Not all times are the same; not all seasons support the same purposes. There is a time for every purpose under heaven, and India's ancient culture recognized this principle and applied it to the cycle of one's life.

 

The Vedic culture of India divided life into four ashrams or periods of time or season, each having a distinct season and different purpose. These seasons lasted approximately 25 years each, and were as follows:

 

Brahmacharya

 

This is the season of youth, celibacy, and learning.

During this time, a young person is exposed to and learns about the world. He studies, memorizing the scriptures, the ancient stories. At this stage, it is not the 'comprehension' of what he is learning that is important; instead, it is the simple hearing and memorization of what is heard.

 

It is thought that if a young person does not hear the ‘Truth,’ He or she will not be able to recognize it when he experiences it as he grows older. 

It is said in India that 'there are two wings to the bird of wisdom.’ One 'wing' is experience; the other is the 'wing' of story or understanding. It is 'story' that one learns first. Then, as he or she matures, this 'storied' wisdom complements the other wing of the bird . . . the 'wing' of experience. Both wings are necessary. Otherwise, a bird with only one wing goes round and round in circles on the ground. 



 

This Brahmacharya period is a time for education, and this education occurs at the beginning of life. Traditionally, the young person would go to the teacher's home and live there, serving the teacher and learning from him all that he could.

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Students (Sishyas) with their teacher​​​​​​​​​​​​

 

Grihastya

 

Grihastya means - ‘holding onto the house.’

 

This is the stage of life we call the ‘householder.’

After the young person leaves the house of his teacher,

he marries and enjoys all the pleasures of sexuality and family. He fulfills the obligations of having children and pursues business and wealth. This is necessary, as it is the householder who supports all the other stages of life, Brahmacharya, Vanaprastya and Sannyas.

The householder is the foundation of society.

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​​​​​Marriage Ceremony- The beginning of the Grihastya Stage

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Vanaprasthya

 

Around 50-60 years of age, there is a lessening of desire

for the goals of the householder. One's children are grown,

wealth has been obtained, pleasure and pain have been tasted many times,

and the person becomes more attracted to Dharma; the meaning and purpose of life and what one has experienced begins to be questioned, and the 'goal' of what is called 'spiritual life' becomes attractive.

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Then, spontaneously, the sense of something missing and a desire to devote one's life to ‘spirituality' (whatever that means) may arise. Vanaprastya means 'going to the ‘vana’ or forest.' 

 

Householders turn over the running of the family to their children

and go on pilgrimage, visiting holy places and devoting their time

to religious practice.

Sometimes, the aging parents simply retire to another part of the house

or compound, where they focus on spiritual practice.

 

Even a King would give up their kingdom to the yuvaraj or prince

and retire with their queen or queens to a forest hermitage or the company of a Guru, where they would engage in 'spiritual life.'

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We see this at the beginning of the Ramayana, where King Dasaratha

has chosen Rama as the yuvaraj or next king-to-be,

and again at the end of the Mahabharata, where King Dhitarashtra,

after years of ruling a kingdom and experiencing many joys and sorrows,

loses interest in his daily obligations and retires to the forest with his wives to undertake spiritual practice.

 

Sannyas

 

This stage represents the complete renunciation of all worldly involvement and purposes. It can be literal, such as taking the vow of sannyasa, where a person becomes a renunciant monk or sadhu, or it may refer to a state of mind and heart. It is important to note here that Sannyas can also be understood as a state of being: 

Sannyas could als  be said to be the spontaneous shaking off of all attachment as a RESULT (not the cause) of spiritual Realization, sometimes described in the analogy of a ripe apple falling naturally off a tree. Therefore, this last stage of life can be taken up or occur at any stage. 

 

In Sannyas, a person ‘dies to this world.’ During the initiation into the order of Sannyas, one literally performs a funeral for himself. Along with this self-sacrifice, he becomes completely focused on God or spiritual practice.

It is for this reason that Sannyas is considered to be the best preparation for our inevitable death. 

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Swami Vivekananda as a wandering sannyasin

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All of these stages represent a distinct season of life. Each has its time, practice and purpose. My teacher, Adida Samraj, once said that

'the best preparation for death is nothing different from what you should be doing every day of your life.'

Even so, while every day of a person's life should be devoted

to a spiritual purpose, every day and every season is different.

 

In the West, we find older people still pursuing the pleasures of youth as if sensual gratification were the purpose of life till you die. Hugh Hefner comes to mind as a dramatic example of that path. Or, perhaps, Warren Buffett, still devoted to making money every day, doing business,

as if there was nothing else more valuable to give his attention to. 

 

I came to India at the age of 59 years old.

I was no longer interested in working as a cabinetmaker or a woodworker. For many years, I kept trying to ‘make 'it' happen,’  as I lived in a society where ‘it’ was defined as developing a profession, making money, and owning a house; this is what a person did: One worked, had a relationship, perhaps had children, went to work every day, paid bills went to the movies, dined out, went on vacation, and finally retired to a life of relative leisure, perhaps in some southern clime of warmth, and eventually died. 

 

Despite my efforts to continue along this path, I no longer felt nature's support.

I struggled to make enough money. Living in 21st-century America in California without a good income or an inheritance was challenging. It took a tremendous amount of my time just to pay the bills, and there was so much else I wanted to pay attention to. How could I live differently?

What about the other things I wanted to do with my life?

Paying rent and enjoying the pleasures of a Western, First-World country did not encompass all I felt I was born to do. 

Then, the financial collapse of the late 20th century came, and I lost my business, and that is what led me to India. 

 

I think about people who worked all their lives, saved money, ‘played by the rules’, and lost everything in the financial meltdown. Now, they must return to underpaid jobs at Walmart, K-Mart, or McDonald’s or work as a greeter or bagger at a supermarket. I am saddened by the thought of this. This is not just because people lost all their savings or houses but because there are and were few other options in America today than continuing to work. Things cost too much, medical care costs too much, gas costs too much, food costs too much, and rent or mortgage costs too much relative to what most people make. But, even more than any of this, we had no ‘other’ vision of life, no sense of what season of life we are in, how our goals of our life might change, or what we should do about it.

 

It is not just that there is little work for the elderly; there is nothing more than work or retirement. There are few living traditions of Spiritual life in the West that people can aspire to or participate in, and most of us do not understand what a 'spiritual life' would be. It is an idea, a feeling that has become lost to the vast majority. This rasa or taste for the Mystery of Spirit has nearly disappeared in our modern-day culture.

 

We have lost not only our connection to the purpose of work but also to the seasons of life and nature. We have lost the purpose of life; alas, we no longer even inquire about it. We no longer look at the sky at night and realize we live in an endless space that extends out to infinity. This does not make sense, and when we forget its mind-transcending senselessness, we have lost what used to be called God.

 

We live in a world where the tallest buildings in our cities are financial towers. The tallest buildings in a town always represent what the people of that civilization worship—in the West, it used to be God and religion, then politics, and now money, finance, trade, business, and success. Financial buildings are the tallest edifices in our cities today. They are the ‘churches’ that symbolize the meaning our lives are devoted to.

  

But the things these temples of finance stand for - money, finance, and business, cannot satisfy our desires. They do not even represent love or compassion; We all know that money cannot buy happiness. If you have any doubt about that, just read the newspapers and observe about the lives of the rich and the extremely rich.

 

Most of us (in the West) have no higher purpose than business, success, money, and pleasure, and those who can purchase all that money can buy are not troubled by the acquisition of everyday furnishings, but they are not any happier.

Driven like sheep to fulfill the economic and technological dream of 21st-century America, that dream is becoming a nightmare.

Not only in America but all over the world.

 

We live in a culture that worships youth, aesthetic and physical enjoyments. There is nothing wrong with any of these. But there is much more to life than being an aesthete, young, attractive, sexually indulgent, and wealthy. Through the confrontive experience of growing older, or as Buddha put it in his first teachings: ‘Old age, disease and death’, one may be awakened to at least the path; to wisdom, deep understanding, and true purpose, or maybe not. In any case, if life is only about money, food, and sex, then growing older is disappointing and distressing in many ways.

 

Anti-aging foods and drugs are touted by many in the West.

I would ask, for what purpose? I don't merely desire ‘anti-aging.’ This is but a postponement of the inevitable. What I truly want or need is paradoxical. It is infinity, Understanding, and Grace—some constant star by which to guide. This is what is meant by the fourth stage of life . . . the stage of Sannyas.

 

There is a well-known curse in the Jewish tradition:

"I wish you a long life in a huge house with hundreds of rooms

and may you wander through each of those rooms every night, full of sickness and anxiety and unable to sleep.”

 

Modern culture, medical technology, and business are increasingly capable of giving exactly that to us. We must recognize old age and death as inevitable in our lives. I say ‘must’ because it is not a choice, but because old age and death will happen to every one of us, whether we want to or not. We need to ask ourselves, '

Are there any goals in our lives thst transcend sensual pleasure, 

old age, and death?'

 

Each and every person born (if they live long enough) will grow older and older and then die. We must consider old age and death as we attempt to figure out what life is all about. The vision of retiring to play golf for the rest of our lives seems to me to be a very sad state of affairs. There is nothing wrong with golf or a life of leisure, but they will not bring what I need and cannot do so forever.

Making scientific advancements the purpose of our living,

is like planning a short trip to Disneyland for ice cream. Again, there is nothing wrong with ice cream, Disneyland, or short trips; we just need more.

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​​​​​​Indian poster showing the cycle of birth, youth, middle age,

old age and death  under the overview of Krishna

an Indian name of the Divine

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We are short-sighted in the West.

Our marriages are based on ‘falling in love.’ In Vedic India, although romantic love was certainly recognized, marriage was based on compatibility, usually determined through the examination of astrological charts and a clear definition of roles for the husband and the wife. Our modern-day marriages are based on romance, and there is no clear definition of the roles each participant should play. 

 

It was thought that because romantic emotions are temporary and fleeting, they would not provide sufficient ground or purpose for maintaining a life together with another person. Without a clear definition of what was expected of each partner, things were bound to get confused. Is it any wonder that so many marriages in the West end in divorce, with most in the first few years?

 

The ancient Vedic culture laid out the seasons of life in a context that includes and yet goes beyond the fulfillment of worldly desires. They defined the purposes of the different stages of life and laid out specific goals and conduct for each stage or season. This knowledge was passed on to the generations so that the harvest of life would be fruitful, for after all, we do not plant seeds in the winter nor harvest them in the spring.

 

There is a time for every season under heaven. There is a time for youth, family, and rest from such purposes. The only moment we even come close to seeing such 'rest' in America is Christmas, when business and shopping are finished. Nearly every store is closed, and everybody is with their families. Of course, this happens rarely in the West as we enter the 21st century.

 

I remember driving through southern France on Sunday, passing through a small town in the Alps, and every store I passed was closed. Not a single business was open. I had never experienced that before in America.

 

Every one of us needs rest from the worldly striving of his life.

In the Vedic tradition, this ‘rest’ was practiced in the Vanaprastya stage, when a man or woman at the height of their powers retires.

Why? Because there are other things to experience in life.

Henry David Thoreau expressed this sentiment in Walden when he wrote, “I left the woods for the same reason I went there. For I had many lives to live and this was but one of them.”

 

To everything, there is a time and a season, and there are many times and seasons under heaven. The world will carry on without us if and when we lay down our burden. We need not worry if we see that everything was, is, and has been in the hands of a higher power, or what can be called God. 

We live in an infinite field of space and time. It boggles the mind and does not make sense; we cannot grasp it and need not believe in it.

 

If this greater ‘context' is Reality, let us discover what time and action is appropriate for us. The knowledge of the 'seasons of life' is meant to bring clarity; one may ask, ‘Clarity to do what? Clarity so that we do not swim against the flow of life, that we do not struggle uneccesarily, and do not obstruct God-realization, Truth, Reality; whatever that means?

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Even if we do not share a common name for that ...,

Such an understanding of the seasons of life can offer us a star whereby we can guide our lives, and gain the support of Nature. And this can occur whether we believe in  it or not. Truth has no religion, and religion is nothing if it is not Truth. As Ramakrishna, one of the greatest Saints of 19th century India, once put it: 

“Different people call on [God] by different names: some as Allah, some as God, and others as Krishna, Siva, and Brahman. It is like the water in a lake. Some drink it at one place and call it 'jal', others at another place and call it 'pani', and still others at a third place and call it 'water'.

 

Just as there are different names for One God or Truth, there are different seasons for one life on earth. In Ecclesiastes it is written:

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To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:

A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted;

A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up;

A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance;

A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;

A time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep and a time to cast away;

A time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence and a time to speak;

A time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace.

 

The Four Ashramas are an ancient Vedic description of time, which holds everything in its grasp. The four Ashramas give us the nature and purpose of that time.

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