In the previous post, Hazrat Inayat Khan describes the tremendous power that can be developed on the path of vairagya or renunciation. Now he describes the path of the Sant or saintly person.

The other kind of sage is the Sant. He also grows through four stages, of which the first is Brahmacharya-shrama or the stage of study. He uses the intellect and he learns about life through both study and practice. This is an intellectual attainment of knowledge. From this he passes on to Grihastha-shrama, the attainment of knowledge through practical experience of the responsibilities of life – responsibility for wife, husband, children, home; the experience of living with neighbors, with enemies; doing one’s duty by them in every way. All this is necessary before he can become a sage.

Next there is Vanaprastha-shrama, in which the aspirant goes beyond serving just his family. His consciousness comes to realize that all he has done for his family so far has been done for himself, for his wife and children. Now he must live for others, for the people of the town, of the country, of the race; he must even do what he can for the whole world. This is the service of humanity, the path of duty.

Finally he arrives at Sanyasa-shrama, which is a life of retirement and solitude. This is the life of retreat. The man who has lived a life of honesty, virtue, goodness, and service is recognized as having done so by his wife and children, and they appreciate that now he should be allowed to follow the life of his own choice. They realize it is time for him to go into retreat. He must go into Sanyasa-shrama; but he does not do this unless his family consents.

Before describing this life I must explain why it is necessary. Why should not one always be in the world? Why the need for retirement at the latter part of life? This retirement is only too necessary. In the first place the man has given up all his life, all his time, all his energy, to the study of worldly things; secondly he has done all this in the interest of his family or perhaps for many people around him. It is right that he should some day have a rest. We ourselves feel justified in resting when Saturday comes, so why should he not have his Sunday after working all his life – a life that has been nothing but continual conflict every moment, proving him to be wise and kind and gentle, true, honest, and virtuous through it all? His patience and virtue have been tested through all the temptations to which he was exposed, through all of life’s difficulties, dangers, humiliations, and responsibilities that had to be faced. This man is surely justified, on reaching the fourth stage of life, in having a little peace, with no more worries or responsibilities of business or profession or even of his family. The world should leave him alone to think and meditate and let his muscles, bones, body, and mind be at rest. All this is natural.

So you cannot imagine anyone in the East, and especially in India, not longing from the time he was born for the day when he can become a sage. Whatever may have been his occupation, profession, business, trade or family, he will have been longing for that moment when he could become a Vairagi at last, when he could cast off the load of responsibility that he had carried on his back all those years. He has longed for the time when he can give himself over to thinking about the truth, having now peace and rest and opportunity to communicate with the eternal Being. He has all the time been hoping for his desire to be granted when he may have a rest, with enough time to think of God and live that life wherein one becomes capable of being one with God.

However good and beautiful life in the world is, yet how true it is that it leaves so small a margin in which to give oneself the thought of God and truth! The daily duties take up every moment of one’s time, and even if there is anything left over, there is no end to the worries; and then there is disease and pain and suffering and all manner of other troubles.

A good man must have more patience, as he has to give in to people more and more; but although he will have his troubles, a wicked man will have twice as many, for he has not only the trouble which comes to a good person but also the troubles brought about by his own wickedness. The load is double.

Seclusion, silence, thoughtfulness, meditation, gentleness, all these make the rhythm of one’s life appropriate for receiving inspiration, revelation, and communion, at-one-ment with God. Perhaps you have noticed how things vary on different days. On some days you are very busy, enthusiastic about your work, and on such days you will not feel spiritually or religiously inclined because everything you do demands energy; while on other days you feel quite different, more religious, more desirous of seeking after truth. The troubles and worries of the world do not bother you so much, and the divine things and higher aspirations come more naturally. How is this? It is just rhythm – your mind, body, and whole being go through a certain rhythm, called sabtal in Sufi terms. This is a rhythm whereby your mind, body, and soul come to feel an exaltation, an inclination towards higher things. It is just like the rising of a wave. A heart frozen through cold, through selfishness, has become liquid through some emotion, affection, love, or distress, sorrow, or despair. It becomes like an ocean when the waves form. The waves make a rhythm, a rhythm which soothes the mind, and which gives you joy and peace and a feeling of being inclined towards a higher truth. This is the life of the Sanyasi, the life adapted to higher aspirations and thought, to communication with the higher life.

At other times the work of the Sanyasi is quiet. He is silent, yet sometimes he does speak to help those who come to him wishing to be guided through their worldly struggles. Then he becomes their guru. Most gurus belong to the rank of the Sanyasi, those who have adopted a life of retirement and who, while living this life, give teaching to pupils.

To be continued…