Бесплатный фрагмент - The Path

THE PATH

“A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.”

I walk.

I’ve been walking for a long time. So long, I no longer remember how it all began.

At first, thousands walked with me — we shouted, argued, tried to convince each other we were right, blind to the road beneath our feet.

Then we grew fewer — some turned aside, some stayed by the campfires, some were crushed under the weight of their own truths.

But I kept walking.

I shed my belongings, my masks, my names.

One by one — like husks, like worn-out clothes, like dreams that were never mine.

At times, I felt I was dying. At times — being born anew.

I dreamed I was a soldier, a lover, a father, a philosopher, a disciple.

But I always woke up with one question:

Who am I when all of that falls away?

Somewhere ahead — a river.

I can feel it.

There, beyond the mist, where titles no longer matter, nor words, nor silence.

There is the crossing.

And only I can choose who I will be when I reach its shore.

Who are we, why are we here,

Are we alive, or not?

The wild bee doesn’t care —

To her, the world below is just a path of flowers…

(B. Gabdrakhmanov)

South India, Kerala. I’m staring at the ceiling fan — spinning endlessly above my head, but offering no relief from the heat. I sleep sticky, drenched in sweat, showering several times a day just to feel human again. Heat. Humidity. Fan.

This image reminds me of Apocalypse Now, the Vietnam film. A fitting association for a former mercenary and officer… But not exactly ideal for a yogi — Or rather, for someone walking the Path. For a practicing yogi… or perhaps also a former one?

What is yoga, really?

Who can say? Who truly understands the goals and purpose of yoga? People see the pretty pictures — poses, handstands — and take flexibility and mere gymnastics for yoga. Few ever delve into the meaning, the concepts the Teachers wrote about. We live by a script — one that’s written into us from birth. The script depends on where we were born, our nationality, our family values. As Yuval Noah Harari described in Homo Deus, it’s like a web of meaning. Stories… Different stories are embedded in us from childhood, and as we absorb them, we become part of them. From the very beginning, we begin to lose ourselves. A child is born a free being — untouched by any doctrine. But from an early age, they’re driven into frames and molds: religious, political, familial, and so on. Over time, the child stops being themselves. They become a cog in the system. They listen to their parents: You must do this, you must do that. You’ll be a doctor, a soldier, an astronaut. They’re handed beliefs — political, religious. Layer upon layer, they take it all in and start identifying with it completely, mistaking it for who they are. We carry all these patterns our whole lives — like clothes or masks. We sleep in them. Work in them. Speak through them. Every single day. We wake up, put on the “friend outfit” and go meet people. Put on the “work costume” and head to the office or the job. We wear these roles so tightly that we no longer know what’s underneath. Who we really are. This is especially visible in people who have spent a long time in a particular structure or collective. Very few manage to remain themselves in such conditions.

We are born pure — like an empty glass. But almost immediately, we’re handed a map: who you are, what to believe, where to go. But this isn’t your path — it’s just a preset route, a ready-made script. During my service, I used to ask my colleagues: “What would you do if your rank was taken away? Your position? Who would you be then?” Very few even understood the question. Many of the soldiers and police officers I knew couldn’t find themselves after retirement — some even went back. But it’s not just about people in uniform. Ask someone, “Who are you?” The answer is usually, “I’m a soldier,” “I’m a doctor,” “I’m a cop…” “No,” I’d say. “Drop the titles. Tell me who you really are. “Most people live their entire lives — and die — never answering that question. Never understanding who they are, or why they’re here. Though of course, they’re completely convinced they do. They serve, retire, raise children and grandchildren — pushing them into the same matrix. Then they die.

The costume just changes: “I was in service… now I’m retired… raised my kids… now the grandkids… bought a car — fifth one already… got a mistress — tenth one, can you believe it?” “Everything’s fine…”

“So tell me about yourself — hobbies, interests, what are you into?”

“Well, you know…” comes the answer.

“I work security — 24 hours on, 48 off. One day I’m sitting around at work, then home, family, mistresses, fishing, out drinking with the guys…”

And so it goes — a person gets lost in all of that. People are afraid to be alone with themselves. They don’t know what to do with that silence, with that space inside. It’s scary. So they keep busy. Keep running. Keep doing. I started asking myself these questions when I was still young. I used to argue with friends, with family…

Just imagine — you’re born into a certain place, a certain situation, a certain culture. So you become a Christian, a Muslim, a pagan, or maybe an atheist.

But if you were born in a different country, at a different time, you’d just as passionately defend those beliefs — whatever they happened to be.

Maybe you’d even be a cannibal, eating your own kind — and wouldn’t think twice about morality or principles.

So what does that mean? That all of it — the beliefs, the values, the worldview — are just external programs imposed by society? Is that what it all comes down to? So what should we do, then? I once read that Buddha said: “If you want to be happy — kill your parents.” Of course, it’s a metaphor. It means you have to forget everything you were taught. Become yourself. Become pure consciousness — like a child, an empty glass. And start seeing the world with your own eyes, not through your parents’ eyes, not your teachers’, and definitely not through the lens of a TV screen — which, in our time, has raised more than one generation.

It’s a blessing when someone realizes this in time — and turns to self-development, to self-discovery. Of course, it’s not those parents teach bad things — or, at least, not all of them. And many don’t even fully understand what it is they’re teaching. They’re simply preparing their children for life in society — following the same patterns that once shaped them, and now they pass those same patterns on to their children. Without giving them a real chance, without offering a glimpse of any alternative truths.

Sometimes, people do understand the question. Some even agree with me. But then they ask — “So what do we do with that? “The usual answers sound like this:

“Well, that’s just how we were raised. That’s life. Everyone lives like that…” But the truth is — we don’t actually see everyone. We live and move within certain circles, along certain lines of life. But the moment we step outside those circles, beyond our routines and interests, and simply look around — we begin to see a world that’s far vaster than we imagined. Much richer. Much more alive. And a human being is not an animal that can be trained once and for all — stuffed with behavioral patterns and released into the wild to just function. No. What separates us from most animals is our ability to think.

And yet — people are sometimes ready to die, or even kill, for beliefs that were planted in them by someone else long ago. In fact, this has been the story of humanity all along. Our spiritual growth lags behind. Our technology surges ahead.

And that imbalance — as one philosopher once warned — can only lead to sorrowful consequences.

Homeland, patriotism, family, children, ideals… These concepts often take on radically distorted forms. But where is the person in all of this? Family, school, university, the army, propaganda — all of them prepare a servant, a slave, a loyal citizen. The state certainly doesn’t need a thinking, questioning Human. I love the words that Mahatma Gandhi, I believe, once said: “I am a citizen of the Universe, without nationality or borders.”

When I was young, I read a book — I don’t remember the title. It talked about the harm of television and its influence on the human mind. Since then, I’ve completely stopped watching TV. What’s there to find in television, really? The same cheap films, programs, news — all designed to zombify the viewer. Endless ads. Cheap TV shows and programs hook people like drugs. The brain just numbs in front of that screen. All of this was created to keep the person from thinking,

to make them sit there, with a bag of chips and a bottle of Coke, lost in the same matrix. Generations have grown up in front of the television.

Such a person is simply afraid to be alone with themselves. What would they do with themselves, when inside there’s nothing but emptiness? A complete inability to self-educate or to learn. And they don’t even want to work on themselves. After all, that requires effort. Why bother when you can live like everyone else — and complain about the world, saying, “It’s not my fault. It’s just how it is, and I can’t change it.” A person lives by a script, and their attention is wandering.

“What, in fact, do the dreams of the so-called “average person’ — that “naked ape’ as anthropologists eloquently call them — boil down to?

To avoiding mental and physical strain as much as possible to resting and entertaining oneself as often as possible. And when it comes to rest and entertainment, the most significant things for them are positive physiological sensations, especially sexual and gustatory pleasures. In short, the vast majority of people crave nothing more than to “catch a high”! To drink sweetly, to eat deliciously, to have sex with the opposite sex, to luxuriate in warm water, to lie in soft beds or on hot sand… What’s so special about this? What’s different from the behavior of an animal? The behavior of a pig, for example, which eats itself to the point of excess, crawls into a trough with warm water heated by the sun, lies there, and grunts with pleasure. Why do I bring this up? Because it’s useless to call for self-restraint, for self-discipline, for curbing the insatiable flesh (in other words, morality) from those whose ideal is to “grunt with pleasure” as often as possible.”

— Taras, Battle Machine

In my youth, I often argued — I remember, which martial art is cooler, stronger, who would win in a fight, a boxer or a karateka, or whether an aikido practitioner could defeat a kung fu master. Silly debates, like arguing whether a whale or an elephant is stronger. Back then, while practicing martial arts and reading various books on combat and different religions, I found the answer myself. It’s simple, really. Imagine a tall mountain, and around it, disciples of different martial arts and religions have gathered. They all (well, almost all) argue with one another, throwing stones, trying to convince each other that they are followers of the one true path. And they all strive to reach the top, climbing the mountain, continuing their arguments and quarrels. For years they climb, but not all of them make it. Most remain at the foot of the mountain, or halfway up, arguing all their lives. Only a few make it to the top, those who have Spirit, Faith. But when they reach the summit, they realize that everything is one. There, arguments lose their meaning. They have become whole. From the top, they look at the hustle and bustle below, and from there, they laugh, seeing that all the arguments are meaningless. “What path must a person take to understand this? To abandon all conditioning and become oneself! As in the hymn of Bodhidharma, which I really like and in which so much is said:”

“I have no homeland, the earth and the sky have become my homeland;

I have no fortress, an unshakable spirit is my fortress;

I have no weapon, directed will is my weapon;

I have no doctrine, the true Path is my doctrine;

I have no law, justice has become my law;

I have no teacher, life is my teacher;

I have no magic, inner strength is my magic;