PART 4 Philosophy: The Yoga Sutra
Chapter 1: On Samadhi
1.1 Now then authoritative instruction in yoga.
The word atha, translated here as “now then,” signals the start of an authoritative treatise. The Brahma Sutra, for example, starts with the stanza “athato brahmajninasya” which means “Then therefore inquiry into consciousness.” Patanjali’s treatise on grammar, the Mahabhasya, starts with “atha sabdanusasanam,” which means “Now then inquiry into sound.” What is implied with the use of atha is that the author is not relaying someone else’s understanding but has mastered the subject as set out in the text. In other words, the author is in a position to make such a statement. This is reflected in the fact that all later generations of yogis have accepted Patanjali as an authority.
The term yoga is then defined. According to Panini,1 the term yoga can be derived from either of two roots, yujir yoge and yujir samadhau. If we derive it out of yujir yoge it means “union” or “bringing together.” The Bhagavad Gita accepts this meaning. The Gita teaches that there is one deep reality underlying all phenomena, which is the Supreme Being. Yoga here means to unite oneself with or merge into this underlying or deep reality. All scriptures and meditation systems that propose one truth contained in all appearances, and therefore take yoga to mean union, are called nondualistic (meaning not-two) or monistic (from mono — one).
The second root out of which we can derive the term yoga is yujir samadhau, which gives it the meaning of “contemplation” or “absorption.” It is this meaning that the Yoga Sutra follows. The basic concept of the Yoga Sutra is that there are two separate realities, nature (prakrti) and consciousness (purusha). Yoga here means the contemplation that enables us to discriminate between the two. Scriptures and meditation systems that distinguish between two essential categories, and therefore take yoga to mean contemplation, are called dualistic. This will be covered in detail later.
We know that the Yoga Sutra employs the second meaning of the word yoga (i.e., the meaning of absorption/contemplation) because of a clear statement by the Rishi Vyasa. In his commentary on theYoga Sutra — Yoga Bhasya — he explained every sutra with such clarity that no misunderstanding was possible. It is mainly through the work of Vyasa that we know the meaning of the sutras. Many of them are so concise and cryptic that they cannot be understood without his explanations. It has been mentioned that Vyasa’s commentary is so important that it and Patanjali’s sutras together are regarded as virtually one book.
For today’s yoga student it is vital to realize that the historical school of yoga does not consist only of Patanjali’s sutras but also of Vyasa’s commentary and various other subcommentaries as well. The authoritative subcommentaries are those of Vachaspati Mishra (ninth century CE), Shankara (eighth century CE), and Vijnanabhikshu (fifteenth century CE). The authoritative twentieth-century commentary, by Hariharananda Aranya, is outstanding in its depth. All yoga masters after Vyasa accepted his commentary and wrote subcommentaries on it.2
The Rishi Vyasa states in his commentary on sutra I.1 that yoga means absorption/contemplation (yogah samadhih). He also explains that contem plation is a potential of the mind (chitta). This potential is dormant in most and needs to be trained and developed. Yoga, then, is the science of training the mind, and it is for those who are in need of this training. There are those who do not need the training but can see the one true reality in all appearances. They can bypass yoga and go instead to the Vedanta, which is the science of consciousness, explained by the Rishi Vyasa in the Brahma Sutra.
Those who do not realize their true nature are advised to take up the study of yoga. Yoga is the process that prepares a clouded mind for self-knowledge. In other words, the study of yoga starts by us admitting our ignorance and knowing that we first have to change ourselves before we can see the truth.
Neither of the two paths described in the Brahma Sutra and the Yoga Sutra is right or wrong. Rather, they apply to different students. For the advanced soul, the path of the Brahma Sutra (Vedanta) is recommended. For a more confused student, the clarifying of the mind through yoga is recommended first.
Vyasa goes on to say that mind (chitta) occurs in five different states. Every person will have a dominant tendency toward one of these states, but gradual change is possible. It is very important that we understand these five states well. Out of this understanding comes a great comprehension of the path and teachings of yoga and how yoga knowledge was conceived in the first place.
The five states of the mind are the restless (kshipta), infatuated (mudha), distracted (vikshipta), one-pointed (ekagra), and suspended (nirodha) mind. To explain these five states we have to look briefly at the three qualities of the mind.
As mentioned before, yoga states that there are two separate entities that are both real and eternal — nature (prakrti) and consciousness (purusha). The closest idea in Western science to describe prakrtiis the state before the Big Bang or the state before the universe manifested. Prakrti has also been translated as “creation” (although prakrti itself is eternal and uncreated) or “procreatress” — the matrix that procreates, brings forth everything.
Prakrti is said to be stirred into action by the proximity or closeness of consciousness (purusha), and it manifests the world with the help of its three qualities (gunas). They are:
Tamas — heaviness, inertia, mass
Rajas — movement, energy, dynamics
Sattva — light, intelligence, wisdom.
Together, the three gunas form all phenomena and objects. We can compare them in some ways to the elementary particles proton, neutron, and electron in Western science, which miraculously form all 105 elements and thus all matter. We cannot stretch this comparison too far, though, since the gunas form also ego and mind.
With the restless (kshipta) state of mind, rajas is predominant. This mind is associated with hyper-activity, excess movement, and one thought chasing the next. It is said that this type of mind can only reach concentration through intense hatred, such as in destroying one’s imagined enemies. The restless mind is very unsuitable for yoga, and one dominated by a restless mind rarely takes it up. If they nevertheless do so, it is often only in the hope of gaining magical powers to vanquish their enemies.
With the second, infatuated (mudha) state of mind, tamas is predominant. This mind is often dull, stupefied or deluded, and infatuated with the body, wealth, family, tribe, or nationality. Because thetamas guna makes the mind heavy, one cannot look further than any obvious objects of identification such as those just mentioned.
The infatuated mind is not suitable for yoga, and the only way it can concentrate is through intense greed. If somebody with such a mind-set takes up yoga, it is usually for physical gain (so that the body looks better) or monetary gain (to be able to work harder or achieve more).
With the third state of mind, the distracted (vikshipta) mind, no guna is predominant. Rather, any one of the three (rajas, tamas, or sattva) takes over, depending on impulse. This state of mind can also be called confused or oscillating, and it is typical of people who identify with being “New Age.” They see everything as being true and meaningful and believe that “all have to live according to their truth.” If something happens it is “meant to be,” although possibly we were just too unfocused to achieve a certain result.
Those dominated by the distracted mind are opportunist agnostics — believing there are many truths and that the one truth cannot be known. Rather, one’s mind-set is merely adjusted according to circumstances in order to stay comfortable. The distracted mind has glimpses of the truth, but with the next obstacle it is thrown off track and holds onto another idea.
When in the grip of the distracted mind we often hold on to beliefs, since we cannot permanently recognize deep reality or truth. This type of mind is unsuitable for higher yoga, such as samadhi, as it can achieve concentration only randomly and it loses it quickly.
The fact that yoga is a science that enables us to directly perceive and realize the deepest layer of reality means that the holding of beliefs is contradictory to yogic examination. If we hold on to beliefs, we will always superimpose them onto reality and so never arrive at the correct conclusion. Realistically speaking, most yoga students start with distracted minds and most of one’s yogic life is spent attempting to transform the distracted mind into the one-pointed state.
In the fourth — one-pointed (ekagra) — state of mind, sattva is predominant. Through yoga, the mind is made more and more sattvic. If the state of pure sattva is achieved, that is pure intelligence. This intelligence is necessary to see reality as it is. According to sutra III.55,
When the intelligence is as untainted as consciousness, this will lead to liberation.
Somebody who is born in a state of one-pointedness can become free after a comparatively short phase of practice and study. This state of mind is suitable for samadhi-based-on-an-object (samprajnata samadhi), which is the lower type of samadhi. It is through this type of samadhi that many of the great masters conceived and compiled their teachings. However, the feat should not daunt us. As the master Vijnanabhikshu said, “Transformation of the mind can be gained only gradually, and not all at once.”
The last state of mind is nirodha, “suspended.” In this state there is no predominance of any quality. Instead, one’s mind is reabsorbed into its source, which is nature (prakrti). Somebody in this state of mind permanently rests in his or her true nature, which is consciousness. The type of samadhi achieved here is objectless samadhi (asamprajnata samadhi), which is the higher form. The suspended mind (nirodha chitta) is the goal of yoga. Masters who had this type of mind conceived the Upanishads, which are the highest scriptures. It is because the mind does not interfere with intelligence that nirodhas can see to the bottom of their hearts and hear the divine truth. For this reason the Upanishads are considered as revelation and of divine authority.
In this first sutra, the theme of yoga is introduced. There are many important terms and concepts, and they can be confusing in the beginning. If this is the case it is better to go back and read the description of this sutra again before going on to the next. Don’t be daunted if reading seems laborious at first. The outcome is worth the effort.
1.2 Yoga is the suspension of the fluctuations of the mind.
In this second sutra, Patanjali defines yoga. It requires little reflection to realize that, in the light of this definition, the reading of yoga as union doesn’t make sense. Rather than union, yoga is defined here as the effort or discipline that transforms the mind into a clear surface capable of reflecting whatever it is directed at.
Consider the following. If the surface of a lake is still, you can use it as a mirror to reflect objects. If you throw a stone into the lake, ripples appear that distort the reflected images. The lake represents the mind and the ripples are the fluctuations of the mind or mind waves. While these mind waves can be appropriate for the purpose of survival, they present an obstacle if we want to recognize our innermostnature. The mind waves have to cease and the mind has to become still in order for us to reflect on our deepest core. What exactly the fluctuations or mind waves are will be discussed in sutras I.5–11.
We turn next to Patanjali’s concept of mind. The Sanskrit word chit refers to that which is conscious. The term achit, with the negating prefix “a,” refers to what is unconscious. By using the term chitta(and not antahkarana, which followers of Samkhya usually use) Patanjali expresses the notion that the mind is unconscious, or in other words consciousness is not contained in the mind.
In many ways Patanjali does not present a philosophy of his own, but a psychology or what Georg Feuerstein calls a psycho technology.3 Where philosophical questions are concerned, Patanjali completely accepts the findings of the Samkhya, with one exception (Ishvara), which we will discuss later. The similarities between Yoga and Samkhya are so striking that S. Dasgupta says, “The Samkhya of Kapila and the Yoga of Patanjali are so similar that they can be regarded as two modifications of the same system.”4
The founder of Samkhya was the Rishi Kapila, who lived according to Western scholars around 1300 BCE.5 Tradition places him much earlier than that. Samkhya means order, number, or enumeration, and it is humankind’s first attempt to explain the entire creation as one coherent system. I therefore like to call it the ancient mother of all systematic philosophies.
During Patanjali’s time and the time of the Bhagavad Gita, Samkhya was still the dominant philosophy. Today it has gone out of fashion somewhat, but it is important to remember that most Indian philosophies of today, such as Vedanta, Yoga, Buddhism, and Tantra, have used Samkhya as a foundation and built upon it. If we understand Samkhya, we will easily understand all of these later approaches.
Unfortunately the scripture compiled by Kapila, the Shastitantra, is lost. To fill in the gaps that Patanjali leaves, we have to resort to the Samkhya Karika of Ishvara Krishna, which was written much later than Kapila’s text. The Samkhya Karika is an absolute must for every yoga student.6 At only seventy-three stanzas it is relatively short, and this makes it relatively accessible. Mind in the Samkhya Karika is called antahkarana, which means inner instrument. Opposed to that is the outer instrument, the body.
The inner instrument is made up of three constituents:
1. MANAS
This is the mind or thinking principle. The word “man” is derived from manas. It collects sensory input, compares it with previous data, and makes a decision as to what the object cognized probably is. But a rope in the darkness can be mistaken for a snake, or a post in the distance for a man. The mind speedily processes sensory data for the purpose of survival, and in this process accuracy is lost. For example, if we are crossing a street and hear a loud mechanical noise approaching, we move quickly. The mind tells us it is likely the noise comes from a truck, and we should therefore not wait and inquire more deeply into what the noise actually is. In such a situation we are likely to react before we recognize that the sound is really an airplane flying overhead or a construction machine nearby. The mind is constantly telling us to react, and as a result we hardly ever take the time to stop and understand what is really happening.
2. AHAMKARA
This is ego or egoity. Aham means I and kara means caster or maker. Together they mean I-maker. The ego is the agent that owns the perceptions of the thinking principle. Ego says, “It is ‘I’ who is perceiving the approaching truck, and it is ‘I’ who has to proceed to the safety of the footpath, otherwise ‘I’ will be dead.”
3. BUDDHI
This is intellect or intelligence, the term being derived from the verb root budh, which means to awake. In yoga, intellect means seat of intelligence.
In our example, intelligence is the agent that, for example, manages to comprehend iron ore and fire to the extent that it can conceive an internal combustion engine and build a truck. It is the intellect (buddhi) that is the locomotive of yoga. Yoga is the process of refining, sharpening, and enhancing the intellect until we can realize consciousness (purusha) itself. This will be looked at in more detail in the third and fourth chapters of the Yoga Sutra.
The last term in this sutra is nirodha. This is often translated as “control” or “restraint,” which does not make sense in the context of yoga. It can also send students on the wrong path. If we restrain or control the mind, there must be an entity that controls it. This entity must be active, so it can’t be consciousness, which does not interfere in the world but is a pure witness. Furthermore, this entity must have willpower at its disposal in order to suppress the mind. The only entity available to perform such an act is the ego. The process of suppressing, controlling, and restraining the mind will strengthen the ego. However it is the ego that stands in the way of realizing consciousness.
The way to realize consciousness is through a passive suspending, calming, and ceasing of mind waves, which is possible only through insight, wisdom, intelligence, and knowledge. Sutra I.16 declares that the state of nirodha is produced by complete surrender, which is nothing but supreme detachment (paravairagya). We will therefore translate nirodha as suspension or cessation, since it does not imply an external aggressor like the term “control.”
The state of suspended mind (nirodha chitta) produces objectless or superconscious samadhi (asamprajnata samadhi). Sutra II.45 states that samadhi also results from surrender to the Supreme Being. Shri T. Krishnamacharya, the teacher of Shri K. Pattabhi Jois, believed that this was the prime way of reaching samadhi.
All of these notions show that samadhi is an act of surrender, detachment, realization, and knowing through appeasing, stilling, suspending, and silencing the mind waves. Using terms like control, suppression, and restraint to explain nirodha implies the agitation of the mind by the use of ego and willpower. Done in this way, meditation will lead not to liberation but to egomania.
In this second sutra, Patanjali also states that only the highest form of samadhi constitutes yoga proper. The two forms of samadhi, the lower objective (samprajnata) samadhi and the higher objectless (asamprajnata) samadhi, are so different that Patanjali could have divided them into two separate limbs. Instead of separating them, however, he defines yoga in this sutra as objectless samadhi and in sutra III.3 he defines objective samadhi. Objectless samadhi can be understood in the following way: This highest form of samadhi is our true and natural state — consciousness abiding in consciousness. It is not an experience; rather it is eternal, uncreated, without beginning, and without end. It cannot be practiced and cannot be produced. It is our core, our origin and our destiny. It is our abode right now, but due to ignorance we do not know it. This highest samadhi is the goal, and it is the true yoga.
The eight limbs, which include objective samadhi, are steps that will lead us back to our source. For this reason, yoga is defined here as the natural state of suspension of mind (nirodha), and samadhi is defined in sutra III.3 as recognizing an object exactly as it is. In summary we can say that objectless (asamprajnata) samadhi is the goal and the true state of yoga. The practicing of objective (samprajnata)samadhi is the path to that goal.
1.3 Then the seer abides in his own nature.
Meditation is the act of involution or going inside. The first step in meditation is to observe one’s body. From this observation, we realize that the observer or seer and the seen are different. We now know that we are not the body but, rather, we have a body.
The next step is to observe the mind. Once this observation is established, we reject identity with the mind because we, the seer or observer, must be located outside the seen. From here we start to observe the next deeper layer, the ego. This is challenging at first, but with meditation experience and practice we soon observe, isolate, and study that faculty within us that says “I.” Using the metaphor of a computer, the ego (ahamkara) is the operating system on which the applications body and mind (manas) are run. The body and mind function only against the backdrop of ego. In fact, according to Samkhya, body and mind evolve out of ego.
When we become capable of observing ego, we come to know that we are not the ego, but again a deeper lying agent. This next layer is intelligence (buddhi). In our metaphor, intelligence is like the computer hardware. This hardware can exist for itself, but the operating system (ego) and the applications (body and mind) cannot function without hardware. According to Samkhya, ego evolves out of intellect (buddhi). Intellect comes before and is a deeper layer than ego. It does not know the notion of “I.” Intellect is pure intelligence.
Now we go one step further with our meditation. Intelligence, once sharpened, can be observed. Then the intellect can realize that an external agent is observing it. This external agent is called consciousness (purusha) or the self (atman) and consists only of awareness. Since awareness is without form or quality, we cannot observe or see it. This consciousness is the seer, the deepest and ultimate layer. This was confirmed as fact by the ancient rishis and liberated masters. It can be tried and tested by any meditator.
The sutra now says that, when one is in the state of true yoga and the fluctuations of the mind are stilled, this seer, which is awareness, abides in its own nature. It would be easier to understand if Patanjali had said then the seer experiences itself, but that would be an incorrect use of words for the following reason.
A human being is an interface between consciousness (purusha) on the one hand and manifestation (prakrti) on the other. Because consciousness, which is our core, perceives but cannot be perceived, we project ourselves out into the world of phenomena. We then believe we are the phenomena, such as the egoic body/mind.
To abide in one’s nature simply means to stop projecting oneself outward. Projecting outward means to identify with the perceived. Giving up this projection is to abide in the core, which implies watching the world and one’s body/mind go by. The nature of the seer is awareness. To abide in one’s nature as awareness means simply to know that we are awareness and not to lose sight of that.
If you have not understood the preceding paragraph, reread it until you do. It holds the secret of yoga. Sometimes the ideas discussed and the use of terse terminology can cause difficulty for the reader, but if I do not set out the facts precisely, the essence of the teachings will be lost. In the words of the late Professor S. Dasgupta, “I have tried to resist the temptation of making the English happy at the risk of sacrificing the exactness of the philosophical sense: and many ideas of Indian philosophy are such that an exact English rendering of them often becomes hopelessly difficult.”7
What follows is a brief summary of the concept of this sutra.
At our core is a state of permanent, infinite bliss and awareness, which is called our true nature, truth, the natural state, consciousness, or the self. We do not perceive this state because we erroneously identify ourselves with mental activity. Once mental activity (vrtti) ceases, we return to our natural state.
Vyasa makes an important statement in his commentary when he says that consciousness always abides in itself, although it appears not to do so. Vijnanabhikshu illustrates this in his subcommentaryYoga Varttika through the following example. If we look at a crystal and no object is close by, we will see the crystal as it is. If we place a red rose next to the crystal, the crystal will take on the color of the rose to an extent that, when we look into the crystal, we will only see the rose. However, the truth is that the crystal has not changed its nature at all in this process.
Similarly, consciousness abides in itself during objectless samadhi (asamprajnata). The truth is that it always abides in itself, but does not appear to. Like the crystal, it appears to be colored by objects. And, like the crystal, when we remove the object, we realize it is unchanged.
1.4 At other times it appears to take on the form of the modifications of the mind.
The “other times” referred to are when the seer does not abide in its true nature as consciousness. Rather, at those times the seer appears to take the shape of whatever the content of the mind is.
As explained in the previous sutra, we have to remember that this only appears to be so. In reality the crystal is unchanged while it reflects the red rose. But, since the crystal itself is colorless, what we perceive when we look at it is the color and structure of the rose and not the crystal itself. In other words, the quality of red-rose-ness seems to be superimposed onto the crystal to the extent that we believe the crystal to be a red rose.
Similarly, when thought waves cause ripples on the surface of the lake of the mind, the color and form of those objects are superimposed onto our true nature, which is pure awareness or consciousness. The mind attracts objects like metal to a magnet, and causes erroneous impressions. Since these objects and thoughts possess color, form, structure, and quality, the awareness that illuminates these objects is wrongly perceived as having those attributes. This is the cause of human misery and suffering.
The other day I saw a bumper sticker on a car that read, “I listen to the little voices in my head.” We think millions of thoughts every day, and modern psychology now accepts that we have not one but thousands of egos and personalities. In fact, every moment changes us, and a slightly different personality, vasana, manifests.
Our many different thoughts and personalities are like the little voices in our heads. They can become a problem if we erroneously connect these thoughts with I-am-ness (asmita), which is also called ego. For example, the thousands of thoughts we have every day do not trouble us as long as we do not attach ourselves to them or own them. Even a saint might think about murder or using heroin, but he won’t own them because he has no attachment to them. The problem starts when a person identifies with the thought of murder or heroin addiction. Only when this happens can the action follow. This identification or attachment is the wrong knowledge (viparyaya) of us as being the phenomena. This wrong knowledge can persist only when the right knowledge (pramana) — that we are awareness only — is not cognized (recognized).
The fastest way to keep our communities safe, our prisons empty, and our judges and police out of work is to teach people meditation and yogic philosophy. If we permanently know ourselves to be eternal and infinite, and to have unchangeable awareness — all of which are total freedom — then the identification with the activities of the mind is interrupted.
If this identification persists, there is nothing that stops us from listening to the voices in our heads. The voices told Adolf Hitler to kill six million Jews; similar voices told Josef Stalin to kill twenty million of his own people. White man listened to these voices and killed millions of people of color worldwide. The voices told Christians to kill millions of “infidels” via the Inquisition and Crusades. All these acts are summarized in J. Krishnamurti’s statement “The history of mind is the history of atrocities.”
All of these acts were, and continue to be, committed today because we identify ourselves with the voices in our heads. Because the mind is a survival tool, it always tries to dominate others in order to preempt an attack. The mind leads us to competition and warfare. To project oneself out and become one with the fluctuations of the mind leads to mental slavery. In the yogic sense, mental slavery does not mean being manipulated by somebody else but, rather, being duped by one’s own mind. We are slaves to our own minds. These are strong words, but their use is justified by a brief look back into the gallery of victims that the terror regime of mind has claimed.
Consciousness, on the other hand, is qualityless. The consciousness in me is the same consciousness as the consciousness in anybody else. Realization of consciousness leads to peace and the wish to do good for all.
1.5 There are five types of mind waves, which can be troublesome or untroublesome.
Prior to this sutra Patanjali has defined the concepts of freedom and slavery to the mind. Now we move on to analyze the term “fluctuations” (vrtti). It is important here to explain the main ideas that Vyasa laid out in his commentary and the terms that he expected the reader to know.
In the second chapter of the Yoga Sutra, Patanjali describes the five different modes of suffering (kleshas). They are ignorance, egoism, desire, aversion, and fear. Vyasa begins his commentary with two important observations. The first is that troublesome mind waves arise out of these five modes of suffering (kleshas). It is important to understand that they do not arise out of peace, happiness, and contentment. His second observation is that the troublesome types of mind waves are those that give rise to a subconscious imprint (samskara). Let us look at the concept of the subconscious imprint in yoga.
If we get angry, this emotion leaves an imprint on our subconscious. The next time we get into a similar situation, the mind compares it with data accumulated in the past, and in this case the subconscious tells us to “get angry again.” If we hurt somebody as a result of being angry last time, the tendency will be to do so once more. The difference between an imprint (such as the one described above) and a memory is that we cannot consciously access the imprint. Every experience or emotion has the tendency to repeat or remanifest itself again and again, due to its leaving an imprint and a tendency in the subconscious. This is a great problem for repeat offenders.
For the yogi, these subconscious imprints are very important because the imprints (samskaras) that we create today determine our actions tomorrow. These imprints originate from vrtti, but they can produce new mind waves. The fluctuations continue to produce new subconscious imprints, and in this way, as Vyasa says, the wheel of mind waves and subconscious imprints goes on revolving.
For this reason, the yogi concentrates on making the mind one-pointed (ekagra) or suspended (nirodha). One-pointed means only those thought waves that are conducive to yoga are present; suspended means no thought waves are present at all.
Troublesome mind waves are the ones that lead us to perceiving reality wrongly (viparyaya). This in turn produces ignorance (avidya), egoism (asmita), and suffering (duhkha). The untroublesome mind waves are the ones that lead to perceiving reality correctly (pramana). This leads to discriminative knowledge (viveka khyateh) and freedom (kaivalya).
1.6 The five fluctuations of mind or mind waves are correct perception, wrong perception, conceptualization, deep sleep, and memory.
The difference between fluctuations of the mind (vrtti) and subconscious imprints (samskaras) is that the fluctuations are conscious and can be consciously accessed and remembered. Why dreamless sleep is included will be explained later.
The Mandukya Upanishad speaks of four states of mind — waking, dreaming, dreamless sleep, and the transcendental state that in yoga is called asamprajnata samadhi. If the dreamless or deep-sleep state is mentioned in this sutra, why not the waking and dreaming states also? The answer is simple. The Mandukya Upanishad is a vedantic scripture that deals mainly with consciousness or the transcendental state. The other three states of mind — waking, dreaming, dreamless sleep — are described as illusionary and unreal.
The Yoga Sutra on the other hand is a treatise that studies mind and then gives instruction on how to change it in order to make it fit to realize consciousness. For this purpose, Patanjali has broken down the waking and the dreaming states into their main constituents.
In the waking state we should perceive correctly, but usually there is a mix of right and wrong perception with conceptualization. The dream state is mainly one of conceptualization interspersed with right and wrong perception.
Why this breakdown is important will be clearer after the description of the individual thought waves.
1.7 Correct perception (pramana) is made up of direct perception, inference, and valid testimony.
Correct perception refers to the process whereby a certain object is presented and the mind identifies it correctly. Cognition is perception and the subsequent process of identification. The mind identifies by comparing objects cognized in the past with the present one. We can arrive at correct cognition in three ways:
The first and most important is direct perception (pratyaksha). Direct perception is of two kinds: perception through the senses and supersensory perception. Sensory perception means we directly perceive an object with our senses and identify it correctly.
This rarely happens, as the mind modifies all sensory input. For example, when rays of light enter our eye through the lens, they cross over and the object is depicted on the retina upside down. For this reason babies have difficulty in grabbing objects; but, through data entering the mind via the tactile sense, the mind eventually decides to turn around the images received by the eye. In other words, the two senses provide a nonidentical image of reality and the mind simulates what it believes to be most likely.
The image projected onto the eye’s retina is inverted.
Another example: where the optical nerve enters the eye there is a blind spot on the retina. Moving a white paper with a black spot through one’s field of vision can make this apparent: at some point the black spot disappears. This happens because the mind does not receive sensory data from this area so it fills in the blind spot with whatever it believes to be there. In this case it fills it in with the color of the surroundings, which is white.
This illustrates the way the mind works. It simulates reality according to what it believes to be most likely. According to mind, what is likely is what it collected in its surroundings or in the past. In yoga we call this the coloring of the objects through the past and the environment.
This is exactly how racism, sexism, nationalism, and other types of prejudice come about. If we have heard of people of a certain ethnic background behaving in a certain way, upon meeting any of them the mind will project that behavior onto them and will be less open to the realization that they are individuals who might behave completely differently.
A second type of direct perception is more important for the yogi. Sensory perception does not help us when we want to perceive deep reality (Brahman) or consciousness (purusha) or even simply objects-as-such. (The term “object-as-such” means an object perceived as it truly is, without the mind projecting onto it.) Since mind modifies sensory input, the truth within us cannot be perceived by the senses.
Mind produces a map of the world in our heads. Necessarily, the world cannot be contained in that map. If you compare for a moment the city in which you live to the street directory, you realize that the street directory is only a poor simulation of reality. It is helpful for getting around, but it is not the city as such.
If we want to experience our true nature, we have to shortcut the mind in what is called the mystical experience or samadhi. In samadhi, reality is experienced directly, without being manipulated by the mind. More about that later. For now, let us go back to the three types of correct perception.
The second type of direct perception is inference or deduction (anumana). From the presence of smoke, fire can be deduced. From a coconut falling off a palm tree we can deduce gravity. From the existence of life, we deduce the presence of consciousness, and from fear of death the previous experience of death. Deduction uses reasoning and correct logic. The effectiveness of deduction depends on the quality of the intellect.
Like all manifestations of nature (prakrti), the intellect is made up of dullness (tamas), frenzy (rajas), and wisdom (sattva). Inference can be used successfully only if the intellect is dominated by sattva. It can be made wise (sattvic) through the practice of yoga and study of the scriptures.
The third type of correct perception is valid testimony (agama). It is of two kinds: testimony of an expert and testimony of the sacred texts. If we cannot experience a fact directly and can’t deduce it through reasoning, the way out is to ask someone who has firsthand experience. Criminal investigation, for example, relies heavily on witnesses. The witness is only helpful if he or she has observed at first hand.
If we want to know about yoga, we have to seek the testimony of a yoga expert. Such a person is called a yoga-acharya (yogacharya). Acharya means:
One who has studied the necessary scriptures
One who has practiced the suggested methods
One who has succeeded in the methods
One who can communicate what has been experienced.
Among other things, this means a Vedanta master who has experienced samadhi but has not studied and practiced yoga is no authority on yoga. It is important that this be noted, because students often believe that having the mystical experience suddenly makes one an authority on everything. Strangely enough, mystics sometimes believe it themselves.
On the other hand, if a Vedanta master has had the mystical experience and has studied and practiced yoga, he is an authority on Vedanta and Yoga. This is the case with the masters Vyasa and Shankara. If we look at our definition of the yogacharya, we realize it will be difficult to find such a person. They are very rare indeed.
If we want to perceive reality as it is and we can’t experience samadhi, our intellect is not developed for inference, and we can’t find a yogacharya, then only the second type of valid testimony can help us.
This is the testimony of sacred scriptures (shastra). But not all scriptures will do. Sacred scriptures dealing with liberation are called moksha shastra. There are many moksha shastras, the most important probably being the Upanishads, the Bhagavad Gita, the Brahma Sutra, and the Yoga Sutra, but there are many others. Out of these, the Yoga Sutra is the authoritative yoga shastra (scripture dealing with yoga).
If we want to learn about yoga, there is no way around the Yoga Sutra. Apart from being our only reliable testimony if we do not know a liberated yoga master, the study of the Yoga Sutra has several interesting consequences.
Through this study and subsequent application, we will soon be able to recognize who is an authentic yogacharya. This study will also make the intellect sattvic, so that we can use it for deduction. Most important, however, the study leads in due time to samadhi, which is the direct view of reality (pratyaksha). This means that the study of sacred texts leads to all three forms of correct cognition.
1.8 Wrong perception is the erroneous superimposition of an image onto an object.
In the case of wrong perception, we perceive an object and the mind then compares the sensory input with data collected in the past and identifies the object wrongly.
For example, we see a post in the distance, but believe it to be a man. We see a rope lying on the floor in the darkness and believe it to be a snake. We perceive our body and believe it to be our true nature. The problem with wrong perception is that, as soon as the error is made, the right perception is not available anymore. The mind arrives at its conclusions very quickly to ensure survival.
As soon as we have made up our mind that the rope is a snake we will retreat into safety and not probe more deeply. In many cases we are happy with our first judgment about a situation, which often is a prejudice based on past experience in a similar circumstance.
Many cases of wrong perception are insignificant, but many others end up causing the five forms of suffering — ignorance, egoism, desire, aversion, and fear.
As examples, skin color, nationality, gender, social status, and religion are, according to yoga, attributes belonging to nature (prakrti) and therefore not our true essence, which is consciousness. If I wrongly perceive them to be essential aspects of my self, if I identify with them, I am susceptible to conflict with individuals or groups that have different attributes. There is nothing wrong with belonging to a certain group as long as I do not forget my true nature as consciousness. If I take belonging to a social group as my true, innermost identity, automatically I will be pitched into conflict with individuals who do not belong to it. If we recognized that social or national identity has nothing to do with who we really are, conflict would be at an end. Because it creates this and many other forms of suffering, wrong perception must be overcome.
The good thing about wrong perception is that it is destroyed if right perception is achieved. In our example of the snake, if we meet somebody who tells us that what we thought was a snake is a rope, and we go back to have a second look and see that it really is a rope, at that moment the wrongly superimposed image of the snake disappears. The object, in this case the rope, does not change; it is only our simulation of the object that changes from snake to rope and from wrong to correct. Wrong and right cannot coexist.
1.9 Conceptualization is knowledge of words, which are empty of objects.
Wrong and right perceptions are both based on the perception of an actual object. In conceptualizing we are using words, but there is no object to which they refer. If we talk about the goodness or badness of a certain person, we are referring to a set of actions performed by that person, and from that we believe we are perceiving goodness or badness. In reality, there is no such thing as goodness or badness: there is only a collection of individual good or poor choices.
If an enterprise decides to give itself a new corporate identity or image, the strategy might consist of getting a new logo, running a new advertising campaign, giving the car fleet a new color, and putting a new tune on the answering machine. All this together might form the concept of corporate image, but in fact there is no object of corporate image as such. There are only individual occurrences, which we sum up into a concept.
Our language relies heavily on conceptualizations. To some extent they are useful, but often they are confusing. One often hears the exclamation that something was or was not “meant to be.” This implies the vague notion of destiny, which is a mere concept. There is nothing in nature that refers to the concept of destiny.
Another frequently heard phrase is, “It’s all for the good.” One could, with the same accuracy, say “It’s all for the bad.” To allocate goodness or badness to a random occurrence is a mere conceptualization in an attempt to cope with change. Although concepts are helpful in getting us going, eventually they have to be abandoned in yoga in order to experience truth. As an example of a helpful concept, Vyasa mentions consciousness. Consciousness is a mere word: there is no such object as consciousness. Consciousness is the experiencer, the seer that is pure awareness. Awareness is that by which objects are perceived. It cannot be perceived, since it is not an object. If it was an object, it could not be awareness, which is pure and attributeless. This will be explained in detail later.
For now it will suffice to understand that the word “consciousness” is a concept, since there is no object that it refers to. Consciousness is the subject, and for this reason it cannot be an object of perception. Without the concept of consciousness, however, liberation itself would be inaccessible for most. Without this concept the teacher could not even explain to the student what to look for.
The concept of consciousness, together with the concept of liberation, will dissolve as soon as we abide in consciousness. To abide in consciousness is not contained in the words “abiding in consciousness.” If we do not use the words, though, we cannot communicate.
1.10 Deep sleep is that fluctuation of mind in which the waking and dreaming experience are both negated.
That dreamless sleep is treated as a separate fluctuation might seem strange at first, but there are several reasons for it. Vyasa explains that when we wake up, we say things like “I slept soundly,” “I slept poorly,” or “My sleep was heavy.” This indicates that there is a memory whether lightness (sattva), activity (rajas), or dullness (tamas) was predominant in our mind. In other words there is cognition of our mental state during sleep and recognition of it afterward. If there was no such cognition in the first place, we could not remember the quality of our sleep afterward.
How then can the state of mind during sleep be described? Patanjali answers this by saying that, in this mind state, both the waking and the dreaming world are negated. I have mentioned already theMandukya Upanishad. Here the sacred syllable OM is described as having four quarters. The first quarter of the OM, the A, represents the waking state; the second quarter, the U, represents the dream state; the third, the M, represents the dreamless sleep; and the fourth quarter, the silence after the OM, represents the transcendental or fourth state (turiya). The master Gaudapada has explained theUpanishad in his Mandukya Karika and created the foundation of the system of Advaita (nondualist) Vedanta.
Gaudapada says the waking state is unreal because it is negated in the dream state, whereas the dream state is unreal because it is negated in the waking state. When we are awake, we believe the dream experience to be unreal; when we are dreaming, we believe the waking world to be unreal. Therefore, Gaudapada concludes, both are unreal. In the deep-sleep state, both the waking and the dream state do not exist, whereas during waking and dreaming the deep-sleep state is nonexistent. Therefore, says Gaudapada, all three are illusionary.
A similar idea is expressed in a riddle the ancient Taoist master Chuang Tzu once gave his students. After he woke up from an afternoon nap, he told his students that he had just dreamed of being a butter-fly. His question was whether he really was Chuang Tzu who had dreamed he was a butterfly or whether he was rather a butterfly who was now dreaming he was Chuang Tzu.
The question cannot be convincingly answered, since all the supporting evidence for the proposition that Chuang Tzu is really Chuang Tzu can be derived only from the waking state. The experience of the waking state was, however, negated by the dream experience of being a butterfly. Chuang Tzu asked his students to bring evidence of his true identity from a third, impartial, unaffected reality. Since they could not, Chuang Tzu could not be convinced that he really was Chuang Tzu.
It is the impartial, unaffected reality that Gaudapada is interested in. This true reality is, according to him, the transcendental state (turiya), which is always there. In it there is awareness of the other three states, but in the three there is no awareness of the fourth, the transcendental state. In yoga we would call the transcendental state objectless samadhi, but apart from that Patanjali does not agree with Gaudapada regarding the unreality of the three states. They both agree, however, that waking and dreaming are both negated in deep dreamless sleep.
Patanjali says that the dreamless sleep fluctuation is an obstacle that has to be overcome eventually, since it is opposed to permanent objectless (asamprajnata) samadhi. For liberation to occur, objectlesssamadhi has to become permanent. If the deep-sleep fluctuation were still present, it would make objectless samadhi impermanent.
1.11 Memory is the keeping in one’s mind of objects experienced previously.
The yogic definition of memory (smrti) pertains only to those mental conditions that we can access consciously. The unconscious ones are treated under subconscious imprint (samskara).
Memory is any recollection of the previous four fluctuations, which are correct perception, wrong perception, conceptualization, and sleep.
Sleep is a fluctuation that is deduced by accessing memory. Since we are usually unconscious when we sleep, we can’t experience it directly. We know its state of mind from memory.
Correct perception, wrong perception, and conceptualization are called so only when the condition occurs initially; after that they are called memory. Since with both correct and wrong perception an object is present, we can easily distinguish them from memory.
Conceptualization that does not refer to an object in fact often overlaps with memory. Unless we conceive a concept right on the spot, it often contains memorized beliefs.
1.12 The suspension of these fluctuations is through practice and detachment.
After the initial definition of yoga (sutra I.2), all terms involved (yoga, mind, fluctuations) have been defined, apart from suspension, which is treated now.
Patanjali says here that the mind waves will cease through the application of the combined means of practice and detachment. The important word here is “and,” since the application of only one of the two leads to extremes of the mind. If we only practice, then we tend to develop beliefs like “Our practice is the only correct practice,” “Only Ashtanga Yoga is the correct yoga,” “Only Mysore style is the correct form for a yoga class,” “Only the God that I worship is the true God,” “Capitalism is the only proper economic system,” and “Democracy is the only proper political system.”
All these statements have in common the belief that there is one truth that excludes all others. In yoga we call this a solar attitude. It is dominant when the prana flows through the solar energy channel (pingala), which begins at the right nostril. We may also call it a tendency to fundamentalism. It prevents us from recognizing that a position different from our own valid view could also be right. It is a trap of the mind, which believes to have figured out reality by imposing a particular extreme reality tunnel on it.
We fall into the opposite trap, however, if we do not practice but only apply detachment. We develop beliefs like “All paths lead to the same goal,” “It’s all yoga,” “Everything is holy and sacred,” “Everybody has to live their own truth,” “Everybody has to do their own thing,” and “All statements, philosophies, and religions are valid.” These statements have in common the belief that there are many truths, which cancel out the one truth. In yoga we call this a lunar attitude, dominant when prana flows in the lunar (ida) channel, which starts at the left nostril. A lunar attitude makes us surrender our tools before we use them, and we therefore won’t be able to change ourselves. According to the lunar attitude, I don’t have to change because I am okay as I am; in fact everybody is okay. The lunar extreme makes it impossible for us to recognize wrong views, and especially it disables us for rejecting views and values — which might be okay in general, but they aren’t the right ones for us.
If everybody is okay, why does 50 percent of humankind live in poverty? Why did we live for thousands of years in permanent warfare? Why are our prisons and mental wards full, and why does planet Earth shake itself as if in an attempt to shake off humankind gone mad? We can call the lunar attitude relativism. Since everything is true only from a certain angle, we won’t have to worry about anything really. Relativism is a trap of the mind, which believes to have figured out reality by imposing on it an extreme reality tunnel. Reality according to yoga is not to be found in either extreme of the mind. It is to be found resting in the center, unchallenged by the extremes of the mind.
The center has many names in yoga, such as Brahman, purusha, and hrdaya, the heart. One of the names is sushumna, the central energy channel. When the prana flows in the central energy channel, the mind is free of solar and lunar extremes, which means that the thought waves are suspended. To reach this state, Patanjali suggests the combined application of practice and detachment. This is paradoxical, since the two are in some ways opposed. They need to be, otherwise the mind could figure out what is going on, and then that would be just another simulation of reality and not the truth.
For the paradox to stay intact we have to avoid two attitudes. One is to practice detachment. Detachment is the opposite of practice: it is to loosen one’s hold on things. One cannot practice letting go; one just lets go and surrenders. The other is to practice detachment from one’s practice. If you detach yourself from your practice, only detachment is left and you fall back into relativism. It’s just another trick of the mind.
1.13 Practice is the effort to attain steadiness in the suspended state.
After Patanjali has pointed out the dual strategy to suspend the mind waves, he now defines its two aspects, beginning with practice. We might have had the suspended state (nirodha) in glimpses, but that’s not enough. We have to attain steadiness in it. Steadiness means that nirodha flows peacefully, according to Vyasa. The effort to remain in that peaceful flow is called practice (abhyasa). This effort needs to have the qualities of vigor and enthusiasm. We might be surprised to hear a Vedanta master, Vyasa, who is the author of the Brahma Sutra, recommend effort, vigor, and enthusiasm to stay in the peaceful flow. But Shankara, another Vedanta master, confirms Vyasa’s statement by declaring that effort, vigor, and enthusiasm are synonyms here.8
Patanjali’s sutras and Vyasa’s commentary remind us also of the following verse of Shankara: “The aspirant should carefully practise this [meditation], which reveals his natural bliss until, being under his full control, it arises spontaneously. . . ”9
All three masters show a subtle and deep understanding of how the “natural bliss,” the “peaceful flow,” the “suspended state,” arises spontaneously when it is preceded by effort, practice, and vigor. This teaches us two facts. One is that in days of yore the gap between Vedanta and Yoga was much smaller than modern-day Vedanta masters want us to believe. The second is that “just spontaneously being in the moment and making no artificial effort whatsoever,” which some contemporary masters teach and which accommodated the beliefs of the hippie generation so comfortably, is not based on the teachings of Vyasa and Shankara, the founders of the school of Vedanta. Just being natural spontaneously is a very advanced state that follows after years of practice and study. It is not following one’s whims, which is only slavery of the mind. As will be explained in more detail later, inner freedom (samadhi) is attained through outer structure and discipline, which is called practice. The lack of outer structure and discipline advocated by some modern teachers, who clearly draw masses of listeners, leads to inner dogmatism and limitation.
1.14 One becomes firmly established in practice only after attending to it for a long time, without interruption and with an attitude of devotion.
We might practice for a while and then all at once find our past conditioning overwhelms our practice efforts. We may suddenly develop anger, greed, pride, lust, and envy, and wonder how that can be after all this yoga. How can we avoid succumbing to such impulses?
Patanjali suggests it is by being firmly established in practice. This cannot happen all of a sudden: we are bound to have a yoyo practice at first. We may make good progress one moment and the next moment find ourselves back in our old conditioning. To really become established one needs to practice for a long time, without interruption and in a devoted way.
What does a long time mean? A year is not a long time. A decade is more to the point. Several decades would be realistic. The ancient rishis are usually depicted with long beards, and they are said to have reached freedom from bondage after a lifetime of study and practice. True, some teachers have reached incredible wisdom at a young age: for example Shankara composed the Brahma Sutra Bhasyawhen he was twelve. That this is not the normal course of events is reflected in the fact that he is considered in India to be of divine origin.
The average yogi cannot expect to be established in truth through a few years of practice. A “long time” means we make a commitment to practice, however long it takes, and are not perturbed by any setbacks. The Bhagavad Gita explains that all actions are performed by the Supreme Being only, and so the fruits or results of those actions belong only to the Supreme Being. If I can admit that the one practicing is not I, then I will not expect results.
According to Patanjali, it is prakrti (nature) that practices, and we are only looking on. The Bhagavad Gita has it that the Supreme Being operates prakrti, and so performs all actions. In both approaches, if we give up the idea of ever getting anywhere with our yoga, then we have arrived at the destination, the present moment, now. However long the practice may take does not matter anymore, since we have arrived already.
To practice without interruption means to do one’s formal practice daily. Some really clever people have said, “Yes, but if you are tired, exhausted and don’t have the time or energy to do your practice, doing it will have a detrimental effect anyway.” This is a reasonable thought, but we should ask ourselves why we are exhausted and have no energy and time. Possibly we spend too much time running after money, or our social life takes up too much energy. Alternatively, we might have eaten too late or too much the day before or have not rested enough. H. Aranya says that uninterrupted practice means constant practice. He is not referring to one’s formal practice but to mindfulness and watchfulness.
The last of Patanjali’s three parameters for establishment in practice is to practice with an attitude of devotion. An example of practicing with a bad attitude is to practice because one thinks one has to, for whatever reason, but actually hates what one does. This could be because:
We think we have to get our frame into shape, so that others desire us.
We think that, when we exercise postures more proficiently than others, we are superior to them. (The same can be said about practicing meditation and samadhi.)
We practice because we want to get any type of advantage over others, be it physical, mental, or spiritual.
To practice with devotion is to remain grateful for being able to practice at all. It is great good fortune to have come across yoga in our lifetime. Many people have never heard about it or are never properly introduced to it; others live in a war-torn country or in economic crisis, both of which make yoga practice difficult.
Again, if our body is crippled or our mind is deranged, yoga will be more difficult. It is good to keep these points in perspective. If none of them applies to us, we are in a fortunate position and need only to sustain a practice and an enthusiastic attitude toward it.
I.15 Detachment is mastery in not desiring objects seen or heard of.
Having dealt with practice, Patanjali now defines the other aspect of stilling the mind. If one practices but keeps one’s desires alive, at some point one will necessarily use the powers acquired in one’s practice to fulfill those desires.
In the twentieth century there came to prominence teachers who suggested we should fulfill all our desires as soon as they came to mind. From this satisfaction, it was said, mental stillness would proceed. The problem here is that desires are located in the mind. The heart does not need fulfilment since it is fullness made manifest.
The mind, on the contrary, reacts like a spoiled child. With every demand fulfilled, three new ones pop up. In the end, the entire world is seen just as a giant machine to supply sensory satisfaction and to soothe one’s greed.
Happiness is not found in external satisfaction, but only in the stillness of the heart. If we fulfill the desires of the mind, we give two wrong messages:
We profess that permanent happiness is to be found in fulfilling the desires of the mind, whereas in fact freedom is only within.
By succumbing to the demands of the mind, we increase its power over us.
The more we realize that we do not depend on the fulfillment of the demands and desires of the mind at all, the freer and happier we are. To be a slave to our desires, like gluttony, has a debilitating effect on our psyche. The realization, on the other hand, that we do not depend on external stimuli for freedom brings incredible strength and mental clarity. This can be seen for example in the lives of Nelson Mandela and Mahatma Gandhi.
Detachment is said to develop in four steps, which can be described as follows:
1. Accepting the idea that fulfilling desires does not make us free but creates more desires.
2. Succeeding in letting go of some attachments but not others.
3. Letting go of all attachments on a superficial level. The seed is still there in the mind and could germinate again if the right object is presented.
4. Mastering detachment. It is this level that Patanjali talks about. It is attained gradually.
Detachment is gained from two different types of objects. The first category is objects that are seen. These are the bodies of others, good food, alcohol, drugs, money, real estate, clothes, and all types of wealth and power that we could get attached to.
The second category is objects heard of. These are yogic achievements and all the yogic powers described in the third chapter of the Yoga Sutra. Also listed here are achievements in asana, achievements in meditation, achievements in samadhi and concepts such as enlightenment. So ultimately the desire to achieve samadhi will obstruct the path to samadhi. To desire means to be in the future with one’s mind; samadhi means to let go of the concept of future.
1.16 The highest detachment, which proceeds from knowing consciousness, is to not thirst for the manifestations of the gunas.
The highest form of detachment cannot be achieved. It proceeds spontaneously when consciousness (purusha) is known. Then all that we were attached to previously appears pale and stale compared to the glory of one’s true nature. Everything we know and can know is, according to Samkhya philosophy, manifested by the three qualities (gunas) of nature (prakrti). The gunas in various combinations manifest the visible gross world, the invisible subtle world, our body, mind, ego, and intellect. The only two categories (tattvas) of existence that are not produced by the gunas are the two unmanifest categories, which are nature or world ground (prakrti), out of which everything arises, and consciousness (purusha), which witnesses everything.
Like a dancer who appears on stage once the audience is settled, prakrti manifests the world through its gunas when consciousness looks on. This projecting of the world is called experience, which results in bondage. We become bound because we erroneously believe ourselves to be the projected phenomena whereas in truth we are the eternal consciousness.
In a way we can say that we become what we believe or know to be. Consciousness (purusha) is forever free but, because we forget our true nature, we start to believe we are the phenomena (world, body, mind, etc.). This is called bondage, and it leads to suffering. We always try to achieve happiness through permanence, but the phenomena are all transitory. Our partners, friends, and family will die; our own body will break down and fail us; our house and car will disintegrate; all the riches we’ve accumulated will end up in somebody else’s hands one day. Once bondage is experienced for some time (according to some orthodox sources thirty trillion incarnations), we have had enough and realize ourselves as consciousness, which is freedom. From this realization of consciousness all thirst for the phenomena that are manifestations of the gunas ceases. This is called the highest detachment.
As hard as we try, we can never produce this form of detachment. It results only from having the mystical experience. Then the gunas, with their manifestations, fall off us like boulders falling from a mountaintop, never to return.10
1.17 Objective samadhi (samprajnata) is associated with deliberation, reflection, bliss, and I-am-ness (asmita).
After Patanjali has pointed out the means to still the mind, he will define now the two types of samadhi. In the first sutra (I.1) we learned that the term yoga has the same root as samadhi (yujir samadhau). Vyasa uses yoga and samadhi synonymously, and often talks about samprajnata yoga instead of samprajnata samadhi.
In the second sutra, Patanjali defined yoga as suspension (nirodha) of thought waves. This means the true state of yoga is the higher objectless samadhi (asamprajnata), which is also the goal of yoga. The first samadhi is the path to the second samadhi. Most of Patanjali’s sutras deal with the first samadhi as a path to the second samadhi, which is liberation.
The first samadhi is called samprajnata. Sa means “with”; prajna is often translated as “wisdom” or “insight.” It is the capacity of the intellect to perceive objects as they really are. In this context prajnameans cognition, being conscious of an object. The best translation for samprajnata is cognitive samadhi, but we can also call it samadhi-with-object. It means that, in this samadhi, the intellect is cognizing. “Cognizing” means the intellect is focused on or aware of objects.
The higher type of samadhi is asamprajnata samadhi — supercognitive samadhi — wherein one is beyond cognition of objects but rests in consciousness alone. We can also call it objectless samadhi. Some translations have used the expression “unconscious samadhi,” which is quite confusing since we are one with consciousness itself in this state. The flower-power generation called this state “cosmic consciousness,” which describes it more aptly than “unconscious samadhi.” Since we will be talking a lot about these two samadhis, the constant use of words like “cognitive” and “supercognitive” would be alienating, so I have replaced them with “objective” and “objectless” samadhi, which are more congenial. Let us keep in mind, though, the more precise translations.
In this sutra, Patanjali defines objective samadhi. In doing so he describes four levels of depth, which can be experienced depending on how superficial or internal the object is on which we meditate.
The first step is called deliberation (vitarka), a very modest form of samadhi. In fact it is often called vitarka dhyana — deliberative meditation. The boundaries of meditation and samadhi are not rigid, but flowing. Deliberative samadhi means that we are focusing on a physical object, which in yoga is called a gross object. The use of the term “object” can be confusing — everything apart from pure awareness in yoga is called object. Even intelligence and ego are objects. Awareness is not an object because it is the subject, the observer.
Let us say we were to practice deliberative samadhi on the moon, which is a gross object. Deliberation means that during the samadhi there is a discussion going on concerning all the concepts related to the moon. For example, while we focus on the moon, we think about its silvery light, its image in a lake, its consistency, its surface, its orbit, its influence on the tides and our bodily fluids, and its relation to lunacy. That is all. Patanjali has placed the first bar very low. If our mind has achieved identity (samapatti) with the object moon, while it deliberates on concepts relating to the moon only and not on any others, this is technically already samadhi in Patanjali’s sense.
The next step is taken after the first is achieved. In reflective samadhi we focus on subtle objects. These are objects that do not have a physical appearance, such as sound, the lotus of the heart, the light in the head, or an idea. In the first samadhi we were deliberating, which means we were practicing a deeply concentrated thought based on one object only. In reflective samadhi we are reflecting or contemplating, which is a much deeper, subtler type of activity. It is more like becoming receptive for the true meaning to arise. This type of samadhi is used if we want to understand the true meaning behind the concepts of the Yoga Sutra. We cannot grab them or force them under our control, but we have to reflect until the true meaning is revealed.
The third type of objective samadhi is called blissful (ananda) samadhi. Once the subtle objects are understood, bliss arises. It arises because with this understanding comes the glimpse of freedom. We could say, here we understand for the first time that one day we will be free. From that arises spontaneous happiness. If we do samadhi on that object, on that feeling of happiness, then that is blissfulsamadhi. It is a samadhi on experience itself.
The fourth type of objective samadhi is on I-am-ness. Who is it that says, “I am experiencing bliss”? It is on that I-am-ness that we concentrate in the fourth type. It may sound strange at first to meditate on I-am-ness, which is a function of egoity. But this does not mean that we meditate “what a wonderfully big ego I have”: meditation on egoity means something different. In yoga we first learn to observe the body. Once this observation is established, we know that we are not the body but an observing agent independent of the body. Otherwise we could not observe the body. The next step is that we start observing our thoughts. Eventually, from being established in that observation, we know that we are not our thoughts, since we can detach ourselves and observe them like the thoughts of a stranger. Who are we, then, if we are not the body and not the mind (manas, the thinking principle)? The agent that claims ownership of body and mind is called ahamkara — ego. Its function, which is the erroneous commingling or mixing of seer (pure consciousness) and seeing (the mind), is called egoity or I-am-ness (asmita).
In the last of our objective samadhis, meditation is done on this pure I-am-ness. It needs to be pure: it cannot be mixed with notions like, “I am great” or “I am bad.” If samadhi can be sustained on the pure notion of I, without any discussion or thought arising on who or what we are, several fundamental revelations will happen. One is that egoity is based on ignorance, not knowing ourselves. If we go deep into egoity, we find that it arises out of intellect/intelligence. Once we have found intelligence, in it will arise discriminative knowledge of what is real and unreal. From this eventually will rise realization of consciousness (purusha), which is liberation. This last state is described in the next sutra.
I.18 The other [asamprajnata samadhi ] results from the practice of stilling the fluctuations of the mind and leaves only residual subconscious imprint.
Now Patanjali defines the second higher samadhi, which is referred to in this text as objectless samadhi (asamprajnata samadhi).
The sutra here picks up the definition of sutra I.2 and elaborates on it. Every time the mind waves are suspended (nirodha) for an extended period we are in objectless samadhi. On the other hand, if objectless samadhi becomes permanent, the mind is permanently suspended, which is liberation.
Only objectless samadhi can confer this effect, because as long as the mind rests on an object, as in objective (samprajnata) samadhi, the mind waves are focused (ekagra) and not suspended (nirodha). Objective samadhi therefore cannot produce liberation.
Just as a stone thrown into a lake will produce waves that distort the surface, so will an object in the mind produce thought waves that, even if single-pointed (ekagra), will ruffle the surface of the lake of the mind. It then cannot be used to reflect on our true nature. It is only objectless samadhi that will show us our true nature.
Vyasa says the highest detachment mentioned in sutra I.16 is the means to this samadhi. This is a paradox. Sutra I.16 states that this highest detachment results from knowing consciousness. But realizing consciousness itself is only possible through objectless samadhi.
About this paradox the following has to be understood.
The mystical experience, which is a temporary objectless samadhi, cannot be forced or achieved at all. It is not the case that from doing this and that the mystical experience will result. Since the mystical experience depends heavily on the subconscious conditioning of the seeker, or should we rather say lack thereof, at no point can we be certain what exactly produces the experience in a particular person. This reverberates in the Yoga Sutra through the many different suggested techniques. On the other hand the element of unpredictability concerning the mystical experience has led to the belief that it is bestowed through divine grace.
Once the experience is had, one knows that nothing one has ever done in one’s life could have produced it. The human being is too small to manifest such magnificence. The only thing we can do is bring ourselves into a position so that the indescribable can happen.
Supreme detachment and practicing the stilling of the mind are aids, but cannot be called the efficient cause. They are, rather, an invitation. Once the guest (asamprajnata samadhi or a glimpse thereof) has arrived, consciousness is known. From this knowledge results permanent supreme detachment, leading to permanent abiding in consciousness (liberation).
Before that happens, though, we have to take another look at the mind. As I have pointed out, the mind consists of conscious activity, called fluctuations or thought waves (vrtti), and subconscious activity, called subconscious imprint (samskara). The subconscious imprints are a result of our thoughts and actions. The mystical experience (a glimpse or short asamprajnata samadhi) suspends the mind or results from the suspension of mind, but it does not destroy our subconscious conditioning. That is why, when the samadhi is over, the mind will remanifest from the leftover conditioning (samskaras).
We should not be disappointed when this happens. It is asking too much that conditioning should be eradicated by an initial one-hour objectless samadhi. We have to continue our path with conviction.
When objectless samadhi becomes permanent, it will delete the conditioning or destroy what are called the seeds of suffering. From the seeds sprout new ignorant action and thirst for manifestation of the gunas, which is thirst for life. Then it is called nirbija samadhi — seedless samadhi.
More about that later.
1.19 Among the bodiless ones and the ones absorbed in prakrti, there is the intention of coming into being.
In this and the next sutra, two types of objectless (asamprajnata) samadhi are considered. Sutra I.20 describes objectless samadhi as preceded by yogic practice and produced with yogic intent, which is liberation.
Liberation does in some way imply leaving or going beyond the realm of manifestation. The Samkhya Karika describes the final realization as the notion of na asmi — not-I. This does not mean the I gets annihilated or terminated, as is taught in Buddhism. According to Yoga, I and egoism, like mind, are eternal and will never cease. What it means is that once the yogi realizes him-or herself as consciousness (purusha), his or her affiliation with I-ness, ego, and mind ceases. Since the ignorant notion of “I” and “I am an individual, isolated identity in this world” is overcome, we cannot say then that “I” am consciousness. We can then only say that consciousness is.
But even to say “consciousness is” is partially incorrect, since consciousness contains the notions of existence, nonexistence, neither, and beyond both. The Samkhya Karika therefore says only “not-I.” This does not mean that I am annihilated but, rather, I have recognized myself as that which cannot be described anymore in terms of I-ness.
To realize not-I implies that we have gone beyond wanting to remain an isolated, manifested individual. Why would we want to remain a droplet if we could be the entire vast ocean? Only fear and the ignorance of not wanting to lose the shackles of I-ness will stop us.
A true yogi, one who has studied, understood, practiced, and realized yoga, will lose the intention of “coming into being,” which is the opposite of not-I. Coming into being means to sustain one’s desire for continuation as an isolated individual, although one should know better. In the traditional context, this means that one will continue to be reborn, out of ignorance. The true yogi will let go of this desire, since manifestation impinges on the ecstasy of pure consciousness.
One of many messages encrypted into this sutra is, “Among those who have not practiced yogic methods with yogic intent, there is the desire for future embodiment.” Those are then subdivided into two categories, which are the bodiless ones and the ones absorbed in prakrti. Both are very advanced mystical states, which can be held for a very long time. But since the subconscious imprints (samskaras) are not deleted in these states, and since I-ness is not overcome, the ones experiencing such states will eventually fall back and come again under the grip of mind and ego.
The first category described in this sutra comprises the bodiless ones. They are powerful beings that exist without the need for a physical body. Traditionally they are understood to be, for example, the gods. When the term “gods” is used in India, we should not confuse it with the Christian God or Allah in Islam or the Brahman of the Upanishads, because all those terms are only ever used in the singular: there can only be one God. The gods of vedic India can be more likened to the gods of the Greeks (Zeus, Kronos, Hera, Aphrodite, Apollo, and so on), the gods of the Romans (Jupiter, Saturn, Mars, Venus, Mercury, etc.) or the ancient Germanic gods (Thor, Wotan, Loki, Odin, Freya, etc.).
The vedic gods are representations of forces of nature. Varuna, like Neptune, represents ocean; Indra, like Thor, represents thunder; Agni, like Loki, represents fire. The vedic gods certainly have an agenda or an intention of coming into being. When we read the ancient creation myths, we realize that the lives of the “gods” were quite human, indeed similar to those led by some of the characters in recent soap operas. Definitely they are very different from God, Allah, or Brahman, which have no agenda, no intention, and need no becoming, since the one is pure existence as such.
According to Patanjali and Vyasa’s understanding, the gods are in extremely long-lasting and powerful states of asamprajnata samadhi. But since their residual subconscious imprints (samskaras) are not deleted, and since they live in a state of long-lasting pleasure, they do not long for freedom. Longing for freedom depends on the right mixture of pleasure and pain being provided, as in the case of a human. Once the merit of the gods is exhausted they will fall back to a less powerful, conditioned state.
The other category mentioned is prakrtilaya, which means the ones absorbed in nature (prakrti). Again, this is a very advanced mystical state of objectless samadhi. Prakrti is the unmanifest source of the world, which brings forth this entire vast universe. However, since prakrti is not manifest, it is not an object. Expressions such as “I was one with everything,” “I was one with the source of everything,” and “I was in everything” refer to that state. Some contemporary teachers have had this experience and teach it now, but it will not lead to liberation and it is not traditional yoga.
Liberation comes about by realizing oneself as consciousness, which is completely different from merging with the source of manifestation (prakrti). Since prakrti is eternal becoming, oneness with it leads to an intention of becoming, in other words an agenda. One needs to detach oneself from that too, and abide in what is eternal, uncreated, unstainable, and unchangeable: consciousness.
We know now that there are different mystical states, and some are dead-end streets. By closely reflecting on and realizing yogic truth, we will stay on the direct road to freedom. The next sutra explains how.
I.20 In the case of the others [the yogis], it [asamprajnata samadhi ] is preceded by conviction, enthusiasm, remembrance, samadhi, and wisdom (prajna).
Asamprajnata (objectless) samadhi is divided into two categories. In sutra I.19, Patanjali described those who harbor an intention of becoming (bhava pratyaya) and who therefore do not reach liberation but return to conditioned existence. These are not true yogis, and they did not reach this samadhi through proper yogic method.
In the present sutra, Patanjali describes those who reach objectless samadhi through prescribed effort (upaya pratyaya), which is yogic practice. Those are the true yogis. Five steps are described here that need to be combined with supreme detachment, mentioned earlier.
The first step is conviction (shraddha). Conviction is gained by analyzing one’s own situation and then studying and applying yogic philosophy. Only if one completely understands yogic philosophy intellectually can one be completely convinced. A vague feeling that “It might work” or “It could be the right thing for me” won’t suffice. One needs to be able to think, “This is my situation right now. I am bound. I am a slave of my mind. Due to that, I am ignorant and I suffer. Even if I feel okay now, suffering could be around the corner in the form of my death, disease, death of a loved one, unforseen calamities, and so on. Therefore, I must break free and attain liberation. For this purpose, I have to eradicate my conditioning. This is possible by undertaking the steps and limbs of yoga with the right attitude. From practicing those methods I will attain liberation as others have done before me.”
If one understands yoga in this way, step by step, this is called conviction. If one is too unclear to think in that way, more study of yogic philosophy such as the Yoga Sutra needs to be undertaken.
The second requirement is enthusiasm or energy (virya). Even after one has understood yoga, one could still fall victim to a negative attitude, such as, “I do understand but I don’t want to put the energyinto it.” The right attitude for yoga is to be ready to give everything and have no expectation. If we have the right enthusiasm, which the Rishi Vasishta calls “true self-effort,” there is no destiny apart from the one that we create. The yogic path does need energy. After all, we have to free ourselves from our conditioning (samskara and vasana). How much energy did we invest creating it and over what time span? We will need energy and enthusiasm to undo all this.
The third requirement is remembrance. When we have conviction and enthusiasm, we will be able to start the path of yoga. But sometimes we will get lost or run into a dead-end street. In moments of confusion, it is important that we remember what we are doing. What is my purpose? How did I get here? Where do I want to get to from here? How?
Especially as we start to succeed with yoga, we often tend to lose our intention. We might be happy to stick with asana or pranayama after we get comfortable in it. We might lose interest in yoga because we notice that our teacher and those around us are not sincere. We might get dejected because we did not get an experience of true yoga. In all of these cases, it is important to remember ourselves, our purpose, our goal, and the correct method. This remembrance will make sure that we stay on course.
The fourth requirement is samadhi. Here, as in many other places in the Yoga Sutra, the term samadhi refers to objective (samprajnata) samadhi. If we have conviction, enthusiasm, and remembrance, we need only to apply the eight limbs of yoga, which culminate in the practice of objective samadhi.
Everybody who fulfills the conditions so far will, after due practice, experience at least the lower rungs of objective samadhi described in sutra I.17 (vitarka). In many ways objective samadhi is the main theme of the Yoga Sutra. Its various stages will be described later on. Objective samadhi is the path to objectless samadhi.
The final requirement is wisdom (prajna). There is no good English translation for this word. Precisely, it means “complete knowledge pertaining to objects,” which means that we see things as they really are, without our mind modifying them. The term prajna is contained in sam-prajna-ta (objective) samadhi, because we are cognizing objects in this samadhi. Wisdom (prajna), or the ability to clearly reflect things as they are,11 is the fruit and result of objective samadhi. From prajna comes discriminative knowledge. From perceiving objects (including mind, ego, and intellect) as they really are, we learn that we are not these objects. We learn that the self, the consciousness, our true nature, is not contained in anything that we can observe. This is called discriminative knowledge (viveka khyateh) or knowledge of the difference between what is eternal and transitory, self and nonself, essential and nonessential, pure and stainable.
These five requirements — conviction, enthusiasm, remembrance, samadhi, and wisdom — are necessary to succeed in objectless samadhi. Only when objectless samadhi is preceded by them does it lead to liberation (kaivalya).
I.21 For those who practice with ardent intensity, samadhi is near.
Samadhi might be way off at first, but if we practice intensely, says Patanjali, it is near. Vyasa adds that whoever practices intensely will experience samadhi and its fruit, which is liberation. Vijnanabhikshu lends his support by quoting from the Vishnu Purana: “One who attains samadhi [attains] liberation in that life itself.”12
So there is no excuse and no time to waste. Orthodox tradition says that we need the gift of the last birth to be liberated in this life. The gift of the last birth can only be acquired though effort in previous lives.
It is not possible for us, however, to determine from the outside what sort of practice someone has done previously. A person’s knowledge cannot be ascertained from outside appearances. Some of the greatest masters lived as beggars in outwardly crippled bodies. Others made themselves purposely ugly or behaved in a repulsive fashion so that they could live and practice in peace.
I.22 Those ardent ones are again subdivided into mild, moderate, and intense.
We have, altogether, nine subcategories in the order of their intensity and their closeness to samadhi. It is an Indian pastime to create categories and divide them into subcategories. Shankara says in his sub-commentary that the purpose of the sutra is to “make clear that [all] yogins, whether slow or not, do attain their aimed-at goal, [so] it should arouse an undepressed spirit in them.”13 There is only a difference in how fast that goal is reached.
I.23 Or from devotion to Ishvara.
According to Vyasa, this sutra answers the question whether there are other ways by which samadhi can be attained other than by those outlined so far. Samadhi can also be attained by devotion to Ishvara, a statement that is repeated several times in the Yoga Sutra. “Ishvara” is a general term for the Supreme Being or Lord. No affiliation to any particular religion is implied. Devotees can fill in the name for the divine as they worship it, whether this is God, Jehovah, Vishnu, or whatever else.
It is very interesting that Patanjali mentions devotion to the Supreme Being here. Although the main theme of the Yoga Sutra is the technical instruction of the methods of yoga called Raja Yoga and Ashtanga Yoga, the path of surrender (Bhakti Yoga) is also described and tolerated.
In this regard the Yoga Sutra is a mirror image of the Bhagavad Gita, which deals primarily with Bhakti Yoga but also accepts the path of Ashtanga Yoga. A third path, the path of knowledge (Jnana Yoga), is also accepted by both scriptures. India had a very tolerant multifaceted culture in its golden days, and people noticed that liberation was possible using any of the three paths. This often led to all three being mentioned, even if a scripture such as the Yoga Sutra mainly focused on one of them.
Permanently meditating on the Supreme Being constitutes the path of devotion. Here all of one’s actions and thoughts are to be surrendered and a feeling of intense love for the Supreme Being developed. This intense love (bhakti) will attract the grace of the Supreme Being, who will bestow samadhi and liberation onto the yogi. There are schools of yoga that accept this path as the only proper way to do yoga. Especially today in India, most schools of yoga espouse bhakti, including the Vaishnava and Shaivite schools. (T. Krishnamacharya was a Vaishnava and K. Pattabhi Jois is a Shaivite.) Opposed to these schools are those of Samkhya — Patanjali Yoga and Shankara’s Advaita Vedanta — which put more emphasis on the meditation practice and realization of the individual. TheUpanishads and the Brahma Sutra contain both approaches.
Nevertheless, the inclusion of the Supreme Being (Ishvara) is the one point where Patanjali steers away from the Samkhya system. The Samkhya onto which Patanjali grafted the techniques of yoga is a meditation system that describes the entire world in twenty-five categories. Patanjali kept all these categories and added a twenty-sixth, which is Ishvara. Patanjali’s system is therefore sometimes referred to as “Samkhya with Ishvara.”
Kapila, the founder of Samkhya, is said to have created a system and an analysis of the world that did not rely on Ishvara. It can be noted also that Mahavira, the founder of Jainism, and Buddha were silent in regard to Ishvara.
They are therefore regarded in Western circles as atheists, which they are not. An atheist is somebody who claims that God does not exist. At no point did Samkhya or Mahavira or Buddha make this claim. The original Samkhya grew out of the idea of creating an explanation of the world and a meditation system that steered clear of religion. It has shown that the world can be explained without resorting to God. The Samkhya meditation system enables people to become liberated even if they don’t want to resort to a Supreme Being.
Those theistic schools that believe that only surrender to God can lead to liberation have strongly rebuked Samkhya for this reason. They feel that nobody should be allowed the great good fortune of liberation without personally acknowledging the Supreme Being. The Bhagavata Purana,14 however, states that the Supreme Being manifested itself as the Rishi Kapila to teach the Samkhya. This seems to confirm the fact that the Supreme Being is happy for people to experience samadhi by whatever method they choose. After they have realized their own self through samadhi, they can go on to realize the Supreme Self through bhakti.
There are many ways of achieving samadhi. There is not one proper way. It is our good fortune that the founders of our school — Patanjali, the author of the Yoga Sutra, and Vyasa, the author ofBhagavad Gita — had the wisdom to realize that, just because we have a particular way of experiencing, not everybody else needs to experience in the same way. Bhakti Yoga is the right path for yogis with an emotional constitution. Buddhi Yoga is the path for yogis with an intellectual constitution, and so on. To say that all have to walk the same path is to not care about the welfare of students but only to press one’s own agenda to assert the supremacy of one’s own opinion. It really is a form of egoism and a failure to realize that the world is too vast to fit into one’s own head.
Patanjali accepted all the ideas of Samkhya, but, since the yoga methods can bestow great powers, he felt it necessary to place the yogi under the patronage of the Supreme Being. In this way, the ego of a headstrong yogi is kept in check.
I.24 Ishvara is a distinct form of consciousness (purusha), which is untouched by the modes of suffering, karma, its fruit, and its residue.
If devotion to the Supreme Being truly produces samadhi, what is this Supreme Being that it can produce such effects? We enter now a series of sutras in which Patanjali defines the Supreme Being and its function in Yoga. First he says the Supreme Being is a type of consciousness that differs from others. All beings are consciousness, but they differ from the Supreme Being. In what way?
All other beings are touched by ignorance, egoism, desire, aversion, and fear of death. These forms of suffering (kleshas) make us act in a certain way, which is conditioned and not free. From these conditioned actions (karma) arise certain fruits or results (vipaka) — type of birth, life span, and type of experience. In other words, our past actions have created the life that we are leading now.
Apart from the fruit, our past actions have also created residue (ashaya). If it is active now, it is called subconscious imprint (samskara). This means it is present, and it determines our actions, but we are not aware of it. If it is inactive it is called karmashaya, meaning karmic deposit, in which case it will become active only in future lives. This whole vicious circle, which results in bondage and mental slavery, is described in detail in the second chapter (II.3–II.14).
All beings are subject to these forces, and the process of yoga is designed to liberate us from them. The only being that is untouched by any of them is the Supreme Being. Vyasa says there are many beings that have broken free from this cycle of rebirth and bondage, the difference between them and the Supreme Being being that Ishvara was never bound. Where now, Vyasa asks, is the proof of Ishvara’s specialness? The answer he gives is: the sacred scriptures. The sacred scriptures are inspired by the Supreme Being and they prove its supremacy. But the next question is, “On what is the authority of the sacred scriptures based?”
Inquiries of this type may appear boring at first, but they are very important. There is always a place for sincere inquiry in Yoga. As yogis we don’t have to accept anything at face value, not even the authority of the scriptures. Doubt is good and should be encouraged by the teacher. If the student cannot express doubt, he or she can never arrive at complete conviction. Belief is not enough; we have to know. We have to come to a state of complete conviction and comprehension concerning these questions.
The answer here is: the authority of the scriptures is based on pure intelligence (sattva). This means that when the state of sattva is reached the authority of the scriptures becomes self-evident. It also means that the scriptures are an expression of the intelligence of the Supreme Being. Let’s keep this statement in mind; we will have to verify it later.
The intelligence of the scriptures will of course not be recognized at first. The intellect has to be made predominantly sattvic for it to be able to recognize the sattva of the scriptures. This may take a lifetime of practice and study. But, when it is achieved, it will be worth all the effort.
If you don’t want to work for such a long time, consider the following train of thought. Have a look at the DNA code, the human brain, the music of J. S. Bach, the millions of life forms, the subtle balance of life on earth, the subtle balance of earth in space, the subtle balance of galaxies circling around each other. Look at the fact that quarks form protons, neutrons, and electrons, while those form atoms. Atoms form compounds, and compounds form amino acids, which somehow mysteriously harbor or manifest life — life that now thinks for itself. If you can say this does not reflect Supreme Intelligence but is a purposeless accident, then a lifetime of practice and study of yoga is probably needed to purify the intellect. Otherwise you will have at least a basic understanding of the intelligence of the Supreme Being, by whatever name you call it.
There are two more ideas that need to be discussed in the context of this sutra. Vyasa says there are many purushas who have attained the state of liberation. This is not annihilation (nirvana) and nonexistence as seen in Buddhism, but a state of ecstatic pure consciousness, albeit bodiless. Otherwise he would have said that prior to their liberation they were purushas, whereas he says they still are. This coincides with the yogic notion of reality: that nothing that exists can ever become nonexistent; it can only become unmanifest. This means that a purusha that becomes liberated will not manifest a new body in future lives, but will remain un-manifest and free.
The other idea is rather abstract for consideration so early in our study, but interesting for those who practice philosophical inquiry. As we have seen, there are, according to Samkhya, two basic different categories — consciousness (purusha) and nature (prakrti). Beings are really only consciousness, and all the other twenty-three categories of Samkhya develop or evolve out of prakrti, which we can call procreatress for that reason. The first evolute of nature is pure intelligence (buddhi). Vyasa says that the authority of scripture is based on pure intelligence. This pure intelligence is the intelligence of the Supreme Being, the true author of sacred knowledge. Thus the Supreme Being is not only pure consciousness but also pure intelligence.
It differs in that respect from other beings, which are only purusha. Since buddhi is an evolute of prakrti it means that the Supreme Being consists of purusha and prakrti.15 Or we could say the Supreme Being straddles the abyss between consciousness and nature. A devotee would respond, “Of course it does,” but this is a revolutionary concept for yoga, and the school of Yoga differs here strongly from the school of Samkhya. There are far-reaching implications here that have not been truly contemplated. One can only be in awe of the ancient masters who practiced such deep analysis.
I.25 In the One (Ishvara), all knowing is unsurpassed.
All beings have a certain amount of knowledge. Great masters, yogis, and sages may have incredible knowledge. The Supreme Being, says Patanjali, surpasses all those through its all-knowingness.
We cannot perceive the Supreme Being directly — aside from exceptions such as Arjuna, who was, according to the Bhagavad Gita, given the celestial eye. Even then he could not handle what he saw, and his hair stood on end. Apart from such exceptions, the Supreme Being can be known from deduction and from the scriptures (shastra). Both need intellectual capacity, which can be gained from yoga.
One of the main subjects of Patanjali Yoga is the conversion of mind into intellect. The difference is as follows:
Mind (manas) goes from thought to thought like a crazy monkey that, having drank a bottle of whisky and then got stung by a scorpion, jumps from branch to branch.
Intellect (buddhi) will go straight to the core of a problem just as a stone thrown into a lake will sink straight to the bottom.
Vyasa states that out of compassion the Supreme Being has given the scriptures for other beings so that they might escape bondage. He gives an interesting example that won’t sit well with modern-day Vedantins:
The Supreme Being, as the great rishi, taught the doctrine to Asuri.
We know now from the Samkhya Karika that Asuri was the disciple of Kapila, the founder of Samkhya. The divine origin of Samkhya is again stated here (and, surprisingly enough, accepted even by Shankara in his subcommentary Vivarana). Just a short excursion into history here: Samkhya, the ancient and most systematic philosophy, is today widely opposed and “refuted” by Vedantins. This was also done by Advaita Vedanta’s main proponent, Shankara, and by its founder, Gaudapada. However — and this is what many Westerners cannot understand — Gaudapada wrote a commentary on theSamkhya Karika and Shankara, and Vyasa (who is the founder of all schools of Vedanta through his authorship of the Brahma Sutra) wrote commentaries on Yoga (which is a brainchild of Samkhya). Why and how?
A mystic who has seen the truth as represented in his school of thought can recognize it in all authentic systems. He also knows that, though a system can look faultless (such as Shankara’s Advaita Vedanta), it can never be the truth itself, but only a representation of the truth. A school of thought such as Yoga, Samkhya, or Vedanta does not derive its authority from its rightness or wrongness, for it is bound to be both right and wrong, but rather from its ability to lead people to freedom.
I.26 The Supreme Being is the teacher of the other teachers, since the One is not limited by time.
We have heard already that the differences between the Supreme Being and liberated masters are that the Supreme Being was never in bondage and that it is all-knowing.
If we look into the past, a teacher of yoga always received his knowledge from his teacher. This teacher received yoga again from his teacher and so forth, until we reach back to the dawn of time. The first teacher could not get his knowledge from another teacher, because there was no teacher prior to him. Since he could not have accidentally stumbled upon yogic knowledge, it must have been permanently in him without any beginning. This first teacher was, therefore, the Supreme Being. Since the Supreme Being is not limited by time, all knowledge exists in it eternally. It follows that the Supreme Being is at all points in time simultaneously, whether it be remote past, present, or distant future.
I.27 The One’s expression is the sacred syllable OM.
Shankara links this sutra to I.23, where it is said that samadhi can be attained by devotion to the Supreme Being. How is this devotion to be practiced? It is practiced by mentally repeating the syllable OM.
The importance of OM is difficult for Westerners to understand, but in the Upanishads, which are the oldest and most authoritative mystical scriptures of India, OM is the prime means to attain to Brahman (infinite consciousness). Brahman is the impersonal absolute of which Ishvara, the Supreme Being, is a personification.
The Katha Upanishad says, in 2.16, “Brahman is known through the sacred syllable OM. Since Brahman is OM, when OM is known, Brahman is known.” The Mundaka Upanishad, at 2.3–4, puts it this way: OM is like a bow that hurls the individual self or atman into the target, which is Brahman, the infinite consciousness.
The Mundaka goes on to say (2.6) that to meditate on OM will lead the practitioner into the blazing light of consciousness. The Mandukya Upanishad goes as far as to declare that Brahman and this entire universe are OM. “OM is all that is, all that has been and all that will be. Even everything that is beyond the three time modes is also OM.”16
The Maitri Upanishad explains that, just as a spider climbs from a dark enclosure into freedom by way of its thread, so a meditator attains freedom through OM.17 Two meditation techniques, it says, will lead to Brahman: sound and silence.
Brahman as sound, which is OM, is silence made manifest.
Through meditation on OM we can experience the silence of Brahman.
Meditation on OM is done in three steps. First OM is chanted audibly. The vibration of the sound is said to center and still the mind. The second step is to chant OM only mentally. This is more powerful than step 1. It provides a constant focus for the mind and can be done all the time. A good occasion for it is during pranayama. The final step is to be silent and to listen only for OM to come back. The goal is to hear the sound, which is uttered by the Supreme Being. OM is the sound from where all other sounds emerge, and all other sounds merge back into OM.
This may all sound like highly abstract matter for the newcomer to yoga, but when one has actually heard OM — heard how all voices together in this world produce this sound — it is one of the most awe-inspiring and shattering experiences possible. One has literally heard the Supreme Being. There is no more selfish “I do believe” or “I do not believe.” Belief, although we treasure it so much, has become irrelevant. Then one knows!
I.28 Repetition of it and contemplation of its meaning should be done.
This is one of the oldest and most important meditation techniques. One chants OM either mentally or aloud and then contemplates its meaning. Its meaning is that it is the utterance of the Supreme Being and the Supreme Being is remembered thereby. In this way, the mind becomes single-pointed on the Supreme Being. This process is Bhakti Yoga, the yoga of devotion.
It is also called ishvara pranidhana, which means surrender to the Supreme Being. It is the last of the five observances that form niyama, the second limb of yoga.
I.29 From that practice comes knowledge of the inner self and the absence of obstacles.
The study of the self, svadhyaya, is the fourth part of the observances (niyamas) that will be covered in the second chapter of the Yoga Sutra. Self-study has two dimensions: the study of the sacred scriptures and the repetition of OM. To repeat OM and contemplate the Supreme Being leads to knowledge of the Supreme Being. The Supreme Being is consciousness (purusha), like us in many ways but differing in the respects described already. Through repeating OM and contemplating its meaning, consciousness is realized, which is our own self.
In sutra I.23 it was stated that surrendering to the Supreme Being could produce objectless (asamprajnata) samadhi, which bestows self-knowledge if it is experienced extensively. Then again, in sutra II.45, Patanjali says that samadhi will arise from perfecting devotion to the Supreme Being. Implied here is not only the act of making the mind single-pointed, which would produce only the lower, objective samadhi, but an act of letting go, of giving up control, of handing oneself over to the Supreme Being. After all, we cannot force or achieve the highest samadhi. The last and highest step requires the feminine receptivity of the mystic. Who continues to want, will, or conquer obstructs the objectless samadhi through ego.
The present sutra then states that meditating on OM also intercepts obstacles. The obstacles are distractions of the mind. By repeating OM the mind becomes single-pointed and then will not succumb to distractions. What the distractions are will be described in the next sutra.
Here ends a sequence of seven sutras that deal with the Supreme Being. Apart from three others that are scattered over the rest of the four chapters of the Yoga Sutra, Patanjali will not address the theme again.
This makes altogether ten sutras, forming about 5 percent of the whole Yoga Sutra. Although Patanjali felt it necessary to bring a major change to the Samkhya system by adding Ishvara, it is obvious that he understood bhakti as an alternative form of practice. In Patanjali Yoga, however, the Supreme Being is not the sole or prime means to freedom as it came to be in the later Shaivite and Vaishnavite schools of Yoga. Ishvara in yoga is not the creator of the world and the beings. He is not the deep underlying reality of all phenomena, what Vedanta calls the Brahman. He is merely the teacher. For this reason India’s orthodox authorities said that Patanjali Yoga could lead to self-realization only and not to God realization. They felt he left yogis too much freedom to use alternatives to meditation on Ishvara if they so chose.
Patanjali intended this pluralism. He taught techniques of mysticism, not religion.
I.30 The obstacles, which are distractions of the mind, are sickness, rigidity, doubt, negligence, laziness, sense indulgence, false views, failure to attain a state, and inability to stay in that state.
We will discuss them individually, since they all pose threats to our yogic development.
SICKNESS
If the body is out of balance, this will influence our energy levels and freshness of mind. The quality of one’s health will impinge on mental capabilities. For this reason asana practice was always a prerequisite for the higher meditative forms of yoga. The view of some meditation schools that one can neglect the body and that exercises are unnecessary is a modern one, not born in tradition.
RIGIDITY
This is the pathological holding onto beliefs such as: Women have to be reborn as men to do true yoga. (Some of the greatest minds were women, such as Gargi in the Brhad Aranyaka Upanishad.) Foreigners have to be reborn as Indians to be liberated. (Some of the greatest mystics had never been to India, for example Lao Tzu and Chuang Tzu.) Low-caste people have to be reborn as Brahmins before they can become liberated. (Kabir was of low caste.)
Rigidity means that the mind is overcome by dullness and heaviness (tamas). One cannot adapt to a new situation and cannot accept that things change. One may hold on to a view, not realizing that the opposite may also be true.
DOUBT
Doubt is the inability to see the one truth because everything seems to be true and “everything” is relative. The trained intellect has the capacity to think a problem to an end and to come to a conclusion. If the method used is faulty, or conditioning stains the intellect, doubt will arise.
Doubt usually occurs when the prana moves in the lunar channel (ida nadi), whereas rigidity tends more to develop if prana moves in the solar channel (pingala nadi). Asana combined withpranayama is designed to balance the two.
NEGLIGENCE
Yoga is a precious gift that can take us to rare heights. Not many people get the chance to really use it. If we mix various systems to create an eclectic pulp that suits our own limitations, rather than follow an original source, we shouldn’t be surprised if the outcome is just gymnastics.
LAZINESS
Some students once asked the Armenian mystic Georg I. Gurdjieff, “Where should we start?” His answer was: “Commit yourself not to die like a scabies-infested dog.” These sound like harsh words, but what he meant was that most humans live in an animal-like state. According to his view, there was a certain urgency about rising to a truly human and awake state.
In terms of yoga, we are looking at a lifetime of study and practice for the average seeker. Whether objectless samadhi comes after one year or after five decades does not really matter. As Shankara said, all yogis reach their goal in their own time.
SENSE INDULGENCE
This is a big one for us Westerners. Every advertising pamphlet suggests spoiling ourselves, indulging our senses, pampering ourselves, and treating ourselves. Indulgence is a behavior that is as pathological as asceticism, and Buddha tried both. As a young prince he indulged in his three palaces: he had one for the cold season, one for the hot season, and one for the rainy season. Later on he practiced austerity for six years but found that, like indulgence, it impinged on the equanimity of his mind.
Indulgence, of course, weakens body and mind. The strongest and most powerful leaders were those who realized that they did not rely at all on external stimulation to be happy.
True happiness and freedom are possible only by realizing what a follower of Vedanta would call our own divinity. If we are cut off from this eternal fountain within us, if we do not know ourselves, then terrible pain ensues and a nagging thirst for life manifests. Then we have to squeeze happiness and thrills from life, most of them lasting moments only.
If we read advertising pamphlets, their language suggests that indulgence could produce divine ecstasy. The truth is that both are completely independent of each other. Sensory pleasure is only that; there is nothing mystical about it. The more we depend on it, the less free we become.
Asceticism, on the other hand, is another extreme of the mind. The implication is that the mere contact of the senses with objects is bad. However, from this contact results experience and from experience, in due time, liberation. With liberation, the thirst for experience ceases.
It is debatable whether it makes sense to starve oneself of experience even though the cause of its need, ignorance, is still intact. As Shankara has shown in his Brahma Sutra Commentary, knowledge of deep reality (Brahman) cannot be produced by action, whether it be indulgence or asceticism.
FALSE VIEWS
There are many false views, and not every correct view is right for every person. One of the most dangerous false views is materialism, according to which the consciousness of a human being can be reduced to biochemical and bioelectrical impulses. Not only does this pave the way for a materialistic society, in which people are measured against the value of the goods they have collected, it also opens the door to fascism and genocide.
If we deny that all humans have an eternal, spiritual core, which is sometimes called the self or the soul, then only their material aspect is left. Since the material aspect (body, mind, conditioning, etc.) allows us to judge and categorize a person as more valuable or less valuable, we might easily come to the conclusion that some less valuable ones are in the way of those more valuable. Supremacism starts with materialism, which denies human beings their eternal divine aspect.
False views are avoided through proper meditation practice and philosophical inquiry, which together develop the intellect.
FAILURE TO ATTAIN A STATE
AND INABILITY TO RETAIN THAT STATE
These are listed as separate obstacles, but I will treat them together since they are habits of the mind. People of a certain personality type, let us call them “explorers,” can easily attain new things, but they can lose them as easily. Those of another personality type, “collectors” perhaps, are good at keeping things, but find it difficult to go out and create something new. Both of these characters are based on identifications created through habits.
In yoga, we need to display both of these qualities at various times. Sometimes a breakthrough in our meditation practice is within reach, but we do not attain it because we do not believe we are that type of person. The yogi next door might find it very easy to proceed to advanced mystical states but can soon be caught up in daily mire.
The truth is that everybody with a brain and a nervous system or, in yogic terminology, everybody with an upright spine (including hominids that permanently walk and sit erect, but not pongids, which only occasionally walk upright) qualifies for samadhi. It is often only our limiting beliefs about ourselves, such as guilt and shame, that stop us.
These are the nine obstacles, which are distractions of the mind. They completely overpower the types of mind that are called wild (kshipta) and infatuated (mudha), and they severely disturb the confused, distracted, or oscillating (vikshipta) mind. The obstacles are, however, overcome by a practitioner with the one-pointed (ekagra) mind, which is the mind of the yogi proper.
I.31 Suffering and frustration, unsteadiness of body, inhalation, and exhalation result from the distractions.
From those symptoms we can gauge that various obstacles are present. The obstacles don’t just stop at intercepting our yoga practice, but they manifest as various forms of suffering and frustration in our day-to-day life.
They also — and this is very important for the physical side of yoga — manifest as unsteadiness of the body and its breathing patterns. The presence of obstacles can be deduced if one has physical difficulties in sitting peacefully in meditation or in performing pranayama exercises. Vyasa states that these difficulties are not present in one of concentrated mind (ekagra chitta).
The connection between mental obstacles and physical manifestation is mutual. If the mind is distracted, the life force (prana) will be scattered, which results in unsteady breathing and posture. Since thoughts and prana move together, we can steady the thoughts by smoothing the flow of the prana or we can correct the body and breath through meditation.
For many people the first way is much easier, since meditation is difficult if the mind is distracted. The focus on asana and pranayama (breathing exercises) will, however, not only alleviate the symptoms of a distracted mind, but will also exercise the mind in concentration and, most important, it will make the flow of prana even. This in turn will still the mind.
From the yogic viewpoint, it is not helpful for a beginner to start with meditation (dhyana). According to Patanjali meditation is higher yoga, and if the mind is not prepared — if it is neither single-pointed (ekagra) nor suspended (nirodha) — meditation will lead no-where. If body and mind are prepared through the outer limbs of yoga, meditation will be successful.
Frequently experienced in meditation is the “white-wall effect” — daydreaming and wafting. Such meditation is detrimental, since it increases the grip of tamas and rajas. In meditation the mind needs to be bright and luminous and the intellect sharp, otherwise meditation will lead at best to the “bodyless” and “absorbed in prakrti” states that were discussed in sutra I.19. A Tibetan lama told me once that incorrect meditation could lead to reincarnation as a fish. He also suggested studying the facial expressions of fishes, to recognize those of certain meditators.
K. Pattabhi Jois has stated that meditation, if performed wrongly, cannot be corrected. As the teacher cannot from the outside assess whether the student is meditating correctly or not, the correct performance of asana and pranayama must be studied first. Since they are visible, external exercises they can be corrected, and correct performance leads to correct meditation, he says.
However some people are by birth or habit in a state of the single-pointed (ekagra) mind. (The yogi would say this was a result of effort performed in previous incarnations.) In Shankara’s opinion these people would be wasting their time if it were insisted they perform asana and pranayama.
I.32 To remove them, there is the practice of one principle (tattva).
How can we remove the distractions of the mind and the symptoms that accompany them?
In sutra I.29 Patanjali has stated already that contemplating the meaning of OM, the Supreme Being, can overcome the obstacles. Now he is talking about the situation where the obstacles have arisen and the question is how to counteract them. He says, “If the obstacles did arise then counteract them by sticking to one method.” A list of possible methods will be given later.
If the mind is already distracted so that obstacles do arise, we do not want to confuse it by practicing all methods of yoga simultaneously. Rather we focus on one method now and, when the mind has become focused (ekagra), we can shift to a more elaborate plan of higher yoga. Otherwise, we would be like the man who wants to dig a well but sticks his spade into the ground in each location only once before going on to another place. A distracted mind will have the tendency to switch quickly from one method of yoga to the next — possibly switching from one style to another and then from Zen to Tibetan Buddhism and on to Sufism and Taoism. Quite likely any of these approaches would get one to the goal; different methods are suitable for different temperaments. But they have one thing in common: in the case of the average person, achieving the aim will take several decades.
On discovering a new method there is often a thrill similar to falling in love with a new partner. If we keep changing methods and partners we might be able to sustain the thrill for several years, but we will never find out what yoga and love are truly about. The purpose of a relationship is to recognize consciousness in the other;18 the purpose of yoga is to recognize consciousness in ourselves.19 Both are achieved by sticking to the same partner/same method respectively.
An alternative reading of this sutra was proposed by the ninth-century commentary of Vachaspati Mishra. He makes the bold statement that eka tattva — the one principle — can only be the Supreme Being (Ishvara).
The majority of the commentators that have come after him, especially King Bhoja, Vijnanabhikshu, and H. Aranya, rejected this view since it makes little sense in the context of the Yoga Sutra. Authors with a strong devotional Vaishnavite background have usually accepted Vachaspati’s rendering, but evidence in the coming sutras will show that this view is not supported by the School of Yoga.
I.33 Clarity of mind is produced by meditating on friendliness toward the happy, compassion toward the miserable, joy toward the virtuous, and indifference toward the wicked.
Shankara states that this sutra is one of the practices of one principle (eka tattva) to clear the mind. It amounts to opposing Vachaspati’s opinion that eka tattva is only meditating on the Supreme Being, which raises a question as to the authenticity of the Vivarana, Shankara’s subcommentary on the Yoga Sutra.
The Vivarana was discovered only in 1950 and its colophon states that Bhagavat Shankara, a pupil of Bhagavat Govindapada, authored it, while the colophon of Yoga Taravali says it was composed by Shri Shankaracharya, a disciple of Govinda Bhagavatpada. Some scholars have argued that Shankaracharya and Bhagavat Shankara are two people, and that Bhagavatpada lived somewhere during the fourteenth century. If we look at the commentary to this sutra we can clearly see that the author of the Vivarana lived prior to the ninth century.
Shankara reveals himself in the Vivarana as an extremely battle-ready scholar. As with all his other commentaries, the Vivarana has the structure of a dialogue with one or several imagined opponents (pratipakshins). Whenever any realistic or even unrealistic argument against Patanjali’s, Vyasa’s, or his own position comes to his attention, he attacks and refutes it pre-emptively to avoid future confusion. Sometimes one feels that Shankara is overly cautious and attacks positions that are unrealistic, but he certainly never leaves unattacked a viable position that was held in his day and that he doesn’t share.
He states in his commentary that “practice of one principle” refers to the sutras mentioned afterward (I.33–39). In other words, he does not share Vachaspati’s opinion that “practice of one principle” refers only to the Supreme Being. If Shankara had known about Vachaspati’s position, he would never have let it pass unpunished. It is clear from the positioning of the sutras that Vachaspati does not state Patanjali’s view, which Shankara would have pointed out. From this we can deduce that the author of the Vivarana (Shankara) lived prior to Vachaspati, who lived in the ninth century.
We arrive then in the eighth century, which is the date usually given for Shankara. Jonathan Bader offers another interesting piece of information in his Meditation in Shankara’s Vedanta. He suggests that the texts authored by Shankara Bhagavatpada are the ones composed by the original Shankara, whereas some texts attributed to Shankaracharya are composed by the abbots of the four monasteries that Shankara founded and who all carry the title Shankaracharya.
We return to the sutra to observe that the distracted mind in which obstacles are present will have the tendency to react with envy if somebody is successful. Our modern-day “tall poppy syndrome” exemplifies this phenomenon. If somebody is outstanding in any respect, we tend to look for a way to reduce him or her to average size. Rather than follow that tendency, Patanjali suggests meditating on friendliness when one encounters such people.
If we encounter the downtrodden, on the other hand, the distracted mind has the tendency to ascribe their predicament to their own fault, to the karma that they have attracted, or to their thinking or believing the wrong things. Rather than getting lost on this tangent of the distracted mind, Patanjali recommends meditating on compassion.
If we encounter a person who follows a spiritual path with great virtue, we are suddenly reminded that we should be like them whereas in fact we are not. We might then become jealous and look for a way to discredit them. Here Patanjali suggests simply meditating on joy, which would be the natural reaction if our mind was clear.
The last suggestion is probably the most difficult. If we encounter what appear to be bad or even evil people, we have the tendency to hate them. Often we react in this way because they remind us of something in ourselves, only we manage to conceal it better. Rather than going into hatred, which is only a rejection of our own dark side, Patanjali suggests indifference toward those people.
This method of counteracting the aggravations of the mind is a meditation technique for clearing and stilling the mind.
I.34 Or from exhalation and retention of breath (prana).
Here is another method by which the mind can be cleared from obstacles. It is retaining the breath after exhalation. Whenever the term prana is used in scripture we have to keep two connotations in mind: it means both “breath” and “life force.”
Vyasa states that the breath needs to be exhaled through the nostrils and then retained. Retaining after inhalation is not appropriate in this context, since it charges the mind and body with energy. It is more a meditation on fullness, whereas the external breath retention is accompanied by meditation on emptiness, in this case emptiness of the mind.
H. Aranya says that a mere external retention would never have the effect of clearing the mind.20 Rather, one needs to keep the mind vacant or fixed on the void to attain its clarification. Breathing exercises (pranayama) without any meditation aid such as a mantra or visualization are regarded as a very inferior type of yoga.
“To say ‘I am not the world’ is the true inhalation,” says Shankara. “To say ‘I am nothing but consciousness’ is the exhalation. To sustain that thought is the breath retention. This is the true pranayama. Dim wits only torture the nose.”21
I.35 Also the development of supersensory perception can aid in concentrating the mind.
As Vyasa explains, the knowledge that we gain from the scriptures, through deduction or from a teacher, is not our own until it is realized. Doubt about the yogic teachings can therefore linger in the back of one’s mind. To arrive at conviction in the yogic process, Patanjali here suggests concentrating on certain energy points to gain supersensory perception. Once this feat is achieved, we can trust that the other aspects of the practice will also come to fruition. This theme is further developed in the third chapter of the Yoga Sutra, where supernatural powers are adduced to prove the validity of yoga.
The concentration on the points mentioned in this sutra has to be sustained for several days. H. Aranya states that the capability will emerge only if one lives in solitude and fasts22 — in other words if very little in the way of sensory stimulation and external distraction is present.
The energy points mentioned by Vyasa as examples are:
Tip of the nose — supersensory smell
Tip of the tongue — supersensory taste
Palate — supersensory sight
Middle of the tongue — supersensory touch
Root of the tongue — supersensory hearing
I.36 Steadiness of mind is also gained from perceiving a radiant light beyond sorrow.
The light talked about here is the light in the heart lotus. Meditating on the light in the heart or the heart sound is one of the main meditation techniques in yoga. The Yoga Taravali and the Hatha Yoga Pradipika have as their main theme hearing the unstruck sound, the heart sound (anahata nada).
In this sutra the light in the heart is mentioned, and the heart is the origin of the mind. As the Upanishads state, mind and intellect are projected out of the heart and will be reabsorbed into it eventually. Sutra III.34 says that contemplating on the heart will lead to the understanding of the mind, while sutra III.33 declares that everything will be known through the rising light of pure intellect. The light of pure intelligence or intellect is situated in the heart lotus. By meditating on this light, steadiness of mind is achieved.
The light is said to be “beyond sorrow” because sorrow arises from the various forms of ignorance (avidya). When one sees the light in the heart, which is the effulgence of pure intelligence, this intelligence will dispel ignorance. Eventually it will produce discriminative knowledge, which is the end of suffering. In this sutra, however, only the light beyond suffering is seen, which is a more modest achievement. This means we get only a sneak preview of pure intelligence, enough to make the mind steady.
The other way of meditating on the light in the heart is to meditate on the notion of “I am” (asmita). This I-am-ness is produced from pure intelligence. If we reduce all of our thoughts to I am — or, in other words, if we retrace our thoughts to the notion of I am — this also makes the mind steady. All thoughts contain the notion of I am. In the thought process there are the thinker, the thinking, and the object thought about. For thinking to happen, the notion of I am must be there. If we remain aware of this notion, rather than forget ourselves or forget that it is we who think, then the mind becomes steady.
I.37 The mind can be made steady by meditating on a person who is desireless.
Just as a stone thrown into a lake creates waves, so an object reflected upon creates ripples in the mind. And just as the nature of the ripples on a lake is determined by the size of the stone, so are the mind waves determined by the type of object that we encounter. Only when the mind is in suspension mode (nirodha) will objects not cause thought waves.
One of the best objects to meditate on is the mind of a person who is desireless. Since every object leaves in the mind its imprint, the mind of such a person draws the meditator toward desirelessness. This is the reason why students experience great peace in the presence of a liberated master. This observation has been elaborated by some Indian schools of thought into the doctrine that it is only the grace of the master that leads to freedom. Other mystics have emphasized, on the other hand, that there is no initiation but self-initiation. Of course no other person can make one liberated, as this would imply that the master could manipulate the law of karma. It is true as well that there is a great human tendency to mystify others and project great powers onto them — and the wish that others do the hard work for us.
If a master is free and the student is very open to influence, the mind of the student can become still in the presence of the master, and this aids meditation. It is, however, crucial to choose a true teacher, one who has become desireless. If the teacher still has an agenda, it will excite the mind of the student.
The sutra here does not explicitly indicate a living teacher. Since true sages have become rare in our age, it can be recommended that meditation take place on the ancient masters, such as Kapila, Vasishta, Yajnavalkya, Vyasa, Patanjali, and Shankara. If one studies the teachings of the masters closely, one will eventually feel as if one knows them personally.
The ancient masters were great rational thinkers and exercised vigorous reasoning and logic, but it is especially their heartfelt compassion that we can feel even after two or more thousand years. If a student manages through study to connect to the heart of a master, the mind is easily steadied, even though millennia have passed between them and us.
I.38 The mind can also be steadied by meditating on a dream object or on the state of dreamless sleep.
This is an interesting sutra. Knowledge derived through dreams is highly regarded in many cultures including the Australian Aboriginal, the Native American, and the Tibetan. In these cultures, decisions are often taken only if they have been dreamed. The subcommentator Vachaspati Mishra suggests that if one has a divine vision in a dream one can use that vision to meditate upon.
Vijnanabhikshu takes a different view. He says that life is to be looked at as a long dream. Knowledge derived in the waking state is of the nature of dreams, and, since this realization leads to detachment from all that we so fiercely believe in, it stabilizes the mind. This statement is reminiscent of the Mandukya Karika,23 in which both the waking and the dream states are declared unreal. TheVijnana Bhairava24 describes a meditation technique that follows Vijnanabhikshu’s recipe. The advice is to dream as if one is awake and to treat waking states as if one is dreaming. In this way reality is suddenly seen — meaning the true reality, which is beyond sleep and waking.
The second part of the sutra deals with dreamless sleep. In this state, the mind is temporarily absorbed into the heart, but there is no awareness: the idea of nonexistence prevails. Since the mind is completely steady apart from the fluctuation of nonexistence, meditation done on this state steadies the mind. Meditation on deep sleep is done in the following way: if on waking there is a memory in the mind such as “I slept soundly and peacefully,” we use this memory as the object of our meditation.
Usually the recollection is only in the short-term memory, but if we remind ourselves of it several times throughout the day it will enter the long-term memory. It will then be available as an object of meditation any time.
I.39 The mind can also be stabilized by meditating on any suitable object.
This is a grossly misunderstood sutra. If Westerners hear “meditation on any suitable object,” they will understand it to mean just any object. Our contemporary world meditates profusely on the dollar symbol and ideas such as “I am the body,” while the advertising industry meditates usually on the female form. It is poor choice of meditation objects and not lack of meditation that is the problem of modern society. Any thought that is repeated frequently constitutes meditation on that thought. To make absolutely sure that one does not mistake this sutra as an invitation to meditate on one’s real estate, share portfolio, sports car, or wallet, Shankara quotes the Upanishads: “Even if one should obtain objects, let him never dwell on them in any way.”25
In ancient India a suitable meditation object meant any desired object from within the category of sacred or yogic object. Shankara says it must be a proper object for meditation. Vijnanabhikshu says suitable objects are images of the divine. As we know already, images will color the mind. Obviously we will choose only images that color the mind in the direction we want it to develop.
The mind needs to be made sattvic. Suitable objects, then, are objects that are highly, or purely, sattvic.
Objects usually consist of various intertwinings of the three strands of qualities of nature, the gunas. S. Dasgupta describes the three gunas as mass-stuff (tamas), energy-stuff (rajas), and intelligence-stuff (sattva).26 Only objects that consist predominantly of intelligence make the mind steady. Tamasic objects make the mind dull and rajasic objects create suffering. Suitable objects so far introduced are the intellect (buddhi), the I-am-ness (asmita), the Supreme Being (Ishvara), the mantra OM, the heart lotus and its sound and light, the mind of liberated ones, and so on. Among other suitable objects are the breath, a mantra, a lotus flower, the OM symbol, a mandala, and yantra (sacred geometry).
Consciousness is not a suitable object, since it is formless and requires a mind that is empty of obstacles.
I.40 Mastery is achieved when the mind can concentrate on any object from the smallest atom to the entire cosmos.
Once the mind is steadied through any of the previously described methods, one chooses more difficult objects. The smallest meditation objects are elementary particles called subtle elements (tanmatras) in yoga. The biggest object to meditate on is the entire universe. Both are difficult and should not be tackled at first. Once one can sustain focus on them, one meditates on both simultaneously, which is hard to sustain over a long period. If it is achieved, that is called mastery of concentration (dharana) and the mind is now steadied (stithi). No further dharana exercises are required then.
Having described the obstacles and how they are overcome through concentration, Patanjali will now elaborate on the various stages of objective samadhi.
I.41 When the mind waves are reduced, the mind appears to truthfully reflect any object that it is directed toward like a pristine crystal, whether it be the perceived, the process of perceiving, or the perceiver. This state is called identity (samapatti).27
This is one of the most important sutras to understand and, again, it is one of the most misunderstood.
“When the mind waves are reduced” through the practices described in the previous seven sutras, we come to a point where the mind is focused or single-pointed. In this state, we are capable of perceiving things as they really are; in other words, we cognize objects correctly or we gain all knowledge pertaining to the objects.
Let us be clear that this is not the state of self-knowledge, since that would imply the mind waves have ceased completely, which is the state of suspension (nirodha). Basically we describe here an inferior (objective) type of samadhi, different from advanced samadhi, which leads to self-knowledge.
“The mind appears to truthfully reflect. . . ” means that the image of the object created in the mind seems to be identical with the original object. The important word to notice here is “appears.” Complete identity is not possible. If we meditate on the entire universe, as suggested in the previous sutra, our mind would not be capable of reproducing it. Even on earth there are many locations, such as some places in the Gobi Desert, where no human being has ever set foot; to believe we could reproduce the entire universe in our mind is megalomania. Nevertheless, the seemingly truthful representation of an object is important. It means that we completely comprehend an object, whereas in daily life we create for ourselves only a vague simulation of an object.
The reason for this lies in how the mind works. The mind (manas) is an organizer of sensory input. When it receives sensory data from, let’s say, the eye, it compares it to the data received from other senses. As we have noted already, when light enters the eye it crosses over in the lens, and images are depicted on the retina upside down. During our infancy, we learn through the tactile sense that objects are upside down in relation to how we see them, and at some point the mind decides to turn all pictures around, in that way reconciling the optical data with the tactile data. This illustrates how the mind manipulates sensory input to arrive at a workable understanding.
Another example: If we hold our left hand in ice-cold water and our right in hot water for a few moments and then place both together into water of room temperature, the left hand will signal warm and the right hand will signal cold. Both signals are wrong, since the temperature is the same for both hands. Sensory data is evaluated by comparison, by using reference points. Compared to the cold water, the temperate water feels warm, and compared to the hot water it seems cold. We see here that the mind is colored by its previous experience and, through that, its ability to authentically duplicate a present condition is compromised.
A third example: Sigmund Freud discovered that the first people we meet in life leave a conditioning in the mind. A female child on experiencing her father receives an imprint, a conditioning. In the future she will have the tendency to relate to males based on that original conditioning. She may be drawn to certain males because they have similarities to her father, or she may reject them for the same reason. The same happens with a male child in respect to his mother, and it also occurs in regard to the same-sex parent. The important thing to understand here is that, because the mind is colored by past experience, it is stained and therefore cannot truthfully reflect or duplicate a new object.
Obviously, we will develop problems in our relationships if we try to relive our relationships with our parents. If we project a parent onto our partner, we will never find out who our partner really is. If we do not let go of the experience that water was cold just a moment ago, we won’t be able to authentically experience what temperature it is now.
The reason why mind works this way is that it is a survival instrument. The task of mind is to arrive as fast as possible, with the greatest possible accuracy, at a simulation of truth. Typical challenges of the mind are: Is the object in front of me edible? Does what I see pose a threat, so that I should run away? The mind is not concerned with recognizing the deepest layer of truth of an object — its such-ness, the object-as-such. The facility concerned with that is intellect. While mind jumps constantly from one object to the next, intellect will zoom into one and the same object until it is comprehensively cognized. The traditional definition of intellect is that which can think about the same object for in excess of three hours without distraction. A big part of the yogi’s work is converting mind into intellect. We will hear more about that later.
The mind usually projects our past onto the present. Rather than perceiving reality as it truly is, we see a simulation of reality. This equates to our belief as to what reality is and how it relates to us. Reality does not really relate to us according to Patanjali: he says that nature (prakrti) is eternally separate from us (purusha). How mind relates to reality, however, usually means how can we profit from it or get an advantage.
So a developer driving through a suburb may look at it mainly as a source of income. A sexual predator driving through the same suburb may see it as a possible source of victims. A more gustatorily inclined person may look out for restaurants, whereas an alcoholic will remember the locations of the liquor stores. All four, due to the superimposition of their goals onto their experience, might fail to register essential features while they hasten toward what is our sure destination, death.
Let’s say it is spring and the cherry blossoms are out; there is a good chance most of the characters mentioned above would miss them. The observation of the cherry blossoms is an utterly useless business. No monetary or sexual advantage can be had from them; we can’t eat them and we can’t drink them either. But in some miraculous way they can make us free and peaceful when it is time to die: We die in fear because we hold on to life. We hold on to life because our deepest thirst is not quenched. Our deepest thirst is to have experience, knowledge, or realization of our true nature. A realization of our nature can be had from watching the cherry blossoms. In fact a cherry tree, or a cluster of cherry trees, in full bloom is more breathtaking than the explosion of the Death Star in Return of the Jedi.
There are several reasons why we don’t notice them as such. One is that we do not have to pay an entry fee and are not expecting for two and a half hours that something incredible will happen. But the main reason is that all of our past experiences conspire to see the cherry tree as: something that needs to be bulldozed to make way for a new retail outlet, in the case of the developer; something under which to have a sensual encounter, in the case of the sexual predator; something to later be eaten (the cherry), in the case of the gustatory person; and something to be imbibed (cherry liquor) eventually, in the case of the alcoholic.
But if I manage to leave behind all of my past, which has covered my instruments of cognition (senses, mind, ego, intellect) with the dust of the ages, and simply see the cherry blossoms, then this utter abundance, this magnificent manifestation of sheer beauty, which is a completely senseless and useless waste, will stun my mind into silence. In this complete silence, I will eventually realize that it is I who watches the cherry blossoms. From “I am watching the cherry blossoms,” comes “I am watching,” from that comes “I am,” from that comes “I,” and from that comes “beyond I,” which is consciousness. It is only consciousness that can witness total and un besmirched beauty. That is how the cherry blossoms can lead to freedom.
But for this to happen the mind needs to be able to truthfully reflect objects without us projecting onto them our needs (to get rich, to procreate, to eat, or to drink).
“Any object that it is directed toward like a pristine crystal. . . ” Here again we can see Patanjali does not talk about self-knowledge or knowledge of consciousness but knowledge of objects, which are different from us. The metaphor of a crystal is used here, reminding us of the discussion under sutras
I.3–4. If a crystal is absolutely clear and colorless and we place it next to an object, say a red rose, then the crystal clearly reflects the redness of the rose. The purer the crystal, the more authentic will the reflection be. From a certain angle it will look as if there is no crystal but only the red rose. If there are hazes or clouds in the crystal, or if it has a color of its own, this will affect its ability to reflect an object.
The same can be said about the mind. If we go into a situation carrying our entire past with us, this will prevent a truthful duplication of a new object in our mind. The purer and more unstained the mind is, the more we can learn the truth about an object. If the mind is stained by past experience, we will project that experience onto our meditation object. The mind will deliver now a simulation of the object modified by the data that we have collected in the past. Necessarily this is far from the meditation object as such. It is only when the mind is completely steadied that it will be capable of reproducing an object to the extent that the duplicate is an almost identical copy of the original. Only in this state is the mind capable of learning the truth about objects. Knowledge in that state is called prajna — wisdom.
Before it is achieved, the mind and sensory apparatus are not qualified to cognize the truth. To be precise, we would have to alter statements such as “I saw John” into “I saw somebody whom I believed to be John.” Such revisions can be highly important in a homicide inquiry, for example. The simple statement “John is a communist” might have to be changed to “The person whom I believe to be John appears to adhere most of the time to a complex belief system that is frequently labeled as communism.” If we rephrase our statements in this way we will suddenly find out how little we know. Prajna(wisdom) means that we can see the deepest level of an object.
“Whether it be the perceived, the process of perceiving, or the perceiver.” These are the three categories into which meditation objects are classified. The perceived are objects that are clearly outside us, such as the world or the body. We would meditate on these objects first. The next and deeper layer is the process of knowing, which includes the senses such as seeing, hearing, and tasting and the mind that organizes sensory data. Altogether they are called organs or instruments of cognition.
The perceiver is here the I-am-ness or egoity (asmita), the agency that owns the sensory data. Let’s recall that Patanjali lists among the objective samadhis one called asmita. This samadhi is based on the I-am-ness that owns the cognized phenomena. If we look out of the window and behold a beautiful landscape, there is only for a split second the landscape by itself; then I-am-ness is activated and says “I observe the landscape, now what? What do we do with it?” This is the perceiver.
Some modern authors have bent this sutra to say, “When the fluctuations are reduced then the mind has union of seer, seeing, and seen.” This grossly misrepresents Patanjali’s philosophy. He says that the union of seer, seeing, and seen constitutes ignorance (sutra II.17) and egoism (sutra II.6). Freedom in his view can only be achieved by realizing the eternal separateness of seer on the one hand and seeing and seen on the other. If I attempt to read vedantic understanding into the Yoga Sutra, this means that my mind is clouded so much by my vedantic past that I cannot represent the object (the Yoga Sutra) truthfully as it is, but only commingled with my vedantic conditioning. Maybe in the future we will have yogis who try to read yoga into vedantic scriptures, which would be a shame. Both of these magnificent systems deserve better.
“This state is called identity (samapatti).” Samapatti is a low form of objective samadhi. Let us recall that Patanjali enumerated objective (samprajnata) samadhi to be of four kinds, called deliberation (vitarka), reflection (vichara), bliss (ananda), and I-am-ness (asmita). The first two, deliberation and reflection, form the basis of the various types of samapatti. This will be explained further in the following sutras.
I.42 Deliberative (savitarka) samapatti is that samadhi in which words, objects and knowledge are commingled through conceptualization.
This is the lowest form of samadhi. Its difference from concentration (dharana) is that we do not have to make a willful effort anymore to avoid thoughts that have nothing to do with the object. The difference to meditation (dhyana) is that our mind represents the object truthfully already, whereas in meditation there is only a continuous flow of awareness toward the object. But whereas in a deep objective samadhi only the object shines forth without any distortion, in this samadhi there is still a deliberation or discussion going on.
Compared to other samadhis this samapatti is somewhat superficial. From the view of meditation (dhyana) this is a deep, powerful, and creative state, due to the knowledge and clarity that it creates.
If we base our samapatti for example on Mula Bandha, then, apart from the authentic duplication of Mula Bandha in the mind, the mind at the same time engages in deliberation. The deliberation happens in the form of conceptualization (vikalpa). Conceptualization is one of the fluctuations of the mind. We can say therefore that part of the mind is still roaming to a certain extent, while the main part has already achieved identity with the object. The roaming of the mind does not, however, mean that we are thinking of other things. The mind is completely absorbed in Mula Bandha, but only on a superficial level.
The conceptualization consists of three aspects that are mixed together. They are the object Mula Bandha as we perceive it right now, the word Mula Bandha, and the knowledge of Mula Bandha that we have accumulated in the past, such as that it forces the apana current upward. The important thing to realize here is that the object Mula Bandha, the word denoting it, and the knowledge that we have of it are three completely separate things.
The word Mula Bandha is a symbol that we agreed on by convention. If for some reason we were to lose the Sanskrit language, we might in the future call it only pelvic lock. The word would change in that case but the object described would be unchanged. Similarly, our knowledge about Mula Bandha might be complete or incomplete, correct or incorrect, but the actual object is not touched by the state of our knowledge. Then again we might perform Mula Bandha incorrectly, but we will not change the word we use to refer to it.
In deliberative (savitarka) samapatti there is a mix of word, object, and knowledge, whereas in deeper samadhi types only the object will be there. This type of samapatti is practiced first: the mind is still in a superficial state and therefore cannot completely merge with the object. Nevertheless, this is an important training stage that should not be belittled. Deliberative samapatti is the foundation or first step to higher samadhi.
I.43 When memory is purified, the mind appears to be emptied of its own nature and only the object shines forth. This is superdeliberative (nirvitarka) samapatti.
Our memory is loaded with data that we have derived from past events, from reading, or from listening to people, or that we have arrived at by inference (deduction).
In the deliberative (savitarka) samapatti, all of this knowledge, combined with the words referring to it, is mixed up with true samadhi. In nirvitarka samapatti (without vitarka) there is no such deliberation. For this reason we call it superdeliberative samapatti — beyond deliberation. Here the purification of memory has happened, which is nothing but making the mind one-pointed. The methods for making the mind steady have been described in sutras I.33–39, and the majority of the second and third chapters of the Yoga Sutra deals again with this subject.
Here we need to understand what super-deliberative samapatti is and what its effects are. Without this understanding, the practice of Patanjali Yoga cannot succeed. Purification of memory means that the mind is so focused that it does not keep throwing up more aspects, views, or data that it has stored concerning our meditation object. It is the nature of the mind to bring up all of this knowledge so that we can identify the object. But such unrelenting discussion prevents us from going deeper and realizing the deepest core of an object or the object-as-such. As long as this simulation of the object is present, the object-as-such cannot be perceived.
In this latest samadhi the mind appears to be emptied of its own nature of constantly projecting stored knowledge onto the present moment. This is called the purification of memory. The memory is called “stained” or “impure,” because the past leaves an imprint on it. If I say that memory is purified, that does not mean it is deleted. It means that permanent projection of the past onto the present has become voluntary. Yogis can choose now whether they want to go into samadhi or use the memory to arrive at a conclusion. Memory is at our disposal, but if we don’t need it, such as in meditation, we are free not to use it. This means that mind appears to be empty of its nature, which is constant shallow chatter.
The effect is that, for the first time, only the meditation object shines forth in the mind. It is visible without being mixed with what we believe it to be. This is important because for the first time we can see an object as it really is. This means to be truly alive. In many ways we had just been walking corpses before this point; we are real for the first time in our lives. Perhaps we had glimpses of pure unadulterated reality before — such glimpses may happen when for the first time we have a strong experience such as falling in love or having a near-death experience.
The second time the experience comes around, the mind knows what is coming, has filed the experience away somewhere, and does not get stunned into silence anymore.
Samadhi is different from such glimpses because it is a conscious process that can be repeated. If the memory is purified and the mind is emptied of its own form, every experience seems to be absolutely new, fresh, and breathtaking. Boredom is impossible. Boredom arises from an unfocused mind: if the mind is free to project our past onto the present, the present will look like the past and therefore be boring.
Let us say we are on the way home from work. It seems boring because we have taken that way many times and believe we know it from the past. But what about the change of sunlight every day, the color of the sky, the smell of the air, the changes in foliage and flowers, the flight of the birds? All these things are completely fresh and new every moment, and it is only because we project yesterday onto today that we don’t notice them. For this reason, we follow the little schemes in our heads and do not hear the many wake-up calls life offers us every moment. If we knew we were dying and this was the last time we would drive this way, the situation would be very different: we would suddenly allow ourselves to perceive everything clearly.
The state of nirvitarka samadhi can be compared in some ways to the innocence and freshness of a child — in regard to the freshness with which the present is experienced. The difference is that all information stored in the memory is available when required, such as when a survival task is at hand. In many situations, though, memory is detrimental because it curbs our aliveness. Living from memory makes life appear dull, boring, and predictable. In super-deliberative samapatti one has the freshness of a child plus the experience of a lifetime when it is required.
Some contemporary movements have suggested that meditation is only about reverting back to a state of childlike innocence. This is not the yogic view. The purpose of superdeliberative samapatti is not to stay in a state of childish ignorance when the samadhi ceases. In sutra I.20 Patanjali lists memory under the prerequisites of samadhi, meaning that after every samadhi we have to remember that we are yogis, that we are unfree now, but that we are proceeding toward freedom through the path of yoga and therefore we need to proceed accordingly. This samadhi is only a stepping-stone on the path to liberation and not the goal itself. It gives us renewed conviction (shraddha) and energy (virya) to go toward liberation (kaivalya). If we do not integrate this samapatti meaningfully (smrti), we will stagnate here.
I.44 In this way, reflective (savichara) and super-reflective (nirvichara) samapatti, which are based on subtle objects, are also explained.
To recall sutra I.17, objective (samprajnata) samadhi arises first from deliberation (vitarka) then from reflection (vichara). In yoga, “deliberation” and “reflection” are defined in the following way. Deliberative (vitarka) samadhi means meditation on a gross object such as the bandhas, the drishtis, the sequence of postures, the anatomical or outer breath, a lotus flower, the OM symbol, and so on. Gross here means that the object has a manifest appearance that is perceptible to our senses.
Reflective (vichara) samadhi means meditation on a subtle object such as the senses, the process of cognition, the mind, the I-am-ness, the chakras, the inner-breath (prana), the nadis such as sushumna, the creative force (sometimes called shakti or kundalini), the intellect (buddhi), and so on. “Subtle” here means not perceptible to the senses, but arrived at through inference, such as “From my behavior I can deduce that I do have an ego and a mind.” Subtle objects are also arrived at through testimony, such as the statements of Patanjali, Vyasa, and other ancient authorities, and finally through direct perception by the mind’s eye in circumnavigating the senses, which is deep objective samadhi.
The two previously described samapattis are based on gross objects with (deliberative) and without (superdeliberative) discussion thereof. The two samapattis described now are based on a subtle object. Let us choose the example of I-am-ness or egoity (ahamkara, which, directly translated, means I-maker or that which adds the notion of I to the process of cognition). In reflective samapatti I have a seemingly precise duplicate of ego in my mind.
Superimposed on this image, my mind still reflects on all it has learned so far about ego, which could be, for example, Freud’s or Swami Vivekananda’s opinion on ego. Needless to say, this reflection prevents us from going deeply into our samapatti.
In the next higher — super-reflective — samapatti we directly perceive ego as such, and apart from that the mind is completely still. For this reason we have an infinitely more precise view and understanding of ego. To obtain a super-reflective view of ego is a very advanced and powerful state of yoga. We could almost say we have gone three-quarters of the way to freedom. In Patanjali Yoga there are really only two views higher than that: the view of intellect (buddhi) and the view of consciousness (purusha). The latter can only be obtained in objectless or super-objective samadhi.
Some schools count a third view, which is even higher. This is the view of the Supreme Being (Ishvara) or infinite consciousness (Brahman). Patanjali is silent here, largely because this is the subject of Vedanta and not of Yoga.
I.45 The hierarchy of subtlety terminates in nature (prakrti).
According to Samkhya philosophy, onto which yoga is grafted, the world arises from an unmanifest, eternal, uncreated, and subtle matrix, which is its material cause — prakrti (nature or procreatress).Prakrti is like the state before the Big Bang: nothing is manifest but there is infinite potential.
According to Samkhya, from prakrti rises cosmic intelligence (mahat or buddhi). From that arises egoity (ahamkara), from that the subtle space, from that the subtle air, from that the subtle fire, from that the subtle water, from that the subtle earth element. This process is called evolution. In it is a down-and-outward movement that leads to ignorance and bondage. The yogi reverses this process and it is then called involution. The movement is in-and-up, and it leads to freedom and ecstasy.
The first subtle objects one would choose for super-reflective samapatti are those low in the hierarchy, such as the subtle earth element. It is called the elementary particle or infra-atomic potential (tanmatra) of earth. Through the samapatti, the elementary particle of earth returns into its source, the elementary particle of water. Through subsequent samapattis we return water into fire, fire into air, air into space, space into egoity (ahamkara), and finally egoity into intellect (buddhi). Intellect is the highest meditation object, and from it comes discriminative knowledge (viveka khyateh).
Let us note that the objects are ordered according to subtlety. This means that we meditate first on the apparent ones and last on those that are difficult to grasp and therefore need a more developed intellect. Intellect is the subtlest object meditated on. Subtler still than intellect is prakrti, but, since subtlety terminates here, prakrti is not chosen as an object. It is the state in which the three qualities (gunas) are in equilibrium, and here the world is unmanifest. The unmanifest state is reached when we recognize our true nature as consciousness. Then the conditioned mind, which is a product of the intertwining gunas, disconnects from us and returns into its source, prakrti. At this point we need to let go of meditation objects and meditate on the subject (consciousness) instead. If we continue here we will become one with prakrti, the place where subtlety terminates. Identification with prakrti (prakrtilaya) is also a high mystical state, but it does not lead to permanent freedom. As discussed in sutra I.19, it leads to new ignorance, suffering, and embodiment, and must be rejected. The state of prakrti is different from consciousness, and the goal of the yogi is to identify with consciousness and stay clear ofprakrti, which carries the intention of becoming opposed to the pure being of consciousness. Consciousness is not mentioned under subtle objects because it is the subject, the true observer or self.
I.46 All these are samadhi with seed (sabija).
The seed (bija) is the object on which we meditate. All samapattis are forms of objective samadhi, since they rely on an external object for arising. The term sabija samadhi is synonymous with the term “objective” or “cognitive” samadhi (samprajnata). Cognition means an object is perceived and identified by the mind.
The higher type of samadhi is seedless (nirbija) samadhi, which is objectless. It does not rely for its arising on an object. The term “ultracognitive samadhi”(asamprajnata) is synonymous with objectless (nirbija) samadhi. In it we have gone beyond the need to stabilize our samadhi through objects.
The other reason why objective samadhi is called “samadhi with seed” is that in it the seeds of subliminal imprint (samskaras), which produce conditioning (vasana), are left intact. From those seeds can sprout new ignorance and new action (karma), which is based on the forms of suffering (kleshas) — but in seedless samadhi those seeds are scorched and therefore lose their capacity to germinate. Only through seedless samadhi is liberation therefore possible.
I.47 From the glow of super-reflective (nirvichara) samapatti, the inner instrument is purified.
Establishment in super-reflective samapatti means that one’s mind has the ability to gain identity with a subtle object without discussion going on in the background. Then a glow rises, which purifies the inner instrument of cognition — buddhi, the intellect.
It is erroneous for modern authors to translate this sutra as “From nirvichara samapatti arises clarity of the authentic self.” Patanjali and Vyasa have clearly established a nomenclature of samadhis, with seeded or objective samadhis such as our example here referring to objects. Only seedless or objectless samadhis refer to the self (atman) or consciousness (purusha). The objective samadhi mentioned here has not the power to reveal the self, its purpose being to purify the inner instrument of cognition, the intellect.
The term used in this sutra for inner instrument is adhyatma, which means belonging to oneself. Vyasa used this term already when he described the three forms of suffering (adhyatmika, adhibhautika,adhidaivika). In this context it refers to suffering created by oneself, such as through one’s own ignorance. It is clear that suffering cannot be created by one’s true self (atman). For a start, consciousness (atman) is entirely passive and does not influence the world. This understanding is taught by the Upanishads, the Bhagavad Gita, the Brahma Sutra, and the Yoga Sutra. The self does not create. Furthermore, abiding in the self is not suffering but ecstasy and freedom. The term adhyatma therefore does not relate to the true or divine self but just to oneself, here the inner instrument.
From repeated application of super-reflective samapatti, the mind and particularly the intellect gain the capacity to perceive objects as they really are. This type of knowledge is called prajna, which means understanding and comprehending objects on the deepest level. Now the mind has become a tool for knowing things, whereas before it was capable only of believing, suspecting, gauging, or considering. Deep knowledge about objects is possible only with a mind that has gained this ability. Then the inner instruments are said to be purified, which means that wrong notions cannot stick to them anymore. Why this is so important we will learn in the next sutras.
I.48 There the wisdom is truthful (rtambhara).
The quality of the wisdom (prajna) gained in super-reflective samapatti is described now. It is said to be truthful (rtambhara). Rta is an old terminology that had appeared already in the Rig Veda. It refers to sacred order. What is meant here is that one sees things at the deepest level in their such-ness and not how we believe or want them to be.
Vyasa explains that rtambhara means complete truth, mixed with not even the slightest bit of untruth. He explains that this highest yoga is reached in three steps: studying the sacred scriptures, inference, and constant meditation practice. This echoes the dictum of the Brhad Aranyaka Upanishad, according to which consciousness (Brahman) is attained through three steps. Here they are called shravanna(repeated listening to the truth), manana (reflecting on the truth), and nidhidhyasana (realizing or permanently being established in the truth).
I.49 This knowledge is different from the knowledge gained through scripture and inference, since it is of a particular thing.
Our languages are very imprecise. There are millions of particular objects but there are only a few words to describe them. If we really used a different word for every different object, our language would be unmanageable. Since inference and scripture use language, they describe things only in a general way.
Knowledge gained through the senses pertains only to gross objects (things). All important meditation objects, such as mind, ego, intellect, the heart lotus, and the central energy channel, are subtleobjects and cannot therefore be perceived by the senses. That is why we need inference and the testimony of the scriptures. But even when the scriptures are understood and the intellect is made sattvic, so that we can correctly infer subtle objects, there is still a difference to directly perceiving them in samadhi. Before we are capable of this direct perception, there might still be a lingering doubt about whether the testimony or the inference is correct. But even if there is no doubt, there is still the fact that the knowledge is not really ours but secondhand.
The mystic Georg I. Gurdjieff said that knowledge is of physical nature. What he meant was that theoretical knowledge does not help much. Only when knowledge has become real, as if it is a physical object that we can touch, will it transform us. Before that philosophy is just theory.
It is not correct to say, however, that we need to experience the truth to be free. No experience will ever, ever lead to freedom, as experience itself means bondage. Experience is defined by impermanence: every experience has a beginning and an end. When it ends it is succeeded by a different experience. If we say we have experienced freedom, then we have not experienced the real freedom, freedom being the end of experience. For this reason the ancient masters used terms like “abiding,” “realizing,” and “knowing.” Once consciousness is known or realized, no experience, whether good or bad, can impinge on that fact.
Such knowledge cannot be gained from reading books of course. But equally it cannot be created by actions, such as asana, pranayama, or meditation. No amount of reading or performing actions will produce direct knowledge, but study and practice can awaken the potential in us to realize knowledge. As Shankara has shown in his Brahma Sutra commentary, the consciousness (Brahman) has no cause. It is eternal and uncreated. This means that the state of Brahman within us is not created by study and meditation; or, in other words, study and meditation are not the direct cause of realising ourselves. Nevertheless they make us capable of realizing what we are already (consciousness). They are necessary for most people.
The necessarily vague words of a teacher will never suffice for showing us the truth. All teachings, whether they are scripture, personal teachings, or inference, rely on words. Words funnel reality into a linguistic code, but this code is very different from reality itself. It may be a beautiful description, but it is not reality itself. Reality must be known directly; only then will it truly awaken the yogi. This direct knowing of reality, without the mediation of words, concepts, teachers, or scriptures, is produced in super-reflective samapatti (nirvichara). In this way it is different: here we see an object in its totality, whereas the words of a teacher or the scriptures will always be a glimpse through their eyes. We need to see ourselves to become free.
I.50 The subconscious imprint produced from such knowing reconditions us.
How is it that it does not help if a teacher tells us the truth? Why do we have to see it ourselves?
The words of a teacher leave a new subconscious imprint in the mind — an imprint of freedom, yes, but in a mind that is full of imprints of ignorance and delusion accumulated during the ages. It is necessarily the case that it won’t change much unless the student has accumulated already a critical mass of subconscious imprints of freedom; then the added word of a teacher can tilt the entire personality toward freedom. For the average conditioned student this is not possible. In such a student the fluctuations (vrtti) of the mind arise due to past conditioning. Mere reading, meditating, or asana practice does not change this conditioning.
The special knowledge (rtambhara) obtained in super-reflective samapatti is, however, so strong that it deletes the subconscious impressions (samskaras) of fluctuation of mind and replaces them with impressions of truth, authenticity, and correct knowledge. We could say this is the secret of yoga’s success. This process is also called the conversion of mind into intellect. “Mind” is that which believes, doubts, suspects, and so on; “intellect,” on the contrary, is that which knows. Mind therefore needs to be converted into intellect by repeatedly placing within it the subconscious imprint of correct knowledge.
Only when the mind achieves identity (samapatti) with the object without any discussion (nirvichara) going on does there arise a direct realization strong enough to wipe out the age-old conditioning of delusion and mental slavery. When, through repeated application of super-reflective samapatti, enough subconscious imprints are deleted and replaced with helpful ones, the mind will tend to gravitate, even in the intervals between samadhis, to a focused and one-pointed state. In such a mind obstacles are present only to a decreasing extent, if at all.
I.51 After those have ceased too, the entire mind is suspended, and that is objectless (nirbija) samadhi.
Patanjali finishes off the first chapter of the Yoga Sutra, which is called “the chapter on samadhi,” by reminding us that the journey does not end with gaining complete truth through objective samadhi. Yoga is only really achieved after liberation arises. Liberation results from objectless samadhi.
This final samadhi, however, is beyond being achieved. To reach it, the yogi has to go beyond the idea of doing. After complete knowledge pertaining to knowables (objects) is gained, we next have to know the unknowable — the subject (consciousness). This is done in two steps, or some authorities have it as three. The third step is not a step that can actively be done; rather one needs to surrender to it. For this final transformation to occur, the yogi has to let go of the idea of being the doer.
STEP I
From complete knowledge pertaining to knowables (prajna), there arises, after due contemplation, an even higher state. It is called “discriminative knowledge” (viveka khyateh), and it arises in the intellect (buddhi). After the intellect has penetrated all objects in objective samadhi, it eventually realizes that awareness and consciousness are not part of itself (the intellect) but form an even deeper — completely independent — layer called the purusha or atman, the consciousness. This discriminative knowledge can only arise in its full glory when the intellect is made completely sattvic through the practice of objective samadhi. Discriminative knowledge is the realization of the intellect that it is not the knower, the seer, and that it cannot know the seer.
How is it then that we can say this deep realization arises in the intellect and not in the consciousness? The consciousness is forever free, permanent, and all-knowing, whereas the intellect does know or does not know about a certain object. Whenever we are facing knowledge that arises or is produced, we are looking at the intellect. Consciousness (purusha) can never forget itself or remember itself, since it is eternal, uncreated, and unchangeable.
STEP II
In the state of discriminative knowledge we know all that we are not but we do not yet abide in our true nature. As a magnet attracts iron, so the intellect and mind gravitate toward knowledge of objects. To realize our true nature we have to let go of “owning” knowledge and phenomena. We have to stop projecting ourselves out, to look for ourselves outside. This stopping or ceasing is rather a passive nondoing and letting go. It is called paravairagya — the supreme detachment. We have to surrender all becoming, all doing, all wanting, all goals, to become one with pure being. Through supreme detachment, through complete letting go, the mind becomes suspended — it ceases to function as an autonomous unity.
Here all subconscious imprints are wiped out, even those of complete knowledge (prajna) and single-pointedness (ekagra). This state is now called dharmamegha-samadhi (cloud-of-characteristics-dispersing samadhi), which is supercognitive (objectless) samadhi. The mind is now in suspension (nirodha), which means that we are no longer slaves to the mind. We will use it when we need it, rather than have it using us.
STEP III
If dharma-megha-samadhi is held for an extended period, the intellect detaches from consciousness, the gunas return to their source, prakrti, and the seer abides permanently in itself. This is liberation (kaivalya). It is a state of eternal, unchangeable, superconscious ecstasy and freedom.
1. Panini is the leading authority on classical Sanskrit grammar. In his Ashtadyayi he listed two thousand word roots and, out of these, with the help of rules called guna and vriddhi, we can form verbs, nouns, various endings, and the like. According to Western scholars he lived around 500 BCE; according to Indian tradition, however, he lived more than six thousand years ago. Patanjali wrote a commentary on Panini’s Ashtadyayi called the Great Commentary (Mahabhasya). In India it is generally understood that Patanjali the yoga master and Patanjali the grammarian are one and the same person, though some Western scholars doubt this. In this text we follow respectfully the traditional Indian view. It is in the context of its tradition that yoga must be understood.
2. With the exception of King Bhoja (tenth century), who wrote his explanation (called Raja Martanda) directly on Patanjali’s sutras.
3. G. Feuerstein, The Yoga Tradition, Hohm Press, Prescott, Arizona, 2001.
4. S. Dasgupta, Yoga as Philosophy and Religion, Motilal Banarsidass, Delhi, 1973, p. 6.
5. G. Feuerstein, The Yoga Tradition.
6. See G. J. Larson, Classical Samkhya, 2nd rev. ed., Motilal Banarsidass, Delhi, 1979; or Samkhya Karika of Isvara Krsna, trans. Sw. Virupakshananda, Sri Ramakrishna Math, Madras.
7. S. Dasgupta, Yoga as Philosophy and Religion.
8. Shankara on the Yoga Sutras, trans. T. Leggett, 1st Indian ed., Motilal Banarsidass, Delhi, 1992, p. 97.
9. Aparokshanubhuti of Sri Sankaracharya, v. 125, trans. Sw. Vimuktananda, Advaita Ashrama, Kolkata, 1938, p. 68.
10. Vyasa on sutra II.27.
11. Sutra I.41.
12. Yogavarttika of Vijnanabhiksu, vol. 1, trans. T. S. Rukmani, Munshiram Manoharlal, New Delhi, 1998, p. 122.
13. T. Leggett, Shankara on the Yoga Sutras, p. 106.
14. Srimad Bhagavatam, trans. K. Subramaniam, 7th ed., Bharatiya Vidya Bhavan, Mumbai, 1997, p. 52.
15. Compare H. Aranya, Yoga Philosophy of Patanjali with Bhasvati, p. 58.
16. Mandukya Upanishad I.1.
17. Maitri Upanishad VI.22.
18. Brhad Aranyaka Upanishad II.4.5.
19. Yoga Sutra I.3.
20. H. Aranya, Yoga Philosophy of Patanjali with Bhasvati, p. 78.
21. Aparokshanubhuti of Sri Shankaracharya, vv. 119–120, trans. Sw. Vimuktananda.
22. H. Aranya, Yoga Philosophy of Patanjali with Bhasvati, p. 82.
23. A vedantic text by Acharya Gaudapada.
24. An ancient tantric meditation text.
25. T. Leggett, Shankara on the Yoga Sutra, p. 151.
26. S. Dasgupta, A History of Indian Philosophy, vol. 1, 1st Indian ed., Motilal Banarsidass, Delhi, 1975, p. 244.
27. The terms samadhi and samapatti are not quite synonymous. Samapatti is the state in which the mind is during objective samadhi. Objective samadhi is the technique practiced while the mind is in samapatti. There is no samapatti in objectless samadhi, since the mind, however refined it might be, can never achieve identity with consciousness.