your ambition will be
dashed, your savings of years will be lost--and for the moment you will
be inclined to think that your life has been in vain. But presently you
will wake up and find that something quite different has happened. You
will find that the thunderbolt which you thought was your ruin has been
your salvation--that it has broken the chain which bound you to your
wheelbarrow, and that you are free! --------

I think you will now see what I mean by Rest. Rest is the loosing of the
chains which bind us to the whirligig of the world, it is the passing
into the centre of the Cyclone; it is the Stilling of Thought. For (with
regard to this last) it is Thought, it is the Attachment of the Mind,
which binds us to outer things. The outer things themselves are all
right. It is only through our thoughts that they make slaves of us.
Obtain power over your thoughts and you are free. You can then use the
outer things or dismiss them at your pleasure.

There is nothing new of course in all this. It has been known for ages;
and is part of the ancient philosophy of the world.

In the Katha Upanishad you will find these words (Max Muller's
translation): "As rainwater that has fallen on a mountain ridge runs
down on all sides, thus does he who sees a difference between qualities
run after them on all sides." This is the figure of the man who does NOT
rest. And it is a powerful likeness. The thunder shower descends on the
mountain top; torrents of water pour down the crags in every direction.
Imagine the state of mind of a man--however thirsty he may be--who
endeavors to pursue and intercept all these streams!

But then the Upanishad goes on: "As pure water poured into pure water
remains the same, thus, O Gautama, is the Self of a thinker who
knows." What a perfect image of rest! Imagine a cistern before you with
transparent glass sides and filled with pure water. And then imagine
some one comes with a phial, also of pure water, and pours the contents
gently into the cistern. What will happen? Almost nothing. The pure
water will glide into the pure water--"remaining the same." There will
be no dislocation, no discoloration (as might happen if MUDDY water were
poured in); there will be only perfect harmony.

I imagine here that the meaning is something like this. The cistern is
the great Reservoir of the Universe which contains the pure and
perfect Spirit of all life. Each one of us, and every mortal creature,
represents a