“Fence. it yet gently off from thy true self,
“Lest it should tear and rend thee."
The Karma Yogi recognizes work and life as what they are, and is not deluded by the popular misconceptions of these subjects. He sees the fallacy of the popular idea that work is a curse placed upon mankind. He sees it, instead as one of the great blessings and privileges of the race. He realizes the benefits and happiness that spring from work, when performed free from attachment, and he accordingly makes use of it. When perplexed or disturbed from any cause he finds relief m his work. He finds it a great help in overcoming the temptations of the lower part of his nature, and a wonderful aid in helping him to meet the new problems that are constantly presenting themselves to him.
It is natural to man to work. It is a manifestation of the divine creative power manifesting through him. It is the desire for expression and unfoldment.
If thy soul recoil from the sight of the vanities of the world—from its hollow ideals and aims—from its cruelty—from its injustice—from its blindness—from the puppet—show play manifest on all sides to one who sees and thinks—rest thyself for a moment, retiring into the silence of the inner chambers of thyself. Do not be discouraged—do not feel like withdrawing from it all—do not cry out in anguish and sorrow. You have a work to do, and no nne can do it so well as you.
Your life has a meaning—a purpose. So go back again into the midst of the fray. Play well thy part—do the tasks set before you today—do the “duties” that seem proper far your doing. It is all a part of your soul development, and the development of the race. Let not the hollowness and worthlessness of it all dishearten and disgust you. It all means something. But beware of becoming entangled in the fruits of your action—in the desire for reward. Keep your eyes clear and your mind unclouded.
Do not think that you may keep out of the fight, but, as the “Light on the Path" says; “And though thou fightest, be not thou the warrior.”
If thy Karma has set thee in the midst of action—act! It is thy only chance of working out of the conditions that fret and disturb thee.
You cannot run away from your Karma—you must exhaust it—work it out. You will be repaid in the end.
This question is beautifully treated upon in the great Sanscrit poem, “ The Bhagavad-Gita.” The Prince Arjuna, complains of being forced in the battle of life, and beseeches Krishna to relieve him of the duty. Krishna tells him his duty, and urges him to perform it. Edwin Arnold has translated this poem into that beautiful English poem “The Song Celestial." Arnold’s poem makes Krishna say to Arjuna:
“No man shall escape from act,
By shunning action; nay, and none shall come
By mere renouncements unto perfectness.
Nay, and no jot of time, at any time,
Rests any actionless; his nature’s law
Compels him, eve; unwilling, into act.
(For thought is act in fancy). He who sits
Suppressing all the instruments of flesh,
Yet in his idle heart thinking on them,
Plus the inept and guilty hypocrite:
But he who, with strong body serving mind,
Gives up his mortal powers to worthy work
Not seeking gain, Arjuna! such an one
Is honorable. Do thine allotted task!
Work is more excellent than idleness;
The body’s life proceeds not, lacking work.
There is a task of holiness to do,
Unlike world-binding toil, which bindeth not
The faithful soul; such earthly duty do
Free from desire, and thou shalt well perform
Thy heavenly purpose.”
We know of no better words with which to dose our lesson than those of Edwin Arnold, in the poem above mentioned, We consider these lines among the most beautiful ever written in the English language. You will do well to commit them to memory:
“Never the spirit was born; the spirit shall cease to be never; Never was time it was not, End and Beginning are dreams! Birthless and deathless and changeless remaineth the spirit for ever; Death hath not touched it at all, dead though the house it seems!"
If you can but grasp the true spirit of these words Arnold’s, and make them apart of your consciousness, you will need no further instruction in Karma Yoga—you will lead the life instinctively, and will be able to see things as they are, and not as they seem to be when seen through the veil of delusion. Such knowledge will lead you to a realization of the Real Self, and, that once attained, the rest will be made plain.
May these words, and the thought, bring you Peace'
Lesson VI
Gnani Yoga
Gnani Yoga is known as the “Yoga of wisdom.” The word, “Gnani,” is derived from the Sanscrit root-word “Gna,” meaning “to know.” We prefer the ivord “Gnani,” although the words, “Jnana,” “Gnyana,” etc., are often used, and have the same meaning.
Gnani Yoga is the path to which student, philosophers—men and women of the intellectual temperament are attracted. Those who are attracted by metaphysical reasoning and speculation, subtle intellectual research, philosophy, science, and similar lines of mental effort, turn naturally to “Gnani Yoga” as it holds out to them a pleasant and agreeable path to that which is dear to their hearts.
But one does not have to he a skilled metaphysician, or a deep student, to avail himself of the lessons of this branch of the Yogi Philosophy. It is open to all of those who wish to know the why and wherefore of life—who are not satisfied with commonplace and childish explanations of the great problems of existence that are offered to them the ordinary teachings and creeds—to those who regard the exoteric side of tlute subject as all very well in its way, but whose natures call out for the hidden knowledge, the esoteric phase of the truth.
The Karma Yogi is continually asking “How?" or "What?" The Gnani Yogi’s eternal question is “Why?” And this “Why?” is beginning to unfold in the minds of more people every day. The thirst for real spiritual knowledge is rendering many uncomfortable, and causing them to seek that with which to quench the thirst—the spiritual hunger is demanding nourishing food for the soul.
People are beginning to see the unreality of the material things around them, great as these material things may seem to be. They see that civilization follows civilization—races rise, flourish and fall—people rise from savagery up and on to the heights of material achievement, and then begin to decay. In the ruins found buried beneath the earth’s surface may be found traces of former great civilizations, of which history has no record. And one is awed by the thought that the people of those civilizations must have thought themselves at the apex of human achievement and that there was but little left for the generations to come. And yet, they have faded away, leaving not even a trace on the pages of history. The great warriors, statesmen, philosophers and teachers of these civilizations are unknown, and the people themselves are without a name to us, clothing is left to tell the tale, but a broken column here or a mutilated statue there. And the thinker sees that this fate must meet all races—all civilization s—even our own. We must pass away—our work will be forgotten—future races, building a civilization upon the ruins of that which is our proudest boast, will wonder who and what we were.
Religions have risen, flourished, dominated millions, and have faded away, borne down by the weight of the superstition and outward forms which man persists in building around the bit of truth which originally caused the religion to spring into existence. It has ever been