““When I hear a word, there is first the external vibration, next the internal sensation carried to the mind by the organ of hearing, then the mind reacts, and I know the word. The word I know is a mixture of the three—vibration, sensation, and reaction. Ordinarily these three are inseparable, but by practice the yogi can separate them.””
Vedanta’s history goes back to the period when nothing was written: all teaching was oral. The only way to learn anything in those very ancient times was to hear about it from a knowledgeable person. Traditionally, therefore, the preliminary Vedanta practice came to be known as “hearing” (śravaṇa).
Today we can learn through reading as well. Reading is also a form hearing: when we read, we hear the words in the mind. We read printed books, but we also read on our desktops, laptops and other mobile devices. Much of our learning today occurs through listening to lectures and classes, podcasts and audiobooks. There is also the unconscious learning that occurs through what we see, taste, touch and smell. No matter which amongst our senses (indriya) opens the door to learning, the incoming information needs to be processed by the mind. This mental process is a kind of “hearing,” when the mind tries to make sense of the data it receives through any of its senses.
There are two types of hearing. The first type is all-too-familiar. We hear a sound and, if it comes from outside, it is audible to us and to others. But the sound can also come from inside when we “hear” our thoughts. We always think in a language that we are familiar with. But in the case of external sounds, if we know the language, then the sound resolves itself into words, each with its corresponding meaning. If we don’t know the language, then the sound remains merely a sound and, if it is irritating, we call it noise.
The second type of hearing is responsive hearing. It is connected to the first—it is, after all, a response to the first type—but it can also be distinguished from the first. What is this second type of hearing? When we hear the sound, we recognize the word it represents, we understand its meaning, and we instinctively respond to it. All of this happens almost instantaneously. We can hear this response within us. Not everyone responds in the same way, so not everyone hears the same thing even when the sound and the word are the same.
Take a mundane example. If someone tells me, “You are stupid,” I hear the sound, I understand what those words mean, and I hear this person tell me, “You are stupid.” That’s the ordinary type of hearing. But then, almost immediately, I also hear this inside me: “How dare you?” Or “Me, stupid? You moron, you are stupid.” Or, “Why do people think I am stupid? I am not stupid.” I may choose to express in words what I hear inside me and give the person a piece of my mind, or I may choose to remain silent.
Now, a better example. What happens when my guru tells me, “You are the infinite and immortal being, pure and perfect in every way”? That is essentially what “You are That” (tat tvam asi) means. How I respond will depend on what kind of student (adhikārī) I am. If I belong to the highest category (uttama) of students, what I’ll hear and experience is this: “I am the infinite and immortal being, pure and perfect in every way.” That is precisely what “I am Brahman” (ahaṁ brahmāsmi) implies. If I am a mediocre (madhyama) student, I’ll probably shake my head and hear myself thinking: “That just doesn’t make any sense.” Or, “Who knows?” Or, “Even if that’s true, I just don’t feel myself to be that.”
When we study the Gita, it is important to keep in mind both these types of hearing. If we merely pay heed to the first type, the learning will remain superficial. The second type—responsive hearing—is important even in academic study, what to speak of its importance in spiritual study. When Krishna spoke to Arjuna, what did Arjuna hear? We don’t know—and we don’t need to know. The Gita may be a dialog between Krishna and Arjuna, but my study should transform it into a dialog between Krishna and me. When Krishna says something, what do I hear?—that is what matters.
The second chapter of the Gita provides two instances where responsive hearing is vital. The first instance is when Krishna describes the nature of the ātman. The ordinary kind of hearing merely reveals what the ātman’s nature is—and I may even wonder why I should bother about it. The responsive hearing, though, gives a radically different picture. Take, for instance, verse #17:
अविनाशि तु तद्विद्धि येन सर्वमिदं ततम् । विनाशमव्ययस्यास्य न कश्चित्कर्तुमर्हति ॥
Avināśī tu tad viddhi yena sarvaṁ idaṁ tatam,
vināśaṁ avyayasāsya na kaścit kartuṁ arhati.
“That which pervaded all this—know it to be imperishable. No one has the power to destroy this immutable principle.”
Read with careful attention, this is what responsive hearing reveals:
“I am all-pervading, imperishable and immutable. No one has the power to destroy me.”
What at first glance seems to be merely a descriptive passage suddenly comes to life when it becomes an affirmative declaration. Krishna is not describing some “principle” residing somewhere. Krishna is describing my true nature. He is describing who I am. Summing up the description of the ātman in verses 12–25, we might arrive at the following responsive reading:
“I have always existed and I will always continue to exist. To me, rebirth is just a stage, no different from other stages such as childhood, youth and old age. I am all-pervading, imperishable and immutable. No one has the power to destroy me. I am eternal and immeasurable, birthless and deathless. I am not killed when this body is killed. Death and rebirth are merely changing one body for another, the way a worn-out dress is replaced by a new one. I cannot be cut, burnt, wetted or dried. I am changeless, stable and immovable. I cannot be perceived by the senses nor imagined by the mind.”
Reading these words at least once a day, preferably every morning, can be immensely beneficial. Beginning a day with the awareness of one’s true nature, even if it is only at the intellectual or emotional level, can put us in a positive frame of mind to carry out our responsibilities in a more mature and thoughtful manner. Chanting of certain hymns is also helpful. There is, in fact, a hymn designed specifically for this purpose. It is called Prātaḥ-smaraṇa Stotra, which provides a powerful way to affirm one’s true identity.
The second instance of responsive hearing occurs in the concluding section of the second chapter of the Gita. Arjuna wants to know how a spiritually enlightened person, one with “steady wisdom” (sthitaprajña), behaves. Krishna describes at length the characteristics of such a person.
What good is this description to the unenlightened me? The answer is simple. I don’t need to wait until my enlightenment in order to start living like an enlightened being. I must do that now in my unenlightened state. Since this won’t happen naturally in my case, I must make an effort to do so. Everything new in life begins with effort and, over time and with diligent practice, it gradually becomes effortless and natural. The characteristics (lakṣaṇā) of the enlightened become the disciplines (sādhana) to be practiced by the unenlightened.
A responsive hearing of verses 55–71 may take the following form:
“I must make an effort
to remove all desires from my mind and remain content within my own self.
to remain unshaken by adversity, free from fear and anger, and not run after pleasure.
to be unattached, avoiding excessive celebration of the good or bitter hatred of the bad.
to control my senses, and cultivate the ability to withdraw them when needed and to focus on the Supreme.
to be calm, for that is the only way to peace and happiness.
to abandon the sense of “I” and “mine” with regard to the material world.”
This kind of responsive hearing transforms the set of verses from a description of the enlightened being to a prescription for the student who is yearning to be enlightened. The discipline that emerges from this kind of hearing needs enormous effort in the beginning. When practiced with patience and perseverance, it gradually becomes a natural way to live. If I am able to live like an enlightened being naturally, effortlessly and spontaneously, then—no surprise—I am an enlightened being. Until then, I must have the humility to acknowledge that I am an unenlightened student struggling for enlightenment.
Responsive hearing can revolutionize spiritual study. The scriptures will sound different when I read them with care and attention. How I respond to the words I hear or read is a good measure of who I am. It is possible to hear Krishna or Rama or Buddha or Jesus or Ramakrishna, or any of these great ones, speaking with me—right now, at this very moment, and right here, where I sit. Time and space melt away with responsive hearing. Spiritual life and study become real, vibrant and practical.