What Needs to be Remembered by Swamini Adityananda Saraswati

What Needs to be Remembered

by Swamini Adityananda Saraswati A long time ago in the history of humanity, but in less than a blink of God’s eye, was the Vedic age. Life was simple, unafraid, unabashed. Fields were endless, forests lush, and the air and water were clear and fresh. It is said that spirituality blazed in hearts like the sun itself. There was little anxiety. Just simple, uncomplicated living. Some say it was akin to living in an Eden. I look out the window of the jetliner I’m in today. Lights greet me below as we rise effortlessly into the sky. Faces, contorted by stress, stare straight ahead, trying to focus on something, anything, but now. Magazines, phones, and laptop computers open as myriad films play on the backs of endless seats. Even here, where movement is limited, we must be active. We’re running full speed at 30,000 feet, with no place to go.

Nobody looks happy. Why is this, when there is seemingly so much to be happy about? Fast travel, entertainment galore, the ability to communicate with just about anyone, anywhere, and so much more.

Perhaps it is because society expects much from us. Our value is oft judged by our employment, our looks, our acquisitions, and our money, leading to the pains that arise from the endless race for significance and even survival. An acquaintance mentioned to me once, “you know, we spend all our lives racing to earn money at the expense of our health, and when our health is gone, we spend all our money trying to reclaim it.”

Can we ultimately be happy living in such a way? To reclaim a peaceful life, we must remember one essential thing

We go about everyday breathing, talking, eating, having some fun, crying some tears, perhaps even making some trouble. But who is breathing? Who is making the trouble?

There was once a boy who loved God. He was very poor, and was thus forced to work tending cows for a very rich man. Every morning, he would fetch milk for his master. It had to be fresh, and presented in a beautiful cup of silver and jewels.

“Why the need for such fancy milk,” the child would wonder day and night. In his simple existence, he didn’t have much else to wonder about.

One day, after a regular milk run, the boy decided to peek in on his master. The man was chanting prayers, and pouring the liquid onto a beautiful shining stone.

“What is that stone?” The little boy asked his master later on. “It is a sacred stone, given to me by my guru, my spiritual teacher,” said the man. “He taught me to bathe it with fresh milk every day as an act of worship.” The child’s eyes grew wide.

“Young boy,” the man chided, “never come near my prayer room again, for God himself is represented in this stone. You are far too impure to be near it.”

The boy was dejected over the next few weeks. “Why,” he thought to himself, “if I love God, couldn’t I worship the Divine like my master does?” Then he remembered what his master said, “God himself is represented in this stone.”

“Well,” wondered the child, “If God himself is represented in a stone like my master’s, anything of a similar shape must also be godly.”

Skipping with joy, he set off to search for such an item. Day turned to night and then again before he found it: a fence post worn smooth by the winds and rains. From then on, every day, the boy would worship the fence post with reverence. Every night, he would meditate before it with love. It became the center of his life, and he forgot all other chores.

The master, missing his milk, was none too pleased.

He searched high and low for the boy, before finding him at his fence post, where he was bathing it with sweet honey and fresh milk. “Outrageous!” the master shouted. Dragging the child by the scruff, the old man fetched his axe. The boy pleaded and cried so loudly that it seemed like the skies might soon cry back in reply. But it was to no avail. The man took an angry swing at the post, hoping to fall it with one stroke.

To his horror, and the child’s amazement, the fencepost began to bleed.

“My God, what have I done?” Whispered the man. “I’ve forgotten, oh Lord. I’ve forgotten that you are omnipresent, and nothing can exist without you. Forgive me.” With that, the man took the little boy by his hand to his prayer room, where he sat him on his altar, and lovingly poured fresh milk over his little boy head… and then over his own. I am That.

Some years ago, I was sitting at the feet of the great spiritual master, Amma Sri Karunamayi, under a rosewood tree in South India. It was a beautiful evening in her forest ashram, and it felt as if we had slipped into ancient Vedic times.

“Remember God in the trees,” she said as the rosewood’s leaves twinkled. “Remember God in the mountains. Remember God in the cities. Remember God in the cars that

travel the roads and the passengers within. In the fleeting light of dusk and the Milky Way at night. Remember.” From time immemorial, Rishis, the ancient sages of India, have taught the phrase, Aham Brahmasmi, meaning, “I am That.” It is a beautiful phrase to meditate upon, to remember when times turn bitter, sweet, or anything in between. When we are savaged by the angry boss, or reeling with the flu. Aham Brahmasmi. I am That. Ever Divine, ever pure. “God created mankind in his own image, in the image of God he created them.” (Genesis 1:27)

We see ourselves as rich, poor, young, old, yet money flows in and out, youth flows in and out. None of these are permanent. What is permanent is your own true Self, your beautiful soul. What is also permanent is the Self within all others.

In the sacred Hindu scripture, the Bhagavad Gita, it is said, “the soul can never be cut to pieces by any weapon, nor burned by fire, nor moistened by water, nor withered by the wind.” In the ancient Hindu scripture, the Makunda Upanishad, it is said, “Bright but hidden, the Self dwells in the heart. Everything that moves, breathes, opens, and closes lives in the Self. He is the Source of love and may be known though love, but not through thought. His is the goal of life. Attain this goal!” Going back to my musings on the plane: Why is it that we sorrow? Why is it that we cause others to sorrow? Why does nature fall and injustices rise? Perhaps because we have collectively forgotten the simple truth realized by a simple little boy worshipping a withered fence post. Perhaps we as a society have forgotten to recognize the sacred magnificence of all that exists. We as a people have forgotten our own true Selves.

The power is within you to realize this yet again. Pray, meditate, and serve the world as you would serve the divine. In doing so, your life will become sacred. Your life will become a blessing.

Aham Brahmasmi. Remember.

“Is it not written in your law,” said Jesus. “Ye are Gods?” (John 10:34).

Swamini Adityananda undertook years of spiritual tapas in south India and decades of service to all humanity across the world before coming to Parmarth Niketan, Rishikesh nearly a decade ago, where she was bestowed with sanyas (Hinduism’s ancient order of monasticism) by the hands of HH

Pujya Swami Chidanand Saraswatiji. In her service to God and our beautiful world, her life has been dedicated to addressing some of the world’s most pressing environmental and social causes, having served in several African nations, India, the United States, Southeast Asia and at the United

Nations, World Bank and IMF levels.

As Director of Programmes, Policy and Development of the Global Interfaith WASH Alliance (GIWA), she directs sweeping campaigns and programmes in support of a water-secure and pollution-free world that have impacted millions. She is also a Global Trustee of the world’s largest interfaith organization, United Religions Initiative, which has presence in 104 nations. Swamini Adityananda is furthermore the co-founder of the Pan-African Association, which has provided direct services to survivors of war, violence, displacement and torture to tens of thousands of people from over 40 nations across the world for nearly two decades. Her motto is, “if you dream it, it can be done.”