Why Do We Need a Guru?

What is it about the notion of following the instructions of a guru that seems difficult to accept? This article addresses the question by employing the analogy of crossing an ocean. It’s the ocean of existence or consciousness, and ‘crossing the ocean’ denotes discovering what lies at the other side of our more familiar world.

Imagine a great ocean lapping against the shoreline of a land mass. Hundreds of years ago, before the days of mass communication, those born far from this shoreline would never conceive of an ocean or contemplate crossing it. In our analogy, souls who are oblivious to the possibility of an ocean are the non-human species, the plants, insects, and animals who lack the faculty of discrimination bestowed upon humans. Having spent many lives in these forms, we are born as humans, allowing us to arrive at the coast, see the view, and consider whether the sea can be crossed. Yet, human birth does not in itself come with a desire to know the ocean.

Scattered around the beach, millions of people are playing on the shoreline, but some of them are hardly aware of the ocean. Concentrating on looking inland, they wonder at the scenery, the process by which the cliffs were formed, the uses that can be made of these natural resources, the commercial opportunities and so forth. These people believe that we work, love, die, and that’s it; there is nothing else. One could liken them to the people long ago who thought the world was flat and that we would fall off the edge upon reaching the horizon. Such folk are bound by physical parameters. From their perspective, since we can’t see beyond the horizon, we can’t determine if anything beyond it exists. And if we can’t determine that, there’s no point in leaving the beach.

Based on the stories of their ancestors, other people at the water’s edge concede that something exists beyond the horizon. However, they believe the ocean can only be crossed at the time of death, at which point a greater power will transport them. Another group believes the sea is to be crossed, but a navigator is unnecessary. They set sail in a boat they build themselves, even though they cannot plot the coordinates of their destination. Lacking even the basic knowledge of longitude and latitude and oblivious to the inadequacy of their tiny vessel to weather sea storms, such people find themselves shipwrecked.

However, amidst the millions of people on the beach, a few regularly cross the vast sea. And, with those prepared to listen, they willingly share their knowledge of how to journey back and forth without becoming shipwrecked. These are the master mariners.

According to Wikipedia, “A master mariner is a licensed mariner who holds the highest grade of seafarer qualification.… The term … has been in use at least since the thirteenth century reflecting … that such a person was a master craftsman in this specific profession.” Master mariners have charted the routes across the ocean, carefully avoiding its currents and eddies. They know the preparations that must be made, and the skills required to make the journey. They tell us that at first it is necessary to be guided across this ocean, but that once you gain experience, you can come and go as you please. In Light on Sant Mat, Maharaj Charan Singh advised, “Without the help and assistance of a guide we cannot sail these uncharted seas.” For some on the shore, these words provide welcome encouragement, helping to ease their trepidation at venturing into the unknown; they are exhilarated at the prospect of finding a master mariner.

The master mariners tell us that the vessel we will need to cross the ocean is our mind (the mind’s attribute of discrimination separates us from the animals and allows it to transport us). First, we must recondition it to make it seaworthy. This means we can no longer ignore it and leave it grounded on the beach. Nor can we merely use it for fun, larking about on the seafront. If we are ready to commit to the journey, the master mariner lays down four conditions to make our vessel seaworthy: adopting a lacto-vegetarian diet, refraining from alcohol and mind-altering substances, leading a moral life, and practising the exercises necessary to cross the ocean.

So, here we are, at the water’s edge. We prepared our boat, and the master charted the course for us to follow and advised us on navigation. Success doesn’t necessarily follow! We are enthusiastic and determined to achieve our goal as quickly as possible, freeing ourselves from the chains of illusion and wanting to live eternally in bliss. But after a while, most of us realize that we can only travel a few meters from the shore’s edge despite all the equipment at our disposal. Why is this, we ask ourselves?

The answer is ego. While clothed in the guise of enthusiasm and commitment, we mistakenly believe, “I am going to do this, and I’m going to do it now, quickly.” While preparing our vessel, we strapped an outboard motor onto it (the ego) to make it into a speedboat that we believed we could control. Unfortunately, we forgot that the master mariner said we should cross with him first. He must be in the boat to guide it across the choppy waters. Instead of heeding this, we have increased the power of our mind, letting it run wild with all sorts of fanciful ideas. The problem is that the faster our boat goes, the more we steer ourselves off-course, and before we know it, we’re lost, disoriented and in despair. Eventually, we realize that we need the master’s help. As the author of a traditional Irish folksong from the 18th century “The Water Is Wide” wrote:

The water is wide I cannot cross over.
And neither have I wings to fly.

Having exhausted ourselves trying to drive our speedboat, we finally accept that we do not have the power to cross this ocean with just our own wits. In the first verse, the folksong continues:

Give me a boat that will carry two.
And both shall row my love and I.

This is better. At first glance, the song’s sentiment would seem to suggest submission and love akin to that needed to comply with the master mariner’s original instructions. However, looking more closely, we see it is still infused with ego. We insist, “I can do it, but I realize I need the master’s help.” We ask the master to join our boat, to sail with us to help us cross that great ocean. If you’ve tried rowing a boat with someone stronger and more experienced than you, you’ll know that the ship goes off course, sometimes even going around in circles. We possess neither the knowledge nor the power of the master and cannot lead the journey ourselves. So, how are we to get across the ocean? We can draw some insights from other lines from the song:

There is a ship that sails the sea.
It’s loaded deep as deep can be.

This vessel sailing the sea is our mind. It’s loaded with heavy cargo; in other words, it’s weighed down with our karmas. This explains our existence in the creation and why crossing the ocean is difficult. Simply put, the cargo is too heavy for our boat to set sail, or if it does set sail, we might experience our vessel capsizing in strong winds. The following lines of the song inform us how we need to shift our mindset when embarking upon our epic journey:

But not so deep as my love for him.
I know not whether I sink or swim.

We must cultivate a love so deep for the master mariner that we follow his instructions completely and trust his route without doubting whether he is going the right way. In short, we must submit to a journey of obedience, leaving our ego on the beach. In his poem, The Malady of Ego, Kabir Sahib reaches the same conclusion:

Only he will cross the ocean, O friend.
Who banishes ego from his mind.

There is no room for ‘I’ when giving yourself wholeheartedly to another. One must offer oneself unreservedly to the master – not because he wants this, but because we need him. An adequately prepared vessel is not a speed or rowing boat but a beautiful sailing ship. The mast is the path that we must tie ourselves to so that we’re not washed overboard by the tempests we will encounter.

Why should our sailboat succeed where others have failed? Whereas others tried crossing the ocean with the force of the wind, our sailboat is propelled by the Shabd. Moreover, the power of the Shabd is such that, aside from the master mariner, no one else can harness the currents and steer us across the ocean; this makes our sailboat distinctive.

The following lines from a shabd written by the fourteenth-century Indian mystic Sant Namdev aptly describe our condition:

Ferry me, O God, across the ocean of this world
Save me from its dread, supreme Father!

The gale is strong and I cannot row the boat,
I cannot reach your shore, my Lord
Have mercy and let me meet a true master
So he may take me across, my Lord.

Says Nama, I don’t even know how to swim –
Give me your arm, give me your arm, O Lord!

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Have all the problems of life ever been solved by anyone? If we go on creating them and then continue worrying about them, then where is the time left for meditation? The mind will never be stilled and become motionless if this continues. It has the evil habit of first creating problems and then when it cannot solve them it starts worrying. This, it goes on doing the whole lifetime. We have to stop the mind from this vicious habit and tell it to live within the will of the Lord.

Our destiny is all marked out and we have to reap what we have sown, then why worry? Face life cheerfully, doing the best you can under the circumstances and then leaving the rest to the Lord. Our conscience should be clear and then there is absolutely nothing to worry about.

Life will always go on like this in this world. This life is made up of both good and bad karmas, hence these ups and downs. Try to rise above them by keeping your thoughts in him and his meditation. This will give you that happiness you are looking for and will develop into still greater bliss.
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