Shri Shankaracharya continues to give insight into the process of attaining enlightenment. (verses 322-324)
Carelessness should not be permitted for one who is striving to be established in Brahman. You take up a job, but aren’t interested in it. So you go on putting it off certain things that have to be done today and you keep putting it off for tomorrow and day after tomorrow. When you put off a job, you get into another trouble.. more jobs come in, how can you go on putting off all that? And suddenly, you become burdened by it. So therefore what you are planning to do tomorrow, start doing it today. And what you have to do today—do it now. The world is so, brittle that in a moment you can have a catastrophe. A twister can come and blow you away along with your house and your iPads and everything else.
From a practical point, it is a very good instruction. Anyone who wishes to be successful, learns to be prompt and dexterous in the performance of his duties. And do things day by day—not off and on. For example, you have a project of studying a book for an umpcoming exam, then go on studying day by day, instead of leaving the entire project for one single day. So, piling up all your work and studying it in one night, that’s not artistic. Same applies in the project of attaining enlightenment, liberation, in a much more intensive way.
To attain enlightenment, your personality must be fully integrated. Your journey in this worldly process rests on four pillars, one of which is Karma Yoga—the path of action. This means fulfilling your duties without neglecting them, regardless of your circumstances or lifestyle.
Duty exists in two forms: the responsibility to care for your own body and mind—through practices like Asana, Pranayama, and other disciplines—and the obligation to carry out your work with awareness and purpose. True enrichment comes when you expand your capacity for action by directing your energy toward serving others, sharing knowledge, and contributing in meaningful ways. In this way, karma forms one essential pillar of your spiritual foundation.
Devotion is another pillar of spiritual life. Alongside the performance of your duties, the quality of your heart must evolve. The simplest way to cultivate this is to bring God into your mind and heart. In facing any situation, keep your focus on God within you, for it is God who mysteriously orchestrates the events of this world. When God becomes the center of your awareness, you develop spontaneity in navigating your responsibilities, challenges, and circumstances. Inspiration flows naturally from within, a divine whisper from the depths of your heart—what is figuratively described as the voice of God.
God does not audibly speak into your ear, yet devotion should be the ruling aspect of your emotions. Whenever you direct your feelings toward another human being, remember that beneath that affection, your ultimate aim is to love God. Since God is unseen, you experience love through others—just as one cherishes light by beholding the glow of many lamps. Hindu rituals express this beautifully, recognizing God as the Light of lights, yet offering a small flame as a symbolic gesture of devotion. Love, in its essence, is like kindling a lamp before God. Every relationship of affection and love is an opportunity to mutually discover the divine presence—God within you.
When people around you are difficult to deal with, turning your mind toward God transforms the situation in mysterious ways. Through prayer and surrender, obstacles shift, and challenges become stepping stones for spiritual growth. This twofold journey requires recognizing God within yourself—your limitless capacity for self-control, transformation, and enrichment. The sky is the limit. Outwardly, it calls for recognizing the divine presence in all things and all people. Especially in human interactions, remember that God dwells in them. As you deepen your awareness of God within, qualities of the heart—compassion, forgiveness, adaptability, patience—will flourish, enriching you even in unfavorable circumstances.
Without challenges, there is no opportunity to grow. Integral yoga and devotion to your spiritual path must be constant, not confined to specific hours. Your entire life is sadhana—a continuous movement toward the divine. Absorb this truth deeply: You live within a divine temple. In reality, the entire universe is a sacred temple, filled with God’s presence. Look up at the sky—it holds profound messages. The vast expanse whispers: “The sky is the limit.” Shift your gaze, and another truth unfolds: “Shine.” You are the radiant sun, a reflection of divine light. Your very existence proceeds from God, and your highest purpose is union with the Divine. Everything in this world is arranged to guide you toward that realization.
No matter how much your mind strays or becomes confused, that does not diminish your deeper purpose—to discover Sat-Chit-Ananda: absolute existence, absolute awareness, absolute bliss. Mastering the art of patience, the art of integral yoga, transforms your movement through life into something profound. Soon, you will no longer feel that you are merely “doing” sadhana—your life itself will become sadhana, flowing like a river.
This is the essence of spiritual discipline: Never allow pramada (carelessness) to seep in. Build upon this sacred process—let your actions become karma yoga, let your emotions transform into bhakti yoga (devotion), and let your will lead you into meditation.
Meditation is the practice of focusing the mind, and it should always be a challenge worth embracing. Watch your thoughts and ask yourself: Can I keep my mind fixed on a single point for five minutes? Ten minutes? Can I sustain a single stream of thought? Can I read a page, close my eyes, and grasp its essence fully?
Training the mind takes many forms—some practical, some more abstract. You can refine your memory, for instance, by attempting to visualize and recall what you’ve read letter by letter. Yet that is just the beginning. Go a step further—focus on retaining only the essential points, ensuring that nothing important escapes your awareness. This, in itself, is a form of concentration.
Do not assume that meditation requires sitting in a lotus pose or adopting a rigid posture. Life presents countless opportunities for meditation. When someone speaks at length, remain silent and simply listen—this, too, is an exercise in mindful focus. As your willpower strengthens, so does your ability to reason. Reason functions like a flashlight, illuminating the subtleties of scripture and philosophy: What do we mean by the immortality of the soul? By the Absolute? By Infinite Bliss?
Understanding requires transcending the mind’s limitations. Consider the statement: “Brahman alone exists—Brahma Satyam, Jagat Mithya.” The world is nothing but Maya, an illusion. As long as the intellect asks Why was the world created? When was it created? What is its purpose?—it reveals its own limitations. These questions belong to the conditioned mind, which operates only through the nervous system. Any answer the mind receives will, by nature, be constrained.
Think of your eyes: no matter how sharp your vision, what you perceive is shaped by the limitations of sight. Likewise, everything experienced is conditioned by the mind. To ask, “When was creation born?” is to seek an answer within the confines of the mind’s framework—a framework incapable of revealing ultimate truth. Just as answers received in a dream are not real, neither are answers bound by the mind’s limitations. The only real answer lies in awakening—stepping beyond the boundaries of thought.
The goal is not to analyze your limitations but to break past them. Lord Buddha offered a powerful parable to illustrate this. Some seekers approached him, saying, “You have not answered certain philosophical questions, so we wish to leave the ashram and seek more learned teachings.” Buddha replied, “First, understand: I never invited you here—you came of your own will. Secondly, imagine a man wounded by an arrow. A compassionate surgeon rushes to remove it, but the man protests: ‘First, tell me who shot it. What caste does he belong to? How far away was he? Did he mistake me for a deer?’”
Many questions could arise, but the surgeon must act swiftly—the priority is removing the arrow. Philosophical speculations delay the healing process. While some explanations may soothe an unsettled mind, they remain secondary. The essential truth is this: the arrow must be removed.
Integral Yoga should become an inseparable part of your life. At first, it requires patient discipline, but as you embrace a harmonized, integrated way of living, a profound sense of stability and inner settlement arises. You do not need to seek enlightenment elsewhere or depend on someone to reveal life’s purpose to you—every moment, God has already bestowed upon you an abundance of opportunities.
No matter where you go, you are held in divine hands. No matter where you leap in the sky, you remain in the sky. No matter which wave carries you in the ocean, you are still within the ocean. Understanding sadhana in this way means never postponing your spiritual practice. Avoid the trap of pramada—the thought “I will intensify my sadhana next week, during the holidays, or devote six months to deep practice and attain enlightenment, after which I will no longer need sadhana.” If you believe this, then you have not yet understood the essence of spirituality.
Sanat Kumara, the son of Brahma, wisely declared: “Pramado Vai Mrityu”—pramada leads to spiritual death. It is the ignorance of your daily capacity to enrich yourself. In practice, overcoming pramada means living the principles of Raja Yoga, which include the yamas and niyamas—controlling the senses, transforming vasanas, and cultivating divine qualities.
Pramada is opposed to all spiritual discipline. But the moment you begin to conquer pramada, your entire life becomes a pursuit of truth—a practice of meditation, the deepening of dispassion, and the flourishing of divine virtues.
For the Gyani—one who seeks enlightenment—there is no greater danger than pramada. This term, often loosely translated as “carelessness” or “inadvertence,” does not fully capture its meaning. In truth, pramada is the habit of postponing one’s goal, delaying one’s spiritual journey, deferring action to an imagined future.
In the pursuit of enlightenment, there should be no pramada. Deep within, there must arise an unwavering resolve: “I will.” A sense of movement must emerge—if you are alive, live fully. If you seek health, you do not say, “I will become healthy when I am 50 or 60.” Those who have already reached that age may have ignored the importance of acting in the moment. The truth is simple: never delay the good that must be done. Act with immediacy, for success leads to greater success.
But pramada manifests as an internal diffidence—a reluctance to embrace the present. One begins to think, “I want to be good, but I am not in the mood today.” This is pramada—the false belief that the future holds the real opportunity for transformation, while the present is merely preparation. In reality, the present itself is the gateway to success. True dexterity means promptness—mastery at every moment. Just as a surgeon must be prepared to wield their instruments with precision at any time, so must the seeker be ready to live their truth now.
Pramada is the root of delusion. From delusion arises egoism—a false self-image shaped by fleeting moods. The ego hesitates, waiting for the right conditions, needing detailed plans before action. But this delay breeds bondage, and bondage leads to misery.
To overcome pramada, one must act now—without hesitation, without postponement.
Even a learned person, when tempted by the pleasures of the senses, succumbs to forgetfulness. This forgetfulness torments him in the same way that a lover suffers when separated from their beloved.
This truth is evident in worldly experience. Imagine a lover eagerly approaching a long-awaited meeting. If any obstacle prevents the encounter, it causes profound inner turmoil. Similarly, when one begins to realize that God is the ultimate beloved, the longing for divine union should be just as intense, yet deeper and more transformative. You may read this and nod in agreement—but have you ever truly felt such an urge, as a lover yearning to meet their beloved? Not in the sentimental sense, but in its higher counterpart—the feeling of pure joy, the ecstatic embrace of divine love.
Thus, always reflect: When I say I love God, does my heart carry the same intensity as human love?
Consider this episode: A young woman rushes to meet her lover by the riverbank as dusk settles. A saintly man, sitting upon a mat from Badrikedar Ashram, prepares to chant his mala. In her excitement, she steps forward barefoot—her feet coated in dust and mud—and inadvertently scatters his prayer beads. The saint, overcome with anger, curses her fiercely. She feels momentarily distressed but then suddenly laughs.
He demands, “Why do you laugh?” She replies, “I am consumed by worldly love—it has overtaken my mind so completely that I do not even notice your prayer mat, your malas, or your curses. My entire being is fixed upon my beloved. And you—who claim to love God—are so distracted by me that you pour forth all the words meant for your prayers upon me instead. Do you truly understand devotion?”
This is devotion. As you walk the spiritual path, your awareness must be anchored in the pursuit of divine enlightenment. The day you stray from this focus, it should bring you deep inner discomfort—just as a missed meeting with a lover causes distress. This is simply a simile to help understand the intensity of spiritual longing. This should be your reference point, rather than seeking external validation: Am I advancing in spirituality? Can someone tell me? Instead, look within—Are you experiencing divine love? Does it engulf your mind? Do you feel deeply involved in it?
Your answers to these questions reveal how much further you have to move forward. And if the answer is negative, there is no cause for discouragement. You are seeking the absolute beloved—God—whose patience is boundless.
True love of God manifests through love for humanity. It is expressed in generosity, kindness, and the purity of the heart—a love that elevates you beyond body, mind, intellect, and ego. Kabir speaks of this boundless devotion:
“I went after the beauty of my beloved, and wherever I turned, I saw the beloved—until I dissolved completely. I became immersed in divine love.”
A river flows toward the ocean and looks around—only the ocean remains; the river has vanished. This is the ultimate goal.
Individuality arises through the conditioned mind. When enlightenment dawns, individuality dissolves. A simple illustration is deep sleep—once you step beyond ego, identity disappears.
Just as removing moss clears the water, yet the surface is soon covered again, so too does Maya veil the mind of even the wise whenever one turns away from sadhana, from Brahmavichar.
When you have adopted a harmonized way of living—an integrated lifestyle rooted in Integral Yoga—simply continue. Be patient, yet understand: patience is not even needed when things flow naturally. When your daily life is an experience of enrichment rather than loss, patience does not arise—you simply move forward effortlessly. But the moment sadhana loses its rhythm, the mind gathers moss—memories surface, recalling past devotion, past discipline. “I was doing such deep sadhana years ago—what happened? Who is to blame?” These thoughts cloud clarity, like moss covering clear water that once reflected the sky. Yet this is no great obstacle. You wipe the moss away, day by day.
If the mind strays, even subtly, it externalizes itself. This must be understood deeply. When the mind moves profoundly toward God, it has no mala—no attachment to anger, greed, or hatred. It has no vikshepa—no distractions, no worldly expectations. It understands that abiding peace cannot come from the external world, but only through self-realization. As mala and vikshepa are removed, a new opportunity emerges—the chance to glimpse the majesty of the Self.
Yet the moment even a minor defect enters, the mind externalizes itself. Instead of glimpsing Brahman—the all-encompassing Reality—instead of piercing through ignorance, the mind shifts toward desire and worldly expectation. It behaves like a dream—just as one preparing for deep sleep suddenly becomes scattered into dreams, losing their clarity.
In the same way, even at a high level of sadhana, the mind can slip into distraction, caught in a dream-like illusion. It is like holding divine understanding in your hand like a delicate ball—light, subtle, full of joy. As you ascend step by step, suddenly, through carelessness, the ball slips and falls.
And when it falls, the ball takes upon itself a momentum—bouncing downward, step by step. Sometimes you catch it quickly. Sometimes, you must descend many steps before recovering it. Sometimes, you must go all the way down to zero before grasping it again. These truths must be deeply embedded in your mind.
This is the importance of japa—the repetition of the divine name—the necessity of turning to God in prayer. When interacting with others, faithfully guard yourself from expressing hatred, anger, and negativity. Spiritual growth is a constant project—a lifelong process of embellishing and enriching oneself.
And in truth, this is the most “selfish” act imaginable—yet the most profound. For the sake of the Self, all things hold value. The Self becomes the goal. Do not slip.
To understand this fully, reflect upon the falling ball: How does it bounce from one step to another? What must be grasped to prevent its descent?
When the mind is drawn toward objects, it begins to reflect upon their qualities. This is the description of the fall—how does one fall from the path?
When your thoughts are absorbed in God, the awareness of time and space dwindles. You soar like a swan into vastness, unbound by worldly illusions. But the moment your mind externalizes, it turns toward objects—toward experiences at the sattvik, rajasic, and tamasic levels. In the beginning, your pleasure may be sattvik, but soon it tumbles into rajasic enjoyment, and further still into tamasic indulgence.
Reflection upon objects leads to desire. The Bhagavad Gita explains this process: As you allow your mind to dwell upon objects, attachment begins to form.
This does not mean that the mind must never think of objects—such a thing is impossible. Rather, the danger lies in illusion—the belief that happiness is found in objects. If you nurture this illusion, attachment deepens.
Consider a simple illustration: A man walks past his neighbor’s house and notices a beautiful car. The first time, he glances at it briefly. The next day, his gaze lingers longer. Soon, he asks his neighbor about the car, gathering details, yet remains outwardly detached. But subtly, his mind begins its work—How wonderful it would be if I owned a car like that.
Day by day, the thought grows stronger until it becomes a mental contact—Sanga. When the mind unwittingly dwells on objects, attachment strengthens.
Attachment gives rise to desire. When there was no attachment, the mind was relaxed, but now, desire takes hold—the belief forms: Unless I acquire this object, I cannot be peaceful.
Desire inevitably leads to agitation or anger, here, it refers to inner turbulence. Agitation can manifest positively or negatively: If one is wealthy enough to acquire the car, does satisfaction follow? No—agitation persists. To relieve it, he hosts a celebratory party. But if he fails to acquire it, frustration builds—resentment toward banks, toward circumstances, toward others, and ultimately toward himself.
Thus, desire leads to agitation, and if agitation continues, delusion arises. The intellect becomes clouded, unable to discern truth. With delusion comes the loss of divine memory.
Your true spiritual memory should remind you: You are connected to God. You are eternal. Even from an ordinary perspective, the soul has passed through countless lifetimes—and from a higher truth, the soul is Brahman itself. Yet when divine memory fades, spiritual awareness is lost.
When memory is corrupted, the intellect loses its power. The intellect is the guiding light that leads toward spiritual evolution. But now, it has become ineffective—like a flashlight given to a traveler lost in the dark, only to find that it does not work.
This is the predicament of the soul—bouncing downward from one step to another. Yet this process can be reversed. Instead of dwelling upon objects—train the mind toward divine vision.
Create a sacred imagination of God. According to your culture, visualize Jesus with his angelic radiance, or Buddha, Rama, Krishna, the celestial realms. DYAYATO VISHAYAN PUNJA—If the mind constantly dwells upon God, clarity deepens.
Through continued reflection, attachment to God forms. This is the definition of Bhakti—devotion. And this devotion is Nishkama—free from worldly desire. No object can compare to its joy.
If Kama (desire) is absent, then Akrodha arises—anger never finds a place in the heart. Compassion flourishes. One is no longer deluded—the divine memory returns: I am not the body. I am not the senses. I am not dependent upon the world.
Then, one realizes: The world is but a website—an illusion, not reality. This profound memory dawns, the soul is lifted, and enlightenment is attained—the greatest glory.
OM SHANTI SHANTI SHANTI.