The principles of renunciation and nonattachment:

“Live in the world and yet above, like the lotus who has its roots in the bottom of the river but keeps its being upon the surface of the water. Enjoy the world. Do not let the world enjoy you; but you enjoy the world. This is what Swami means by nonattachment, but many serious spiritual aspirants believe in renouncing the things of the world. They leave their homes and their villages and their positions and go to ashrams, caves or temples to be free from distractions and temptations, claiming that the struggle to remain non-attached is in itself a distraction. On the other hand, if the renunciate is inconvenienced by his needs or holds in one corner of his mind that which he has left behind, he also is distracted.”

The Swami had said that here has been a “very tough and terse debate going on from times past on the virtues of renunciation versus nonattachment. I could guess where Rolling Thunder would sit in such a debate. Only dates before he said, “When we’re through with this earth and all these problems, we don’t have to come back. But as long as we’re here we have a job to do and a purpose to fulfill and that means dealing with the circumstances around us.”

I learned that Rolling Thunder does not believe in renunciation as a necessity or even a possibility. He believes most temple “renunciates” are being false with themselves and their Mother Earth. He believes when one is done with a thing it no longer exists for him; while it is there it is to be either followed, honoured, controlled or overcome – faced and dealt with and not ignored. In the view of Rolling Thunder, those who have managed to put their earthly business out of sight and mind only postpone it, often with the result that it becomes a future burden. That night I told him a few stories I had heard from Swami Rama, stories I felt he might know in one form or another. The last was the story of the Swami and the snake:

On the train to Bridavan a Swami sits besides a common man who asks him if indeed he has attained self-mastery, as the name “Swami” implies.

“I have,” says the Swami.

“And have you mastered anger?”

“I have”

“Do you mean to say that you have mastered anger?”

“I have”

“You mean you can control you anger?”

“I can”

“And you do not fell anger?”

“I do not”

“Is this the truth, Swami?”

“It is”

After a silence the man asks again, “Do you really fell that you have controlled your anger?”

“I have, as I told you,” the Swami answers.

“Then do you mean to say, you never feel anger, even-“

“You are going on and on – what do you want?” the Swami shouts. “Are you a fool? When I have told you-“

“O, Swami, this is anger. You have not mas-“

“Ah, but I have,” the Swami interrupts. “Have you not heard about the abused snake? Let me tell you the story.

“On a path that went by a village in Bengal there lived a cobra who used to bite people on their way to worship at the temple there. As the incidents increased, everyone became fearful, and many refused to go to the temple. The Swami who was the master at the temple was aware of the problem and took it upon himself to put an end to it. Taking himself to where the snake dwelt, he used a mantra to call the snake to him and bring it into submission.

The Swami then said to the snake that it was wrong to bit the people who walked along the path to worship and made him promise sincerely that he would never do it again. Soon it happened that the snake was seen a by passer-by upon the path and it made no move to bite. Then it became known that the snake had somehow been made passive, and people grew unafraid. It was not long before the village boys were dragging the poor snake along behind them as they ran laughing here and there. When the temple Swami passed that way again he called the snake to see if he had kept his promise.

The snake humbly and miserably approached the Swami, who exclaimed. “You are bleeding. Tell me how this has come to be.” The snake was near tears and blurted out that he had been abused ever since he was caused to make his promise to the Swami. “I told you not to bite,” said Swami, “but I did not tell you not to hiss!”