Photo by Susanna Marsiglia, courtesy of Unsplash.
The great South Indian sage Thiruvalluvar said, “What is tapasya (penance)?” Tapasya doesn’t mean go and close your eyes and meditate. That’s easy, comfortable. Tapas means to burn. A spiritual seeker is supposed to practice tapasya. Thiruvalluvar says, “The more you heat gold, the more it becomes better qualified.” When gold loses its carbon particles, loses its dirt, it improves in carat. If you want to raise the carat of gold, you heat it, refine it.
Likewise, if you want to become a glittering gold brilliant person, let the pain that comes to you burn you. It’s not that you are going to put yourself into suffering. We don’t have to do that. We don’t have to purposely hurt ourselves. Some people do fire‑walking or piercing all over the body. That’s not necessary.
The real proof of tapasya is that when suffering comes to you, you accept it and, at the same time, you do not cause pain to anyone. So, tapas means accepting pain and not causing pain. Gurudev Swami Sivanandaji Maharaj said, “Adapt, adjust, accommodate. Bear insult, bear injury, highest sadhana.” That is the real Yoga, the highest Yoga. Anybody can meditate. Sometimes even frogs meditate a long time. They go into hibernation, deep samadhi. Bed bugs practice samadhi. What is the real samadhi? When you cultivate samaha—equanimity. Where do you want to show that you acquired equanimity? In the midst of the dualities: pleasure and pain.
And Indian saint once prayed, “Lord, let my mind be a calm lake without any waves. Let my mind become the needle of the scale where one side has gold, another has clay.” In essence, he was praying to be established in equanimity in the midst of duality. The Bhagavad Gita says, “Samatvam yoga uchyate. Yoga is equanimity (2.48). How will you show that you are established in equanimity, having a balanced and serene mind? In the midst of challenges.
I like to tell the story of that old swami who went to a Himalayan cave and stayed for 10 years practicing meditation. Then one day he came out and everyone ran to him and asked, “Oh, for ten years you were totally silent in the cave? You must have acquired a lot of siddhis (spiritual powers). What is it that you have accomplished?” He answered, “Nothing much. I’m not able to fly or walk on the water. But, I used to be very temperamental, a very hot‑tempered person. Anger was my worst enemy. And I know that these past ten years I have conquered that anger.”
One person questioned him, “Is that so? Oh, what a great virtue. So, you never get angry?” The swami replied, “No, not even once.” The questioner wanted to be sure about this and qualified his question saying, “You never got angry all these ten years?” The swami answered confidently, with emphasis, “Never, sir!”
The questioner continued asking, “But, swami, how can you remember all that happened all these ten years? Can you think of at least one time that you may have gotten angry? Why don’t you take your time and think a little more?
Suddenly, the swami’s face became all flushed, his cheeks were bright red as he shouted, “You fool! How many times do I have to tell you? I say that I don’t get angry, and you are asking me again and again! Don’t you want to trust me?”
The man replied, “Oh yes, swami. I understand now.
Like that swami, we may want to brag about our spirituality, “Oh, I am a spiritual seeker. I am a yogi. I am practicing meditation for a long time.” All right. You practice meditation. But, the moment you come out of the meditation hall and you see one of your shoes is missing, you shout, “Who did that?” That’s what. You should prove that you are a good yogi in any life situation. That’s what you call real spirituality.
