The Quest for Happiness

I sent this quote to a friend the other day. I felt that it was totally in keeping with the teaching of the Perfect Masters and Meher Baba. “But the whole point is to get pleasure and be able to keep it. Whoever can do this has nothing to learn. But the way to it is lies through suffering.” – G.I. Gurdjieff

My friend replied that he read it and shared it with his wife. He said that she would replace the word pleasure with joy. I too was somewhat ambivalent about Gurdjieff’s use of the word pleasure, though I understood that he was speaking at a particular time to a particular group of people. I asked my friend if he thought that the word happiness might be a good substitute. He replied that happiness was very consistent with Meher Baba’s teachings.

But whether we call it pleasure, joy, happiness, bliss, peace, etc., can we agree that if we look deep inside ourselves for the goal and motivator of the actions of our lives, that it is in fact the quest for this pleasure, joy, happiness, bliss, peace happiness?

I find everything in Gurdjieff’s statement significant. First, the qualification, “and to be able to keep it.” This is significant because it has been my experience that in life, nothing stays the same for very long. Moments of happiness, joy, bliss, etc. are fleeting, as are the moments of suffering that often follow.

There is a story I heard from Christopher Freemantle about the great King Solomon (a Perfect Master). People would come to him with their problems. He would listen but say nothing. He just sat there listening while slowly turning an ornate gold and jewel-encrusted ring around his finger.

There was one man who had come to him many times with his problems. They were indeed serious and weighty problems. As usual, King Solomon said nothing, just sat there turning the ring. One day the man could take the Master’s silence no longer and complained. Hearing the complaint King Solomon removed the ring from his finger and passed it to the man. Inside the ring was engraved, “This too shall pass.” This too shall pass, this too shall pass, this too shall pass…

In life, in the world, everything passes, everything changes, and every stick has two ends. Every stick has two ends—that’s another saying I heard attributed to Gurdjieff. It speaks to illusion’s reality of duality. At the other end of the stick of pleasure is pain, at the other end of the stick of attraction is repulsion, at the other end of the stick of wealth is poverty, etc. You can’t pick up just one end of the stick without picking up the whole stick. You always get the whole stick.

Perhaps we begin by trying—to take one end without the other. This can go on for many many lifetimes, but eventually we realize it is impossible. So then we may attempt to do away with the stick altogether, to not pick up the stick in the first place. This is the road of austerity—denial, but the problem is that denial id just one end of a stick, and always on the opposite end of the stick is indulgence. We can go through many lifetimes like this, going back and forth between denial and indulgence. It’s like a pendulum. But the pendulum itself is subject to the law of duality, and that which moves will eventually become still, though this may take hundreds of lifetimes. And this is just an example of one pendulum…

At some point, however, one begins to understand that they are trapped and cannot do without help. One might begin to take religion more seriously or seek out help through therapy, spiritual teachings, spiritual teachers, etc. Perhaps one learns about and is encouraged to try the technique called non-identification or non-attachment. In other words, to not try to do away with the stick, but to pick it up and yet remain unattached to the experiences of either of its ends. This can work, but it is extremely difficult, and virtually impossible without help, and even with real help, it too, can take many lifetimes.

And so, we see the significance of the words, and be able to keep it. To be able to keep anything implies a transcendence over duality itself. Once we have achieved this then it follows that one has nothing to learn.

But Gurdjieff said that the way to it lies through suffering. Why suffering? And is not pleasure on the other end of the same stick whose end is suffering? And therefore, does not suffering itself continue to embroil one more and more in duality? So why suffering?

Meher Baba put it this way, if you are having a wonderful dream and wake up, you want to go back to sleep and recapture that dream, but if the dream is unpleasant, you only feel relief that it’s over and have no interest in revisiting it.

Meher Baba and all the Perfect Masters I have studied are very consistent on this point, life as we experience is a dream—the dream state of God. It is all illusion and delusion and however real it appears to us to be, it is not real. Yet, it is a necessary stage that the soul must experience on its journey from its deep sleep to its real, fully awake, I am God State.

If life was always pleasant, enjoyable, etc. there would be no impetus to awaken. Meher Baba explained it this way, he said that a growing dissatisfaction with life and all its dualities, both unpleasant and pleasant, combined with a growing interest and eventually all-consuming love for God is the dynamic mechanism of this awakening.

Gurdjieff used this analogy. You live in this beautiful house with many rooms on many stories. Those rooms contain unbelievable experiences of beauty and bliss. But you chose to live in the basement—the dark dank basement—and have all but forgotten even the existence of the other stories and rooms. Instead, you busy yourself making efforts to find the most pleasant places in the basement to pass your time fighting and arguing with others about meaningless things. Gurdjieff concluded by saying that the only way out of the basement is to ally oneself with someone who found their way out of the basement and is willing to show you the way.

What is the basement? It is gross consciousness—consciousness of what we call the physical universe and all its physical forms from galaxies to subatomic particles. Gross consciousness sees only the gross expressions of subtle energies and the mental projections of thoughts and feelings and desires. It sees only the outside.

What are the upper stories and rooms? They are the seven planes of higher consciousness: the first three being the planes of subtle consciousness—of energy. The innumerable powers, experiences, and possibilities of this story—this subtle world—constitute the various rooms on that story.

What is the next story—world of consciousness—beyond the subtle? It is called the Mental World and it is consists of two planes—rooms—the first being the plane wherein lies mastery of thoughts and the second being the plane wherein lies the mastery over all feelings, emotions, and desires.

Beyond this Mental World is the Seventh Plane, the plane of God Realization/Self-Realization. It is the end of the soul’s journey. It is the fully awake state of the soul. It is eternal, infinite, and the abode of all Knowledge, Power, and Bliss.

Those whose consciousness is of the subtle sphere can help others to reach that sphere, but they cannot help others to achieve states beyond their own station. Likewise, those whose consciousness is of the higher mental sphere can help others to reach that sphere, but they cannot help others to achieve the states beyond their station. Finally, to achieve the Goal, it is necessary to enlist the help of one who has themselves achieved the Goal—a Perfect Master.

The evolution of consciousness proceeds through association and disassociation of the soul with all the lower gross forms from stone to man. Throughout this journey, suffering is experienced. With the achievement of the human form the process of reincarnation begins. In this process, human forms, male and female, black and white, weak and strong, rich and poor, etc., etc., are experienced, discarded, and then replaced in an effort to free the consciousness of the soul from its identifications with these very forms.

Throughout this phase of the journey the experience of suffering continues. And even when the consciousness of the soul enters involution and experiences the various planes, suffering in first a subtle form and then in a mental form continues. Suffering is there throughout the entire journey of the consciousness throughout the entire dream state of the soul—what we call creation consciousness.

But what exactly is the nature of this suffering? It’s a complex thing, for there are many different forms of suffering, and not all of them are necessary! This is the important thing. Not all suffering is necessary!

“But the whole point is to get pleasure and be able to keep it. Whoever can do this has nothing to learn. But the way to it is lies through suffering.” – G.I. Gurdjieff

That’s how we started this topic. In the dream state of creation, duality manifesting itself through constant change is the king, and so the ability to keep anything would be quite an accomplishment. Gurdjieff as well as the Masters are all in agreement that suffering is essential to achieve constancy, but as was discussed, there are many kinds of suffering and not all of them are necessary. In fact, almost all suffering is unnecessary and almost all suffering is unwanted. So then, why do we go on and on suffering and suffering? Gurdjieff often said, “The most difficult thing for a man to give up is his suffering.” What an irony; what a contradiction!

In 1979, I was talking to Adi K. Irani in his little office in the Avatar Meher Baba Trust Compound in Ahmednagar, India. He was saying that we are all traveling on a train that would bring us to the Goal, but we are not driving the train. All that is necessary for us to do is to stay on the train and bide our time in a pleasant and helpful way. But sometimes, Adi said, we might be enticed to get off the train. He said that Meher Baba would let us get off the train, but also, in His Infinite Mercy, He would always allow us to get back on the train. I suggested that though getting off the train was, in fact, unnecessary, once that option was taken, we would have to shift from calling it unnecessary to calling it an unnecessary necessity. Adi seemed to like that.

Leaving the train in search of pleasure always leads to suffering, and this suffering is unnecessary, but the wisdom gained from countless experiences of getting on and off the train eventually leads one to learn to stay on the train and not be lured off by the false hopes of desires. What is the most unnecessary suffering of all? My experience tells me it is worrying. Worrying is the most unnecessary suffering of all. I recall the old saying, “a coward dies a thousand deaths, a hero only one.”

 Of course, staying on the train also has its share of suffering, but this suffering is necessary.

So, what is suffering? Suffering can be physical, suffering can be mental, and suffering can be emotional. None are pleasant, and if we are honest with ourselves, none are really welcome—at least for most mere mortals. As Adi used to say, “A kiss and a kick from Meher Baba are one and the same, but I still prefer the kiss.” Don’t we all?

Now, it may seem from the way I’m talking that I actually understand what it is I’m saying, and perhaps at some level I do—understand the why and the what of suffering, its necessity, and its unnecessary necessity, and maybe most importantly, that it is all just an illusion—a dream. I can even tell myself—remind myself—of this in the midst of my own suffering.

But if this is true and I’ve learned the lesson, then why do I keep suffering; why do I need to keep suffering? So, I must be missing something, for as Hafez said, “He never tries His slave in vain.” Then what is it that I’m missing? I believe that the answer is simply this, all my understanding, all my knowledge of suffering, is limited to that section of mind that controls thinking and thoughts. The other section of mind, the domain of feeling, emotion, desires, etc., does not know the truth that the thinking section of mind knows, and it is for this knowing by the feeling section of mind that suffering continues to be essential.

But like any remedy to be effective, it must be the right remedy—in this case, the right suffering and this is where the Master comes in. The Master, being Infinitely knowing, sees into every corner of the soul’s cloak of illusion and knows what the exact prescription is that will free the soul from its cloak of illusion.

There is a story about a disciple who is telling his Master about a friend he says is very spiritual. He reads spiritual books, meditates, and is seen to do good. The Master says, “Oh he sounds very spiritual, but then, gesturing with one hand he says, “but let me grab him by the throat and throw him up against the wall,” while with his other hand he makes a fist and gestures as if he is about to punch the man in the face, and says, “then we will see how spiritual the man really is!”

I know the story sounds a little crude, but the point is clear, head knowledge is fine, but it’s not enough. We need to know with the whole of ourselves and this is where life comes in. It is life that can take us to the door, but at the door one’s progress comes to a halt and the help of the Master becomes essential. It is the Master who can pull us through the door to the Goal.

Gurdjieff often evoked the analogy of a carriage, a horse, and a coachman.

 “A man as a whole with all his separately concentrated and functioning localizations, that is to say, his formed and independently educated ‘personalities,’ is almost exactly comparable to that organization for conveying a passenger, which consists of a carriage, a horse, and a coachman.” – All and Everything – Beelzebub’s Tales to his Grandson, page 1192

 

In this analogy, the carriage represents the physical body, the horse represents the organization of human feeling, and the driver represents the whole totality of the manifestations of human mentation—what is generally described as thinking.

It is precisely the training of the horse that is the work of the Master. The horse cannot be trained with the same methods that work for the driver. The Master works with and through life to train the horse and for this, some suffering is necessary. But suffering, in and of itself, is never the point and unnecessary suffering, by its very nature, is never necessary. The Master works to eliminate unnecessary suffering and through the Master’s Love and Compassion, helps support the wayfarer through the trial and tribulations of the necessary suffering. The Master is always Infinitely Merciful and Eternally Benevolent.

In fact, from the very beginning of the soul’s journey of consciousness, from its earliest associations with pre-human forms—all the way back to and before the stone form, the Master is working. The Master is always working, but mostly, behind the curtain. Only at certain times, and this is generally when the soul is reaching the end of its journey, does the Master appear to the soul in order to establishes a personal relationship. This personal relationship is necessary to guide and energize the final steps of the soul’s journey. The acceptance of the Master’s help by the wayfarer is the critical factor, for this acceptance represents the acceptance of Reality by Illusion—the giving up of Illusion’s hold on the soul’s consciousness as limited and separate from Reality—from God—from Self.

 

“You are like a stream that flows through all of time seeking union with

the sea. Nearing journey’s end, the stream flows into a vast desert and

is trapped in the sands. Weakening more and more, it struggles

on, but finds its way blocked by great mountains. Hopeless

and helpless, its life ebbing into the sands, the stream cries out,

‘Oh help me Lord!’ and is answered by the voice of the wind.

‘I am the wind; you must give yourself to me. In my arms I will carry

you over the mountains as a cloud and as rain you will merge with the sea.’

 

‘But I will die!’

‘You will not die! Only your dream of yourself as stream will end.

Besides, where is your choice?

A stream you can no longer be.

Give yourself to me or be lost to the sands forever’.

And so, totally helpless and without hope, exhausted beyond belief, the

stream gave itself into the arms of the wind and was carried as a

cloud beyond the mountain’s peaks. The cloud drifted over the sea

where seeing itself reflected in the water below, began to weep.

‘I await you. Come,’ welcomed the sea.

And the cloud released itself as tears of joy   

and fell as rain into the sea.

‘We are not we, but one,’ spoke the golden sea and the stream, being stream no more, heard the voice and recognized it as its own.”  – From The Voice of the Stream, a poetic rendering by Michael Kovitz of a Sufi story

 

                                                                                                     © copyright Michael Kovitz 2023

 

The Compassion of Impermanence

One day a man came to the court of the great King Solomon seeking an audience with the legendary Perfect Master. He went on and on for a long time enumerating all his troubles, dwelling on his misery and bad fortune. King Solomon listened attentively but said nothing. As he listened, He twirled an impressive jeweled ring around His finger.

When the man had finally exhausted his tale of woe he waited for the Master’s reply, but King Solomon continued to say nothing and continued to twirl the ring on His finger. After some time, the man began his story again, this time embroidering his tale with even more details of his personal suffering and woe. King Solomon continued to listen and twirl His ring and continued to say nothing.

Again the man launched into his story, but after the third time he was exasperated and addressed the Perfect Master with these words, “You are the great King Solomon; you are the wisest man in the world; I have come to you seeking your guidance and yet you say nothing and continue to turn the ring around your finger.” King Solomon stopped turning His ring, removed it from His finger, and gave it to the man. The man seemed confused and began to look at the ring. Inside the ring, around the band, was engraved “All things pass.”

All things pass. All things pass. All things pass…

What are things? Things are the universe, the cosmos and all of the forms that populate creation. Things are all, and are all of, Illusion. In creation—in illusion—all things pass, because they have been created—have a beginning—and therefore must have an end. This is the compassion of impermanence.

Perhaps you’ve seen them? They are very common in India, sold to tourists, ensconced in prayer rooms and Hindu temples, decorating fancy restaurants in five star hotels.

Some are small, the size of your fist, some are so large it would take three men to lift them up, but the images, the depictions, remain remarkably consistent—a dancing figure with one leg raised in the air, the other foot on the back of a small prostrate figure.

He has many arms with many hands that hold fire and a drum and a snake. He dances the dance of bliss in a ring of fire.

He is called Nataraj, the king of the dance and is a depiction of the Lord Shiva, the personification of the third of the trinity of Creator, Preserver, and Destroyer, and the figure He dances upon is the dwarf-demon Apasmara, who represents ignorance and illusion.

Brahma creates, Vishnu sustains, and Shiva destroys—can you imagine anything more terrifying than a creation without destruction? Would the creation just continue to be filled up with “things” that once created never died—never changed?

“Before you wish for immortality, first be very sure you can live with yourself.” – Christopher Freemantle

A human being is born. It is said that birth begins the process of dying. This process of dying we call living and this living is the work of Vishnu. But without Shiva, without dying, Vishnu could not do His work, and so there would never be any change. Infants would never become children, children would never become adults, and adults would never die—how terrifying is the thought?

It is interesting, we fear Shiva most when things are going well, yet long for Shiva most when we are in pain. It is not that we cease to be terrified by Him, but we overcome our fear when the status quo becomes just too intolerable—when the tipping point between pleasure and pain is passed.

Who has not felt that temporary elation immediately after being fired from a job they dislike, or learning they do indeed have that dreaded disease they feared they may have? “At least I know now,” we say, “knowing is infinitely better than not knowing.” What do we know? We know that there is change, that nothing stays the same—that “All things pass.”

Yudhisthira was the great Pandava king in the Mahabharata. He was virtuous and honest and unlike most kings, he was not intoxicated with his position or his power. But he had one weakness, he liked to gamble, and this was a problem because he was not a good gambler.

Now it so happened, that Shakuni, the uncle of Duryodhana the Kuru king, was a master gambler, and he conspired with Duryodhana to engage Yudhisthira in a game of dice in order to win from him all his wealth and kingdoms.

Against the protestations of his four brothers the game began and, true to form, Yudhisthira began to lose—and lose big. He lost his armies, his weapons, and his wealth. He lost his kingdoms, and when all that was lost, he wagered and, one by one, lost his brothers. Then, with nothing more to lose, he wagered and lost himself!

He lost himself! What does that mean, to lose oneself? Is it just the loss of one’s freedom, or is there something more, something deeper to the idea of losing oneself? This is addressed in the Mahabharata when, after losing himself, Shakuni asked Yudhisthira if, in fact, he had nothing more to gamble. In the Peter Brooks’ film adaptation of the Mahabharata, Yudhisthira remembers that he does indeed have something more to gamble. “I gamble Draupadi, my wife,” he says.

Draupadi was the perfect woman. She had been won years before in a royal contest, and soon later married not only Yudhisthira, but his four other brothers as well at the behest of their mother Satyavati after, as it is said, “fate slipped into her words”. And so Draupadi had five husbands and she loved them all and they, in turn, loved and worshiped her.

After Draupadi was wagered and lost, Duryodhana’s guards came to her house and dragged her back to Duryodhana’s court. Hearing what had happened—hearing how she had been wagered and lost— Draupadi was humiliated and enraged and turning to Yudhisthira asked, “Did you wager me before or after you had wagered and lost yourself?—because if you lost yourself first, you would have no right to wager me after that.”

Draupadi certainly makes an interesting point and the story itself raises many subtle questions about the nature of identity in this transitory and illusory creation.

“All things pass. All things pass. All things pass…”—even that which we take ourselves to be.

Since the compassion of impermanence cannot be separated from the threefold actions of God as Creator, Sustainer, and Dissolver, let’s look a little more deeply into these roles—remembering all the while that, in Reality, nothing is being created, sustained, or dissolved.

“All souls (atmas) were, are and will be in the Over-Soul (Paramatma).
Souls (atmas) are all One.
All souls are infinite and eternal. They are formless.”—God Speaks, Meher Baba

God as Brahma (Creator) is asleep, so deeply asleep that He is not even aware of Himself or His dreams. Yet, He dreams—He dreams the dream of creation. Creation is a dream, and that is why in Reality, nothing is being created; and if nothing is being created, then nothing needs to be sustained; and if nothing needs to be sustained, then nothing needs to be dissolved.

Some yogis intone the Sanskrit word Aum (Om) as part of their practice. At the human level this word—this sound—represents the acts of creating, sustaining, and dissolving. Ah is considered to be the most open—most primary—of all articulations. When articulating ah the throat is totally open. Ah calls forth the breath which subtly transforms the articulated ah into an uh sound—the sound sustained until it is dissolved (closed) with an um. All singers know this; sounds—notes—are always held—sustained—on a vowel and finished—dissolved—on a consonant—in this case, um. Try it for yourself.

Ishwar is the name of that aspect of God that is involved in the acts of creating, sustaining, and dissolving creation. But Ishwar does not experience His dreams—Ishwar does not experience His creation. A fair enough question would be; if the dreamer does not experience his dream, does anyone or anything experience his dream—in this case, Ishwar’s creation? Meher Baba explains that it is Infinite Intelligence that experiences creation, but then, what is this Infinite Intelligence?

Infinite Intelligence is God and it is in the nature of Infinite Intelligence to know—to wish to know—but in order to know it must think and in order to think it must have a mind, because that is what mind does, it thinks. What is the thought that Infinite Intelligence longs to think? It longs to think—to know—Itself. It longs for the answer that began with the Whim—the question, Who am I?

But Infinite Intelligence is infinite and so to know Itself—to experience Itself—to think Itself—its thinking must be infinite, and to think infinitely an Infinite Mind is required. Infinite Intelligence, through Infinite Mind in its role of Ishwar, thinks and experiences Its thinking within the dream of creation.

The creation is the dream-state of God and its illusory existence is necessary for the acquiring and perfecting of that conscious through which God experiences Himself—drop by drop—soul by soul.

A Sip of Wine – by Michael Kovitz

“Inscribe these words in your heart. Nothing is real but God
Nothing matters but love for God”—Meher Baba

“Oh Lord,
My eyes believe that all they see is real—
Are not these stones and trees and birds and bees
and creatures of the earth and sky and sea real?

My lover, they are not real,
the Self within them is what’s real.
Their forms are only shadows cast
that come and go
from nothing to nowhere.

See them, love them,
but upon them do not depend.

And my Lord,
what of men who speak and walk and love and hate,
who laugh and cry with joy and pain,
and grow from babes to live and die—
are they not real—like You and I?

My lover, they are not real,
nor is the pain and pleasure that they feel.
The Self within them is what’s real,
while their forms like clouds that cross the sky
appear as shapes that dance and cry.

Know them, love them,
but upon them do not depend—
the Self that is real has no beginning or end.

But my Lord, I am a man.
Am I not real,
or my thoughts and what I feel?
Who is it then that seeks for You
and in my heart what voice speaks to You?
And are You real or just a dream?
It seems that nothing’s what it seems!

My lover, you are not real,
the Self within you is what’s real—
that Self and I are really one.
When you experience this, my work is done.

You say that nothing’s what it seems,
and that’s because your life’s my dream,
though in this dream my life’s displaced
and found again when you’re effaced.

Know Me.
Love Me.
Upon Me alone depend.

Within you I will awaken in Bliss,
beyond beginning and without end.

Remember, dear one, these words I say,

"Nothing is real but God.
Nothing matters but love for God.”—Meher Baba

(© Copyright 2000 Michael Kovitz)