First, the Brahmacharita-ashrama, or stage of study. He uses the intellect. He learns about life by both study and practice. This is an intellectual attainment of knowledge.
From this he passes to the Grihastha-ashrama, in which the aspirant goes beyond a service just of one's family. His self-consciousness comes to realize that all he has done for his family so far, has been done for himself, his wife and children.
Now he must live for others, for the people of the town, of the country, of the nation, of the race. "I must even do what I can for the whole world." This is the service of humanity; the path of duty.
Finally he arrives at Sanyassi-ashrama, which is a life of retirement and solitude. This is the life of a 'retreat." The man who has lived a life of honesty, virtue, goodness, service, is recognized by wife and children and they appreciate that "now you must be allowed to follow the life of your own choice." They realize it is time for him to go into retreat. He must go into Sanyassi-ashrama. But he does not do this unless his family consents.

Before describing this life, I must explain why it is necessary. Why should one not always be 'in the world?' Why the necessity for retirement at the last part of life . This retirement is only too necessary. In the first place, the man has given up all his life, all his time, all his energy, to the study of worldly things; secondly, he has done all this in the interests of his family, or, perhaps for many people around him. It is right that he should have a rest some day. We ourselves feel justified in resting when Saturday comes, so why should he not have his Sunday after working all his life - a life that is nothing but continual conflict through every moment - proving himself to be wise, and kind and gentle, true, honest, virtuous through it all testing as it does his patience, his virtue, through all the temptations to which he is exposed, through all life's dangers, and difficulties, and humiliations and responsibilities that have to be faced, this man is justified, on reaching the fourth stage of life, in having a little peace - no worries or responsibilities of business, or profession, or even his family. The world should leave him alone to think and meditate and let his muscles, bones, body and mind be at rest.

This is all natural. So you cannot imagine anyone in the East, and especially in India, not longing for the time when he can become a sage, from the time he was born. Whatever he has been doing - profession, business, trade, family - he will have been longing for that moment when he can become a Burhai at last; when he can cast off the load of responsibility that has been on his back all those years. So he has longed for the time when he can give himself to thinking about Truth, having now peace, and rest, and opportunity to communicate with the Eternal Being. He has all the time been hoping for the desire to be granted when "I may have a rest, with time enough to think of God and live that life wherein one becomes capable of being one with God."

However good and beautiful life in the world is, yet how true it is that it leaves so small a margin in which to give oneself to the thought of God and Truth. The daily duties take up every moment of one's time; and even if there is anything left over, there is no end to the worries, and there is disease, and pain and suffering and all manner of other troubles. A good man must have more patience; he has to give in to people more and more. But his troubles will be there all the same. A wicked man has twice the trouble. For he has not only the trouble that comes to a good person, but he has also the trouble that his own wickedness brings about. The load is double.

Seclusion, silence, thoughtfulness, meditation, gentleness - all these make the rhythm of one's life appropriate for receiving inspiration, revelation, communion, for at-one-ment with God. Perhaps you have noticed how things vary on some days. You are busy, enthusiastic with your work on such days, whilst on other days you do not feel spiritually or religiously inclined, because everything you do is a struggle - you feel quite different. On other days you feel more religiously inclined, more desirous of seeking after Truth. The troubles and worries of the world do not bother you so much. Divine things, and higher aspirations, come more natural. How is this? It is just rhythm - your mind, your body, and whole being go through a certain rhythm, called 'Shubhtal.'

There is one rhythm whereby your mind, body and soul comes to feel an exaltation, an inclination toward higher aspiration. It is just like the rising of a wave. A heart frozen by cold, by selfishness, has become liquid through some emotion or affection, or love, or distress, or sorrow, or despair. It becomes like an ocean when the waves form. The waves make the rhythm. This rhythm soothes the mind. It gives you joy and peace, and a feeling of inclination towards higher Truth. This is the life of the sanyassi - the life adapted for higher aspirations, for higher thought, for communication with the Higher Life. At other times the work of the Sanyassi is quiet. He is silent. Yet sometimes he does speak, to guide those who come wishing to be guided through their worldly struggles. He becomes their guru. Most gurus belong to the ranks of the sanyassins, those who have adopted the retired life, and while living that life, give teaching to pupils.