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Work and Its Secret

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  • Swami Jnaneshvara Bharati
    Highlight from the article below: The great secret of true success, of true happiness, then, is this: the man who asks for no return, the perfectly unselfish
    Message 1 of 1 , Dec 13 10:44 AM
      Highlight from the article below: "The great secret of true success,
      of true happiness, then, is this: the man who asks for no return, the
      perfectly unselfish man, is the most successful.... Ask nothing; want
      nothing in return. Give what you have to give; it will come back to
      you — but do not think of that now, it will come back multiplied a
      thousandfold — but the attention must not be on that. Yet have the
      power to give: give, and there it ends."

      Swami Vivekananda
      (Delivered at Los Angeles, California, January 4, 1900)

      One of the greatest lessons I have learnt in my life is to pay as much
      attention to the means of work as to its end. He was a great man from
      whom I learnt it, and his own life was a practical demonstration of
      this great principle I have been always learning great lessons from
      that one principle, and it appears to me that all the secret of
      success is there; to pay as much attention to the means as to the end.

      Our great defect in life is that we are so much drawn to the ideal,
      the goal is so much more enchanting, so much more alluring, so much
      bigger in our mental horizon, that we lose sight of the details

      But whenever failure comes, if we analyse it critically, in
      ninety-nine per cent of cases we shall find that it was because we did
      not pay attention to the means. Proper attention to the finishing,
      strengthening, of the means is what we need. With the means all right,
      the end must come. We forget that it is the cause that produces the
      effect; the effect cannot come by itself; and unless the causes are
      exact, proper, and powerful, the effect will not be produced. Once the
      ideal is chosen and the means determined, we may almost let go the
      ideal, because we are sure it will be there, when the means are
      perfected. When the cause is there, there is no more difficulty about
      the effect, the effect is bound to come. If we take care of the cause,
      the effect will take care of itself. The realization of the ideal is
      the effect. The means are the cause: attention to the means,
      therefore, is the great secret of life. We also read this in the Gita
      and learn that we have to work, constantly work with all our power; to
      put our whole mind in the work, whatever it be, that we are doing. At
      the same time, we must not be attached. That is to say, we must not be
      drawn away from the work by anything else; still, we must be able to
      quit the work whenever we like.

      If we examine our own lives, we find that the greatest cause of sorrow
      is this: we take up something, and put our whole energy on it —
      perhaps it is a failure and yet we cannot give it up. We know that it
      is hurting us, that any further clinging to it is simply bringing
      misery on us; still, we cannot tear ourselves away from it. The bee
      came to sip the honey, but its feet stuck to the honey-pot and it
      could not get away. Again and again, we are finding ourselves in that
      state. That is the whole secret of existence. Why are we here? We came
      here to sip the honey, and we find our hands and feet sticking to it.
      We are caught, though we came to catch. We came to enjoy; we are being
      enjoyed. We came to rule; we are being ruled. We came to work; we are
      being worked. All the time, we find that. And this comes into every
      detail of our life. We are being worked upon by other minds, and we
      are always struggling to work on other minds. We want to enjoy the
      pleasures of life; and they eat into our vitals. We want to get
      everything from nature, but we find in the long run that nature takes
      everything from us — depletes us, and casts us aside.

      Had it not been for this, life would have been all sunshine. Never
      mind! With all its failures and successes, with all its joys and
      sorrows, it can be one succession of sunshine, if only we are not caught.

      That is the one cause of misery: we are attached, we are being caught.
      Therefore says the Gita: Work constantly; work, but be not attached;
      be not caught. Reserve unto yourself the power of detaching yourself
      from everything, however beloved, however much the soul might yearn
      for it, however great the pangs of misery you feel if you were going
      to leave it; still, reserve the power of leaving it whenever you want.
      The weak have no place here, in this life or in any other life.
      Weakness leads to slavery. Weakness leads to all kinds of misery,
      physical and mental. Weakness is death. There are hundreds of
      thousands of microbes surrounding us, but they cannot harm us unless
      we become weak, until the body is ready and predisposed to receive
      them. There may be a million microbes of misery, floating about us.
      Never mind! They dare not approach us, they have no power to get a
      hold on us, until the mind is weakened. This is the great fact:
      strength is life, weakness is death. Strength is felicity, life
      eternal, immortal; weakness is constant strain and misery: weakness is

      Attachment is the source of all our pleasures now. We are attached to
      our friends, to our relatives; we are attached to our intellectual and
      spiritual works; we are attached to external objects, so that we get
      pleasure from them. What, again, brings misery but this very
      attachment? We have to detach ourselves to earn joy. If only we had
      power to detach ourselves at will, there would not be any misery. That
      man alone will be able to get the best of nature, who, having the
      power of attaching himself to a thing with all his energy, has also
      the power to detach himself when he should do so. The difficulty is
      that there must be as much power of attachment as that of detachment.
      There are men who are never attracted by anything. They can never
      love, they are hard-hearted and apathetic; they escape most of the
      miseries of life. But the wall never feels misery, the wall never
      loves, is never hurt; but it is the wall, after all. Surely it is
      better to be attached and caught, than to be a wall. Therefore the man
      who never loves, who is hard and stony, escaping most of the miseries
      of life, escapes also its joys. We do not want that. That is weakness,
      that is death. That soul has not been awakened that never feels
      weakness, never feels misery. That is a callous state. We do not want

      At the same time, we not only want this mighty power of love, this
      mighty power of attachment, the power of throwing our whole soul upon
      a single object, losing ourselves and letting ourselves be
      annihilated, as it were, for other souls — which is the power of the
      gods — but we want to be higher even than the gods. The perfect man
      can put his whole soul upon that one point of love, yet he is
      unattached. How comes this? There is another secret to learn.

      The beggar is never happy. The beggar only gets a dole with pity and
      scorn behind it, at least with the thought behind that the beggar is a
      low object. He never really enjoys what he gets.

      We are all beggars. Whatever we do, we want a return. We are all
      traders. We are traders in life, we are traders in virtue, we are
      traders in religion. And alas! we are also traders in love.

      If you come to trade, if it is a question of give-and-take, if it is a
      question of buy-and-sell, abide by the laws of buying and selling.
      There is a bad time and there is a good time; there is a rise and a
      fall in prices: always you expect the blow to come. It is like looking
      at the mirrors Your face is reflected: you make a grimace — there is
      one in the mirror; if you laugh, the mirror laughs. This is buying and
      selling, giving and taking.

      We get caught. How? Not by what we give, but by what we expect. We get
      misery in return for our love; not from the fact that we love, but
      from the fact that we want love in return. There is no misery where
      there is no want. Desire, want, is the father of all misery. Desires
      are bound by the laws of success and failure. Desires must bring misery.

      The great secret of true success, of true happiness, then, is this:
      the man who asks for no return, the perfectly unselfish man, is the
      most successful. It seems to be a paradox. Do we not know that every
      man who is unselfish in life gets cheated, gets hurt? Apparently, yes.
      "Christ was unselfish, and yet he was crucified." True, but we know
      that his unselfishness is the reason, the cause of a great victory —
      the crowning of millions upon millions of lives with the blessings of
      true success.

      Ask nothing; want nothing in return. Give what you have to give; it
      will come back to you — but do not think of that now, it will come
      back multiplied a thousandfold — but the attention must not be on
      that. Yet have the power to give: give, and there it ends. Learn that
      the whole of life is giving, that nature will force you to give. So,
      give willingly. Sooner or later you will have to give up. You come
      into life to accumulate. With clenched hands, you want to take. But
      nature puts a hand on your throat and makes your hands open. Whether
      you will it or not, you have to give. The moment you say, "I will
      not", the blow comes; you are hurt. None is there but will be
      compelled, in the long run, to give up everything. And the more one
      struggles against this law, the more miserable one feels. It is
      because we dare not give, because we are not resigned enough to accede
      to this grand demand of nature, that we are miserable. The forest is
      gone, but we get heat in return. The sun is taking up water from the
      ocean, to return it in showers. You are a machine for taking and
      giving: you take, in order to give. Ask, therefore, nothing in return;
      but the more you give, the more will come to you. The quicker you can
      empty the air out of this room, the quicker it will be filled up by
      the external air; and if you close all the doors and every aperture,
      that which is within will remain, but that which is outside will never
      come in, and that which is within will stagnate, degenerate, and
      become poisoned. A river is continually emptying itself into the ocean
      and is continually filling up again. Bar not the exit into the ocean.
      The moment you do that, death seizes you.

      Be, therefore, not a beggar; be unattached This is the most terrible
      task of life! You do not calculate the dangers on the path. Even by
      intellectually recognising the difficulties, we really do not know
      them until we feel them. From a distance we may get a general view of
      a park: well, what of that? We feel and really know it when we are in
      it. Even if our every attempt is a failure, and we bleed and are torn
      asunder, yet, through all this, we have to preserve our heart — we
      must assert our Godhead in the midst of all these difficulties. Nature
      wants us to react, to return blow for blow, cheating for cheating, lie
      for lie, to hit back with all our might. Then it requires a
      superdivine power not to hit back, to keep control, to be unattached.

      Every day we renew our determination to be unattached. We cast our
      eyes back and look at the past objects of our love and attachment, and
      feel how every one of them made us miserable. We went down into the
      depths of despondency because of our "love"! We found ourselves mere
      slaves in the hands of others, we were dragged down and down! And we
      make a fresh determination: "Henceforth, I will be master of myself;
      henceforth, I will have control over myself." But the time comes, and
      the same story once more! Again the soul is caught and cannot get out.
      The bird is in a net, struggling and fluttering. This is our life.

      I know the difficulties. Tremendous they are, and ninety per cent of
      us become discouraged and lose heart, and in our turn, often become
      pessimists and cease to believe in sincerity, love, and all that is
      grand and noble. So, we find men who in the freshness of their lives
      have been forgiving, kind, simple, and guileless, become in old age
      lying masks of men. Their minds are a mass of intricacy. There may be
      a good deal of external policy, possibly. They are not hot-headed,
      they do not speak, but it would be better for them to do so; their
      hearts are dead and, therefore, they do not speak. They do not curse,
      not become angry; but it would be better for them to be able to be
      angry, a thousand times better, to be able to curse. They cannot.
      There is death in the heart, for cold hands have seized upon it, and
      it can no more act, even to utter a curse, even to use a harsh word.

      All this we have to avoid: therefore I say, we require superdivine
      power. Superhuman power is not strong enough. Superdivine strength is
      the only way, the one way out. By it alone we can pass through all
      these intricacies, through these showers of miseries, unscathed. We
      may be cut to pieces, torn asunder, yet our hearts must grow nobler
      and nobler all the time.

      It is very difficult, but we can overcome the difficulty by constant
      practice. We must learn that nothing can happen to us, unless we make
      ourselves susceptible to it. I have just said, no disease can come to
      me until the body is ready; it does not depend alone on the germs, but
      upon a certain predisposition which is already in the body. We get
      only that for which we are fitted. Let us give up our pride and
      understand this, that never is misery undeserved. There never has been
      a blow undeserved: there never has been an evil for which I did not
      pave the way with my own hands. We ought to know that. Analyse
      yourselves and you will find that every blow you have received, came
      to you because you prepared yourselves for it. You did half, and the
      external world did the other half: that is how the blow came. That
      will sober us down. At the same time, from this very analysis will
      come a note of hope, and the note of hope is: "I have no control of
      the external world, but that which is in me and nearer unto me, my own
      world, is in my control. If the two together are required to make a
      failure, if the two together are necessary to give me a blow, I will
      not contribute the one which is in my keeping; and how then can the
      blow come? If I get real control of myself, the blow will never come."

      We are all the time, from our childhood, trying to lay the blame upon
      something outside ourselves. We are always standing up to set right
      other people, and not ourselves. If we are miserable, we say, "Oh, the
      world is a devil's world." We curse others and say, "What infatuated
      fools!" But why should we be in such a world, if we really are so
      good? If this is a devil's world, we must be devils also; why else
      should we be here? "Oh, the people of the world are so selfish!" True
      enough; but why should we be found in that company, if we be better?
      Just think of that.

      We only get what we deserve. It is a lie when we say, the world is bad
      and we are good. It can never be so. It is a terrible lie we tell

      This is the first lesson to learn: be determined not to curse anything
      outside, not to lay the blame upon any one outside, but be a man,
      stand up, lay the blame on yourself. You will find, that is always
      true. Get hold of yourself.

      Is it not a shame that at one moment we talk so much of our manhood,
      of our being gods — that we know everything, we can do everything, we
      are blameless, spotless, the most unselfish people in the world; and
      at the next moment a little stone hurts us, a little anger from a
      little Jack wounds us — any fool in the street makes "these gods"
      miserable! Should this be so if we are such gods? Is it true that the
      world is to blame? Could God, who is the purest and the noblest of
      souls, be made miserable by any of our tricks? If you are so
      unselfish, you are like God. What world can hurt you? You would go
      through the seventh hell unscathed, untouched. But the very fact that
      you complain and want to lay the blame upon the external world shows
      that you feel the external world — the very fact that you feel shows
      that you are not what you claim to be. You only make your offence
      greater by heaping misery upon misery, by imagining that the external
      world is hurting you, and crying out, "Oh, this devil's world! This
      man hurts me; that man hurts me! " and so forth. It is adding lies to

      We are to take care of ourselves — that much we can do — and give up
      attending to others for a time. Let us perfect the means; the end will
      take care of itself. For the world can be good and pure, only if our
      lives are good and pure. It is an effect, and we are the means.
      Therefore, let us purify ourselves. Let us make ourselves perfect.
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