Sadhana: The Realization of Life

Sadhana: The Realization of Life

Language: English

Pages: 128

ISBN: 1508688389

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub


“Everything comes to us that belongs to us if we create the capacity to receive it.”

Written by Nobel Prize Laureate Rabindranath Tagore, Sadhana is a profound, highly accessible introduction to India's ancient spiritual heritage. Sadhana is a collection of Tagore’s addresses, most of which he gave before the Harvard University, describing Indian beliefs, philosophy and culture from different viewpoints, often making comparison with Western thought and culture.

Few figures in history have been as important as Rabindranath Tagore in bringing Indian philosophy and spiritual teachings to the West. Although he was known primarily as a poet, his work is deeply religious, imbued with his belief that God can be found through personal purity and service to others. Sadhana (sometimes translated from the Sanskrit as "spiritual practice" or "spiritual discipline") is a beautifully written, concise distillation of the great resources of Indian philosophy. With the surge of interest in Indian spirituality, it will be welcomed with enthusiasm by readers everywhere.

I. THE RELATION OF THE INDIVIDUAL TO THE UNIVERSE

II. SOUL CONSCIOUSNESS

III. THE PROBLEM OF EVIL

IV. THE PROBLEM OF SELF

V. REALIZATION IN LOVE

VI. REALIZATION IN ACTION

VII. THE REALIZATION OF BEAUTY

VIII. THE REALIZATION OF THE INFINITE

“I slept and dreamt that life was joy. I awoke and saw that life was service. I acted and behold, service was joy.”

A Year of Biblical Womanhood: How a Liberated Woman Found Herself Sitting on Her Roof, Covering Her Head, and Calling Her Husband 'Master'

The Freedom to Be (Diamond Heart, Book 2)

Fearless: Imagine Your Life Without Fear

Discouragement & Depression: What to Do When You Don't Know What to Do: God Will Make a Way

Walking the Bible: A Journey by Land Through the Five Books of Moses

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

history of science, not its innumerable mistakes. Error, by its nature, cannot be stationary; it cannot remain with truth; like a tramp, it must quit its lodging as soon as it fails to pay its score to the full. As in intellectual error, so in evil of any other form, its essence is impermanence, for it cannot accord with the whole. Every moment it is being corrected by the totality of things and keeps changing its aspect. We exaggerate its importance by imagining it as a standstill. Could we

wishes. For will is the supreme wish of the larger life, the life whose greater portion is out of our present reach, most of whose objects are not before our sight. Then comes the conflict of our lesser man with our greater man, of our wishes with our will, of the desire for things affecting our senses with the purpose that is within our heart. Then we begin to distinguish between what we immediately desire and what is good. For good is that which is desirable for our greater self. Thus the sense

its place till it finds love, and then it has its rest. But this rest itself is an intense form of activity where utter quiescence and unceasing energy meet at the same point in love. In love, loss and gain are harmonised. In its balance-sheet, credit and debit accounts are in the same column, and gifts are added to gains. In this wonderful festival of creation, this great ceremony of self-sacrifice of God, the lover constantly gives himself up to gain himself in love. Indeed, love is what

which is one and simple, and least encumbered with anything extraneous. We seem to feel that the manifestation of the infinite in the finite forms of creation is music itself, silent and visible. The evening sky, tirelessly repeating the starry constellations, seems like a child struck with wonder at the mystery of its own first utterance, lisping the same word over and over again, and listening to it in unceasing joy. When in the rainy night of July the darkness is thick upon the meadows and the

that what it has is immeasurably more than it ever can want or comprehend, and then only can it be glad. Thus our soul must soar in the infinite, and she must feel every moment that in the sense of not being able to come to the end of her attainment is her supreme joy, her final freedom. Man’s abiding happiness is not in getting anything but in giving himself up to what is greater than himself, to ideas which are larger than his individual life, the idea of his country, of humanity, of God.

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