Where Has the Time Gone?

Throughout the year, we often find ourselves exclaiming to one another, “Where has the time gone! I can’t believe a whole week, month, year, has gone by.” For some reason, we seem to be constantly amazed by the passage of time. And whilst we adopt a jokey attitude, the fact that such a question arises suggests that, at some level, we’re a little uneasy. Moreover, the implication behind the question – where has the time gone? – suggests a gap between how we currently use our time and what we feel we should be doing.

Reminders about the passage of time often occur during moments of introspection as we assess whether our choices support or hinder the realization of a spiritual objective. This might coincide with a trip to the Dera or a visit from the Master. Whilst the question-and-answer sessions available on the internet have been of immense value during the pandemic and will continue to support us, his physical presence has been greatly missed. As the rules slowly relax, some of us are now able to look forward to attending the Master’s live satsangs again. This time, will we be able to channelize our love and gratitude into action?

Love, anticipation and broken promises
Maybe it’s because, in a global population of more than seven billion people, we are amazed by our inexplicably good fortune to be encountering a true Master. Or, maybe it’s because we hope Master’s darshan will inspire us to practise meditation more diligently. As soon as we catch sight of the road to satsang, our heart skips a beat, and a feeling of joy instinctively wells up inside us. Upon entering the Dera or any regional centre around the globe, our anxieties evaporate as we soak in the atmosphere and anticipate seeing the Master. Joining the congregation, we take our seats for satsang. Remarkably, the low-level noise of seekers settling down draws to a close thirty minutes or so before satsang commences and a hush falls over the sangat. Quiet and contemplative, each person is lost in their simran or private thoughts as they wait for their Master to arrive.

By now, the atmosphere is electric. Each time we hear a car door slam, we wonder: Is it him? Has he arrived? Finally, we see the Master walking onto the stage and, as he greets us with folded hands, our heart is bursting, our soul is stirring, and we silently tell him that we would follow him to the ends of the earth if need be. In fact, throughout the time spent with the Master, our desire to be better disciples intensifies, and we begin to think about the changes we need to make to express our love more deeply.

But over the coming weeks and months, to what extent do our actions reflect the promises we made in Master’s presence about prioritizing Sant Mat above all else? Like many unfulfilled new year resolutions, our resolve frequently wanes. There are three explanations for why we struggle to reflect our desire for spirituality in our actions.

A divided mind
In the shabd “The Divided Mind”,Sant Kabir identifies the root cause behind our struggle. Writing metaphorically, he observes an ant forced to choose between carrying a grain of rice or a lentil, since it is impossible for her to pick up both. Concluding the shabd, Kabir writes:

I have never seen happiness
In a kingdom where two hold authority
Nor in a person whose mind is divided.
_{Kabir: The Great Mystic}

Kabir is informing us that our inability to overcome this continual yo-yoing, between the disciple we are and the one we wish to be, is because our desire for spirituality does not – as yet – supersede all others. This is why, in the presence of the Master, we are brimming with enthusiasm and confidence about making Sant Mat the focal point around which everything else revolves. Over subsequent days and weeks, our material desires gradually dampen the intensity of our determination, and we find ourselves back to square one: approaching meditation half-heartedly.

Eradicate karma, eradicate desire
If we accept Kabir’s explanation that our hearts and minds are divided, it seems logical that we should strive to desire nothing. Yet unlike the ant who can easily drop the grain of rice to pick up the lentil, eliminating desire by sheer willpower is impossible. To be liberated from hankering for one object of desire after another, two things must happen: the destruction of all karma and reaching the stage of super-consciousness. Until then, we remain under the power of the mind – with its addiction to the pursuit of ephemeral pleasure – and therefore in danger of being thrown off our spiritual course. Returning to the original problem, then, this might leave us somewhat puzzled: if the only way to eradicate our desires is to reach a higher level of consciousness via meditation, but our desires are preventing us from meditating – are we caught in a Catch 22?

Clarity and complacency
Whilst maya is an essential factor explaining why we prioritize material gratification over spirituality, before we fatalistically throw our hands up in the air and attribute our difficulties to the human condition, clear thinking will enable us to make the spiritual breakthrough that we desperately need. As texts such as Concepts and Illusions and A Wake-Up Call emphasize, spiritual development is impeded by our remarkable ability to invent convenient illusions, which, in one way or another, justify our lazy approach to meditation. In this vein, we may wish to consider whether tackling complacency holds the key to ending our internal war. The “Parable of the Wise and the Foolish Builders”, as told in the Bible, helps expose weaknesses not previously considered.

The Gospels of Matthew and Luke state that Jesus narrated the parable about the two builders at the end of one of his sermons to emphasize the importance of putting his teachings into actual practice. Thus, by way of a warning to his listeners, Jesus likens the fate of disciples ignoring his commandments to the foolish builder whose house collapsed in the midst of a storm because its foundations were weak, having been built on sand. By contrast, those that remain steadfast with their spiritual practice are able to withstand even the fiercest storms, much like the wise builder who built his house on rock. Jesus deliberately chooses ‘rock’ as the place where the strong man builds his foundations to signify that his power is stronger than any calamity.

We are all too aware that when we try to turn our attention inwards, virtually everything else in our entire existence is drawing our attention outwards. When combined with the karmic calamities befalling us from time to time, as well as our deeply ingrained habit of following the dictates of the lower mind, our spiritual journey can sometimes feel like swimming upstream. Yet, whilst the forces of maya and karma are strong, the power of the Master is much greater. Practising meditation as instructed would shield us from all of life’s dramas and discipline the mind in much the same way that the house built on rock protected the wise man. However, despite the most powerful tools at our disposal – simran and bhajan – why are we locked in a loop that prevents us from being the disciple we know we can be? Is it possible that our meditation practice is not yet built on a solid foundation but is, instead, more akin to the man building his house on the sand? The extent to which our meditation is built on sand can be assessed by asking ourselves these simple questions:

• Do we practise meditation every day, firmly believing that missing a session is not an option?
  
• How much time do we devote to meditation? If this falls short of two and a half hours, could we look the Master straight in the eye and attribute this to personal circumstance, or are we using this as an excuse?
  
• When there are multiple calls on our time and we are obliged to fulfil a worldly demand, do we maintain a focus on the Master and reinstate our routine at the first opportunity?

Our responses to these questions may lead us to draw two conclusions: our failure to comply fully with the Master’s instructions is the reason why our meditation practice is fragile, which in turn explains how we compromise our commitment to Sant Mat. Indeed, although he refrains from asking us the above questions so directly, in nearly every question-and-answer session, Baba Ji poses a rhetorical question to everyone, indicating that we can all do better. He is not asking us to improve our concentration, but to be honest with ourselves as to whether we consistently maximize our effort to prioritize spirituality above all.

Baba Ji poses that rhetorical question because until our desire for spirituality supersedes everything, we cannot escape imprisonment from the material plane. He is trying to dispel any lingering misconception that our unsatisfactory effort to attain spiritual liberation will be overlooked just because the mystics embody love and compassion.

Living in accordance with the principles of Sant Mat and maximizing our effort to meditate is our responsibility. What counts as maximum effort will vary from disciple to disciple, reflecting our different abilities and our unique karmic load. However, like the poor widow in the Synoptic Gospels whose two-cent donation to charity was considered infinitely more valuable than the vast sums of money donated by the rich, the mystics expect us to devote our whole being to realizing our ultimate aspiration: spiritual liberation.

To help us, we may turn to the counsel offered by Maharaj Charan Singh in Die to Live:

Everything you do must consciously prepare you for the next meditation.