be fitted with a copper rod to absorb the shock of lightning, so the bodily
temple can be benefited by various protective measures. Ages ago our yogis discovered that
pure metals emit an astral light which is powerfully counteractive to negative pulls of
the planets. Subtle electrical and magnetic radiations are constantly circulating in the
universe; when a man's body is being aided, he does not know it; when it is being
disintegrated, he is still in ignorance. Can he do anything about it? "This
problem received attention from our rishis; they found helpful not only a combination of
metals, but also of plants and—most effective of all—faultless jewels of not
less than two carats. The preventive uses of astrology have seldom been seriously studied
outside of India. One little-known fact is that the proper jewels, metals, or plant
preparations are valueless unless the required weight is secured, and unless these
remedial agents are worn next to the skin." "Sir, of
course I shall take your advice and get a bangle. I am intrigued at the thought of
outwitting a planet!" "For
general purposes I counsel the use of an armlet made of gold, silver, and copper. But for
a specific purpose I want you to get one of silver and lead." Sri Yukteswar added
careful directions. "Guruji,
what 'specific purpose' do you mean?" "The
stars are about to take an unfriendly interest in you, Mukunda. Fear not; you shall be
protected. In about a month your liver will cause you much trouble. The illness is
scheduled to last for six months, but your use of an astrological armlet will shorten the
period to twenty-four days." I sought out
a jeweler the next day, and was soon wearing the bangle. My health was excellent; Master's
prediction slipped from my mind. He left Serampore to visit Benares. Thirty days after our
conversation, I felt a sudden pain in the region of my liver. The following weeks were a
nightmare of excruciating pain. Reluctant to disturb my guru, I thought I would bravely
endure my trial alone. But
twenty-three days of torture weakened my resolution; I entrained for Benares. There Sri
Yukteswar greeted me with unusual warmth, but gave me no opportunity to tell him my woes
in private. Many devotees visited Master that day, just for a darshan. Ill and
neglected, I sat in a corner. It was not until after the evening meal that all guests had
departed. My guru summoned me to the octagonal balcony of the house. "You
must have come about your liver disorder." Sri Yukteswar's gaze was averted; he
walked to and fro, occasionally intercepting the moonlight. "Let me see; you have
been ailing for twenty-four days, haven't you?" "Yes,
sir." "Please
do the stomach exercise I have taught you." "If you
knew the extent of my suffering, Master, you would not ask me to exercise."
Nevertheless I made a feeble attempt to obey him. "You say
you have pain; I say you have none. How can such contradictions exist?" My guru
looked at me inquiringly. I was dazed
and then overcome with joyful relief. No longer could I feel the continuous torment that
had kept me nearly sleepless for weeks; at Sri Yukteswar's words the agony vanished as
though it had never been. I started to
kneel at his feet in gratitude, but he quickly prevented me. "Don't
be childish. Get up and enjoy the beauty of the moon over the Ganges." But Master's
eyes were twinkling happily as I stood in silence beside him. I understood by his attitude
that he wanted me to feel that not he, but God, had been the Healer. I wear even
now the heavy silver and lead bangle, a memento of that day—long-past,
ever-cherished—when I found anew that I was living with a personage indeed
superhuman. On later occasions, when I brought my friends to Sri Yukteswar for healing, he
invariably recommended jewels or the bangle, extolling their use as an act of astrological
wisdom. I had been
prejudiced against astrology from my childhood, partly because I observed that many people
are sequaciously attached to it, and partly because of a prediction made by our family
astrologer: "You will marry three times, being twice a widower." I brooded over
the matter, feeling like a goat awaiting sacrifice before the temple of triple matrimony. "You may
as well be resigned to your fate," my brother Ananta had remarked. "Your written
horoscope has correctly stated that you would fly from home toward the Himalayas during
your early years, but would be forcibly returned. The forecast of your marriages is also
bound to be true."
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A
clear intuition came to me one night that the prophecy was wholly false. I set fire to the
horoscope scroll, placing the ashes in a paper bag on which I wrote: "Seeds of past
karma cannot germinate if they are roasted in the divine fires of wisdom." I put the
bag in a conspicuous spot; Ananta immediately read my defiant comment. "You
cannot destroy truth as easily as you have burnt this paper scroll." My brother
laughed scornfully. It is a fact
that on three occasions before I reached manhood, my family tried to arrange my betrothal.
Each time I refused to fall in with the plans, knowing that
my love for God was more overwhelming than any astrological persuasion from the past. "The
deeper the self-realization of a man, the more he influences the whole universe by his
subtle spiritual vibrations, and the less he himself is affected by the phenomenal
flux." These words of Master's often returned inspiringly to my mind. Occasionally
I told astrologers to select my worst periods, according to planetary indications, and I
would still accomplish whatever task I set myself. It is true that my success at such
times has been accompanied by extraordinary difficulties. But my conviction has always
been justified: faith in the divine protection, and the right use of man's God-given will,
are forces formidable beyond any the "inverted bowl" can muster. Sri Yukteswar
discovered the mathematical application of a 24,000-year equinoctial cycle to our present
age. The
cycle is divided into an Ascending Arc and a Descending Arc, each of 12,000 years. Within
each Arc fall four Yugas or Ages, called Kali, Dwapara, Treta, and Satya, corresponding to the Greek ideas of Iron,
Bronze, Silver, and Golden Ages. My guru
determined by various calculations that the last
Kali Yuga or Iron Age, of the Ascending Arc, started about A.D. 500. The Iron Age,
1200 years in duration, is a span of materialism; it ended about A.D. 1700. That year
ushered in Dwapara Yuga, a 2400-year period of
electrical and atomic-energy developments, the age of telegraph, radio, airplanes, and
other space-annihilators. The 3600-year
period of Treta Yuga will start in A.D. 4100;
its age will be marked by common knowledge of telepathic communications and other
time-annihilators. During the 4800 years of Satya
Yuga, final age in an ascending arc, the intelligence of a man will be completely
developed; he will work in harmony with the divine plan. A descending
arc of 12,000 years, starting with a descending Golden Age of 4800 years, then begins for
the world; man gradually sinks into ignorance. These cycles are the eternal rounds of maya, the contrasts and relativities of the
phenomenal universe. Man, one by one, escapes from creation's prison of duality as he
awakens to consciousness of his inseverable divine unity with the Creator. Master
enlarged my understanding not only of astrology but of the world's scriptures. Placing the
holy texts on the spotless table of his mind, he was able to dissect them with the scalpel
of intuitive reasoning, and to separate errors and interpolations of scholars from the
truths as originally expressed by the prophets. "Fix
one's vision on the end of the nose." This inaccurate interpretation of a Bhagavad Gita stanza, widely
accepted by Eastern pundits and Western translators, used to arouse Master's droll
criticism. "The
path of a yogi is singular enough as it is," he remarked. "Why counsel him that
he must also make himself cross-eyed? The true meaning of nasikagram is 'origin of the nose, not 'end of the
nose.' The nose begins at the point between the two eyebrows, the seat of spiritual
vision." Because of
one Sankhya aphorism,
"Iswar-ashidha,"—"A Lord of
Creation cannot be deduced" or "God is not proved,"—many scholars call
the whole philosophy atheistical. "The
verse is not nihilistic," Sri Yukteswar explained. "It merely signifies that to
the unenlightened man, dependent on his senses for all final judgments, proof of God must
remain unknown and therefore non-existent. True
Sankhya followers, with unshakable insight born of meditation, understand that the
Lord is both existent and knowable." Master
expounded the Christian Bible with a beautiful clarity. It was from my Hindu guru, unknown
to the roll call of Christian membership, that I learned to perceive the deathless essence
of the Bible, and to understand the truth in Christ's assertion—surely the most
thrillingly intransigent ever uttered: "Heaven and earth shall pass away, but my
words shall not pass away." The great
masters of India mold their lives by the same godly ideals which animated Jesus; these men
are his proclaimed kin: "Whosoever shall do the will of my Father which is in heaven,
the same is my brother, and sister, and mother." "If ye
continue in my word," Christ pointed out, "then are ye my disciples indeed; and
ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free." Freemen all, lords of
themselves, the Yogi-Christs of India are part of the immortal fraternity: those who have
attained a liberating knowledge of the One Father. "The
Adam and Eve story is incomprehensible to me!" I observed with considerable heat one
day in my early struggles with the allegory. "Why did God punish not only the guilty
pair, but also the innocent unborn generations?" Master was
more amused by my vehemence than my ignorance. "Genesis
is deeply symbolic, and cannot be grasped by a literal interpretation," he explained.
"Its 'tree of life' is the human body. The spinal cord is like an upturned tree, with
man's hair as its roots, and afferent and efferent nerves as branches. The tree of the
nervous system bears many enjoyable fruits, or sensations of sight, sound, smell, taste,
and touch. In these, man may rightfully indulge; but he was forbidden the experience of
sex, the 'apple' at the center of the bodily garden. "The
'serpent' represents the coiled-up spinal energy which stimulates the sex nerves. 'Adam'
is reason, and 'Eve' is feeling. When the emotion or Eve-consciousness in any human being
is overpowered by the sex impulse, his reason or Adam also succumbs. "God
created the human species by materializing the bodies of man and woman through the force
of His will; He endowed the new species with the power to create children in a similar
'immaculate' or divine manner. Because His
manifestation in the individualized soul had hitherto been limited to animals,
instinct-bound and lacking the potentialities of full reason, God made the first human
bodies, symbolically called Adam and Eve. To these, for advantageous upward evolution, He
transferred the souls or divine essence of two animals. In Adam or man, reason
predominated; in Eve or woman, feeling was ascendant. Thus was expressed the duality or
polarity which underlies the phenomenal worlds. Reason and feeling remain in a heaven of
cooperative joy so long as the human mind is not tricked by the serpentine energy of
animal propensities. "The
human body was therefore not solely a result of evolution from beasts, but was produced by
an act of special creation by God. The animal forms were too crude to express full
divinity; the human being was uniquely given a tremendous mental capacity—the
'thousand-petaled lotus' of the brain—as well as acutely awakened occult centers in
the spine. "God, or
the Divine Consciousness present within the first created pair, counseled them to enjoy
all human sensibilities, but not to put their concentration on touch sensations.
These were banned in order to avoid the development of the sex organs, which would enmesh
humanity in the inferior animal method of propagation. The warning not to revive
subconsciously-present bestial memories was not heeded. Resuming the way of brute
procreation, Adam and Eve fell from the state of heavenly joy natural to the original
perfect man. "Knowledge
of 'good and evil' refers to the cosmic dualistic compulsion. Falling under the sway of maya through misuse of his feeling and reason,
or Eve—and Adam—consciousness, man relinquishes his right to enter the heavenly
garden of divine self-sufficiency. The personal
responsibility of every human being is to restore his 'parents' or dual nature to a
unified harmony or Eden." As Sri
Yukteswar ended his discourse, I glanced with new respect at the pages of Genesis. "Dear
Master,' I said, "for the first time I feel a proper filial obligation toward Adam
and Eve!" |
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