[In this section we seek to answer frequently asked questions, at U.L.T. meetings or during private conversations and discussions with people who seek the answers in the light of Theosophy. Answers given in this section are by no means final. Only a line of thought is being offered by applying general principles of Theosophy.]

Question: Why does the idea of death cause panic in the minds of many? How should one prepare them to face it gracefully?

Answer: We are familiar with the phenomena of life and death, generally, and yet the thought of our own physical end fills our minds and hearts with uncanny fear. Basically, it is the "fear of the unknown." Some fear death as children fear to go in the dark, and such fears increase with false tales!

What is behind the fear of death? It is apprehension of losing precious life and familiar companions and conditions. Aged people, especially, feel secure in their familiar place and any change brings resentment and helplessness. Death seems to snatch away all that we depended upon for our sense of identity. It is thoughts of (imaginary) pain that one may have to experience in letting go of the body one has inhabited for a long time, that causes the panic. One should know that the actual death or withdrawal is a release from pain, and liberation into peace and rest. A terminally ill person makes peace with himself towards the end, when he acknowledges the certainty of the release close at hand. None of those who have been revived from death—cases of NDEs (Near-Death Experiences)—described the experience to be even remotely painful. In fact, for some, death is a release from long-continued suffering and indeed a welcome experience.

Does death come as an end? Will all my aspirations and achievements vanish like a puff of smoke or like a torch dipped into water? If something survives the death of the body, what happens after death? These are some of the questions that plague many people and they find no satisfactory answers to them.

When a person feels his inadequacy to cope with the unknown, the anxiety of death is quite demoralizing. What then is the remedy? True knowledge always fortifies man, and one forewarned is always forearmed. Hence the clarion call of Theosophy is: Take knowledge! First thing to accept and appreciate is that death is necessary, as even our soul needs rest. Bhagavad-Gita advises a meditation on "birth, death, decay, sickness and error." Life is related to form, and form must die. In fact, even a most beautiful poem or story must have a conclusive end. Death of a physical form is a necessity. The permanent spiritual aspect in us—the Soul—feels imprisoned during life. For that Soul, "death comes as a deliverer and friend."

Secondly, death does not come as an end. There is that in man, call it the Ego, the Experiencer, or the permanent aspect, which survives death and goes to Swarga (Devachan, or Deva-sthan, "the place of the gods"). Devachan or Swarga is not a "no-man's land," but there we are said to be in company of the precious moments our soul cherished, while on earth—moments coloured by feelings of sympathy, love and mercy, impersonal appreciation of art and beauty, love of the good and the true, etc. It is a state of consciousness wherein the soul experiences unalloyed peace and bliss, surrounded by the near and dear ones. H.P.B. describes the state after death of a mother who dies, leaving behind her children:

The post-mortem spiritual consciousness of the mother will represent to her that she lives surrounded by her children and all those whom she loved; that no gap, no link, will be missing to make her disembodied state the most perfect and absolute happiness. (The Key to Theosophy, p. 144)

Shelly writes: "Death is a veil which, those who live, call life; they sleep, and it is lifted." Death, then, is a much-needed long sleep to awaken us refreshed, to be ready for the continuity called life. Death is not the last farewell, for we shall meet our loved ones in better forms and states, if we deserve them. There are those few who have made "dying" a sacred covenant and a soul-elevating last lesson. But behind them there are long years of devoted life and charitable pursuits.

Question: What is the right technique of meditation?

Answer: In the first place we need to ask ourselves, why and on what or whom we should meditate. Is our motive pure? Are we trying to meditate with superficial knowledge? H.P.B. warns us of the dangers of "sitting for development" at the very outset in The Voice of the Silence—chosen fragments from the "Book of the Golden Precepts"—meant for the daily use of disciples.

H.P.B. recommends self-examination at the end of the day, i.e., impersonal evaluation of one's thoughts, feelings, actions and motives, during the day, keeping one's Divine nature as the witness. "Genuine concentration and meditation, conscious and cautious, upon one's lower self in the light of the inner divine man [and the Paramitas or Transcendental Virtues] is an excellent thing." But to sit for yoga, with only a superficial and often distorted knowledge of the real practice, is almost invariably fatal.

Sila (morals) and Dhyana (meditation) must go hand in hand. We should purify our psychic, mental and moral natures. We must begin by purifying our thoughts which in turn leads to purification of the pranic currents and of the psychic nature. We need to turn our attention to high thoughts and noble spiritual themes.

Real meditation involves yoking or uniting the personal lower self with the higher divine self. It is not gazing at the tip of the nose or a nail or a black spot in the wall. By such practices we are likely to get cross-eyed and lose our mental balance. Patanjali says that Yoga is "Chitta Vritti Nirodhaha," i.e., Yoga is controlling the modifications of the thinking principle.

The best technique of meditation is described in Patanjali's Yoga Aphorisms, and it consists of eight steps: Yama (Forbearance), Niyama (Spiritual observances), Asana (postures), Pranayama (Suppression of breath), Pratyahara (Restraint), Dhyana (concentration), Dharana (contemplation) and Samadhi (meditation). Patanjali recommends assuming "a steady, comfortable position,"—with spine and head erect—so that one's meditation is not likely to get disturbed by mere bodily discomfort.

We are asked to close our eyes and dwell upon a sloka from the devotional books, or some ennobling idea, like brotherhood, compassion, etc. As a first step, we should be able to ward off both the external and internal images. The greatest hindrance to concentration is memory. Mr. Judge describes it graphically:

The greatest foe and that most frequently present is memory, or recollection. This was at one time called phantasy. The moment the mind is restrained in concentration for the purpose of meditation, that moment the images, the impressions, the sensations of the past begin to troop through the brain and tend to instantly and constantly disturb the concentration. Hence the need for less selfishness, less personality, less dwelling on objects and desiring them—or sensation. If the mind be full of impressions, there is also self-productive power in it which takes hold of these seeds of thought and enlivens them. Recollection is the collecting together of impressions, and so it constitutes the first and the greatest obstruction to meditation. (U.L.T. Pamphlet No. 12, Foreword)

We sit for meditation and wonder why we do not succeed. How can we suppose that half-an-hour of meditation, while spending the remaining hours the way we like, will enable us to concentrate? Our whole day should be an exercise in concentration. We must try to eliminate all idle and purposeless activities. We allow our energies to drain away by engaging in idle conversations, mental ramblings, reliving the past experiences or being anxious about things that have not yet happened. Every moment must be spent usefully. This can be achieved only through detachment (Vairagya) and constant practice (Abhyasa).

If we have succeeded, even a little, in the practice of concentration, we would experience our level of consciousness raised. We would be full of goodwill towards all. True meditation should make us more loving, more compassionate, and help us participate in other people's joy instead of being envious.