Being able to realize “I” to be sat cit ananda is restricted if the student’s mind is overly inclined to lust, greed, anger, or sloth, or is caught up in psychological drama left over from childhood or traumatic events. Every human being has some problems. For the student, the effect of the problems is the same - he is distracted from the teaching. Mood swings and emotionality generally come from physiological factors or from internal pressure. Both men and women can have bodily disorders, and any toxin in the body or mind can cause a problem. The pressure factor keeps building up when a person is in a situation that keeps reminding him about himself. Focusing on this teaching will do that. But if the student does focus and deal with what it brings up, he can build up a capacity for intake that facilitates emotional growth. How does a person lift something that is heavy? First, he pushes against it. Then he tries to lift it a bit. He pushes it again. Then he tries to pick it up. There is an order there. When he has lifted it a few times, he gains confidence. If the person wants to develop the capacity, he adds a little more weight. A person cannot improve without trying to lift what he cannot lift. Still, the increase has to be judiciously added. This teaching seems difficult in the beginning, but as the student becomes familiar with the language, the topics, and the method, he finds he is capable of more intake.

There is another problem beyond physiological and pressure factors. There is something underneath that makes a person crisis-prone, just as some people are accident-prone. If there is no new problem, the person will think up an old problem. Some people have trouble letting things go. Swami Dayananda shares a story. An elderly couple, a woman and her husband, were traveling on the railroad across a hot country. It was very hot, and the woman was very thirsty. It was a long way between stations in this country, and it was hours until the next stop. The woman complained repeatedly, “I am so thirsty. I am so thirsty.” They rode on, and she went on and on. Finally, the train stopped at a small station, and everyone had a chance to get a quenching drink. The woman drank her fill. They reboarded, and the train started again. It was quiet for a bit, and then she started again, “I was so thirsty. I was so thirsty.” Some people find it difficult to let things go. The individual holds on to his old issues, and it looks more like they hold on to him. The holding on is because of a certain pain but holding on neither treats the pain nor helps the person. The pain itself is a problem but at least it makes the person think, and it shows him where to pay attention if he wants to grow out of it. If the pain were not there, nobody would think.

The pain may cause a person to have a look at himself. Usually, an individual just keeps blaming the world. But the more he does this, the more the world goes away from him. His blame drives what he wants away and confirms his sense of isolation. Furthermore, a person cannot keep blaming his parents and childhood. After acknowledging the sources of the problems, one must look for a way to get out of the problems. But though the pain makes him think, the problems do not just go away. The process goes on for some time as he deals with this teaching with the help of a teacher. When the subject matter deals with oneself, one has to cross over the problem.

Swami Dayananda used a story to explain. There were devas and asuras in India’s mythic past. These were the good guys and the bad guys, and they always quarrelled and fought. Sometimes one group got the upper hand, sometimes the others were in control. The asuras were demonic and hated the righteous but ambitious devas. The wise among the devas decided that their group must obtain the amrta, the nectar of immortality. The asuras wanted it too - zealously. Whoever retained the amrta would thereafter be invincible. The nectar was an ingredient of the ocean of milk. The amrta was to be gained by churning the great ocean.

To churn butter from milk, one needs a simple rod and rope. But to churn the ocean, the devas and asuras brought a mountain for the rod. For the rope they got Vasuki, the great serpent. His length was measured in miles. The devas got on one side of the ocean and the asuras on the other. They argued about who would churn. At first, the asuras thought they would get away with their plan to grab the whole thing after the devas did the sweating. After quarrelling, the two groups churned together mightily, pulling on the ends of the serpent and rotating the mountain. Many things emerged from the milky ocean. A lethal poison came up that could destroy everything - it was virulent. Neither the devas nor the asuras had the power to tame this poison. It took Lord Shiva to come and drink it, and it turned his neck blue. Only he could handle the poison. Then the devas got the amrta.

What one gets first is the poison - then one gets the nectar. The devas became immortal by the nectar. The milky ocean stands for light. Light is knowledge. In the ocean of awareness, of the mind, the student tries to churn. First, he gets the poison and then the nectar. When one studies Vedanta, since the subject matter deals with oneself, it always comes back to oneself. That is all Vedanta is meant for. It never gets away from the vision of one’s self. In the process, the student gets in touch with himself. He must cross over the poison of his pain. It is the same in psychotherapy - getting to one’s pain so that it loses its power to affect one’s strength. A person reframes his appreciation of himself, of his experience, and of the world, and he works on new behaviours. With just therapy, the individual may relieve some of the pain, but he does not get the nectar. The level of understanding is different when one exposes oneself to Vedanta. In both therapy and Vedanta, the person starts by looking where the pain is. One cannot circumvent, gloss over, or dwell in the pain. With care, the student recognizes and addresses the problems. Vedanta is there to unfold a vision of oneself that accommodates the pain, gives a basis for understanding experience and everything that appears, allows one to see oneself as the person one would be, and reveals the always-free self.

The total, the real thing, vastu - that which is more than what one generally knows - is unconditionally positive. It is more than the other side of negative. It is more than positive and negative. It is above pleasure and pain. It is immeasurably larger than anything. Within itself it includes every form and every name. There is nothing alien to the vastu. It is the true nature of self. There is nothing more positive. Keeping the vastu as a referent keeps the student going. With increasing clarity as to the ineffable presence of the vastu, one needs to deal with the emotional problems one may have. As the student focuses on this teaching, he does not duck or be cowed down or allow himself to be taken under by the problems. One’s feelings have a reality, and if the student says they are unreal, they will get him.

Generally, an individual seeks an answer for his feelings, a validation for his reactivity, that is external to himself. That one became angry is a fact, but one’s reaction, “That guy made me angry,” is the real fact. The crucial fact is that the individual thinks that something other than his own attitude is the source of his emotionality. Any reaction or emotion a person has says more about him than about who or what triggered it. The individual has learned to hit back, and revenge has become acceptable behaviour. This response to one’s feelings, this retaliation, is confusing in that it keeps a person from what he actually wants from himself and from others. Expressing the feelings is a better solution than stuffing them inside and letting them build up more pressure. Moderated expressions of emotionality can be like the small tremors that release pressure in earthquake country. If a person talks about his angry feelings in a safe place and manner, if he does not stuff them inside, he may feel some relief. It becomes a truce between two angry battles - his mental side and his aggressive side. Actually it is not a truce, and it is not a choice. He remains the angry person who does not get what he wants. If he hits back, he gets worse, and he feels guilty as well. Someone gets hurt.

When does an individual become a person with integrity, a person who can be trusted and relied upon, a person of character, strength, and gentleness? When does he stop projecting his pain on others and justifying his bitterness and sense of failure toward himself? This need has nothing to do with Vedanta. What is it that really gives value to a life, to oneself? Ask a woman who is considering marriage what she wants. She wants someone who is strong and gentle, not a weakling and not a bulldozer, not a complainer, not a wimp. Everyone has a value for that fellow. If one is a seeker, a searcher for freedom, one deals with the feelings and emotions. In the Bhagavad Gita the whole exposition is about heart feelings and definitive discrimination - not about who caused the anger and enmity. There are a hundred things that happen every day that a person can react to, that can evoke the angry self-image. In addition, every person has unlimited memories which can aggravate him. A seeker deals with the situation by acknowledging the pain and finding out why he is angry. A seeker acknowledges that he cannot harbour anger, fear, and resentment and say, “I am sat cit ananda.” There is no freedom, no life, in this.

Neither should the student neglect a feeling, nor should he just go along with the feeling. Either of these choices makes him an emotional hobo. If he begins to inquire into the source of his feelings, he will thank the guy who triggered them. Without that guy, the underlying feelings go undetected and unresolved. The angry get angry, and the restless get restless. Emotions and feelings do not fall on a person like meteors out of the blue. The capacity for getting upset and reacting is all inside and there for one to deal with. There are different techniques for freeing oneself from being a victim of emotions, and the sources of the feelings may need to be looked at. Sometimes one looks at one’s own value structure. Values that are not appropriate must be taken into account. The feelings are legitimate, but that is not the question. If someone gets you angry, then that person has a handle on you. Objectively and realistically the student comes to terms with his emotional life, with his journey to emotional maturity which is the measure of every man and woman.

There are many ways to become a seeker. That is what seeking is about. A person can seek to become more objective about his feelings. Then someone can help him. There are many methods and many areas to learn about from which one can gain a broader, more mature base for choices and actions. The goal is to deal with one’s feelings honestly and naturally. In time, it becomes like driving a car when a red light comes on the dashboard. They are called idiot lights; the driver knows he has to deal with something that is making it difficult for him to continue. Perhaps the steering has become sluggish because a tire needs air. Or a poorly adjusted carburettor has made the engine cough. Maybe it is overheating. The driver just gets the feel for what is going on with his vehicle. He does not just sit there and cry. To deal with things, the person first needs to know how to open the hood. If the person does the wrong thing, such as removing the first cap he sees, he swears he will never open the hood again. Just seeing something objectionable or dissonant about oneself should not make one never want to open up again. The implications of continuing to hide oneself are enormous. The seeker needs some knowledge to open the hood - the childhood, the boyhood or girlhood. What happened in childhood is important.