As we progress on the spiritual path, we must have a clear intellectual understanding of the map leading to the eventual destination, as well as what is required to prepare ourselves and to take with us to complete the journey. To begin, we shall discuss Vedānta and Siddhānta, monism-pluralism, advaita-dvaita and the traditional part that yoga plays within the midst of Hindu Dharma. ¶Vedānta is a philosophy and an ideal. It sets its sights on the mountain peaks and declares emphatically these heights as man’s true abode. Life as we normally live it, says Vedānta, is based on ignorance of our true nature. We are like pedigreed animals wallowing in the mud, believing we are swine, divine beings thinking ourselves to be mere humans. But once we recognize our true nature, we will rise up from the mud and leave behind, forever, our previous ignorant ways. Vedānta does not budge from its vision. It sees no excuse for the nonattainment of its ideals. No human weaknesses are recognized as reasons for falling short of the goal. They are but challenges. ¶Vedānta sees all men as equal. It makes the same declaration of truth to all men, regardless of their varying capabilities. Vedānta tells the instinctive man, the intellectual, the spiritual man, the man at the gallows and the man speaking from the pulpit each the same message—that he himself is the Truth that all men seek, that this world of experience and the role he is playing in it are based on ignorance of his true nature, that he is himself God, the Absolute. ¶Vedānta is the word of sages who have spoken out their realized truths, not based on needs of individual disciples or attached to a practical means of reaching followers. Vedānta is simply the goal, the final truths that man can attain to. The lofty Himalayan peak rises far above the surrounding country, breaking through the clouds, standing alone in silent declaration of its majesty. We may see this peak from a distant valley. We may know and learn much about it. Perhaps we even desire to reach this peak ourselves. Yet it remains so distant, giving us no clue of the path which could lead us to it. This is Advaita Vedānta in its purity—a mountain peak truly majestic, but so far aloft that for most it can only serve to inspire awe and deference toward heights that are out of our reach. ¶Vedānta, as an ideal and philosophy, can and perhaps should leave us just where it does, with a vision, a grand vision, a grand vision of our potential, but a vision without a practical means of reaching it. The practical means, the carefully thought out and guided approach, belongs to another field of experience. And this we would call religion. It is the duty and purpose of religion to recognize the lofty goal, recognize the realistic capabilities, potential and present state of those seeking the goal, and provide a sensible and safe path toward that goal—a path that can take the strong to the final heights and yet not leave the weak on treacherous precipices along the way. Religion is the path, the only true path. §
The idea of a shortcut that transcends religion and brings one quickly to the peak is a fallacy. We hear and read many stories of sages who have seemingly leapt from the valley to the peak on the power of tremendous austerities or rigorous mental control. Some of us may have heard of Ramana Maharshi or Rama Tirtha, great sages of India’s recent past. We may recall that both of them climbed to the heights of Vedāntic truths while young, apparently unencumbered by traditional religious performance. Or at least this is the way we hear of them. True, they were both young when they reached great spiritual illumination. But their relationship with traditional religion needs clarification. In fact, each of these sages passed through religion, not around it. ¶For the would-be Vedāntin to shirk his religion, thinking he is following Ramana Maharshi or Rama Tirtha, is like the college dropout thinking that he is following the example of a graduate. The dropout and the graduate are similar in that they both have left college. But whereas the dropout was unable to absorb and fulfill the teachings of a college, and is unfit for anything that requires more than a high school diploma, the graduate has not only mastered the teachings but is the living fulfillment of the teachings. We could say that both Ramana Maharshi and Rama Tirtha were “A” students of the Hindu religion. How many people, as a fifteen-year-old child, like Ramana Maharshi, would walk each day to their village temple and prostrate before the image of God, weeping for the Lord’s grace that he be able to live a pure and spiritual life as exemplified by his religion? How many of us could, as Rama Tirtha did from his earliest years, daily attend temple services, chant incessantly the holy words of his religion, read fervently his scriptures, become so enraptured with love of God that his pillow each morning would be soaking wet from tears of devotion inspired by his silent prayers? These are men of religion who dove so deeply into their religion that they became the very fulfillment, the very proof, of the power of religion. ¶And so it is with all the world’s religions and the saints they have produced. There is no true path that leads away from religion. Hard work, diligence and perseverance in religious practices will be found as the spiritual foundation in the lives of all the world’s great saints. In Hinduism, the word we use to denote religion, its theology and practices, is Siddhānta. Siddhānta is the path that one follows which leads to the mystic vision of Vedānta. When we read of the yogas of bhakti, karma and rāja, discipleship to a guru, the fulfillment of spiritual dharma and temple worship, these are all part of the path, part of Siddhānta. §
In the West, we first received from India the philosophical teachings of Vedānta as if they exist separate from religion. There were, of course, some religious practices of Hinduism spoken of as methods to reach the Vedānta realizations. But it was all very low key, presented in a way that would not seem challenging or offensive to Western religions. This was fine and as it should be. But it also created misconceptions in the minds of those who earnestly did want to reach toward the Vedāntic truths. The West was given the impression that Vedānta was a mystic path which was independent of religion. Yoga was the word used to describe this “trans-religious” spiritual path to God. And this yoga could be adopted by anyone regardless of former or current religious involvement. The problem lies in the fact that many were left with the misconception that religion was unnecessary and perhaps unenlightened; whereas, in truth, yoga is an integral part of our ancient religious tradition. It is not now, nor was it ever, separate from the religious tradition that gave birth to it. Yoga is an advanced part of the Hindu religion, a religion which sees realization of the Vedāntic truths as the goal of man. ¶There is an important reason why many in the West were attracted to yoga and Vedānta philosophy. The idea of a spiritual path separate from religion comes very close to an ideal that many were, and still are today, seeking. This ideal is unity of world religions. This ideal is promoted by many swāmīs who declare that there is much in common between all religions, that there is, in fact, a meeting ground where all agree on certain basic spiritual truths. So, it would seem that the less important areas of difference could be overlooked and the commonly accepted truths proclaimed in unison. Yoga and Vedānta are said to be the answer, the meeting ground. ¶But in the final analysis, a spiritual path separate from religion neither fulfills the ideal of religious unity, nor is it really a spiritual path. It remains only a philosophy, a mental concept. Why? Because, for one, each religion knows all too well the true importance of the many seemingly less significant practices and rituals of their religion. They know that for most people the dutiful performance of these practices helps stabilize them in their spiritual lives. For some, any type of theology or philosophy, let alone mysticism, is beyond their realm of thinking. But what they can do, and need to do, are simple religious performances, the fruits of which will, later in life or in future lives, uplift them into deeper stages of spiritual life. To set aside this aspect of religion would be to destroy the religious life of millions. ¶Secondly, even those who are seemingly beyond the need for external religious practice, who would be inclined to accept a nonreligious spiritual path as their way, will eventually find themselves on unstable ground, and for many reasons. Each religion has a hierarchy of saints, angels and archangels which assist all of its followers from the inner planes, helping them through their difficult times, answering their prayers and supplications. When we leave the fold of religion, we remove ourselves from the benign influence of these great beings and actually open ourselves to much lesser, base influences which can disrupt our lives. Spiritual life, especially as one progresses into stages of mystical experience, is a very delicate process. Powerful forces are awakened in us that we may or may not always be able to perfectly control. §
If we return to our analogy of the mountain peak, the path to it, religion, would be likened to a well-trodden trail. There are many people all along the way to assist in times of need. There are also those few in each religion who have walked the entire path, reached the summit and can lead others along the way. Those pursuing yoga, philosophy or mysticism separate from the foundation of day-to-day religion are like lone climbers treading through unknown territory, up unknown slopes. Theoretically they too can reach the summit. But realistically they do not. Mountain storms, unforeseen precipices, dead ends and untold other dangers and detours eventually claim such would-be seekers. Many fall into the crevice of intellectual rigidity and arrogant argumentativeness. ¶The path of dharma, which is India’s word for religion, is the sure and proven path. They call it the eternal path, Sanātana Dharma. True religion does not discount mystic experience. Every true religion has produced its mystics. And it is here where religious unity is realized. The Zen master, Christian mystic, master of Kabala, Sufi mystic, Shinto shaman, Hindu sage and Taoist recluse can all speak of unity. They can all look into each others’ eyes and see no differences, but only oneness of spirit. For there is but one mountain peak that rises above the clouds. And all true seekers, regardless of their religion, must find their way to this one summit within themselves, sometimes transcending the religion of their birth. In mystic experience lies the unity of all religions. ¶Vedānta is an attempt to describe the experiences of the mystic. But how many actually attain to these final heights of realization? Many speak of them, but in the final analysis, too few ever reach them, for very few are willing to go through the rigorous efforts of purification. Few are willing to face each fault and weakness in their nature. Few are willing to take their scriptures, their spiritual leader’s words and their own intuitive knowing to heart and apply and practice their religion every day, every hour, every minute. But this is what it takes. It takes this kind of dedication, this kind of unrelenting effort. ¶The mystic whom we see poised on the peak of God Realization is the man who once faced each experience that you now do. He didn’t skip them or go around them. He had to deal with the same doubts, the same fears and the same confusions. He had those same experiences where all seems against you, and you seem so alone and ask, “Why am I the one who has these unsolvable problems, these totally confusing situations?” He didn’t give in to that abyss of doubt. He threw himself at the feet of God when all seemed beyond hope. And hope appeared. He persevered, tried his best, made the decisions that made the most sense in spite of unclarity—and all the while continued his sādhana, continued his spiritual practices, until one by one the veils of confusion faded and clarity became constant. He is the man who strived so hard on the little things in life, as well as on the great challenges. He simply did—not spoke of, but did—what you know you should do. We are the carvers of our own future. God’s grace, His love, is always blessing us in our efforts. §
In India’s spiritual traditions there have been for ten thousand years or more two major streams of thought, one called advaita in Sanskrit, or monism in English, and the other called dvaita or theism. Our own tradition, known by many names—monistic theism, Advaita Siddhānta, monistic Śaiva Siddhānta or Advaita Īśvaravāda—embraces them both fully. I discovered that the path of monism and theism is the whole of life. As my satguru explained, it is the entire path. He compared it to an orchestra and an audience. Playing in an orchestra and being in the audience are two different experiences. The audience without the orchestra is not complete. They would be just sitting hearing nothing. The orchestra without the audience is not complete. They would be entertaining no one. So it is in the plane of duality. We have to practice duality in an intelligent way. Satguru Yogaswami had the full advaitic realization of the Self, Paraśiva, but at the same time he had the fullness of dvaitic devotion toward God, the Gods and his guru. ¶There was a Vedāntin in Jaffna, Sri Lanka, who was very pompous and looked down his nose at duality and temple worship. He did not have a great relationship with Śiva Yogaswami, who was always having fun with him in one way or another. One day Yogaswami saw the Vedāntin in the marketplace and, coming up from behind, tapped him on the shoulder. The man spun around and asked, “Who’s there?” Yogaswami exclaimed, “What do you mean, ‘Who’s there?’ Didn’t you say there was only one!” Yogaswami had shown the Vedāntin that he could not keep the top of the mountain—the highest realizations of truth—separated from the bottom of it, the day-to-day world. He was making the point that the man had reached the summit only intellectually, through reasoning out the Vedic truths. Therefore, according to the same reasoning process, he had to reject the bottom of the mountain to maintain his arguments. This is the simplistic Vedānta philosophy, sometimes called the path of words, the vāk mārga, expounded by people who can eloquently explain Vedānta but have had no personal spiritual experience. They have attained the power to live a completely ordinary life as philosophically perfect āṇava mārga adepts. ¶By the example of his own life, Satguru Yogaswami showed that, having reached the top through realization, the seer cannot reject any part of the mountain, because he remembers his experiences at the bottom, his experiences in the middle and his experiences at the top. Yogaswami taught that we cannot reject direct experience. No one can take that away from us. It is recorded in the ākāśa forever. Therefore, realization is not synonymous with the word understanding. ¶When a musician is playing an instrument in an orchestra, he is having the experience of moving his fingers, arms and hands. The musician is hearing what he is playing and what everyone else is playing as well. Each player is realizing the unity of the entire orchestra. This is the experience of monism—that wonderful oneness. A member of the audience listening to the orchestra is not hearing just one instrument, but all playing together in unison. But he is only experiencing through his ears. That is the experience of theism—that wonderful twoness. ¶The orchestra can exist without the audience, but the audience cannot exist without the orchestra. That is why the monist can go on with his practices even if there is no temple close by to worship in. He can go on with his practices even without an image of God. The theist cannot do this. Without the image of God or a temple to worship within, he is lost. ¶Monistic theists are practical philosophers. They put the orchestra and the audience together. They have the grand experience of the fullness of life. They enjoy the top of the mountain and its bottom. They put monism into theism and bring theism into monism. They are the full persons on this planet. All the great yogīs and sages wandered from temple to temple worshiping externally, and in their internal worship realized God and the Gods within themselves.§
Every monist, in deep or superficial conversation, will occasionally admit that the Gaṅgā is a sacred river and Mount Kailāsa is a sacred mountain. In admitting that, he is also somewhat of a theist at the time. Hindus believe that the Gaṅgā and Kailāsa are the ultimate temples. Most monists want to have their ashes put in the Gaṅgā when they die. Every Āgamic priest will tell us that Mount Kailāsa is at the top of the head and at the top of the world. He will explain this is where God is, in and above the sahasrāra chakra. This knowledge is right within the pūjā liturgy he chants. Therefore, when we find a monist who hides the fact that he is somewhat of a theist, we must question if his monistic outlook is sustained only by his intellectual abilities, clichés and cogent arguments. ¶Yes, following monism without theism makes it rather difficult to reconcile all life’s experiences. But there are very few true monists. Many monists will not pass by a temple without a silent pause, even though they will argue that no one is home there. For the rare, nonreligious monist who goes deeply into monism and truly experiences it, theism comes up from within as a reward. This happened to Swami Vivekananda, who denied the reality of the Gods and Goddesses all his life, then changed his belief when he had a vision of the Goddess, Śakti, in the last days of his life. ¶To truly understand theism and monism, each should be taught separately, by the same teacher. The student is never given permission to make a choice between them. When each has been understood and there are no more questions, the teacher will blend them together in the mind of the devotee by requiring the practice of external and internalized worship. The theistic discipline is the external worship, and the monistic is the internal worship. ¶We are on the safe path of yoga when we are able to internalize the external worship. Otherwise, without this ability, devotees often just perform intellectual, mental gymnastics which result in no attainment whatsoever. Their nature begins to harden rather than soften. Their philosophical discussions become more rigid and unyielding. By blending monism into theism and theism into monism, the nature of devotees becomes soft and loving, as the spiritual unfoldment begins. They become wise and helpful to others as the maturing of their spirit progresses. Such persons have compassion for another’s point of view, and all of the fine qualities of the soul come forward to be enjoyed and seen by others. ¶Monistic theism is a very detailed map of consciousness which has broadness and philosophically accepts all states of consciousness. The monistic theist does not turn away from the external world. He knows that Śiva’s perfection lies everywhere within it. He attempts to expand his consciousness into the perfection within all three worlds. He attempts to experience the harmony of all of nature. He attempts to be one with Śiva’s perfect universe, to live with Śiva. The monistic theist is the perfect Hindu in all respects. ¶Most Vedāntins are able to totally describe the country, or area of consciousness, in which they are residing. But because they do not practice much yoga, they are not all-pervasive enough in consciousness to understand the other countries on the planet, or other areas of the mind. For this reason their maps of the mind are relatively incomplete. Some draw lines into squares and shut out what they don’t understand. Monistic theists draw lines into circles and take in the entire universe, including everything within everything. §
A human being has a dual and nondual component. He has belief. He has faith. He has love. But all of these fine qualities can be taken away through discouragement. His faith is faith in the unseen. His belief is belief in things that are not always intellectually rational. His love is love of all that is tender and beautiful. All of these fine qualities and many more work together in lifting up consciousness toward the ultimate reality of timelessness, causelessness and spacelessness. There is not one human being on the planet who will not eventually understand the monistic theist approach. This is because it is an intrinsic part of the human psyche. Everyone is a monistic theist in one way or another. ¶Historically, there have always been monists on one side and theists on the other. The one path that is made up of these two camps is monistic theism. It encompasses both. And, yes, it is the solution to many of the problems people face today. Śaiva Siddhānta is the final conclusion of the adepts, and it includes the true precepts of Vedānta. There can only be one final conclusion, and that is monistic theism. ¶The problem is that Vedānta as taught today gives privilege without the disciplines, creating jñānīs of intellect rather than realization. This privilege is taken as a boon by those of little spiritual attainment. Freedom without responsibility is another privilege given. This is also taken advantage of by the undisciplined; whereas discipline and responsibility should be taught and mastered before higher philosophy is delved into and practiced with any seriousness. The beginner should not be taught to rationalize on the nature of man and the universe from what he has memorized. He should be brought into the culture and community of Hinduism and establish a religious, fully committed, disciplined life before proceeding onward. We must become aware that the neo-Indian approach to Vedānta is very new, indeed. The true Vedāntists—those who have reached the ultimate realizations—have reached them by following the path of monistic theism. Modern Vedānta gives privilege without discipline, and the modern New Age movement gives freedom without responsibility. Is there a difference? ¶Monistic theism does not give privilege. It preaches a more pragmatic approach to life. Śaiva Siddhānta builds character within the individual—spiritually, socially, culturally, economically, karmically and dharmically. Aspirants have to meet a series of daily, monthly, yearly fulfillments. Truly, monistic theism is the path to mukti and merger. ¶The monistic Śaiva Siddhānta bhaktar can understand and appreciate the point of view of anyone, because his love of Śivaness in all extends his communication faculties. He is able to talk with each philosopher on his own level. When this happens, the feeling of sharing and giving exists. The bhaktar is wise enough to know that the other person may not understand his point of view. This ability is a great barometer for judging the attainment of any bhaktar, whether he can or cannot actually be one with—in empathy with, in heart and mind, in love and trust—rich man, poor man, beggar man, thief, doctor, lawyer, temple priest and in his heart make no differences. This is the true Śiva bhaktar; this is the true monistic theist; this is the true Śaiva Siddhāntin; this is the true Advaita Īśvaravāda adept, who lives the statement, “Lord Śiva is the Life within the life of everyone,” as a fact, not a metaphor. §