The Essence of the Bhagavad Gita
Explained by Paramhansa Yogananda
As Remembered by His Disciple Swami Kriyananda
Introduction by Swami Kriyananda
 Swami Kriyananda |
These pages contain an exposition of the hidden meanings in the Bhagavad Gita as they were explained by my great Guru, Paramhansa Yogananda, and (before him) by his line of gurus.
The reader today is confronted by an almost bewildering array of translations and commentaries on the Bhagavad Gita. The very universality of that scripture invites people to see it in terms of their own diverse approaches to truth. Those who by nature are primarily active find wise guidance in the Gita for how to act in such a way as to free themselves of emotional involvement in this world. Those whose natures are primarily rational find in the Gita supreme guidance on the impersonal attitudes needed for living with wise and calm non-attachment. Those of devotional inclination find in the Gita the inspiration to love only God. And those, finally, who seek God through calm meditation find in this scripture deep teachings on right attitudes in meditation.
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Truth
is one. People try to slice it like a pie, but even the slices
of a pie narrow to a single center.
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Truth is one. People try to slice it like a pie, but even the slices of a pie narrow to a single center. What the Gita shows is that, however many aspects there are of truth, all of them radiate outward from a single center.
 Paramahansa Yogananda |
Yogananda emphasized in his writings, and especially in his commentaries on the Bhagavad Gita, that man is a triune being: physical, mental, and spiritual. All parts of human nature need to be developed, lest any one of them obstruct the others.
My Guru once mentioned to me, with regard to one-sided approaches to the Bhagavad Gita (of which there are many), "Even Swami Shankara, profound though his commentary was, denied the importance of physical reality. What he wrote was overbalanced on the spiritual side. He was right in saying that all things are only an appearance, but it should be added that in this realm of appearances maya does have its own reality. Everything is a dream, but even dreams, as dreams, are real."
The Bhagavad Gita teaches every important aspect of the spiritual path: during activity, Karma Yoga (the yoga of right action); during thinking and discrimination, Gyana Yoga (the yoga of wisdom and discrimination); when feeling and experiencing emotion, Bhakti Yoga (the yoga of devotion). There is a central teaching, however, in the Bhagavad Gita, which unites all paths even as subsidiary streams unite in a larger river.
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"That
river," Yogananda said, "is the energy flowing in
the spine.
"Raja Yoga," he continued, "takes one straight up the central pathway of the spine into the inner silence of divine communion. |
"That river," Yogananda said, "is the energy flowing in the spine. The subsidiary paths of yoga offer guidance to people of different basic temperaments: the active, the discriminating, the 'heartful.' The central river to enlightenment, however, is shown by Raja Yoga, the royal yoga: the pathway of the spine.
"Raja Yoga," he continued, "takes one straight up the central pathway of the spine into the inner silence of divine communion. It is the teaching of this yoga, finally, that makes the Bhagavad Gita truly a scripture for all mankind. It is why Krishna stated in the Gita, 'O Arjuna, be thou a yogi.'"
One thing that sets Paramhansa Yogananda's commentary apart from others is its all-inclusiveness. He himself said to me after he'd finished writing his commentaries, "I now understand why my Guru told me not to read other commentaries on the Bhagavad Gita. He didn't want my mind influenced by human opinions. Instead, what he wanted, and what I did, was tune in to Beda Byasa, the author of the Gita. It was Byasa himself who wrote this great scripture through me."
Over the years since then, I have come to understand more clearly how that great sage, who lived thousands of years ago, might have been able to cross the yawning chasm of time that separates his day from ours. I knew even then that my Guru had not intended a merely poetic image, as if to imply that all he had done was honor the spirit of Beda Byasa. Rather, what he did was tune in to the ever-living consciousness of that great sage.
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Superconscious
communication is never confined to mere verbal expression;
deep intuitions are conveyed, always, that words alone could
never express.
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I was able to
accept this much without difficulty. The question remained in my
mind, however: Did Byasa literally dictate this commentary to Yogananda?
Or was the communication effected by some other means?
Superconscious communication is never confined to mere verbal expression;
deep intuitions are conveyed, always, that words alone could never
express. In Autobiography of a Yogi Yogananda tells of how his great
guru, Swami Sri Yukteswar, appeared to him after his own death.
His guru, on that occasion, described many details of the astral
and causal universes. In Chapter 43 of that book, "The Resurrection
of Sri Yukteswar," Yogananda states, "My mind was now
in such perfect attunement with my guru's that he was conveying
his word-pictures to me partly by speech and partly by thought-transference.
I was thus quickly receiving his idea-tabloids."
Masters have direct, inner ways of communicating with one another. I witnessed the effect of such communication many years ago in Sydney, Australia. I had published my edition of Paramhansa Yogananda's book, The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam Explained. The Theosophical Society of Sydney had invited me to speak about this book to their members. After the lecture, a man in the audience raised his hand and asked about a particular quatrain, and my Guru's interpretation of it.
"It seems to me," he said, "that what Yogananda wrote here doesn't relate clearly to the words of the quatrain itself."
"I understand your problem," I replied, "for I faced it several times in editing this book. I would meditate on the quatrain, however, and on my Guru's explanation of it, and always I saw the connection, no matter how obscure it at first seemed."
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At this point a lady in the audience raised her hand and stated, "I am from Iran, and I am familiar with ancient Persian. I am also familiar with the particular quatrain to which this gentleman has referred. His problem is that he is trying to compare the translation by Edward FitzGerald to Paramhansa Yogananda's commentary. I agree, that connection is tenuous. I've compared his commentary, however, with the original Persian, and I have found that the two, the words of Omar Khayyam and those of Paramhansa Yogananda, correspond exactly."
As I've suggested, superconscious communication is rarely verbal, and is never entirely so. It is instantaneous, conveying deep, direct intuitions that could never be expressed in words alone. Ordinary minds are hemmed in by the intellect, which must ponder the pros and cons of every issue. Most people find it difficult to understand this higher level of communication. The further doubt is natural for them: "If Yogananda's words were inspired by superconsciousness, why have they required editing?" The simple answer is, these are two very different levels of communication. Communication by words is slow and cumbersome, especially if one tries to express himself clearly and exactly. Words have also an endless potential for being misunderstood.
I myself am very familiar with the writing process, having spent more than seventy years trying to hone my ability to convey my meanings in written form. I think of Coleridge's poem, "Kubla Khan"-a tour de force of great beauty from which, when I was young, I memorized many passages. This poem however, for all its wonderful rhythm and imagery, in actual fact conveys no message at all! It was a marvelous example of a drug-induced, false inspiration. I, for my part, have tried always to write meaningfully. Generally speaking I have found, in spite of my most conscientious efforts, that even when the writing has flowed as it were on its own, the job still needed editing. I've had to edit every book I've written, though sometimes very little.
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Editing is rather
like plumbing: fitting words, phrases, and sentences together in
such a way as to make the ideas flow smoothly.
Bringing spiritual truths down to the material plane is rather like
bringing a diaphanous cloud down to where its vapor becomes a surging,
wind-tossed ocean. The very process of descent hems in the process
of creativity. When the creative flow is powerful, one cannot give
primary attention to perfecting his outward mode of expression.
I can understand very well why great masters rarely phrase their
words with the care demanded by a careful and elegant stylist. It
is for their disciples, usually-if any are competent-to "pick
up the pieces." Indeed, as my Guru himself indicated to me,
this would be the way I myself would grow, spiritually.
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God
Himself created the universe in a comparable manner, by manifesting
His consciousness down through the layers of ideas, energy,
and subtler levels of matter until the grossest minerals were
manifested.
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God Himself created the universe in a comparable manner, by manifesting His consciousness down through the layers of ideas, energy, and subtler levels of matter until the grossest minerals were manifested.
Before dictating, Paramhansa Yogananda would turn his eyes up to the spiritual eye in the forehead. Then, speaking slowly to give his secretary, Dorothy Taylor, the time she needed to type out what he was saying, he spoke as the guidance came to him from within. Seldom did I see him descend from that high divine level to make a comment-or, from time to time, to check what he was doing against another published interpretation by Swami Pranabananda, a liberated disciple of Lahiri Mahasaya. I imagine that that swamiji's book served him as a means of making sure there wasn't some important detail he might have omitted from what was flowing through him.
When the work
was finished, he exclaimed to me again and again, with ecstatic
exhilaration and joy, "A new scripture has been born!"
"Millions," he added, "will find God through this
work. Not just thousands: millions! I have seen it. I know!"
I was privileged to read the manuscript, and to help my Guru during the editing process, with which he himself took serious pains. Unlike most philosophical works, this book was, as I expressed it in my autobiography, The Path, "fresh and alive, each page a sparkling rill of original insights. With the sure touch of a master teacher, profound truths were lightened occasionally with graceful humor, or with charming and instructive stories, or highlighted with brief touches of new, sometimes startling information. . . . Best of all, the truths expressed in the book were constantly clarified . . . with illustration after illustration."
As my Guru also
put it: "This book came entirely from God. It is not philosophy
(the mere love of wisdom): It is wisdom."
Again he exclaimed, with a beatific smile, "A new scripture
has been born!"
