The Sage of Twenty-Four Teachers

The sages told the Pandavas of Dattatreya, the great avadhuta - the naked, wandering, perfectly free sage, son of Atri and the faithful Anasuya - and of the twenty-four teachers from whom he learned the whole of his wisdom.

Dattatreya wandered the world owning nothing, free of every care and every attachment, and yet he was always serene, always joyful, radiant with a happiness that needed nothing from the world. A certain king, seeing this naked sage so full of bliss and freedom, was amazed, and asked him: 'You have no wealth, no home, no possessions, no family about you - and yet you are happier than any king. How have you attained such wisdom and such joy? Who was your teacher, that taught you the secret of this freedom?'

And Dattatreya smiled and answered: 'I have had not one teacher but twenty-four. For I have made the whole world my teacher, and from each of twenty-four things I have learned a lesson, by watching and reflecting. Let me tell you of my twenty-four gurus, and what each one taught me.'

'From the Earth,' said Dattatreya, 'I learned patience and forbearance: for the earth bears all things upon her, is dug and trampled and burdened, and yet endures it all unmoved, and goes on giving her fruits to all alike. So a wise person should bear whatever comes with patience, and go on doing good even to those who trouble him.

'From the Air and the Wind I learned non-attachment: for the wind moves among all things, touching the foul and the fragrant alike, yet is never tainted or held by any of them, remaining always itself. So the sage should move through the world, among the pure and the impure, untouched and unattached, taking nothing into himself. From the wide Sky I learned that the Self, like space, is everywhere present yet bounded by nothing and touched by nothing, all-pervading and free.

'From Water I learned purity: for water is clear and cleansing, it gives life to all, it flows humbly to the lowest places, and it makes no distinction among those it serves. So the sage should be pure, purify others, be humble, and treat all beings alike. And from Fire I learned to take whatever nourishment comes without attachment, to burn away impurities and remain pure myself, and to dwell as one hidden flame within the many different forms it lights - as the one Self dwells within all the many bodies of the world.'

'From the Moon I learned that the Self is unchanged by the changes of the body. For the moon seems to wax and wane, to grow and shrink through its phases - yet the moon itself is always whole and unchanged; it is only the appearance that alters. So the body is born, grows, decays, and dies, passing through its phases, but the Self within is unchanged through all of it, ever the same.

'From the Sun I learned two things. The sun draws up the waters of the world and gives them back as life-giving rain, taking only to give again for the good of all; so the wise take from the world only to return it for the welfare of others. And though there is but one sun, it appears reflected differently in every pool and vessel of water; so the one Self appears as many in the many bodies of beings, though it is truly one and the same in all.

'And from the Ocean I learned the deep calm of equanimity. For the ocean receives all the rivers that pour into it, yet it never overflows; and through droughts it never runs dry; it remains always deep, and full, and calm, and the same. So the sage should remain unmoved whether much comes to him or little, neither elated by gain nor cast down by loss, deep and calm and ever the same within, whatever the world pours in or takes away.'

'Some of my teachers,' Dattatreya went on, 'taught me by their downfall - showing me, in their ruin, the dangers I must avoid.

'From the Moth I learned the peril of the lured senses: for the moth, drawn by the bright beauty of the flame, rushes into it and is burned to death. So one who rushes toward the alluring sights and pleasures of the senses, drawn by their beauty, is destroyed by them.

'From the Elephant I learned the peril of lust: for the mighty elephant, who cannot be taken by force, is lured by desire for a mate into a hidden pit and so captured. So lust for another can lead even the strongest into bondage.

'From the Deer I learned the danger of being lured by sweet sounds and entertainments; from the Fish, the danger of the tongue and of greed for taste, for the fish is caught by the bait through its hunger, and the greed of the tongue is the hardest of all the senses to master. And from the Pigeon I learned the bondage of excessive attachment to one's family: for a pigeon, so attached to its mate and young that when they were caught in a hunter's net, it could not bear to live without them, and flung itself into the net too, and so was caught and killed by its own attachment. Each of these taught me, by its ruin, to guard against the snares of the senses, of desire, and of clinging attachment, which lead even the strong into bondage and death.'

'From the Python I learned contentment: for the python lies still and eats only whatever happens to come to it, without striving or anxious hunting, content with little or much as it comes. So the sage should be content with whatever comes to him unsought, not running anxiously after gain.

'From the Honeybee I learned to gather wisdom from many sources, taking a little from each, as the bee takes nectar from many flowers without harming any. But from the greedy bee that hoards its honey, and from the honey-gatherer who comes and takes that hoard away, I learned the folly of hoarding: that what the miser stores up with such care, another comes and enjoys; so it is vain and foolish to hoard, and one should keep only what one needs.

'And from the courtesan Pingala I learned that hope and desire are the root of misery, and their renouncing the root of peace. For Pingala waited all one night in anxious hope for a wealthy lover who never came, and was wretched with her longing and her disappointment; but when at last she gave up all hope and all desire, despairing of the lovers she had set her heart on, and turned her mind instead to God, she lay down and slept in perfect peace. So it is desire and false hope that torment us; and to give them up is to find rest.'

'From the Osprey that carried a piece of flesh I learned the burden of possessions: for the bird, attacked by stronger birds greedy for its meat, found peace only when it let the meat drop, and the others flew off after it; so possessions attract trouble and attack, and one finds peace by letting them go.

'From the Child I learned the bliss of being free of cares and ego: for the little child, without pride or worry, plays happily in the present moment, untroubled by the anxieties that burden grown men. So the sage, free of ego and of cares for past and future, dwells happily in the present, simple as a child.

'From a certain Maiden I learned the value of solitude: for a girl pounding rice alone, whose many bangles clashed and rang and would have betrayed her presence to passing strangers, removed them one by one until only a single bangle remained on each wrist, so that there was no more clashing and no more noise. Where many come together, there is conflict and clamor; in solitude, or in the company of very few, there is peace. And from the Arrow-Maker, so utterly absorbed in shaping his arrow that he did not even notice a king's grand procession passing close beside him, I learned the power of one-pointed concentration: that the mind fixed wholly upon one thing, undistracted, is the secret of mastery and of meditation.'

'From the Snake I learned the way of the solitary renunciate: for the snake wanders alone, builds no house of its own but shelters where it can, and sheds its old skin to be renewed. So the sage should wander alone, own no home, be unattached, and renew himself, shedding the old.

'From the Spider I learned a great truth about the Lord and the world: for the spider spins its whole web out of its own body, dwells within it, and then draws the whole web back again into itself. So the Lord brings forth the entire universe out of himself, sustains it, and withdraws it again into himself at the end; and reflecting on this, the sage understands the source and the dissolution of all things.

'And from the Wasp and the worm I learned the greatest secret of all: that one becomes what one constantly thinks upon. For the wasp seizes a small worm and confines it, and the worm, thinking constantly and fearfully of the wasp, dwelling on nothing else, is at last itself transformed into a wasp. So the soul becomes whatever it constantly meditates upon: fix the mind unceasingly upon the Lord, dwell on him without ceasing, and the soul is transformed into the divine. This is the secret of liberation: become what you contemplate, and contemplate the highest.'

'These,' said Dattatreya, 'were my twenty-four teachers, and from each I learned a lesson, until the whole of wisdom was gathered in me, and with it this freedom and this joy. For I made the whole world my guru, and let everything I saw instruct me.'

The sages drew out the lesson for the Pandavas. "See the wisdom of Dattatreya, son of Pandu. He did not wait for a single great teacher, nor complain that he had none; he made every creature and every thing his teacher, and learned from each whatever it could show him - patience from the earth, non-attachment from the wind, contentment from the python, the peril of the senses from the moth and the elephant, the burden of possessions from the bird, the bliss of egolessness from the child, the secret of transformation from the wasp. For the whole world is a teacher to one who has eyes to learn, and there is wisdom to be gathered from everything under the sun, if only we observe and reflect.

"Be, then, a student of all things. Let the earth and the sky, the creatures and the people, the very downfalls of the foolish and the calm of the wise, all become your teachers; gather a little wisdom from each, as the bee from many flowers; and you too may attain, like Dattatreya, the freedom and the joy that need nothing from the world. The teacher you seek is all around you, in everything you see."

And the Pandavas, in their long exile among the forests and the creatures and the sages, took to heart the teaching that the whole world is a guru to the one who watches with a learning heart.