In 1943, when I joined the ashram of Swami Sivananda Saraswati, in Rishikesh, at the foot of the Himalayas, I was not taught yoga. I was taught the philosophy of Vedanta, and the initiation and the teachings I received from Swamiji, the teachers and the tradition was the tradition of Vedanta. Of course, I knew a lot about yoga; I had studied books on yoga, like the Hatha Yoga Pradipika, and tantra, but for a full twelve years, I plunged into the study of Vedanta. Vedanta is a philosophy which talks of non-duality; it is a monastic philosophy that teaches that there is one reality that can be realized by hearing, contemplating and meditating, and not by pranayama, dharana or asana. That is what I learned for twelve years.
In the year 1956, according to the rules of the tradition, I left the ashram of my guru on an all-India tour in the capacity of a mendicant. A mendicant and a beggar have been the same in all the ages everywhere. They have the same status, the same form and the same social recognition or social rejection. During this period, 1956 to 1963, when I travelled through the length and breadth of India, Nepal, Burma, Afghanistan and, of course, Pakistan and Sri Lanka, I realized that people were wanting a practical path, not a theoretical one. As far as the knowledge was concerned, they knew more than enough, and during this period, I taught a few asanas which I knew and pranayama. Every now and then when I met those people I had taught earlier, I discovered that they had changed and improved and they had become better in every respect, physically, mentally, emotionally and also spiritually.
I had a fairly good knowledge of naturopathy and Buddhist sciences, because from my maternal side, a Buddhist tradition came to my family. So I have knowledge of the Buddhist tradition, the tradition of Vedanta from my guru, and other religious traditions from my father’s side. What should I now teach them, was the question in my mind. To get an answer to that question and to get inspiration, I travelled to various places. When I stayed for some time in Munger, the place where I still live, I got inspiration, a revelation and the answer – yoga. Whether I believe in Vedanta, or I am a master of naturopathy, or an adept in the Buddhist tradition, I must teach the people what they want and I have to teach them yoga, not for myself, not for the fulfilment of my inner nature, but to fulfil their day-to-day needs.
In 1963, when I started building a small ashram in Munger, I hardly thought that things could take this shape. Today I am not able to handle the situation. Hundreds come to me, sick people, spiritual people, Muslims, Hindus of different sects, yoga-minded people, Christians, Mullahs, priests and many more. I have been telling Swami Satsangi, when we were in Manchester, ‘Yoga is not the end, it is a means. But whether it is a means or the end, people want it.’ My personal views do not have any relationship to their needs. This is exactly what every yoga teacher will have to realize. We are dedicated and committed to teaching yoga to people, not only because we believe in yoga, but because the people believe in it.
When I went to South American countries like Colombia, Peru, Argentina, Guatemala, Santo Domingo, Puerto Rico, Martinique, people told me they wanted a way by which they could discipline their body and mind.
During these 40 or 50 years, many cults and traditions and sciences belonging to mysticism and occultism have spread all over the world, including to the West and to India, and people have dabbled with them at one time or the other. I have also dabbled with tantra, Zen Buddhism, Hinayana and Mahayana practices, though not with the Hare Krishna movement, because that is a movement I encountered much later. If it had come during my young age, I would have practised that as well. I did not dabble with the cult of the flower children because that also came too late. By the time it had arrived I was beyond flowers, but had it arrived when I was 17 or 18, I would have tried that too. I tried all methods and I liked all of them. I feel like talking to the people from every tradition, because I think that in every science there is some way to reach somewhere. However, yoga, though it is a means, is a science, which is perfect in itself.
In the early days we thought yoga was a physical science for physical health and physical culture, breathing exercises and so on. Yet in the last two or three decades, fantastic research has been con ducted in every part of the world on the effects of yoga, not only on the body, endocrine secretions or hormones, or nervous impulses, but also on the brain, mind and consciousness. What is more, when the great psychologist Carl Jung was thinking and commenting on yoga, he pointed out a very important fact. He said, ‘Yoga is an interdisciplinary system’. He was not talking about the physical or physiological effects, he was not talking about the effects on the brain, mind and consciousness. He was hinting at the possibility of yoga being experimented on as the discipline of human life and personality. This is now the need which yoga teachers have to fulfil, and they need to equip themselves with sufficient knowledge.
Apart from yogasanas, pranayama, other hatha yoga methods, raja yoga methods, laya yoga or kriya yoga methods, we have to rearrange the system of teaching. We need to develop the background, the relationship with students, and the method of imparting the practical lessons to them in such a way that it has a deeper effect, not only on their body, but also their personality. This will be the theme of yoga after 1983. Throughout the world now, people are clamouring for a sort of discipline. We are not talking about the political, social, national or other sorts of disciplines which we have. We are talking about a discipline for which I am responsible, not your legislation, not your inactive laws, but a discipline which I can practise and a discipline which is an expression of my personality, a discipline which I express of my own sweet will, and which gives me so much pleasure and so much happiness. If I tell you not to do this and that, then it is not yoga. Then it is law or religion.
In this particular sense, from the 1980s onwards, yoga should aim at developing that inner possibility, the total and inherent possibility in everybody. As far as I know, everybody likes to express discipline in their life, though they find it difficult. When we are able to discipline ourselves, we feel a sort of satisfaction, don’t we? Yet somehow or the other, we are not able to do it. What can yoga do for this? That is what I have been thinking about this year.
In 1983, up to 19th January, I was officially associated and connected with the Bihar School of Yoga. I decided that from 20th January 1983 I would belong to no institution and no organization; I would be His Royal Mendicant. I have decided to move from place to place for another twenty years, not to work for an institution, but to work for humanity; not to work for promotion of a philosophy, but to work for the people, because I am convinced, after so many years of travelling all over the world, meeting every type of person, that yoga is the one thing which is easy for them. It does not tire their intellect.
So, please give a thought as to how to rearrange, not the system of yoga, but the method of imparting yoga teachings to the different sections of our society.
8 February 1983, London