There is no general rule or method applicable to all who aspire to realize God. Every man must work out his own salvation, and must choose his own method, although his choice is mostly determined by the total effect of the mind impressions (sanskaras) acquired in previous lives. He should be guided by the creed of his conscience, and follow the method that best suits his spiritual tendency, his physical aptitude and his external circumstances. Truth is One, but the approach to it is, essentially individual. The Sufis say, "There are as many ways to God as there are souls of men" (At-turuqu ilallahi kanufusi bani adam).
Jamal-i fitrat ke lakh partao Qubul partao ki lakh shakhin Tariq-i irfan main kiya bataun Yah rah kiski wah rah kiski. Akbar
"Nature's beauty has thousands of facets for which there are thousands of ways and means of acceptance (understanding); in the Path of Gnosis, who can determine which particular mode or mood is earmarked for a given individual?"
When a pilgrim, and by pilgrim we mean here aspirant or disciple, feels drawn to renunciation, it means that the spirit of renunciation was already latent in him. This readiness results from the swinging of the terrible pendulum from pain to pleasure and pleasure to pain, in the countless forms of evolution and in the countless entrances and exits through the doors of birth and death experienced during reincarnation. Because this spirit of renunciation is latent, it needs only some exciting cause to bring it to the surface that we are able to see the power and nature of the latent spirit.
If the latent spirit is simply a spiritual indigestion from a temporary surfeit of pain, combined with a mild desire for something more pleasant, the overt renunciation will be only of a fleeting and feeble kind, a mere temporary escape from unpleasantness. At its best however, this latent spirit is a secret pact of aggression between an incurable disgust for the world and an ardent and burning thirst for God. When it comes to the surface it shows itself as an invincible determination to marshal the entire being to the attainment of victory over the lower self, and to reject everything that is irrelevant to this great and terrible struggle. Note this word "reject"; it means that such a pilgrim casts aside irrelevancies. We might call renunciation the fruit of the flower of spiritual longing, fertilized by the pollen of disgust for the futility of endless births and deaths. Once renunciation expresses itself there are many ways of looking at it, of which is simplest is to divide it ainto main types, internal and external.
External renunciation means giving up completely all wordly delights and physical attachments to material things. In the early stages, this renunciation is helpful to the extent to which it leads to internal renunciation and preoccupation with God. Tens of thousands of so-called sanyasis (renunciators) are to be found in India, of who far too many have adopted this exteranl renunciation only as a profession that enables them to indulge in an unproductive life of idleness. External renunciation, however, can be and often is real. When this is so it will inevitably lead on to internal renunciation, and this is the renunciation that matters. Internal renunciation means the control of desires at their very source so that the mind does not fall a prey to the demands of lust, greed and anger. This does not mean that one shall cease at once to have such thoughts. This is impossible, as such thoughts will continue to be troublesome as long as the sanskaras from which they arise are part of one's being. The fight is necessarily hard and long.
For the West in particular, external renunciation is inadvisable and impracticable. It should be internal and of the mind from the start. One should live in the world, perform all legitimate duties and yet feel mentally detached from everything. One should be in the world but not of it. The Sufis say, "Dil ba yar, dast bikar" (The heart with God; the hands for work).
Hazrat Nizamuddin Awliya, the Perfect Master of Delhi, was once asked by a visitor how one should live in the world. At that moment it so happened that a few women were passing by with pitchers of water balanced on their heads, and, as they walked, they gossiped and gesticulated. Pointing to them Nizamuddin said, "Look at those women — that's how you should live in the world." Asked to explain this cryptic remark, the Master continued, "These women returning from the well with pitchers balanced on their heads seem to be thinking of nothing else but exchanging tid-bits of gossip with each other; and yet they are all the time concentrating on something far more important, an balancing the pitchers on their heads. Thus, whatever your body senses or the purely surface part of your mind may be occupied with, see that the root of your mind is constantly focussed on God."