T.S. ELIOT
FOUR QUARTETS
THE DRY SALVAGES
I sometimes wonder if that is what Krishna meant—
Among other things—or one way of putting the same thing:
That the future is a faded song, a Royal Rose or a lavender spray
Of wistful regret for those who are not yet here to regret,
Pressed between yellow leaves of a book that has never been opened.
And the way up is the way down, the way forward is the way back.
You cannot face it steadily, but this thing is sure,
That time is no healer: the patient is no longer here.
When the train starts, and the passengers are settled
To fruit, periodicals and business letters
(And those who saw them off have left the platform)
Their faces relax from grief into relief,
To the sleepy rhythm of a hundred hours.
Fare forward, travellers! not escaping from the past
Into different lives, or into any future;
You are not the same people who left that station
Or who will arrive at any terminus,
While the narrowing rails slide together behind you;
And on the deck of the drumming liner
Watching the furrow that widens behind you,
You shall not think 'the past is finished'
Or 'the future is before us'.
At nightfall, in the rigging and the aerial,
Is a voice descanting (though not to the ear,
The murmuring shell of time, and not in any language)
'Fare forward, you who think that you are voyaging;
You are not those who saw the harbour
Receding, or those who will disembark.
Here between the hither and the farther shore
While time is withdrawn, consider the future
And the past with an equal mind.
At the moment which is not of action or inaction
You can receive this: "on whatever sphere of being
The mind of a man may be intent
At the time of death"—that is the one action
(And the time of death is every moment)
Which shall fructify in the lives of others:
And do not think of the fruit of action.
Fare forward.
O voyagers, O seamen,
You who came to port, and you whose bodies
Will suffer the trial and judgement of the sea,
OR WHATEVER EVENT, THIS IS YOUR REAL DESTINATION.'
SO KRISHNA, AS WHEN HE ADMONISHED ARJUNA
ON THE FIELD OF BATTLE.
NOT FARE WELL,
BUT FARE FORWARD, VOYAGERS.
Mundaka Upanishad
Take the Upanishad as the bow, the great weapon and place
upon it the arrow sharpened by meditation. Then, having drawn
it back with a mind directed to the thought of Brahman, strike
that mark, O my good friend—that which is the Imperishable
Om is the bow; the atman is the arrow; Brahman is said to be
the mark. It is to be struck by an undistracted mind. Then the
atman becomes one with Brahman, as the arrow with the target.
In Him are woven heaven, earth and the space between and the
mind with all the sense—organs. Know that non—dual Atman
alone and give up all other talk. He is the bridge to Immortality.
He moves about, becoming manifold, within the heart, where
the arteries meet, like the spokes fastened in the nave of a
chariot wheel. Meditate on Atman as Om. Hail to you! May
you cross beyond the sea of darkness!
He who knows all and understands all and to whom belongs all
the glory in the world—He, Atman, is placed in the space in the
effulgent abode of Brahman. He assumes the forms of the mind
and leads the body and the senses. He dwells in the body, inside
the heart. By the knowledge of That which shines as the blissful
and immortal Atman, the wise behold Him fully in all things.
The fetters of the heart are broken, all doubts are resolved and
all works cease to bear fruit, when He is beheld who is both
high and low.
There the stainless and indivisible Brahman shines in the
highest, golden sheath. It is pure; It is the Light of lights; It is
That which they know who know the Self.
The sun does not shine there, nor the moon and the stars, nor
these lightnings, not to speak of this fire. When He shines,
everything shines after Him; by His light everything is lighted.
That immortal Brahman alone is before, that Brahman is
behind, that Brahman is to the right and left. Brahman alone
pervades everything above and below; this universe is that
Supreme Brahman alone.
THE MOTHER'S HEART, THE HERO'S WILL,
THE SWEETNESS OF THE SOUTHERN BREEZE,
THE SACRED CHARM AND STRENGTH THAT DWELL
ON ARYAN ALTARS, FLAMING, FREE;
ALL THESE BE YOURS AND MANY MORE
NO ANCIENT SOUL COULD DREAM BEFORE-
BE THOU TO INDIA'S FUTURE SON
THE MISTRESS, SERVANT, FRIEND IN ONE.
-SWAMI VIVEKANANDA
LECTURES FROM COLOMBO TO ALMORA
SWAMI VIVEKANANDA
What we want is strength, so believe in yourselves. We have become weak, and that is why occultism and mysticism come to us — these creepy things; there may be great truths in them, but they have nearly destroyed us. Make your nerves strong. What we want is muscles of iron and nerves of steel. We have wept long enough. No more weeping, but stand on your feet and be men. It is a man-making religion that we want. It is man-making theories that we want. It is man-making education all round that we want. And here is the test of truth — anything that makes you weak physically, intellectually, and spiritually, reject as poison; there is no life in it, it cannot be true. Truth is strengthening. Truth is purity, truth is all-knowledge; truth must be strengthening, must be enlightening, must be invigorating. These mysticisms, in spite of some grains of truth in them, are generally weakening. Believe me, I have a lifelong experience of it, and the one conclusion that I draw is that it is weakening. I have travelled all over India, searched almost every cave here, and lived in the Himalayas. I know people who lived there all their lives. I love my nation, I cannot see you degraded, weakened any more than you are now. Therefore I am bound for your sake and for truth's sake to cry, "Hold!" and to raise my voice against this degradation of my race. Give up these weakening mysticisms and be strong.
I believe in patriotism, and I also have my own ideal of patriotism. Three things are necessary for great achievements. First, feel from the heart. What is in the intellect or reason? It goes a few steps and there it stops. But through the heart comes inspiration. Love opens the most impossible gates; love is the gate to all the secrets of the universe. Feel, therefore, my would-be reformers, my would-be patriots! Do you feel? Do you feel that millions and millions of the descendants of gods and of sages have become next-door neighbours to brutes? Do you feel that millions are starving today, and millions have been starving for ages? Do you feel that ignorance has come over the land as a dark cloud? Does it make you restless? Does it make you sleepless? Has it gone into your blood, coursing through your veins, becoming consonant with your heartbeats? Has it made you almost mad? Are you seized with that one idea of the misery of ruin, and have you forgotten all about your name, your fame, your wives, your children, your property, even your own bodies? Have you done that? That is the first step to become a patriot, the very first step.
Yet that is not all. Have you got the will to surmount mountain-high obstructions? If the whole world stands against you sword in hand, would you still dare to do what you think is right? If your wives and children are against you, if all your money goes, your name dies, your wealth vanishes, would you still stick to it? Would you still pursue it and go on steadily towards your own goal? As the great King Bhartrihari says, "Let the sages blame or let them praise; let the goddess of fortune come or let her go wherever she likes; let death come today, or let it come in hundreds of years; he indeed is the steady man who does not move one inch from the way of truth." Have you got that steadfastness? If you have these three things, each one of you will work miracles. You need not write in the newspapers, you need not go about lecturing; your very face will shine. If you live in a cave, your thoughts will permeate even through the rock walls, will go vibrating all over the world for hundreds of years, maybe, until they will fasten on to some brain and work out there. Such is the power of thought, of sincerity, and of purity of purpose.
let New India arise in your place. Let her arise — out of the peasants' cottage, grasping the plough; out of the huts of the fisherman, the cobbler, and the sweeper. Let her spring from the grocer's shop, from beside the oven of the fritter-seller. Let her emanate from the factory, from marts, and from markets. Let her emerge from groves and forests, from hills and mountains. These common people have suffered oppression for thousands of years —#8212; suffered it without murmur, and as a result have got wonderful fortitude. They have suffered eternal misery, which has given them unflinching vitality. Living on a handful of grain, they can convulse the world; give them only half a piece of bread, and the whole world will not be big enough to contain their energy; they are endowed with the inexhaustible vitality of a Raktabija. (A demon, in the Durgâ-Saptashati, every drop of whose blood falling on the ground produced another demon like him.) And, besides, they have got the wonderful strength that comes of a pure and moral life, which is not to be found anywhere else in the world. Such peacefulness, such contentment, such love, such power of silent and incessant work, and such manifestation of lion's strength in times of action — where else will you find these! Skeletons of the Past, there, before you, are your successors, the India that is to be. Throw those treasure-chests of yours and those jewelled rings among them,
-SWAMI VIVEKANANDA
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