PART 4 Philosophy: The Yoga Sutra
Chapter IV: On Liberation
IV.1 Supernatural powers (siddhis) can arise from previous births, drugs, mantras, austerities, and samadhi.
How those powers arise from samadhi was covered in the third chapter. The same powers can also be acquired through other means, in which case they are not yogic. Four different ways to accumulate such powers are cited by Patanjali apart from samadhi. He lists them in hierarchical order, beginning with the lowest form.
The first way is acquisition of powers through birth. Some children display special gifts at birth. These can only be understood as being acquired in a previous life. Mozart’s extreme musicality at four years of age must be seen in this light.
Another way to acquire powers is through the use of herbs, chemicals, and drugs. Vyasa hastens to state that this method is used in the abode of the demons. H. Aranya mentions the potions of the witches, which enabled them to leave the body.1 Shankara writes of the soma,2 the drug mentioned in the Vedas by which the devas (gods) achieved immortality. Some interesting research published by R. G. Wasson points to the likelihood that the vedic soma can be identified with the mushroom Amanita muscaria, which was also used by Siberian shamans.3
Another Indian tradition is that of the Rasa Siddhas who, like the European alchemists, used herbs and drugs to gain powers and achieve longevity. James Gordon White tells of historical testimonies of yogis in India who extended their life span to more than 275 years through the combined application of purified mercury and pranayama.4 Vijnanabhikshu mentions the turning into gold of lesser materials through medicinal herbs. Again, both the Rasa Siddhas and the alchemists sought to achieve this.
The next method mentioned by Patanjali is mantra. This technique is used in yoga mainly under the headings pratyahara and dharana. For example the pranava (the mantra OM) is described as being uttered by the Supreme Being (Ishvara). The Upanishads assure us in many passages that, by repeating this mantra and eventually hearing it, the Supreme Being can be known. The second limb of Kriya Yoga as taught by Patanjali is svadhyaya, which includes the repetition of mantra.
The use of mantra mentioned in this sutra is, however, different from the yogic approach. Here mantra is used as a spell that is cast to get some type of advantage. In the Atharva Veda many spells are mentioned that can bring all type of results, but not knowledge of one’s true nature. The only object of desire here is the acquisition of powers.
The final nonsamadhic method for achieving power mentioned in this sutra is austerity (tapas). This is the most popular method in Indian history. Arjuna went to the Himalayas to increase his martial capacities by performing tapas; the might of the demon king Ravanna was produced through austerity; the demon king Bali accumulated his power by the same means. Again, this use of austerity is not part of yoga, as the yogi does not seek power but freedom. Austerity in Patanjali Yoga is the first limb of Kriya Yoga, the aim of the approach being only to become independent of external stimuli. Self-torture to accumulate powers is rejected by Lord Krishna, who says in the Bhagavad Gita, “Those who torture the body outrage me, who is the indweller [in the body].”
These four ways to come to power are therefore seen as inferior by the yogi. They are inferior because accumulation of power here will always lead to accumulation of new karma.
IV.2 The transformation into a new birth comes through nature (prakrti).
All of our actions, words, and thoughts, according to whether they are virtuous or vicious, produce subconscious imprints (samskaras). All those subconscious imprints provide a frame or mold. Once a new body is needed, the elements of nature (prakrti) rush into this mold and fill it out, as water fills the shape of a receptacle. According to those samskaras, nature will produce a new body. How exactly does it happen that a new body manifests?
The answer is that it is a mechanism inherent in prakrti. In other words prakrti is designed to perform this action. According to Yoga and Samkhya, the body, also called the outer instrument, consists of ten organ systems. They are the five sense functions (seeing, hearing, feeling, tasting, smelling) and the five functions of action (speaking, walking, grasping, excreting, and procreating).
These ten organ systems are manifested by the five gross elements (ether, air, fire, water, earth). The five gross elements are manifested in turn through the five elementary potentials (tanmatras), which are called sound, touch, taste, form, and smell.
The elementary potentials or infra-atomic potentials consist of various combinations of the three gunas: rajas, tamas, and sattva. The three gunas are prakrti made manifest.
Prakrti is the creative cause of all manifestations and particularly of the body. Although the body is produced by prakrti and not by us, it is we who, through our past actions, manifested the conditions in which prakrti creates.
IV.3 Our actions are not the creative cause of the new body; they only remove the obstruction, like a farmer.
We cannot claim to be the creative cause of our bodies. They are created by nature (prakrti). However, through our actions we create subconscious imprints (samskaras), which form the blueprint according to which nature then manifests a body in an instant. While nature is the creative or quantitative cause of the body, our actions perform the role of the qualitative cause. The kind of body, life span, and related experience we get depends on our actions and not on prakrti.
The simile used in the sutra is that of a farmer irrigating a rice field. On opening a floodgate the farmer removes the obstruction and the water can flood the field. The creative cause here is still nature, which manifests water and gravity, both necessary for the flooding of the field. The farmer is not pumping the water through physical force but only directing the forces of nature. Similarly, with our actions we only open a floodgate, and in an instant prakrti manifests a body according to conditions determined by us.
The particular way in which the body is manifested is determined by actions, thoughts, and speech that leave samskaras. The act of manifesting, however, is performed by prakrti.
IV.4 Created minds arise from one I-am-ness (asmita) only.
To understand this sutra we first have to understand what Patanjali means by “created mind” (nirmana chitta); we also have to remember that the fourth chapter of the Yoga Sutra deals with liberation (kaivalya) and all related themes. To a yoga novice some of those themes will seem remote, but they were reasonable considerations to the ancient masters.
The present sutra discusses the situation of a master whose mind has gone beyond the habitual state of suspension (nirodha). When my mind is in the state of suspension, that means I will use it like a muscle. Using the mind like a muscle means using it only when there is work for it. At other times the mind is suspended and I will abide in the heart.
To go beyond that stage means to enter the final stages of the sevenfold insight described in sutra II.27, called freedom from the mind. Although mind itself is regarded as eternal in yoga, for the yogi who is approaching liberation it loses its grip. It is said that the constituents of the mind (the gunas) then return to their source (prakrti). This stage is reached when the yogi realizes there is absolutely no more work for the mind, which means that he or she has achieved completion. However, although all the yogi’s work might be completed, there could be work to do for others or for the greater good.
In this case the yogi will go on to become a siddha. One cannot train for this. The decision whether one becomes a siddha is not made by the individual but, depending on our favored philosophical viewpoint, by prakrti, by cosmic intelligence (which is a product of prakrti), by the Supreme Being (which, if we follow Vedanta, is the cause of prakrti), or by Shakti, the Mother Goddess (a personification of prakrti).
A siddha is a liberated master who can manifest bodies and appearances at will, often for the purpose of teaching. According to popular Indian belief, the masters Patanjali, Vyasa, and Shankara were such siddhas. It is said about Shankara, for example, that he did not die but transformed his body into a rainbow. Vyasa and Patanjali are said to be either immortal or manifested in consecutive embodiments in order to serve.
According to Vyasa the present sutra answers the question whether the different bodies manifested by a siddha are directed by individual minds or share one common mind. If it were proposed that thesiddha manifested bodies from one mind, that would contradict the very definition of siddha. The siddha is a being who has attained freedom from the mind; in other words no mind is present in between the different manifestations.
Patanjali says now that many minds are created by the same I-am-ness (asmita). This means that the only aspect that prakrti retains of a siddha in between manifestations is his or her I-am-ness. This answer is the only philosophically correct one. If the mind were retained, the siddha would not be a siddha after all. If the siddha were reduced to pure intelligence (buddhi), we could not argue that we are still looking at one and the same siddha through subsequent embodiments.
I-am-ness (asmita) is a function of egoity (ahamkara). Patanjali uses asmita also to mean egoism when he talks about the afflictions, but in a more general sense he uses it instead of ahamkara, and then it means cosmic egoity.
According to Samkhya, from prakrti rises cosmic intellect, which does not include a feeling of identity. From cosmic intellect now rises cosmic egoity (ahamkara), which says “I am” and “all this is perceived by me,” whereas intellect is just pure intelligence without that notion.
From ahamkara arise the body (the five functions of sense and the five functions of action) and the mind. We have to realize from this scenario that egoity (ahamkara) is necessary for the process of manifestation. Without egoity there is no separation from consciousness, without that there is no manifestation, without that no bondage, without that no experience, without that no liberation. Egoity is therefore one of the constituent aspects of manifestation and creation.
Egoity or I-am-ness is also one of the objects fit for meditation. Precisely speaking, it is one of the highest objects to be meditated upon, second only to intellect (buddhi). Consciousness is not counted as an object for meditation, since it is the subject.
To meditate on egoity/ahamkara in yoga does not mean to think “I have such a wonderful big ego” or the opposite of such a thought, such as “I hate my ego and want to destroy it.” Meditating on egoity/ahamkara means, whenever a thought arises, becoming aware of the faculty that says “I am thinking that thought.” If we claim identity with that faculty, that is called evolution, manifestation, bondage, and eventually suffering and “going from death to death.” If we stay detached from egoity, which according to Samkhya and Yoga is not ours but, like mind and intellect, owned by prakrti, then we are on the road to involution, dissolution, liberation, and finally bliss and freedom.
This egoity, this owner, is the prerequisite for the arising of mind, which makes sense after the previous explanation. Mind is a simulator of reality for the purpose of sustaining (survival) a separate identity (egoity) from the underlying cause of existence (consciousness). Without there being an owner (egoity) of perception, there can be no use for a faculty of organizing perception (mind) for the purpose of being owned.
Patanjali now says that from one owner (asmita) a multitude of minds can spring forth or can be projected out. In this way the question is answered whether several bodies manifested from one being have several minds or one mind. Each has an individual mind, created from one I-am-ness.
IV.5 One mind directs the different activities of the created minds.
The question that this sutra answers is, “If the original mind of the siddha is dissolved when the siddha becomes unmanifest, how can a siddha appear to be in several places at the same time in the next embodiment?”
Patanjali answers this by saying that the siddha creates one central mind from which the activities of the individual projected minds are created. Although the many minds are not created from the one mind but from pure I-am-ness, nevertheless the central mind of the siddha directs the individual ones.
H. Aranya discriminates in his explanation between pure I-am-ness and what he calls mutative ego.5 The pure I-am-ness from which different minds are projected would be free from what we normally call egoism, which is a later-arising mutation.
IV.6 Of the five ways of accumulating siddhis, the one born from meditation is without karmic residue.
In the first sutra of the chapter Patanjali talks of five ways to accumulate supernatural powers (siddhis). Of those, the accumulations through birth, drugs, mantra, and austerity come with karmic deposit, residue, and subconscious imprint. In other words they do not make the practitioner free.
In those four cases the siddhis develop prior to achieving discriminative knowledge. This means the yogi will now claim or own the powers, which leads to an erroneous commingling of consciousness on the one hand and the powers on the other. But exactly that commingling constitutes ignorance, as sutra II.24 states.
If the powers develop after discriminative knowledge, the yogi will reject them as something nonessential, impure, transitory, and not pertaining to the self. They are now seen as produced by nature (prakrti) and not as belonging to our true self. In the first four ways of accumulation, the powers if used will leave new subconscious imprints that will lead to more karma and actions based on ignorance. If they are used by one who has gained them in samadhi, they will usually be used for the greater good, such as in the case of Patanjali, who, in order to be understood, addressed all his students in their own mother tongue. However, if the powers are associated with objective samadhi, egoity can still arise. They are only to be used by the liberated one, who is beyond gain and loss, beyond virtue and vice. These pairs of opposites are explained in the next sutra.
IV.7 The karma of the yogi is neither white nor black; of the others it is threefold.
Altogether, four types of karma are referred to here.
The karma of the villain is black, since he performs actions with the intention of harming others. This type of karma will lead to future suffering and ignorance.
The karma of the average person is mixed, which means white and black. H. Aranya explains that the mere attempt to preserve one’s wealth involves effort to keep others from obtaining it. This means imposing suffering on them. Our whole society is arranged around the idea of competing with others for limited resources. The more competitive a society becomes, as is the case with a highly industrialized society, the more successful it becomes in using up resources that belong to less competitive societies. Being part of such a society, and adhering to its basic ideas, makes us co-responsible for extinguishing endangered species, destroying indigenous cultures, and keeping the majority of the inhabitants of this planet in poor conditions.
Although there are ample opportunities to do good, we will, as the Mahabharata shows, not always be able to make the right decisions. Human lives are so complex that we are bound to make wrong choices. The majority of people therefore have a karma that is a mixture of white and black, virtue and vice.
For a person to accumulate white karma only, it is necessary to tread the path of selfless service for others without pursuing any personal goals whatsoever. We may say, however, that the goal of such a person is the accumulation of exclusively white karma. Karmic merit, according to Indian thought, leads to a life in one of the heavens. Life is infinitely more pleasant there than on earth, but because this is so no steps toward liberation are undertaken. Once the karmic merit is exhausted, one falls back to earth.
These three types of karma are those of the others, meaning the nonyogis. The karma of the yogi is neither white nor black nor mixed: it is of the fourth type. The path of yoga is thus something entirely different from that of the doer of good. In the yogic scriptures and the Upanishads there is repeated talk of him who goes beyond virtue and vice and him who goes beyond gain and loss.
The path of the saint deals with accumulating heavenly merit through performing virtuous deeds. Yoga agrees that there is a heaven that can be attained through such action, but then it goes on to say that this heaven is not what the yogi seeks, since it is a state that is created and therefore impermanent. It is impermanent because first it is absent and then it is present. It is created because, through performing certain actions, we can create this state in ourselves.
The state of freedom that yoga describes is eternal and uncreated, and cannot be produced and created by any action. In this regard it agrees with Advaita Vedanta. And Shankara has shown in his commentary on the Brahma Sutra that the Brahman cannot be attained through action. Everything created has a beginning and therefore an end. Everything that is created, achievable, and changeable in yoga is by definition a part of prakrti. In other words, it is not our self.
Everything that is created, produced, and achieved will dissolve, crumble, and disappear. The state, however, that was here before everything arose, has been here during the existence of creation, and will still be here after everything created disappears is purusha, the eternal consciousness. This state cannot be achieved by virtuous action; therefore one needs to go beyond virtue and vice, beyond gain and loss. In virtuous action it is still the ego that wants to gain, even if the aspiration is toward heaven. Beyond virtue and vice is the awareness that is unchanged during all states, the state that is prior to the mental notions of virtue and vice, the state to which virtue and vice arise.
IV.8 From the three types of karma result conditionings, which will produce, again, corresponding actions.
As explained in sutra II.13, the result of all actions is appropriate conditionings (vasanas), which will lead to the performance of corresponding actions. Any experience, whether it be of pleasure, pain, hatred, fear, love, or whatever, will therefore have the inherent tendency to produce similar experiences. Thus, the performance of virtuous deeds may be the mere product of conditioning, and as such it cannot lead to liberation.
Virtuous and vicious deeds alike lead to conditioning (vasana), which is a robotlike programming of our subconscious. This conditioning leads to fluctuating of the mind, which is the coloring of reality according to our conditioning. Whether we live in the reality tunnel of the villain or that of the saint, it is still an artificially produced reality that is not truth or such-ness (reality as it is) or deep reality. Virtuous actions must be performed, but without any attachment to the outcome. The yogi does not perform good actions to get recognition or any form of merit, since the merit would lead to attachment and the new rise of egoity. From the point of view of egoity, it is not a matter at all of whether we arrive at it through good or bad actions. Any type of action to which we attach ourselves makes us separate from the ocean of infinite consciousness.
The fourth type of karma, which is the yogi’s, is neither white nor black nor mixed. The yogi’s karma produces samskaras that obstruct other imprints (sutra I.50). These are imprints of mental stillness. This leads eventually to the cessation of mind.
IV.9 The connection between memory and subconscious imprint exists even if they are separated by birth, time, and space.
Conditioning arises from karmic deposit (karmashaya) and consists of subconscious imprint (samskara). The two reinforce each other. Memory, according to H. Aranya, is the “cognitive transformation” or “re-cognition” of subconscious imprints.6 Memory exists only due to samskara. Subconscious imprint encourages the production of related memories, which will lead to more imprints leading in the same direction. A violent upbringing will create a subconscious tendency to accept violence as normal, and it will create memories of violence. Both together encourage violent action later on, such as hitting one’s own children, and this in turn will produce more sub conscious imprints and memory.
If a conditioning (vasana) is stored but not active in our present life, it is called karmic deposit (karmashaya). This means it is waiting to come to fruition. Over several lifetimes we might collect impressions related to being a violent person.
Even if we are in every individual life peace-loving, righteous people, there will always be a residue of violence present, which is concealed. This residue will slowly build up and gather force in the karmic storehouse. In due time it will come to fruition, and then all deposits relating to such an embodiment will come suddenly to the surface and manifest, whether they have been gathered in many lifetimes, in many different places, or even in different historical periods.
To be in a good position now does not mean we will encounter that again in the next life. Possibly we have used all our merit for this life, and lower embodiments could be around the next corner. Similarly, if we see a person who we perceive as wretched, they could just exhaust their last demerit and have an embodiment as a great saint coming up next. There is a popular Indian folktale that illustrates this dynamic. A saint lived opposite a prostitute. The saint observed the prostitute being visited daily by many men and he really loathed her for that. He was so absorbed in his disgust that he often found it difficult to meditate. The prostitute on the other hand observed the saint and took great delight in him. Whenever she could, she watched him, and he became a beacon of light in her otherwise bleak life.
When the saint died, all members of the community came together and provided a great ceremony, for everybody held him in great esteem. When the prostitute died nobody attended, since nobody wanted to have anything to do with her. When it was time for the saint to be reborn he found out to his great horror that he was to be reborn a prostitute. He had not only exhausted all his previously acquired merit in his life as a saint, but he had also created in his mind, through his constant despising of the prostitute, subconscious imprints (samskaras) that made him a prostitute in his next life.
The prostitute was to be reborn as a saint. Through her constant meditation on saintliness she had created a conditioning (vasana) that made her a saint in her next life. This story shows that, although we are in a good position now, that does not mean it will continue in the future. There is no reason to rest on our laurels. Similarly we need not judge somebody who presently appears to be in a less advantageous position. This can change quickly.
The sutra continues the line of argument that accumulation of good karma will never make us free. It just produces enjoyable moments, which might turn sour at any time. Martin Luther King and Mahatma Gandhi were arguably the greatest visionaries and philanthropists of the twentieth century. Nevertheless they suffered violent deaths. In the ocean of conditioned existence, one wave might lift us up and in the next moment another wave might drag us down again. Since our past karmas are concealed, we will never know what is next in store for us. It is for those reasons that all attachment to action must be surrendered. Action is performed in all cases by prakrti, as stated in the Bhagavad Gita. If we realize ourselves as consciousness, we are free of all future karmas, whether white, black, or mixed.
IV.10 These samskaras and memories are without beginning, since desire is beginningless.
There is a desire in living beings to perpetuate their own existence. Since this desire exists in all beings, it must be due to eternal and uncreated subconscious tendencies (vasanas). We would call that today the collective subconscious. These uncreated vasanas lead us to the conclusion that the mind (chitta) itself is uncreated and all-pervading. This understanding is opposed to the Vedantic view, in whichsamskaras and mind represent only the erroneous superimposition of a mirage onto the real (consciousness). If we realize that a snake is in truth only a rope, the wrong idea of the snake ends. In this way the subconscious mind and the world are said to disappear once their true essence, the consciousness (Brahman), is realized.
This is the reason why Vedantins find it difficult to interpret yoga correctly. Some widely published Vedantins have done much damage by erroneously interpreting yoga to suggest that practitioners “curb each thought,” “cut off the senses,” “kill the senses,” “kill the mind,” “obliterate the ego,” or “kill the rascal ego.” Those suggestions might work in the context of Vedanta, but if transferred to yoga they create the impression of an esoteric self-annihilation cult, which in fact some people believe yoga to be. In yoga we look at the world as real and the mind and ego as eternal. There is nothing wrong with these three, but if we want to become free we need to stop identifying with them. Only then can we recognize ourselves as what was forever free: the consciousness. No cutting, killing, or obliterating is necessary; in fact these are pastimes that increase egoity.
Since the mind, the ego, and the world are accepted as real, beginningless and uncreated, it is not the mind itself that we delete, but its makeup, which consists of fluctuations (vrtti). What is unreal in yoga is the erroneous commingling of consciousness on the one hand and the evolutes of prakrti — the world, mind, and so on — on the other. This erroneous commingling or false union (samyoga) ends when vrtti are subsiding and the mind is still. Then consciousness rests in itself.
IV.11 The subconscious impressions are held together by cause, result, base, and supporting object. If these cease the samskaras will also cease.
This sutra discusses the makeup of subconscious imprints. They are said to depend on four facts: cause, result, base, and supporting object.
• The cause of our subconscious impressions is ignorance (avidya). Through ignorance we project ourselves out into the phenomenal world, believing ourselves to be the phenomena. From ignoring our true nature, which is consciousness, we develop egoity (asmita). Egoity is to take the seer and the seen as one single entity. From egoity we develop desire and hatred, which could not arise if we accepted that the world is completely separate from us.
• The results that come from subconscious impressions are vicious or virtuous actions. If we do not have imprints of fear and hatred in our subconscious, we will not be able to commit destructive acts. Any actions performed will of course lead to new imprints that will strengthen the existing conditioning.
• A subconscious imprint needs a suitable base. An impression of ignorance or desire, for example, cannot be located in a suspended mind (nirodha chitta) and it will have difficulty in getting a hold in a single-pointed mind (ekagra chitta). The confused or oscillating mind (vikshipta chitta) is, however, a suitable breeding-ground or base for all types of samskaras. This confused mind is changeable; it is unstable and can tilt in any direction. This makes it a suitable base for imprints.
• The supporting object is the object that, on its presentation, will cause the subconscious imprint to trigger action. For example we might believe ourselves to be peaceful, but in a war situation hatred and fear suddenly surface and we become capable of killing. If the supporting object (war) is absent, the subconscious imprint (hatred) is not capable of producing the result, which is the action of killing. This does not mean that the subconscious imprint is nonexistent. Being subconscious, it can come into the foreground as soon as a suitable situation arises.
The whole chain of cause, result, base, and supporting object forms what is called the wheel of samsara (conditioned existence) or wheel of endless rebirth. As has been explained at sutra II.12, an action performed due to a subconscious imprint produces more karma, more forms of suffering, and more subconscious imprints based on ignorance and egoism. In this way the wheel of conditioned existence keeps revolving. It is kept in motion by the mechanism that continuously puts in place subconscious imprints. If our actions did not lead to subconscious imprints, if we completely forgot everything as soon as it happened, our actions would not color us.
Patanjali says that the subconscious imprint will cease if the four aspects of cause, result, base, and supporting object cease. He has said in sutra I.50 that the “conditioning” imprints described there can be deleted by superimposing “liberating” imprints of mental stillness. In this sutra he suggests that the conditioning can also be avoided by taking away the constituting elements of the circle or wheel of conditioned existence. We will now examine how these constituting elements can be taken away.
• The first obvious element to take away would be the supporting object. We would avoid if possible any situation that triggers strong negative responses in us. This would also include avoiding people who have a negative influence on us, or support negative sides of our personality.
• To take away the base of the samskaras means not supplying anymore the type of mind in which they flourish. Of the five types of mind, the restless mind (kshipta), which tends to violence, and the infatuated mind (mudha), which tends to materialistic stupor, rarely choose to study yoga. Most students come to yoga with a confused or oscillating mind (vikshipta). The two remaining types of mind areekagra (single-pointed) and nirodha (suspended). Ekagra means to be established in yoga; nirodha means to be liberated or close to liberation. To remove the base of samskara is to change the mind from confused to single-pointed. It is done, of course, by practicing the eight limbs and particularly by studying the scriptures, chanting of their stanzas, reflecting on the truths contained in them, and finally being established in them. A mind that is capable of the relentless analysis and rigorous reasoning of philosophy becomes ekagra.
• To take away the results of the samskaras means to strictly adhere to the yamas and niyamas. If at first we only grudgingly submit to the ethical rules, thinking that they mainly benefit others, we realize later that they benefit us by protecting us from ourselves.
• To take away the cause of the samskaras means to overcome ignorance and egoity. In the case of a confused mind (vikshipta chitta) they are overcome by a full course of the eight limbs. In the case of a single-pointed mind (ekagra chitta), the practice of the last three limbs is recommended.
IV.12 The notion of past and future exists only due to distinction in the path of characteristic (dharma).
Yoga subscribes to what is called the satkaryavada doctrine. According to satkaryavada, everything real is eternal and uncreated. A thing that does not exist cannot come into being, such as a hare’s horn or a flower in the sky. Everything that does exist can never disappear. A carved image is said to exist as a seed-state in a rock or in the carver’s head. An ornament is said to exist as a seed-state in gold. Multiple universes are said to exist in a potential form in nature (prakrti). Subconscious imprints do exist in a potential form in mind (chitta), and mind exists in potential form in nature.
This sutra explains or, rather, relativizes the statement of the previous one. As we heard in IV.10, subconscious imprint and mind are beginningless. In IV.11 Patanjali states how the disappearance or deleting of subconscious imprints can be achieved. The discrepancy between the two statements is explained now by saying that deleting subconscious imprints — or in fact anything — is a relative statement, because nothing is ever lost. All things real only ever change from a potential state, which we call future, through a manifest state (present), into a residue state (past). This does not mean that they become nonexistent: they only become unmanifest. The characteristic (dharma) of the object does not change in this process, only its temporal aspect (lakshana).
This amounts to yoga’s rejection of time, which is said to be again only a relative thing existing in the mind. Time is said not to exist to the extent that it can never change the characteristics of things — the objects-as-such.
The process of yoga aims at realizing things or knowledge as things-as-such. A thing-as-such — the information blueprint of a perceived object — does not change whether it moves from the potential to the manifest or the manifest to the residue state. Yogis are said to see future and past because they see objects stripped of their temporal phases, leaving the pure object only. This way of seeing leads to complete knowledge of objects (prajna), and it is gained through objective (samprajnata) samadhi.
If we look now at the world as an object, it means that before the manifestation of the world it was there as a potential state. Even if an omnipotent God had created it, it would have been, according to yoga, in the consciousness of that God as a potential state.
A samskara that arises in a mind must have been in that mind as a potential state. For this reason yoga says both world and samskaras are uncreated. This does not mean that everything is uncreated and eternal. The human mind can develop many ideas that have no reality at all — the scriptures often mention the hare’s horn, the flower in the sky, or the castle in the clouds. Those are mere conceptualizations (vikalpa). If one contemplates on them one realizes there is no such thing. It has no potential state (past), no manifested state (present), and no residue state (future). It is just a fancy without corresponding object.
Just as subconscious imprint (samskara) is eternal and uncreated, so also is the state of liberation (kaivalya). This means it is not something entirely new, but contained as a potential state in every single one of us. While its characteristic (dharma) is unchanged, its temporal state (lakshana) is moved from potential (future) to manifest (present) when we attain it. This movement or development is called the course or path of the characteristic. Due to distinctions in that course, meaning distinctions between the potential, manifest, and residue states, the notion of past, present, and future arises and with it the notion of time.
Time is a concept mind has to develop to explain our lack of sensitivity. It is only due to lack of sensitivity and ignorance that we cannot perceive things in their such-ness and in their potential and residue states. Because we cannot see them anymore, or not yet, we say they are past or still to come.
IV.13 The three temporal states are manifested or subtle and are formed by the gunas.
If an object can be perceived, it is said to be manifested. That means its temporal state is present. It is perceptible then by the senses, since it has a make-up consisting of gross elements (mahabhutas). If the object cannot be perceived directly by the senses, it is in a subtle state, which means its temporal state could be either potential (future) or residue (past).
There are examples where we are aware of this fact. In almost all human cultures a grieving person is consoled by the belief that a deceased loved one has not really become nonexistent but only vanished from sight. Various cultures suggest that the dead go to the ancestors, to heaven, to the netherworlds, or back into the elements. These suggestions, for our purpose, all have one thing in common: that the deceased person leaves a residue behind. We acknowledge this in our Western culture by maintaining cemeteries in which crosses or stones are placed to commemorate our dead. Each grave, and particularly the gravestone, is a statement that this person has left a residue in this world; the person is not gone altogether. Again, when we hang up photographs of our ancestors we state that the residue of these people continues to exist. In many cultures the proper disposal of the dead has led to very elaborate ceremonies, this also showing that the residue of the dead is important.
Some indigenous cultures practice the astonishing wisdom of dreaming or calling their progeny into the manifested state from the potential state. Those cultures realize that there is an aspect in us that is unchanged whether we are manifest or not. How could a man and a woman create a new being? It is not possible. We can only create a dead body. The body becomes alive only with the entrance of a being that comes from the potential into the manifest state.
Those objects that change from potential to manifest to residue are all made up of the gunas. In our case, the mind (chitta), the subconscious (vasana), the ego (ahamkara), and the intellect (buddhi), which can go from potential to manifest to residue, are still made up of the qualities (gunas) of nature (prakrti). This means they will always be transitory and changeable — they will always be object and never be come subject. The only aspect of us that is untouched — unchanged by temporal phases and changes of characteristic — is the eternal consciousness (purusha).
The consciousness within us is completely unchanged when we die. It does not even change into residue, because it is unchangeable. This is why Krishna says to Arjuna, “Do not grieve. No being can ever be killed. Nor can you ever kill another being.”
IV.14 The such-ness (tattvam) of an object is produced by the unitariness of transformation (parinama).
Patanjali continues to develop the physics of yoga through this important sutra. The keen student needs to contemplate deeply upon and thoroughly understand it. It is vastly complex and difficult to translate into English. This sutra and many others can be understood only by undertaking excursions into the history of Indian thought.
The such-ness or that-ness of an object is an important concept to understand. It is also called the object-as-such or the object-in-itself. All those terms imply that we follow a school of thought that understands the world to be real, as Yoga and Samkhya do. As explained earlier, Yoga looks at both the world and consciousness as real, and since it accepts two separate real identities it is called a dualistic school. A monistic school is one that accepts as real only one category to which all other categories can be reduced.
We can divide the monistic schools into two classes. There are the materialists, who believe that only matter exists and mind can be reduced to matter. For example communism and Western science (excluding new developments in quantum mechanics) are monistic schools of materialism. On the other hand there are the idealists, who claim that matter is a notion that occurs only in mind/consciousness. These schools of thought claim that matter can be reduced to mind. In India the Buddhist idealists (Vijnanavadins) and the Vedantins were popular schools of idealism. In Europe, Hegel and Fichte developed idealism as a philosophical concept.
The Shunyavadins, the school of Buddhist nihilists (Latin nihil — absolutely nothing), are neither materialists nor idealists. They hold that neither mind nor matter is real but only a momentary notion of the nature of emptiness.
This sutra starts a sequence of sutras that criticizes idealism with the aim of proving it wrong. India had and still has today a proud tradition of arriving at the truth through relentless logic, fierce reasoning, and learned dispute. Torpid belief and faith were never considered to lead to freedom. The aim has been clarification of the mind until a state of pure intelligence is reached. Discriminative knowledge, as the name says, cannot be gained by a believer but by one who knows. Even this knowledge is, however, only a pre-stage to the mystical experience, which itself is only a pre-stage to liberation.
Western yogis associate India today with belief in a guru or deity that bestows some state of happiness. This view does ancient India an injustice. For never has another culture worked to such an extent,through the effort of hundreds of generations of masters, to arrive at the correct view of what deep reality is. As sincere students of yoga, we have to recapitulate the findings of the ancient masters and not just take them at face value. It is then that the depth of their analysis will profoundly humble us.
The term “such-ness” of an object implies that there is a deeper, real blueprint of an object behind its appearances. This object-in-itself is to be seen by the yogi through higher perception (samyama). “Object-in-itself” means the object that really exists outside us. The Buddhist idealists and Vedantins have argued that an object comes into reality only by our perceiving it, and it becomes unreal as soon as we cease to perceive it. In this system of thought, the falling of a tree in some remote forest would be unreal since nobody is there to perceive it. To support that argument, the Buddhists and Vedantins say that in our dreams we produce a sensory experience of objects such as sight, sound, and taste without any object being there; similarly, the objects in the waking state vanish when we fall asleep to give way to dream objects. The idealists derive from that the notion that objects are unreal. Only the mind or consciousness in which they occur, whether waking or dreaming, is real.
In the yoga system all images in the mind are produced from perceiving real objects, albeit usually in a distorted form: the mind can reorganize images in such a way that they do not correspond anymore to any existing object. For example we separately perceive a flower and the sky. Our imagination is now capable of connecting the two to arrive at the sky flower, the flower growing in sky. Similarly we fancy the castle seen on the ground as being up in the clouds. This process is called imagination (vikalpa), which is still dependent on impressions gained from real objects.
All impressions form memories in the mind and imprints in the subconscious. These are lived through dreams mixed with imagination. The dream world, according to yoga, is just a reorganization of previously gained impressions of real objects. If those objects had never been perceived they could never appear in our dreams. Thus, the dream experience is no second reality based on itself but only a result of the waking state commingled with conceptualization.
We are rejecting therefore the view of the idealists, according to whom the dream state is a second reality, disproving the existence of the first reality, the waking state.
If we refute the views of other schools, this does not mean that we believe them to be worthless. No school can be completely right, since all schools of thought are products of the human mind. The human mind in itself is incapable of reproducing the universe, since the universe does not fit into our minds. What we arrive at in our minds will always be a reduced copy of the creation. Why then do we still produce philosophical systems?
Philosophical systems derive their value from their ability to lead people to a state of freedom. This ability Yoga, Vedanta, Samkhya, and Buddhism have all proved. All systems are but many modifications of the one truth that has been uttered in the Upanishads. The systems were developed because the majority of the people could no longer understand the highest truth of the Upanishads. Because all systems are an explanation of the one truth, true mystics such as Vyasa, Vachaspati Mishra, Gaudapada, Shankara, and Vijnanabhikshu can comment on all schools of thought. Since they have realized their underlying truth, they can contribute to all of them.
It has been asked how so many highly differentiated objects can be created by the same three gunas. Patanjali’s reply is, “through the unitariness (ekatvat) of transformation (parinama).” This means thegunas don’t act individually but always together, and their various combinations end up in millions of differentiated stable objects.
To explain this mechanism I will liken the three gunas to the three elementary particles of nuclear physics — the proton, neutron, and electron. Every atom is formed by the three elementary particles, and in various combinations they form 108 elements. These 108 elements, in their multifarious combinations, form thousands of organic and inorganic compounds. Out of these compounds develop the millions of shapes and appearances that make up the universe. By forming various patterns and orbits, the neutral and positively and negatively charged elementary particles produce the vast structure of trees, rocks, mountains, rivers, continents, planets, galaxies, and universes. To form this multitude is an ability inherent in matter. We can only describe how the different atoms are structured; how exactly the electrons know how to organize themselves in complex layers of orbits to form the elements is difficult to say.
In a way similar to the production of matter from three particles, the gunas, according to yoga, produce this world. The main difference at this point between yoga and Western science is that yoga says the three particles are mass (tamas), energy (rajas), and intelligence (sattva). Yoga says it is the process of unitary transformation by which these three particles arrive at millions of stable elements. “Unitary transformation” means that an inherent quality makes the three particles (gunas) move in unison to produce the world.
IV.15 One and the same object is represented by different minds in completely different ways. This proves that mind and object are two separate identities.
Here is another proof that refutes the thesis of the idealists that the world is only a mirage occurring in the mind. One and the same object perceived by different people is represented completely differently in their minds. Vijnanabhikshu gives the example of a beautiful woman seen differently depending on whether she is seen through an attitude of virtue or vice. If seen by her husband, she may stimulate happiness; if seen by another man, she may trigger a reaction of desire. If she is seen by another woman she may provoke jealousy, while a liberated one will remain indifferent to her.
We can see from this example that the four minds perceived the same object, because the external representation of the woman, such as color of hair, would be the same in all four perceptions. If it was not the case that they were seeing a real object separate from themselves, we would not be able to ascertain that it was in fact one and the same woman perceived by all four people. If each of the four minds had created its own woman, there would not have been so many correspondences. This assures us that all have perceived the same woman, the one who is the wife of that particular man.
The different reactions to the object, such as desire and jealousy, let us infer that we are not looking at one mind through which four different people perceive, as the Buddhist idealists suggest, but four completely separate minds. Furthermore, if all four minds were representations of one and the same mind, how could it be that the woman provokes four completely different reactions? The differences in perception of the object arise from the individual histories and different conditionings of the four separate minds.
The Buddhist idealists (Vijnanavadins) say that the object comes into existence only when it is perceived and ceases to exist when perception of it ceases. This would lead us to the conclusion that the very same woman comes into existence four times and ceases to exist four times after she has been perceived by four minds one after the other. Yoga deduces from the same occurrence that, since she has been seen by four separate minds, she cannot be a conceptualization (vikalpa) and therefore must be real. Reality in yoga means that an object exists for itself as a completely separate identity whether mind perceives it or not.
IV.16 An object cannot be said to depend on one mind. If it were so, what would happen to it if not cognized by that mind?
This sutra develops the train of thought of the previous one. The Buddhist idealist school says that the only support of an object is the mind in which it arises, meaning it has no separate existence apart from that mind. Let us say we walk along a certain street and look at a house with a certain address. We can describe the architecture, the color, the materials, and its age. If we walk away from that house, according to the Vijnanavadins, it will cease to exist, since its only support was our mind.
If we now give the address to others and tell them to describe the house, how is it that they will offer the same description, although it had ceased to exist when it vanished from our perception? The idealist would have to say that through some mystical power a second witness had recognized the content of our mind and managed to describe it.
If we let a second person enter the house and describe it from the inside, it must be conceded that he or she couldn’t have derived that information from the first person. The idealist would have to propose now that the external and internal descriptions were of two separate objects, created by two minds, which fortuitously seem to be identical. Rather, it has to be admitted that there is a real object that can be described by different minds and be recognized as such. Therefore this object has a completely separate identity.
Vyasa says that an object has a distinct existence perceptible by all. How could it otherwise be explained that the same object is still in position when seen by the next person? If it were to become nonexistent, another mind would cognize a different object in the same place, because that second mind has a different past and conditioning.
Another criticism leveled by Vyasa is the fact that if we see the front of an object we do not necessarily see the back of it. This would lead us to the conclusion that the back is nonexistent, because there is no supporting perception for it. If the back of a thing is nonexistent we must conclude that the front is nonexistent also, since all visual objects — people, trees, houses, mountains — always have two sides. From this example we can see that we must accept the existence of things even if we cannot perceive them. In other words, just because we can’t perceive a certain thing doesn’t mean it does not exist.
IV.17 The mind (chitta) either knows an object or does not know it, depending on whether that object colors the mind.
Vyasa says that objects act like magnets that attract the mind, which he likens to a piece of iron. It is interesting that he ascribes magnetism to the objects themselves and not to the mind. This reflects the importance of objects and of the external world, as taught by yoga.
It also reflects the problem of meditation on emptiness or the self/consciousness. In yoga, beginners are advised not to meditate on consciousness or emptiness, as is done in Vipassana meditation. Only after the mind is trained to become single-pointed and the intellect is made sattvic is this last step in meditation taken.
If the mind has a choice between meditation on consciousness, which is the subject, and any object, it will always be drawn to the next object. Due to the magnetic property of objects, the mind gets diverted toward them. In other words one is distracted.
The present sutra defines how knowledge arises in the mind. It involves the process of cognition as well as mere perception. Recognition means that the mind identifies an object seen previously; cognition is the mere identification of an object seen for the first time.
If we merely see an object and the mind does not cognize, then no knowledge is produced. If many objects are produced simultaneously, the mind will be attracted to the one exercising the strongest magnetism. (Since consciousness is formless, it does not exercise magnetism.) Knowledge of that object is then produced.
The advertising industry uses this mechanism by presenting a product together with a second unrelated object that has the function only of attracting attention, which is then diverted to the prime object. This second unrelated object is often the body of a female.
The process of cognition is described in the sutra as the coloring of the mind. Whenever knowledge occurs, a particular object has modified or colored the condition of the mind. We know this from a visit to the cinema. Depending on whether a movie is depressing or uplifting, it will change the condition of our mind. The novice yogi especially needs to exercise a wise choice over which objects to present to his or her mind. Once a yogi is established in suspension (nirodha), no presented object will impinge on his or her state of permanent freedom. A yogi established in single-pointedness (ekagra) will usually sustain focus, although it might take effort. A novice yogi with a distracted (vikshipta) mind will lose focus but regain it after an indefinite period. Those with an infatuated (mudha) or a restless (kshipta) mind are thrown from object to object like a nutshell tossed about on the ocean.
The process of coloring also shows that it is very hard for the mind to gain complete knowledge. The coloring alone is not enough to achieve complete knowledge. Rather the mind has to be made like a clear crystal; only then can it reflect the object truthfully (sutra I.41).
We also have to understand that the mind will be in constant flux unless it is in suspension (nirodha). Since different objects are provided constantly, each will change the color of the mind. The coloring of the mind in an average person can be likened to the light show during a rock concert. This, of course, corresponds to the daily roller-coaster ride of our emotions. There is, however, something within us that is different from the fluctuating mind. This will be described in the next sutra.
IV.18 The unchangeable consciousness (purusha) always knows its servant, the fluctuating mind.
The mind either knows or does not know about an object, which is why we call it fluctuating. The consciousness, however, is ever aware of the state of the mind. From this very fact, says Vyasa, the immutability or changelessness of consciousness is established. If this were not the case, we would sometimes know our thoughts while at other times they would be unknown. However, we always have to listen to our thoughts, whether we like it or not, and this means that consciousness is ever aware.
If we observe for a whole day all phenomena that we encounter, we realize there is something that is unchanged. This eternal aspect of us is our awareness. The objects that are presented all change, but the awareness to which they are presented is changeless.
This awareness is a property of consciousness. If it were a property of the mind, the mind would have to have permanent knowledge of all objects. This is not the case, however, since the mind variously has or does not have knowledge of an object.
There is another serious reason why the mind cannot have awareness. It is discussed in the next sutra.
IV.19 The mind does not possess the light of awareness since it is of the nature of the seen.
The consciousness is also called the seer, drashta.
It is called so because it is pure contentless, qualityless awareness. This is important to understand. If consciousness contained character, personality, past, and so on, it could not permanently be aware of the contents of the mind. Character, personality, memory, ego equate to blind spots in our mentation. Because we have a certain memory about something, it will color any new experience. We see that in daily life, where things tend to manifest according to previously acquired beliefs. If we change our belief system, the world will suddenly look different. If certain things do not fit into our belief system, we tend to blend them out or prefer not to see them.
For example, a sexist tends to overlook achievements and great performances by women; a white supremacist tends to overlook the great cultural achievements of people of color. In other words, the mere nature of the mind, with all its contents, prevents complete awareness. From the fact that consciousness is ever aware of the mind, we know that it is contentless and pure. If it had contents beyond awareness, these contents would prevent its permanent awareness of the mind.
The fact that consciousness is pure awareness also means that we cannot observe it directly. Consciousness is discovered on an inward journey by rejecting all that we can observe as being non-essential and transitory.
We know that we are not the body, since we can observe it. Being observable, it must be an external object. The same is true for the mind. Since we can comfortably lean back and observe it in all its facets like a TV show, we know that the mind is an object and an external agent. It is observed by an even deeper layer, which is the consciousness or seer. This seer cannot be seen; otherwise it would itself become an object and we would need to look for an even deeper layer.
Although we cannot perceive the seer directly, we can abide in its nature, which is called “truth” or “the natural state.” Giving up the artificial act of outward projection leads to objectless (asamprajnata)samadhi. To give up the false union with the seen means to stop identifying with the egoic body-mind complex. The fact that we can give up this identification, as many masters have shown, is only possible because we are not the body/mind.
The presence of ideas such as “My mind drives me crazy” and “I changed my mind” shows that there is a deeper layer that owns and operates the mind and is not located in it. It is this layer that is awareness. If awareness were located in the mind, then we would be somewhat like an animal: aware only of our outside world and following our urges and impulses all day long without reflecting on our behavior at all. The term “somewhat” has been used here because animals do not completely follow this pattern. However, when we say to another human “You behave like an animal,” we imply that he behaves unreflectively, as if awareness were located within his mind, and not deeper, so that he is incapable of observing himself.
IV.20 And we cannot ascertain both the mind and the external objects in the same moment.
This sutra is aimed against another Buddhist doctrine, the doctrine of momentariness held by the Buddhist nihilists (Shunyavadins). Not only do they deny the existence of matter, as do the idealists, or the existence of mind, as do the materialists, but they deny the existence of both. The Shunyavadins claim that neither mind nor matter has an existence of its own.
Let us recall that Yoga and Samkhya accept the separate existence of both. According to the nihilists, mind, matter, and the self, which they deny as well, are only momentarily arising ideas. When the idea of matter and mind ceases, they lose their existence as well. The Shunyavadins say the world is only a concept arising in mind, but the mind is also only a concept, which is contained in an idea or thought. As soon as that thought or idea subsides, both matter and mind are annihilated. In this school of thought, perceiver, perceiving, and object are not separate, but only aspects of the one arising-and-disappearing notion.
The present sutra refutes this teaching by saying that both the mind and the external world cannot be watched at the same moment. Let us say we sit in meditation and watch the world. Then we shift our awareness and watch the mind. In other words we watch ourselves watching the world. This shift takes a split second. If we shift the awareness back to the world, again it will take a split second. We notice this shift especially if we are in a situation that needs intense concentration. In such moments, self-awareness might be greatly reduced. We are always surprised at the atrocities that people can commit in war situations. This is because self-reflectiveness falls away in a combat situation.
Similarly, we can meditate driving a car, or watch ourselves driving. If we get into a demanding situation we have to shift our awareness to the external world in order to react faster. If the focus is on the mind, meaning if we are introspective, then we first have to shift to the outer world and then react.
If we are extraverted already, the reaction time will be shorter.
From this momentary shift, from this inability to observe both simultaneously, Patanjali deduces the invalidity of the doctrine of momentariness. Since the two — observing the mind and observing the world — are separated by a moment, they cannot be contained in the same idea or notion. Therefore the doctrine of momentariness, which declares both mind and matter to be nothing but momentary ideas, is seen as refuted.
There is more evidence that mind and phenomena are separate things. Especially when we study descriptions of life-threatening situations and near-death experiences, we recognize that observing the mind and observing the world are two separate things. Years ago I was involved in an accident in which a thirty-ton truck swiped me off my motor-bike. I was on a country road overtaking the truck when the driver, without any warning, veered over onto my side of the road. There was absolutely nothing I could do in the split second before the impact. I felt that I was suddenly being sucked inward and things started to move really slowly. I realized I was not watching the world anymore but only myself. The light and perspective of my vision changed and I felt suddenly completely detached. It was more as if I were watching a movie and not my own life. Through shock, the connection with my mind was suddenly severed and there was only consciousness watching mind. The reaction of my body/mind seemed to occur completely without my contribution. I observed how in a slow, robotlike movement my hands pushed against the tank of the bike and I hopped up onto the seat in a squatting position. When the impact came, I leaped off the motorbike toward the safety of the roadside. This movement pushed the bike under the truck, where it was crushed. I felt my body, or rather the body of this stranger, skidding and tumbling until it finally came to rest.
Several observations are interesting here. First, I experienced what the Gita calls “all actions [being] performed only by prakrti,” since my body/mind saved itself without any contribution from me. Second, the consciousness appeared to be, as the ancient texts say, completely inactive — completely separated from that which acts. Third, there is a notable difference between consciousness observing mind directly and observing the world through mind. The difference is stark and dramatic. In extreme situations, when the time simulation of mind is switched off, we can perceive the difference between the two.
From this and similar near-death experiences described by many people, we can infer that mind and the world are not ascertained simultaneously and that awareness is not located in the mind.
IV.21 If awareness of mind came from a second mind, then this would lead to an infinite regress and a confusion of memory.
The Shunyavadins say that no mind exists separate from the idea that arises in it and that no permanent self exists to be aware of mind. This leads us to the proposal of a separate mind arising with every idea, which illumines or is aware of the previous idea. This is similar to the modern psychological concept of literally thousands of consecutive selves (the post-modernist view) opposed to only one solid self (the modernist view).
Patanjali rejects this solution by pointing out that it leads to an infinite regress. An argument that entails an infinite regress is unacceptable because it offers no solution. So, for example, Ramana Maharshi has pointed out that mind control is not possible because we need a second mind to control the first one. The problem is now that we have one controlled mind and a second free mind running wild. We need a third mind to control the second mind and then a fourth to control the third. The reason why this infinite regress is rejected is that it always leaves one mind uncontrolled and therefore leads nowhere.
Similarly, the argument presented here is of one arising mind being aware of the previous subsiding mind. Since, according to the Shunyavadins, mind does not exist but is only a notion arising with perception, we have to ask how it is, then, that I remember my previous perceptions. This is answered by proposing that with every memory a new mind arises that remembers the previous one, but in the intervals nothing exists. Patanjali rejects this proposal by pointing out that it always leaves one mind unaware and is therefore not a solution but only postponement of a solution, an infinite regress.
The second problem encountered is the confusion of memory. If we propose that there is not one mind in which notions exist but only consecutive notions that support each other, then the continuity of memory cannot be explained. During life our memory is constantly filled with impressions. These memories cannot be accessed by another mind under normal circumstances, so our memories are distinctly different from anybody else’s. If there was not one perpetually existing mind, but only momentary notions, then we could not ascertain whose memories we were looking at. This, however, is not the case. If separate people were to write down their memories we could distinguish which memories belong to which person. From the continuity of memory we can deduce the continuity of one mind. We therefore reject this solution also.
IV.22 In the process of shedding awareness on the intellect, the consciousness appears to take the form of the intellect.
After having refuted the views of opposing schools, the standpoint of the school of yoga is stated here. This sutra repeats what has been set out in sutra II.20.
Some scholars regard the fourth chapter of the Yoga Sutra as a later add-on. This view is supported by the fact that the third chapter ends with the word iti, which means end of quote. Iti is then found again at the end of the fourth chapter. Furthermore, some of the criticism against Buddhism is addressed against schools that flourished after the date that is usually given for Patanjali. For example some sutras are taken as being aimed against the teaching of Nagarjuna, who is thought to have lived around 400 CE. The counterargument to proposing an early date for the Yoga Sutra contends that, even if Nagarjuna did further develop certain concepts, they were common Buddhist ground even in earlier centuries.
The traditional Indian view is that the battle of Kurukshetra, the central theme of the Mahabharata, occurred five thousand years ago. Veda Vyasa, the divider of the Veda, who authored theMahabharata and is one of the epic’s main figures, is therefore placed by tradition at 3000 BCE. Since Vyasa commented on the Yoga Sutra, and the eight-limbed yoga with twenty-six categories (tattvas) is mentioned in the Mahabharata, tradition places Patanjali at approximately 4000 BCE.
If we propose a second Vyasa who authored the Yogabhasya, the Brahma Sutras, and the Gita, he would have lived around 450 BCE, which is a possible date for the Gita. Since he commented on Patanjali’s Yoga Sutra, we would have to place Patanjali no later than around 500 BCE, shortly after Buddha. This leaves some room for speculation that the fourth chapter of the Yoga Sutra actually is a later addition.
Since this sutra is a repetition, its concept will be explained only briefly. Consciousness itself is the seer, and it is formless. Whatever object we direct it to, using the mind as a tool, that object it illuminates. In that process we then perceive the object mixed with awareness. Since awareness can only be deduced and not perceived directly, unless by an advanced meditator, what we perceive is the form of the object. From a superficial point of view, we come then to the conclusion that consciousness is whatever we are conscious of. This view leads to union (samyoga) with the seen, which is suffering (duhkha).
Through the practice of yoga we slowly isolate body, mind, ego, and eventually intellect from our true essence. The final step is to realize that consciousness is not contained in intelligence/intellect. It is only through the process of observing, which is also called proximity, that the intellect seems to be conscious, and consciousness appears to modify sensory input. In reality they are both completely separate. Thus is briefly stated the view of the dualistic school of yoga.
IV.23 It is the purpose of the mind to be colored by seer and seen.
The mind is that instrument by which apprehension or cognition of the world is possible. In other words the mind is responsible for the process of grasping or seeing. For seeing to be possible we need two more categories: the seer and the seen.
The seen is the universe and all the objects that comprise it. Each object leaves an imprint in the mind and colors it. This trait is called the stainability of the mind. After having accumulated various stains,we relate more to previously collected data than to the present object, a process called conditioning.
After having existed in a conditioned state for some time (those thirty trillion incarnations) we realize that freedom and bliss cannot be had through objects and we turn inward. We realize then that another factor apart from the seen has colored the mind, and that is awareness. Through correct philosophical inquiry, which is possible after the intellect has been prepared through yoga, we realize that awareness cannot be located in the mind, since mind is mutable and awareness is not.
We come to understand now that the mind has been colored by two entities, one inside, one outside. This is the purpose of the mind. Vyasa in his commentary pities those who believe the mind itself is conscious and those who believe only the mind is real. In samadhi, he says, one realizes that an object is completely separate from the mind that reflects it. Similarly there comes the realization that the seen is completely separate from the mind. According to Vyasa, it is those who manage to isolate the three entities of knower (consciousness), knowing (mind), and known (world) that will know consciousness in itself and thus break free — and not those who manage to unite seer, seeing, and seen as one.
IV.24 The mind, being colored by countless subconscious conditionings, exists for the purpose of another, since it acts conjointly.
The idea here is that everything that is one whole exists for its own purpose. The consciousness cannot be subdivided into smaller units and it is not put together from components. For this reason it has as a purpose only itself. Objects like houses and bridges are put together from pieces, and they serve the purpose of external agents — the people that use them.
The world also consists of objects that are made up of elements and atoms. Therefore, according to yogic philosophy, it must exist for the purpose of another. Sutra II.21 tells us that the world exists only for the purpose of consciousness.
When we look at the mind, which is colored by our entire evolutionary past, there arises the impression that it exists for its own purpose. This is reflected in the concept that our purpose is survival, individually and as a species. According to yoga, however, the mind — like everything that has component parts and depends on other elements for its existence — acts only to serve another. The chitta(mind) is a construct consisting of manas (thinking agent), buddhi (intellect), and ahamkara (ego). All of these three constituents themselves are made up of the three gunas: sattva, rajas, and tamas.
The mind also cannot act or exist independently. It cannot come to any conclusion by itself, but has to act conjointly with others for the process of cognition (seeing) to take place. We need to add sense organs, external objects, and awareness to the mind for experience to happen. Having established that the mind is a construct, we know now that it acts for an outside entity, which is consciousness.
IV.25 For one who sees the distinction, there is no more wondering about one’s nature.
All seekers start by reflecting on their nature or on their lack of knowledge thereof. We may ask, “Who am I?” “What is my purpose in life?” “What happens when I die?” or “Where did I come from?” A person who wonders about his or her nature in such a way is thought to have the right attitude for yoga. Those who never ask such questions but are happy to continue wallowing in ignorance, are understood to have no previous link with the search for truth. Students who practice only yogic asana, and none of the other limbs of yoga, are believed to be associated with yoga for the first time, whereas others who naturally take to all the eight limbs are thought to have practiced in previous embodiments.
All this wondering, this questioning, this searching is, however, only a function of the mind. Although seeking is an essential starting point — an acknowledgment of one’s own ignorance — the solutions offered will be only models of the mind and will never truly satisfy. Since the mind is eternally fluctuating, none of its models and metaphors will be permanent. The wondering and searching will stop, however, in one who can distinguish between mind and consciousness.
Consciousness does not look for its true nature because it is true nature. Consciousness does not look for answers: it is the answer. Consciousness does not ask about death: since it is uncreated and without beginning, there is no destruction and no end.
IV.26 Then the mind is inclined to discriminative knowledge, and liberation is not far.
“Then” means when the sort of reflection described in the previous sutra has ceased. This does not mean that one suppresses such a reflection. To want to know the truth about life is a sacred thirst, and we should never suppress it. It marks the starting point of yoga, and the journey can be only successful if this thirst is strong. Vyasa says that a sign for a sufficient thirst is that one’s face becomes awash in tears and one’s hair stands on end when one finally hears about the path to freedom. The thirst will come to a natural end when it is quenched. Only the understanding that our true nature is eternal, immutable consciousness quenches it.
When we begin to discriminate between the eternal and the transitory, the notion of consciousness is established in the mind of the practitioner. This leads eventually to permanent discriminative knowledge, for which the intellect has to become purely sattvic. With that achieved, the final freedom is not far. This final step is beyond achievement, but one automatically gravitates toward it.
Since receptivity and letting go are required on behalf of the yogi, some schools ascribe the attainment of this final state of liberation to the grace of the Supreme Being.
IV.27 During intervals arise other thoughts, depending on one’s subconscious imprints(samskaras).
Permanent discriminative knowledge is exactly what the words say and not more. It means one is capable of distinguishing at any moment between the eternal and the transitory, between the stained and the unstainable, between the mutable and that which never changes. It does not mean that no conflicting thoughts will ever arise in one’s mind, and it especially does not mean that one never thinks. This needs to be understood deeply; otherwise one will be disappointed on attaining this coveted state.
A vivekinah (one who has attained discriminative knowledge) will experience thoughts based on egoity from time to time. Being established in discriminative knowledge, however, one knows them as being part of the transitory, stainable, and mutable. In other words they do not pertain to one’s nature, and therefore won’t result in actions based on afflictions (kleshas). Such thoughts cannot produce suffering in the vivekinah, since she or he has achieved permanent nonidentity with such thoughts.
Why is it, then, that even in this state we still experience conflicting thoughts? Discriminative knowledge is the highest result of samprajnata samadhi, samadhi pertaining to objects. From this samadhiwe learn everything about objects, including the mind. We finally learn that there is a something that is not an object that is not perceivable. We also learn the difference between the objects and the only non-object — the subject (the consciousness) — by way of inference.
What we do not get here is direct knowledge of consciousness, which is only gained in objectless (asamprajnata) samadhi. The objective (samprajnata) samadhi, which has taken us thus far, is also called samadhi with seed (sabija). It carries this name because the seeds of karma, the seeds of affliction-based action, the seeds of future rebirth, have not been parched and destroyed. What are those seeds?
They are nothing but our subconscious imprints (samskaras) and afflictions (kleshas). These imprints are finally destroyed only through the state of seedless (objectless) samadhi. Since the vivekinah has not yet experienced this state (otherwise we would call him or her jnanin or liberated one), the subconscious imprints are still capable of producing conflicting thoughts.
IV.28 The subconscious imprints (samskaras) are reduced through the same process as the afflictions (kleshas).
The second chapter of the Yoga Sutra described the process by which the five afflictions are to be reduced. A similar process is used to reduce subconscious imprints (samskaras), which produce conflicting thought. Let us recall, however, sutra II.10 stating that the subtle or seed state of the afflictions is only destroyed when their support, which is the mind, is dissolved into its source. The source of the mind, however, is prakrti — procreativeness or nature. On liberation, the mind disconnects and is dissolved in prakrti. The Katha Upanishad calls this more poetically “absorbing of the mind into the heart.”
Another important sutra to recall in this context is I.50, in which it is stated that the subconscious imprint of knowledge (prajna) is used to delete the subconscious imprint of fluctuation of mind, which produces suffering. In sutra III.9 Patanjali says that subconscious imprints of fluctuation of mind can be overpowered by subconscious imprints of stillness, indicating a slow process of deconditioning.
Whereas the subcommentators agree in their interpretation of the sutra, they are at odds in defining at what point exactly this deconditioning takes place. Vijnanabhikshu says that the fire of insight (prajna) will slowly destroy the samskaras. For a faster result, however, he suggests objectless samadhi. Vachaspati Mishra believes the problem to be only one of maturity of discriminative knowledge. He says, “Whereas in the case of one in whom discriminative thinking is mature, the subliminal impressions (samskaras) have dwindled and are not capable of generating other presented ideas. . . ”7 H. Aranya also believes that subconscious imprints of insight (prajna) are sufficient to render sterile the subconscious imprints of fluctuation of mind.
IV.29 If in permanent discriminative knowledge (viveka khyateh) one detaches oneself from any gain to be had from meditation (prasamkhyana), one enters into the cloud-of-characteristics-dispersing samadhi (dharma-megha-samadhi).
All forms of yoga described so far, including meditation and samadhi, have a purpose, a goal — something to be achieved or to be gained. So are all phases of objective (samprajnata) samadhi designed to gain complete knowledge and understanding pertaining to objects. This knowledge (prajna) then enables us to experience the world as such. The samyamas described in the third chapter of the Yoga Sutraare performed to produce powers (siddhis). The ultimate achievement of objective (samprajnata) samadhi is discriminative knowledge.
As already hinted at in sutra II.27, there is a point to come when effort, practice, becoming, developing, growing, and succeeding will not carry us any further but will have to be relinquished. At this point we have to completely let go of the idea that yoga will get us anywhere. We have to give up the mere idea of progress and gaining. As long as we want to get somewhere, we are still climbing ladders — whether the corporate ladder or the spiritual ladder does not matter. Climbing ladders involves ego, effort, willpower, and the mind. It requires the effort to become something we are not as yet. The mere wish to become, however, means denying our true nature as consciousness. Consciousness is immutable. It is in an eternal state of freedom. In this final and objectless samadhi the great mystical realization appears that we are all that already.
Appearances, objects, and phenomena have in the course of our lives formed a cloud around us that prevents us seeing the sunlight of the self and the open blue sky of consciousness. The light of the self is formless; it does not have a characteristic. Our mind, on the other hand, is drawn to everything that has form and therefore characteristic. This function of the mind — to look away from our true nature toward phenomena for the purpose of gain — is called the cloud of characteristic. This cloud hides the self, and it is this cloud that dharma-megha-samadhi disperses, thus enabling us to abide in our true nature, the consciousness. For this reason it is called cloud-of-characteristics-dispersing samadhi (dharma-megha-samadhi).
There has been considerable confusion around the term dharma, which forms part of the Sanskrit name of this samadhi. As we know from sutra III.13, Patanjali uses the term dharma to mean characteristic or attribute. It is one of the three forms of transformation (parinama) that an object can undergo. The essence of an object — the object-as-such — Patanjali calls dharmin. It is surprising to find that many translators have taken dharma to mean righteousness or virtue. In the Mahabharata, dharma is used with this meaning, but not in the Yoga Sutra. This misunderstanding is parallel to taking “yoga” as meaning “union” in the context of Patanjali’s Yoga Sutra, or to take adhyatma as pertaining to the true self.
To read “virtue-showering cloud” into dharmamegha-samadhi, as some modern authors have done, makes little sense. Vyasa states on several occasions that true yoga goes beyond virtue and vice. According to sutra IV.7, some collect karma associated with wicked actions, some collect karma associated with virtuous actions, whereas most of us collect mixed karma. The yogi, however, collects neither of them. Virtue and vice are part of the pair of opposites that we leave behind in sutra II.48. Virtue and vice are categories used by the mind to judge the world. If we go beyond mind in this highestsamadhi, how can it be called the virtue-showering cloud? This amounts to nothing less than a return to conditioned existence.
From the bird’s-eye view of liberation there are no virtue and vice. The Rishi Ashtavakra puts it this way: “As the sky is not touched by smoke, so is the heart of one who knows consciousness not touched by virtue and vice.”8 All beings perform their action out of a desperate, painful urge to achieve happiness. Most acts of hatred are committed because the perpetrator is incapable of expressing love. According to the Upanishads, at the end of each world age (kalpa) all universes are inhaled by Brahman, which amounts to annihilation of the entire world: all beings are terminated. From the point of view of the victims it seems to be a vicious act; from the bird’s-eye view it is the swinging of a pendulum between existence and nonexistence, which appears natural — like the heartbeat or the pulse of the cerebro-spinal fluid. It is certainly neither virtuous nor vicious, but neutral. So is consciousness. If consciousness were virtuous it would have quality and content. The definition of consciousness is, however, pure awareness. For awareness to be pure it needs to be content-less and quality-less.
As we have seen in sutras III.13 –14, Patanjali uses the term dharma to mean not virtue but characteristic. The cloud or mist of characteristics refers to the erroneous commingling of the world and the seer. In the cloud-of-characteristic samadhi, that cloud is revealed and for the first time recognized as such. In the mystical experience the sun of consciousness then dispels the mist. The taint of ignorance by which the seer (consciousness) is commingled with the world of characteristics, attributes, objects, and mind is removed and the seer abides in itself. This is the state of true yoga.
This samadhi does not depend for its arising on an object but on the subject, which is consciousness. The problem with objective samadhi is that objects are transitory and therefore the samadhi based on them is also. Since this objectless samadhi is based on consciousness, which is eternal and immutable, the samadhi is as well. From the moment of dispelling the mist of the phenomena, we have become one with the sun of consciousness. Once we have recognized our true nature as consciousness, we have reached a state of permanence, for consciousness has no beginning and no end.
IV.30 From that samadhi the modes of suffering (kleshas) and karma cease.
Vyasa affirms that from this cloud-of-characteristics-dispersing samadhi (dharma-megha-samadhi) comes the state of liberation while still in the body. In other words the cloud-of-characteristics-dispersingsamadhi is seedless (nirbija) and objectless (asamprajnata) samadhi. Only this second and higher type of samadhi can bring liberation. Some authors have erringly understood the cloud-of-characteristics-dispersing samadhi to be yet another form of objective samadhi.
Vyasa states that this liberating samadhi finally destroys ignorance (avidya) and all the modes of suffering (kleshas) that are produced by ignorance. Furthermore the accumulated karmas in the storehouse (karmashaya), whether wicked or virtuous, are destroyed, together with wrong knowledge (viparyaya). With the destruction of wrong knowledge, which is the cause of and seed for rebirth, no more future conditioned embodiment is necessary — nay, even possible.
This samadhi is called “seedless” because the seed of future rebirth, ignorance, and suffering is destroyed. It is also clearly said here that it is only this mightiest of all samadhis that can render such seeds sterile and not the weaker objective (samprajnata) samadhi — as, again, modern writers claim. This is an important point to remember. If we wrongly project such expectations onto objective samadhi we will not realize when objective samadhi happens to us and we will also expect too much of those who have experienced it.
Only through extensive objectless samadhi will the mind (chitta) be habitually suspended (nirodha), which means it is reabsorbed into prakrti. If the yogi needs a mind after this point he projects it forth on appropriate occasions only (nirmana chitta). In the interval when no mind is needed, he returns into the infinity of nirodha, which is consciousness. This means that such a yogi resides in the heart, is in the natural state, and permanently abides in his or her true nature.
For this reason, only the teachings and statements of a nirodhin, one with suspended mind, are binding. Examples of such teachings are the Upanishads. The Upanishadic sages were in the state ofnirodha and could see to the bottom of their hearts. Their teachings are therefore also called shruti — that which is heard. Because their minds were still, they were free to hear the sacred wisdom of their hearts. “Heart” here is a metaphor for consciousness, and the wisdom heard is contained in the sacred sound OM, which is produced by Brahman (consciousness).
Again it is very important to understand the distinction. Prior to dharma-megha-samadhi the mind of the yogi is only single-pointed (ekagra). From the viewpoint of the beginner this is an incredible achievement, but as a teacher the ekagrin — he or she with single pointed mind — is not yet sacred authority. His or her statements are probably very deep and meaningful, but they come from a human mind and not from the depth of the heart. Teachers with single-pointed minds have given us an incredible canon of teachings, called smrti. Smrti means that which is memorized, and it is a term for tradition. All smrti are understood to be of human origin whereas the shruti are considered to be of divine origin.
IV.31 Then, when the covering impurities are removed from the infinity of knowledge, the knowables become insignificant.
“Then” means when the cloud-of-characteristics-dispersing samadhi is attained. The covering impurities are ignorance (avidya) and wrong cognition (viparyaya). When those covering impurities are removed, says Patanjali, the infinity of knowledge becomes visible. What is the infinity of knowledge (jnanasya ananta)?
The Upanishads describe deep reality (Brahman) in terms of three words: truth (sat), consciousness (chit), and ecstasy (ananda). However, some old passages such as Taittiriya Upanishad II.1.1 mention sat, chit, and ananta (infinity).9 It was later that ananta (infinity) was replaced by ananda (ecstasy). The Upanishads with the older reading are prior to the Yoga Sutra. At the time of Patanjali,ananta was still used to describe Brahman.
Patanjali does not use the concept of Brahman, since it implies a single entity deeper than purusha and prakrti, which reconciles their difference. He uses the term purusha to refer to the consciousness of an individual. When Patanjali talks about consciousness that is not bound by the confines of an individual, he uses the term “infinity” (ananta). Patanjali himself is considered a manifestation of the serpent of infinity, Ananta.
The term “infinity of knowledge” means, then, to abide in or to be one with the ocean of infinite consciousness. In today’s language, which is strongly influenced by Vedanta, we would say to be one with Brahman.
In that state, when the infinity of consciousness is known, the knowables become insignificant. The knowables are the world with all objects and phenomena — mind, ego, intellect, gunas, and so on. Compared to the infinity of consciousness, these knowables or things to be known become so insignificant that Vyasa compares them to fireflies in the sky. Compared to the vastness of the sky, which is here the knowledge of infinite consciousness, all that we can know about objects is like mere insects.
The yogi is now abiding in his true nature as consciousness, which is the container that holds the world and all beings. Compared to the infinity of that container, its content — the world of objects — is little. The yogi is now in a state where he realizes that, compared to knowledge of the infinity of consciousness, knowledge of the world is like a candle held before the blazing sun — or like fireflies before the vastness of the sky.
IV.32 Thus, with the gunas having fulfilled their purpose, the sequence of their transformation concludes.
Another result of the cloud-of-characteristics-dispersing samadhi (dharma megha samadhi) is described here. Initially the proximity of nature (prakrti) and consciousness (purusha) set in motion the dual function of experience and liberation. Stirred into action through the proximity of consciousness, “mother” prakrti provides through the gunas a seemingly endless sequence of transformations. The term “transformation” (parinama) is used here to affirm that the world, although eternal, is at no time in a stable state but in constant flux. If at any time the gunas ceased to act, the world would not freeze like a photograph but would become unmanifest. “Unmanifest” does not mean “nonexistent” in yoga, as nothing that is existent can ever become nonexistent or unreal, and nothing that is nonexistent can ever become real.
When the yogi becomes liberated through the cloud-of-characteristics-dispersing samadhi, the purpose of the gunas is fulfilled. As explained in Samkhya Karika, prakrti ceases to perform her dance once she has been seen. The sequence of transformations of the gunas is nothing but the dance of nature (prakrti). Prakrti ceases to dance, the gunas become reabsorbed into their origin (prakrti), and the world swings back from manifest to unmanifest, as far as the liberated yogi is concerned. This does not change the reality of the world, which remains existent but unmanifest. It will still be manifest for others.
IV.33 Sequence, which consists of instants, ends through the conclusion of transformation.
This sutra states that when the gunas have concluded their activity, and therefore the constant transformation (parinama) of one phenomenon into the next ceases, time ceases as well. This might be a disturbing concept at first, but it becomes clearer and less threatening when inquired into.
We know time only from changes in nature. We observed that the earth turns around its axis and called it one day. Apart from that movement and its result, the changes in daylight, there is no justification for the idea of the day. Hours, minutes, and so on are only subdivisions of the concept “day.” We observe that the earth circles around the sun, and we call it a year. We watch a certain movement in nature and call the sum of instants that passed “time.” If for some reason the earth lost contact with the sun, our time units would become meaningless, and we would have to look for other changes in nature. Time is a conceptualization (vikalpa). Vikalpa is defined as a word that does not have a corresponding object. Time has no corresponding object in nature; it is merely deduced by the human mind, based on observation.
Our universe is said to be billions of years old and is predicted to last for another fifteen billion years. Prior to the Big Bang, all matter was condensed in one spot. Time is dependent on observation of change, an external reference point, and an observer. None of them can be ascertained prior to the Big Bang. This leads us to the conclusion that there was no time either.
Everything that has a beginning must have an end. When the universe ceases in fifteen billion years, time will cease as well. As we know from Einstein’s relativity, time is dependent on the observer. With no observer left at the end of the universe, there will be no time. According to Indian logic, however, what is not real in the beginning or at the end is not real in the middle either.
According to Yoga, time is connected to mutability. Since consciousness is immutable, there is no time in consciousness. Time is an intellectual construct of the mind, a conceptualization. Time is born from mind; it is a child of the mind. Once the mind is dissolved into prakrti, time is dissolved with it.
What is time, then, if it has no true reality as such? As explained in the previous sutra, the gunas manifest the world as being in constant transformation. If we observe an object, let us say our body, we see that it constantly changes. Through the constant flux of the gunas our body appears first as young, then as mature, and later as old. The change from young to old is called “change of state” (avastha parinama). When the body eventually dies and disappears, it changes from a manifest into a residue state. Similarly, when it is born it changes from a potential to a manifest state. This type of change is called “change of manifestation” (lakshana parinama). This means that time is a mental concept that describes change of manifestation.
We can look at it from another point of view as well. The body does not actually disappear, only its form does. All elementary particles that formed the body will continue to exist, albeit forming different compounds. This type of change is called “change of characteristic” (dharma parinama). Underlying those three forms of change are “sequences” (krama). The change from young to old does not happen all at once; only after a certain krama is observed do we call it change. The smallest unit during which any change is still observable is called an instant (kshana). An instant is perceivable only if a change has occurred, even if that was only our breath or the ticking of a clock. If no change whatsoever is perceivable, we won’t notice that an instant has passed and a sequence is happening. If we were isolated in a situation where we could not observe sequences, we could not say time had passed.
Time therefore is abstracted from change. If we cannot observe any of the three types of change and their sequence, we will not deduce the passing of time. The conceptualization of time will cease when sequence and instant cease. Sequence and instant cease when change (parinama) ceases. Parinama ceases when the gunas cease their work. The gunas cease to work when their purpose is fulfilled. Their purpose is fulfilled when dharma-megha-samadhi is experienced and the seer abides in his or her own form (consciousness).
IV.34 When the gunas, having lost their purpose, return into their source (prakrti), then liberation takes place, which is pure consciousness established in its own nature.
The purpose of the gunas is to manifest the world, a process that provides experience for purusha. From experience comes bondage, which is the illusionary union of the seer and the seen. From bondage, through supply of pleasure and pain, comes eventually the realization of the existence of consciousness (purusha) as one’s true nature.
At this point we realize that the intellect, which is the highest manifestation of the gunas, was never commingled with consciousness, which was always free and untouched. This realization is calledkaivalya, the independence of consciousness.
The liberated yogi is established now in his or her true nature as consciousness, which is the self-in-itself. It is a permanent state of unlimited freedom and supercognitive ecstasy. Supercognitive here means that we have gone beyond the need for phenomena, manifestation, and world. It is these that limited our ecstasy and freedom before.
We are free now to recognize that we were never reborn, were never bound by ignorance, and never an isolated egoic entity. Since the consciousness in which we abide now is eternal and immutable, it existed all along as a state of unlimited freedom that was not recognized by us in our delusion.
The gunas, having fulfilled their purpose, are reabsorbed into their source, which is nature (prakrti). This means that, in regard to the liberated yogi, the world has transformed into the residue state. This does not mean that it is nonexistent, since it is still manifest to serve others.
Here ends the path of Yoga. The liberated yogi, permanently abiding in consciousness, stays embodied until the body comes to its natural end. The yogi then becomes one with eternal, bodiless, supercognitive ecstasy.
Is there something left to do?
The school of Yoga is silent in regard to a state even higher than that, which is the state of identity (as Shankara has it) or identity-in-difference (as Ramanuja has it) with the Supreme Being. This does not mean Yoga and the school on which it is based, the Samkhya, are ignorant of that state.
The “founders” of both schools, Bhagavan Patanjali and Rishi Kapila, are seen as manifestations of the very same Supreme Being. Nevertheless their aim was to devise a path to freedom that does not rely on knowing (in the case of Yoga) or surrendering (in the case of Samkhya) to the Supreme Being.
The yogi may, as soon as the mind is free from wrong cognition, go on to study the Vedanta instead of continuing to follow the path of Yoga.
Alternatively the yogi may, after attaining realization of his or her own consciousness, go on to realize the one that was never ignorant.
The one that is the first and foremost of all teachers.
The one that has been known by various names such as the Brahman, the Dao, the Lord, and the Mother, and that, after all names are left behind, is still there as the incomprehensible, luminous, vibrant, silent, vast emptiness in our hearts.
1. H. Aranya, Yoga Philosophy of Patanjali with Bhasvati, p. 347.
2. T. Leggett, trans., Shankara on the Yoga Sutras, p. 366.
3. R. G. Wasson, Soma: Divine Mushroom of Immortality, Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 1970.
4. J. G. White, The Alchemical Body, The University of Chicago Press, Chicago, 1996.
5. H. Aranya, Yoga Philosophy of Patanjali with Bhasvati, p. 352.
6. H. Aranya, Yoga Philosophy of Patanjali with Bhasvati, p. 359.
7. J. H. Woods, trans., The Yoga System of Patanjali, p. 340.
8. Ashtavakra Gita IV.3.
9. S. Radhakrishnan, ed., The Principal Upanishads, HarperCollins Publishers India, New Delhi, 1994, p. 541.