In The End Is the Word

I have expressed my discontent with the use and abuse of Karma  elsewhere, but it bears repeating, for I cannot “pick up” an on-line publication or hear a snippet of a conversation without nearly at least once hearing someone say something to the effect of “it was my bad karma that I got stuck in traffic” or “Tim Tebow must have good karma when he prays before a game” or the like, when speaking of why something did or did not happen. To re-iterate, then, karma, from the root Kr, simply means, “the thing done,” nothing more, nothing less. There is no value, no judgment, no good, no bad, no Quality to it. It simply means--an action done.

Karma causes an effect. Karma, the action is the cause. The result, whether it is judged later as good or bad, is independent of the karma, or action, with regards to Quality. It is the result of the action that ultimately bears the burden of Quality.

The Seventh Chapter of the Chãndogya Upanishad is a brilliant catechism of cause and effort. It simultaneously pre-dates the Buddhist concept of the eight-fold Middle Way with the precursor of the concept of “right speech,” while also being the virtual inversion, like a yoga headstand of St. John’s gospel concept of the logos, or the Word made Flesh. Logos from the Greek can mean simply word, but it also extends to the entire gamut of rational discourse, study, or rhetorical utterances. It is a very powerful word in itself.

However, for John, the Word comes first, it is the Creative Force, it is God. In the Chãndogya, the words come last, they are the least powerful in a long chain of karmic events, or actions, leading back to the source of all thought and expression.

Nãrada, an aspirant of learning, approaches (the verb upa-ni-shad means to approach, like a student to a teacher) Sanatkumãra, an esteemed guru, or teacher and wishes to learn what he knows. Sanatkumãra tells Nãrada to tell him what he knows, and Sanatkumãra will in turn un-learn him of what he has learned. Nãrada lists all of the studies and texts that he has learned, in this case, memorized, beginning with the Vedas down to texts on the natural history of serpents.

To this long list of apparent erudition, Sanatkumãra says that these are all merely “namani” or words, the etymology in fact of the Greek -nym, from which we get anto-nyms and syno-nyms and the like, not the mention the more transparent inheritance into our own English as the Names.

Sanatkumãra tells his questioning friend that there is nothing behind these mere words, or names, and that the truth lies much further back, down the chain of events of cause and effect.

The ensuing dialectic, predating even the Socratic Method by centuries and the Catholic Catechism by that many more centuries is quite simple and repetitive, almost like childish banter in its simplicity, but the consequences are quite profound, calling into question our notions of the childhood mantra of “sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can never hurt me.” Nothing could be further from the Truth for Sanatkumãra as we see, tracing back the origin of the word to its source.

Nãrada asks at each stage, “asti bhagavo nãmno bhuya iti nãmno vãvã bhuo’sti,” both a question and a plaintive query, “O venerable one, is there something greater than Name? Surely there is something greater than Name?!?” At each stage then, consequently, the teacher gives something that is bhuya, or greater, than the thing before, beginning with Name/Word.

From Name/word, he goes to Speech to Mind to Will to Intelligence to Meditation to Understanding to Strength (vitality to think) to Sustenance (to provide the vitality) to Water (to cause the food) to Fire to Space to Memory to Hope to the Vital Force, or Prãna, which is the source of everything. Prãna can be thought of as being kin to the pneuma of Greek, or the breath, the spirit or Life. Tracing back then, words or names are the final product of the initiation of the Vital Essence of Be-ing, the sacred breath of the Universe, pronounced by the udghita, by chanting the sacred syllable OM, or A-U-M. Though it is a chain of cause and effect, it is one and the same as you cannot have the cause without the effect, the two are not distinct, but part of the greater whole.

However, what is then interesting from this karmic chain is what Nãrada then learns is the consequence of incorrect speech, or harmful words. For, because speech and consequently words are the result of the Vital Force, expressed by the Will and through the Mind, to speak ill of one is as good as murder. Greater, or rather worse, is to speak ill of one than even to desecrate their ashes at the funeral pyre, because those are mere, mortal remains.

To speak improperly is simply spiritual murder. It does not attack the bones, like the sticks and stones, but rather the very Soul of another, the core of that person’s Vital Life Force. Speaking ill, then, of one, is not to bring on so-called “bad karma” to one’s Self, it is a much greater illness, it implicates one of pre-meditated murder.

Speak well, then, is the message from Sanatkumãra, and indeed, if you don’t have something kind to say, think about the real consequences, not the selfishness of whether you will get stuck in a traffic jam later in the day, or whether your favorite team will lose the game, but rather, what have you in fact done to that person’s Soul?

Such is the nature of Karma...and as such, we might think to speak unto others as you would have them speak to you.

Words can hurt. The good news is, they can heal too.

Tangled Up

I am in a bit of a tangle, to be perfectly honest. When do you tell someone that Santa Claus does not exist? Or, do you allow one to think incorrectly about something if that something is working well for them?

For example, there are a few Sanskrit phrases and terms that are used on a daily basis, quite often incorrectly with regards to the actual meaning. Sometimes I feel obliged to spell it out  because it is truly a misconception, whereas other times, does it really matter?

I went to an Iyengar yoga class this weekend and it was great to be back in such a class, having thoroughly enjoyed my hatha lessons in India and recent vinyasa ones, thoug, at heart, perhaps I am Iyengar, or at least inspired.

Regardless, at the beginning of the class, the so-called "Invocation to Patanjali" is chanted. It is very pleasant and a nice way to begin the class, something I had not done with my Iyengar teacher in Austin.

To make a long story short, the translation is widely and internationally accepted as correct, is well, to put it bluntly, wrong. I twisted my Sanskrit brain in many contortions this weekend thinking about the invocation and it just doesn't work. There is no way to translate it the way that all sites that I found on the website translate it. Further, I am not even sure that the Sanskrit is correct as I was not able to find the source text.

Does it matter? What if I produce a "correct" translation? Similar to the Christian tradition of translating the Greek parthenon as "Virgin," when it does not necessarily mean that, but...if it doesn't mean that. Or, does it matter if the wrong translation causes a great deal of good?

So, whereas I had originally planned to publish my "correct" translation here of the invocation, I am still puzzling through this hermeneutic tangle that I am caught up in. Suggestions are welcome...

Waking The Dream

I am sitting in one of my favorite cafes on the Dageraadsplaats in Zurenborg, Antwerp in Belgium. As, if in a dream.

Life goes on outside, kids are playing on the playground among the golden brown and ruddy, damp leaves that have fallen from the trees. Twilight approaches and there is calm all around. People are enjoying life: eating, drinking and talking. This life has gone on all the while that I was in India and will continue on after when I have died one day. Life goes on.

Life also goes on in India right now. The streets of Madurai are most likely anything but calm, filled with honking and bells of varous degrees, and music and song. People are going to the Meenakshi Temple, doing Pooja, wafting incense and preparing for bed with their final prayers of the evening.

Life goes on in America right now as well. The Sunday morning is just beginning, people going to Church or lazing around the house, getting ready for NFL on the television, hoping that today’s games are more exciting than the disappointing 9-6 victory of #1 LSU over  #2 Alabama, deflating any expectations of a game of the century scenario.

Each one of these lives I have been an integral part of, yet often each one of them seems to be as vague and fleeting as a passing dream that lingers in the backstreets of my mind, memories stretched across the corridors like laundry in Naples. Feeling at times like Descartes, wondering if indeed an evil demon merely whispers into my ear and causes the illusion of the world around me, the intangibility of these various worlds is unsettlingly tangible.

Less than 100 hours ago, I, Robert Fulton, was in India, yet at the moment, I am sitting in Antwerp, Belgium, recalling the memory of that, but in all honesty, am skeptical myself that it really happened at moments. Such are the tricks our mind and memory can play with us, playful at times, mercilessly mocking at others.

My entire life at times feels as if it were but a dream, full of the sound and the fury, signifying no-thing...and yet...

Shankara’s Aparokshãnubhuti, or Self-Realization, is a lesser-known text of his Advaita Vedanta writings that I picked up at Pilgrim’s Bookstore in Varanasi. I found the following passages rather poignant to the experience of these feelings.

Though this world is experienced, and suffice in its purpose, exists

Like a dream, of the non-existent, contradicting itself at every moment.

The dream is unreal upon waking, and waking eludes the dream.

Both, however, in deepest sleep are absent, likewise elusive.

Thus are all three states unreal as they are products of quality;

Yet the reality which binds them is beyond Quality, eternal and Consciousness itself.

Sanskrit Street

While visiting Sarnath, the original place of where the Buddha began teaching, there are a series of temples from various Buddhist sects and denominations and permutations, including a Jain one.

Though not Buddhist, the Jains are often compared to them, or wholesale lumped together with them as they share the most affinities of any of the religions on the surface. The Jains are a breed apart and are on the fringe of the Indian-based religions, though quite prominent in some sectors of society.

The Jains have a principal mantra of “Ahimsa parama Dharmah,” which means, “Non-violence is the supreme Duty.” A true Jain does not have much time left if he or she really lived up to the extremes of the religion for they believe that even breathing, eating, and drinking endangers other living creatures. But, for the most part, this is taken theoretically. However, it is a good mantra to have.

The Jains also stress something akin to the Buddhist doctrine of life. Your life is your responsibility, not God’s and not someone else’s. There is neither room for blame, nor praise, but rather action and consequence.

Living on the edge of religion, the Jains are not evangelical, nor do they have a large base, it is a choice, and the choice is yours. And, only a Soul that has vanquished its own demons can be considered liberated. Nobody can save your Soul, but by your own effort. 

When I Was King

The Upanishads, or the most well-known and circulated exegesis of the Vedic tradition, are the more philosophical answer to the religious-based Vedas. This was not only a philosophical movement, but it signaled a significant power shift in ancient Indian society.

Formerly, the ruling class, or caste was the Brahmin, or priestly caste. These were chiefly men from the Sanskrit-speaking Aryans who had descended upon the sub-continent from most likely the Russian Steppes, or former Persian empire in about the year 1500 BCE. In order to distinguish these taller, fairer skinned conquerors, the caste system, based upon varna, or color, was installed. Though this later becomes associated with civil status and occupation, originally the caste system was a way to discriminate between the conquering and the conquered.

For quite some time the Brahmins reigned supreme, espousing the holy scriptures as the Truth, but this was not to last. Within the second caste, the Kshatriya, there began to be murmurs of discontent. The Kshatriya class was the princely and warrior caste and the Upanishads belong primarily to their canon fodder of thought. Within this tradition, The Bhagavad Gita, whose hero is the princely warrior, Arjuna, is considered to be a discreet Upanishad within the larger epic, the Mahabharata.

Upanishad, or Upa-ni-shad, literally means to “approach and sit before.” These were teachings in which the student would approach the guru and sit before him, engaging intellectual debate, seeking clarification in the often vague and contradictory scriptures. These became the dialectic of the Kshatriya who eventually did wrestle the power from the Brahmins, and amongst whom Siddhartha Gautama, or, the Buddha , was counted. His questioning of the scriptures of old was quite in line with the Upanishadic tradition of the dialectic, quite like that of Socrates in his native Athens.

The Mandukya Upanishad chiefly deals with the breakdown of the sacred syllable of OM, which is famously used in yoga classes around the world as a mantra to be used for meditation.

However, the “true” nature of OM, when examined, is protracted to four movements, A, U, M, and Silence. When chanting the OM, it should begin from deep in the chest cavity, reaching back to the spine at the back of the throat with a bass “A” which then gradually moves up the esophagus as the “U” transiting towards the tongue with the “M” as it moves to the lips and finally clenched teeth and the nasal drone exiting from the nostrils trailing off into Slience, to be repeated again from the core of the abdomen.

In Upanishadic tradition, these tesseract of sound (and absence of sound), mimics the four stages of sleep, ranging from light, disturbed sleep of the “A” to a superbly profound, dreamless sleep of the silence, signaling the dissolution of the Self into the Atman, or Universal Soul. Before that, the Self enters the dream stage in which all things are possible. In the dream state, a pauper becomes king, a murderer a saint, and all barriers of Time and Space are broken. It is the great equalizer for it is the verisimilitude of Death, the true great equalizer.

In Advaita Vedanta, the concept then of the dreaming stage of sleep is likened to the quest for liberating the mind of discrimination between the Self and Other, between opposites, and any discretions at all. It is the moment before enlightenment in which the thinking and intellectualism can serve one no longer, it is the space between the calculus that cannot be measured, that illusive cantor dust, yet only transcended by the release of the ignorance of the “educated” mind, which deludes us with divisions, rather than seeking correspondences.

Shankara writes of this transitional phenomenon:

That which transcends caste and creed, family and heritage,

Devoid of name and form, praise and blame;

Transcending Time and Space and bass matter:

That Brahman, “Thou Art That.”

Contemplate this in your mind.

Words, Words, Words

Having visited the Theosophical Society's grounds  in Adyar, Chennai this weekend, I was moved to reflect upon  Krishnamurti's reluctancy with regards to “established religion.” What I believe that is often most misunderstood about his decision to leave any organization behind is that he was not saying that they were wrong in the message, but wrong in saying that Truth can be communicated by scripture alone. I am curious how many in the quest for spiritual fulfillment have indeed been fulfilled by words alone.

Can mere words bring us to a state of spiritual liberation, or is there rather a divine spark, much like Plato said is the only true transference of knowledge from a master to a student?

The paradox, of course, is that such ideas are inevitably written down, and some become the so-called “gospel truth.” Cecil, whom I met this past week, and who is a believing Christian, said that he “hated all religions” but is a follower of Christ. Paraphrasing St. Francis, he said he believes in “preaching the Gospels, but also using words every now and then” to communicate his belief. I found this to be an intriguing take on Christianity as Cecil is very well versed in many religions as was apparent in our two and a half hour conversation coming back to Madurai from Tirunelveli last week.

Krishnamurti, like others before him, was against the idea of “followers” for his words, but rather exhorted one to search for him or herself if something was Truth and not to take it for granted upon the pronouncement of an expert. And, like many such requests, there have been Krishnamurti Institutions set up to do just the opposite of what he asked.

In a similar vein, Shankara’s treatise on Advaita Vedanta, the Vivekashudamani ultimately declares that the path to liberation is not via the Vedas, but through the individual’s personal reconciliation and recognition of his or her communion with the Universal Soul, or Atman.

Reminiscent of the “Nameless Name” of Taoist thought, Shankara dismisses the Vedas and other scriptures as the path to enlightenment, though, yet again, he does so in words, words that have themselves become the scriptures for Advaita Vedanta. And, the vicious paradox continues...

Like a shower of mere sound, vulgar words, adeptness in reciting the scriptures and such knowledge is good merely for the enjoyment of scholars, but is not for liberation.

The study of the scriptures is useless so long as the ultimate Truth is unknown, and likewise as useless when the ultimate Truth is known.

Hold Your Horses

In addition to the concepts of self-discipline linked to the five aspects of Yama in the Astangayoga philosophy of Patañjali, there are likewise five precepts of Niyama, which further prepare the sadhaka, or aspiring student for the path of Yoga. The pairing of Yama and Niyama is the dual aspect of restraint and action. This involves the development of discernment between what one should not do and what one ought to do in order to attain a level of physical, mental, and spiritual equilibrium that is necessary to obtain so that one may proceed with your practice with clarity of body and mind.

In my life, I have always strove for a symbiotic relationship between my mind and body, and when one is out of synch the other seems to also follow suit, and conversely, when one is in good condition, the other is likely to be so as well. Ultimately, I have come to realize that it is a quasi-chicken and the egg koan that is not likely to be resolved with mere cogitation, so I have likewise stopped asking that question as such as to which drives the other, and instead have been focusing on bringing the two into balance.

Yoga is the past participle, verbal noun of the Sanskrit verb YUJ, which means to join, or, like the English that comes from it, to yoke as in a pair of oxen, or perhaps horses. In the Phaedrus of Plato, there is a well-known allegory of the soul as a charioteer with a team of yoked horses, one light, one dark, which pull in opposite directions, causing the chariot to careen off course if the charioteer cannot bring them into harmony. The lightness of the soul is countered by the weight of the body, the former seeking non-material sustenance, the latter material. Though made up of three apparently discreet entities, when working in harmony, they become one.

Likewise, when the aspirant of Yoga has been able to bring the forces of the mind in harmony with the body’s physical needs, the resulting process then is the successful action of yoking them together to work as one. Yama and Niyama are the preparatory measures that need to be taken in order to bring this harmony into focus.

Speaking from experience, I know how crucial it is to keep the body and mind in balance, and for me, Yoga has been an excellent avenue for me to pursue this equanimity and poise to bring back that balance at times when I have otherwise lost it. Though I have neglected to act upon this at times in my life, it has once again become an integral part of living my life in balance. However, it has also been a continuous struggle and ongoing effort to keep the allegorical horses in check. We are constantly being met with the obstacles of uncertainty and inertia and the resulting lethargy thus can be our own worst enemy. As such, the two sides of yama and niyama are required for us to be vigilant against complacency, both about ourselves and how we further operate in society as a conscientious, considerate, and compassionate participant.

shauca-santosha-tapah-svãdhyãya-Ishvarapranidhãnãni niyamãh

vitarkabãdhane pratipakshabhãvanam

Cleanliness (shauca), contentment (santosha), austerity in praxis (tapah), self-analysis (svãdhyãya), and surrender to divinity are the active precepts of discipline (niyamãh).

Obstacles of uncertainty are countered by the creative process (by the union of yama and niyama).

Control

Since I have been in Madurai, I am following a private Yoga course with a woman named Rajeshwara. She has two children who both practice Yoga and who have gone to Yoga clinics, festivals, and competitions throughout India, both of whom she “home schooled” in Yoga. Although I had practiced and taught Iyengar* Yoga for many years while living in Austin, unfortunately again many years have been intervened and I am for all intents and purposes, a beginner again. There is a seminal book on Zen called Beginner’s Mind, Zen Mind, which deals with the practice of Zazen, or intense meditation, hence the name, Zen. However, Zen ultimately comes (via the intermediate of Chinese as T’chan) from the Sanskrit word, dhyãna, which means “profound meditation.” No matter the level that we are at, we can always learn to be beginners again.

Dhyãna is the highly advanced seventh stage of the eight “limbs” of Astangayoga, which literally means eight-limbed yoga, and was codified by Patañjali, who also wrote definitive works on grammar and Ayurveda, the ancient Indian science of well-being. The Astangayoga of Patañjali notably begins with "atha,” which means “now,” or “at this point” or “then.” As such, one must be prepped before jumping into Yoga according to Patañjali. Before that, one needs to be able to communicate clearly and effectively in society with right speech and language, while also being of sound mind and body via the tenets of Ayurveda. In other words, yoga is not merely an exercise, but rather a fully developed philosophical and physiological system that one incorporates into all aspects of life.

Rajeshwara weaves in the philosophical aspects of Patañjali with the physiology of the Asanas, or poses, themselves. As such, we are going through the yoga sutras as a mixture of theory and praxis. Today, she was talking about the concepts of the first two limbs, Yama and Niyama, which can be translated as the private and public ethical observations necessary for the acarya, or student, to begin his or her practice of Yoga. These are what Patañjali sets down as the universal and ethical injunctions that prepare one for the practice of yoga. Before one begins along the path of Yoga, Patanjali lists the necessary Yamas to be fulfilled.

ahimsã-satya-asteyabrahmacarya-aparigrahãh yamãh

jãtideshakãlasmaya-anavacchinnãh sãrvabhaumãh mahãvratam II.30-31

Non-violence (ahimsã), authenticity (satya), non-stealing (asteya), disciple of austerity (brahmacarya) and non-attachment to material goods (aparigrahãh) are the codes of personal conduct.

Such are the august, universal vows, unconditional of nationality, Time, or birthright.

*B.K.S. Iyengar, globally recognized as one of the greatest living yogis, also has a translation and commentary on the Yoga Sutras by Patañjali, which is an excellent introduction to and explication of the Astangayoga philosophy.

The Sins of the Father

The Sins of the Fathers

One of the philosophical systems that I have a great interest in is that of Advaita Vedanta, which literally means the non-duality end of the Vedas. In other words, similar to Jesus saying that he did not come to break the laws, but rather to complete them, Advaita Vedanta is the completion or capstone of that which the Vedic Scriptures began.

I have been writing about the sensory overload that I have experienced while here in India, and specifically in Madurai. One of the challenges that an adept must master is the control over the sensory impressions that we are bombarded with in life. In other words, they are merely that--impressions, and are mere illusory and elusive vicissitudes that are ephemeral manifestations of the crude world. However, the world of the Spirit, that of the Universal Atman, is beyond this physically-limited world of Time and Space.

Advaita Vedanta is also a personal quest. It is not a traditional religion in the sense that it is not associated directly with a specific denomination, nor creed. The Universal Atman is a transcendence of the divisions and discrepancies. This is not saying at all that all religions are One, but, that like the attributed Ancient Greek saying of Parmenides, hen to pan, or All is One.

But, we still must undergo this process “alone,” meaning it requires the individual Atman to become aware of its own connection to the Universal, but this cannot be taught, only guided.

As one of the guidelines that Shri Shankaracarya, one of the chief commentators of Advaita, provides is the following.

Rinamocanakartãrah pituh santi sutãdayah

bandhamocanakartã tu svasmãdanyo na kashcana

mastakanyastabhãrãderduhkhamanyairvivãryate

kshudhãdikrtaduhkham tu vinã svena na kenacit

Though there are his sons and others to pay his debts, a father has no one but himself to free him of his bondage.

The distress that is caused by a heavy load upon one’s head may be alleviated by others, but no other person can relieve the consternation born of hunger and the like, but one’s own self.

Dear Hitler, my friend

During my varied trip around the streets and back alleys of Mumbai today, one of the highlights on my "grand tour" of the city was Gandhi's Mumbai home, which now houses a modest museum to the father of modern India.

The more that I am learning about Gandhi, and the longer (only two days so far) that I am in India, especially Mumbai, the more I am simply in awe of the man. In the hallways of the home are various pictures of Gandhi with some of India's and the world's most powerful people of the time and he is always there in his khadi loincloth and wrap, smiling serenely while enormous world events were unfolding. However, this did not mean that Gandhi was not one to act, and boldly at that.

In one of the main rooms, there was a display board with two letters, one to President Roosevelt, and the other to Adolf Hitler, the latter is dated July 23, 1939, and is addressed to "Dear friend,".

Now, Gandhi was anything but chums with Der Führer, but he did not let his personal agenda stand in the way of his message, and one of Gandhi's quotes highlighted at the museum (and on t-shirts outside of the caves of Elephanta) was "My life is my message."

In the letter, Gandhi appeals to Hitler's conscience by saying that "[i]t is quite clear that you are today the one person in the world who can prevent a war which may reduce humanity to the savage state. Must you pay that price for an object however worthy it may appear to you to be?"

Less than six weeks later, Germany invades Poland, determining the course of humanity's reduction to savagery for quite some time.

Gandhi signed the letter, "I remain, Your sincere friend"

If it were not Gandhi, you would think that was the work of a madman. However, knowing that Gandhi drew his inspiration from the Gita, it is not hard to comprehend.

In my hotel room, there is a copy of the Bhagavad Gita, so I opened it to the following verses, which I found appropriate for Gandhi's letter.

When the lessons of history are forgotten, or ignored..

dhyãyato vishayãn pumsah

sangas teshupajãyate

sangãt sañjãyate kãmah

kãmãt krodho 'bhijãyate

krodhãd bhavati sammohah

sammohãt smrti-vibhramah

smrit-bhramshãd buddhi-nãsho

buddhi-nãshãt pranashyati

When focused intently upon sensory objects,

An attachment to them grows in one, and

From such attachment develops lustful greed, and

From such lust, anger comes about.

From anger, utter delusion takes hold, and

From delusion, the bewilderment of the memory.

When memory is thoroughly distorted, intelligence is lost, and

When intelligence is lost, one drowns in the material.

To Be, or Not to Be, or Neither

The Vedas are full of puzzles, riddles, chants, spells, incantations, paeans, stories, myths and legends, with no apparent cohesion whatsoever. They are frustrating at best for the person who is seeking clarity in logic. Perhaps the most famous, or infamous examples is the so-called "Hymn to Creation" which sums up the nebulous nature of the Universe's secrets rather (un)clearly. Hope you enjoy this new translation of mine.

Namaste

nāsadāsīn no sadāsīt tadānīṃ nāsīd rajo no vyomāparo yat |

kimāvarīvaḥ kuha kasya śarmannambhaḥ kimāsīd ghahanaṃ ghabhīram ||

na mṛtyurāsīdamṛtaṃ na tarhi na rātryā ahna āsītpraketaḥ |

ānīdavātaṃ svadhayā tadekaṃ tasmāddhānyan na paraḥ kiṃ canāsa ||

tama āsīt tamasā ghūḷamaghre.apraketaṃ salilaṃ sarvamāidam |

tuchyenābhvapihitaṃ yadāsīt tapasastanmahinājāyataikam ||

kāmastadaghre samavartatādhi manaso retaḥ prathamaṃ yadāsīt |

sato bandhumasati niravindan hṛdi pratīṣyākavayo manīṣā ||

tiraścīno vitato raśmireṣāmadhaḥ svidāsī.a.a.at |

retodhāāsan mahimāna āsan svadhā avastāt prayatiḥ parastāt ||

ko addhā veda ka iha pra vocat kuta ājātā kuta iyaṃvisṛṣṭiḥ |

arvāgh devā asya visarjanenāthā ko veda yataābabhūva ||

iyaṃ visṛṣṭiryata ābabhūva yadi vā dadhe yadi vā na |

yo asyādhyakṣaḥ parame vyoman so aṅgha veda yadi vā naveda ||

Neither was there be-ing, nor non be-ing, no heaven, nor space beyond/

What shrouded it? and Where? What provided refuge? Was there water, water without depth?//

Neither was there Death, nor Immortality. No sign, no division between night and day./

That One Be-ing, without breath, breathed by its own, and distinct from this, was no-thing at all//

There was Darkness, which concealed Everything as undivided Chaos./

All that there was, was void and without form, and through the thermal power, the One was born.//

Desire came next. Desire, the primordial seed and germ of the Spirit./

Thoughtful Sages, led by their heart, found the kindred spirit of the be-ing with the non-being.//

Their discerning line extended across; though What was above it then, and What below?/

There were begetters, there were great forces, action here and energy further on//

Who truly knows and who here can proclaim it, from whence it was born and from whence comes the creation?/

The Gods are younger than this world's creation. Who, then, knows from whence it first came to Be?//

That One, the first origin of this creation, perhaps he formed it all, perhaps not,/

Whose eye governs this world in the highest heaven, verily he knows, or, perhaps he knows not.//

Stairway to Heaven

The nature of Hinduism is elusive at best. It is perhaps the most inclusive religious system in the history of human beings in that it incorporates aspects of every other religious system that it comes into contact with. This is not to say that it says that all religions are "the same," a gross oversimplification and common misconception when "white guys like me" try to approach Hinduism and/or any other religious branch of thought from India.

At some point, somewhat exasperated by this inclusive nature, the urban legend goes that the British Raj needed to have a "bible" of sorts, something to pin down the protean religion. The Bhagavad Gita was apparently selected.

Bhagavad Gita itself literally means, "The song of the Lord/Divine One," but in itself is not a discreet text, despite being treated as such, but is rather merely a very small portion of the much, much larger Mahabharata, which means "the Great Epic/Event/Story." However, the Gita (as it is usually called and is the past passive participle of the verb "gai" <<to sing>>) has served its purpose and has come down through the recent centuries earmarked as the "Hindu Bible."

It was a source of inspiration for Gandhi, who made his own Gujarati translation and purportedly read it each day, as well as being the source of poetic inspiration for many writers, Western and Eastern, Northern and Southern, over the years.

The story is in media res of the great battle between the related families, the Pandavas and the Kauruvas.

Arjuna, a warrior prince of the Pandavas, has viewed the battlefield of Kurukshetra and is disheartened and lays down his bow and arrow dejectedly, lamenting to his charioteer, who is none other than the Lord Krishna, that he cannot fight his own flesh and blood, merely for honor.

After some deliberation, Arjuna refuses to fight, thus introducing the Gita's dilemma and prompting the response of Krishna, which comprises the remaining chapters of the Gita.

Weighing the choice between being responsible for killing one of his cousins or friends or being slain unarmed by one of them, Arjuna believes that he prefers the latter. The despondent words of Arjuna set up one of the most influential discourses on the need for us to act in the face of the greatest dilemmas that we face in life, exposing the illusive duality of the Desires of the Self and the Will of the Universe.

Aho bata mahat papam

kartum vyavasita vayam

yad rajyasukhalobhena

hantum svajanam udyatah

yadi mam apratikaram

ashastram shastrapanayah

dhartarashtra rane hanyus

tan me ksematram bharet

Alas, woe is me, 

We are fated to execute such great evil

Standing prepared to kill our own kin

For the greed of royal pleasures.

Should the armed Sons of Dhritarashtra

Strike me down in battle,

Unarmed and unresisting,

Such would be the greater serenity for me.

Instant Karma Police

On Sanskrit Street, in addition to passages and excerpts, I will be introducing some key concepts from Sanskrit that have come into contemporary life, sometimes incorrectly, as is the case with the word, "karma." For those who know me, this is perhaps one of my biggest "language pet peeves."

The substantive noun, karma, comes from the root Kri (the ri is a retroflexive "r"), which means <<to do>> or <<to make>>. As such, karma means <<the thing done/made>>. Period.

There is no further metaphysical quality to it. When one says that a bad thing happened because "I must have bad karma," actually is a nonsensical utterance, for a few reasons. For one, karma is not immediate justice meted out on a daily basis, but it is merely daily action. Secondly, you cannot HAVE good or bad karma, but you can do something that is considered to be good or bad. Karma is not something that you have, but rather it is that thing that you do.

Within Sanskrit-based philosophy and religion then, karma is used to designate the combined actions that one has done in life, during the entirety of one's lifetime, not just as a one-off happening. In other words, if you do one thing "bad," but one hundred things "good," it is a cumulative amount. You don't get stuck in the slow line at the grocery store because you cut someone off in your car on the way to the store.

On the level of a lifetime, then, it is a balance sheet of good deeds, or lack thereof. Specifically, karma then relates to one lifetime in succession to another one, and that balance sheet is also cumulative.

In the modern world, we like instant results, instant gratification, and the concept for that, instant karma, is likewise appealing to such a society. However, it is not so easy as to help a little old lady across the street in the morning to win the lottery that same evening, for example.

Karma is active participation in your life, throughout your entire life, and similar to the Ancient Greek notion of not saying whether you are "happy" right now or not, for that is not the sum total of your life and is thus premature or ephemeral, but rather, was your life a life lived of good deeds, resulting in a balance sheet of good karma? Karma, itself, however, is neither intrinsically good or evil/bad, but merely is what is done.

I Am the Salt

The Chandogya Upanishad is perhaps one of the more well-known Upanishadic texts that has made its way into the western traditions of philosophy as well.

Upa-ni-shad, in Sanskrit literally means, to "be seated down in front" of the teacher. It was a face to face, catechism of sorts, in which the teacher, the acharya would face the pupil, the shishya, and they would engage in a dialectic, not unlike the Socratic Method of teaching.

The Upanishadic tradition was a significant movement from the Vedic sacrifice/oblation-based religion in that the kashatriyas, or the warrior/princely class were the main proponents. The Upanishads were an exegesis upon the Vedas, but began to move away from the priest caste of the Brahmins as the spiritual guides towards what would ultimately become Advaita Vedanta, or the non-dualism "end" of the Vedas, removing distinctions in a synthetic process. Before that came the Upanishads as a process of analysis.

The Bhagavad Gita is considered to be a product of this transformation by many, especially since the protagonist is Arjuna, a warrior-prince who engages in a lengthy dialogue with the godhead Krishna, his charioteer.

In the Chandogya, the shishya is Svetaketu, and the acharya is his father who is teaching him about the all-important phrase, "Tat Tvam Asi," which is usually translated as "that thou art" or "thou art that," with the emphasis being on whether "asi" or "art" is the subject or the predicate. That is another philosophical debate for a later time.

At one point, the father asks his son to place salt in water.

The salt "disappears." And, the father asks, "where is the salt?"

You can still taste the salt, but it is not "there."

Svetaketu is instructed to leave the bowl of water, which after Time, evaporates, and behold there is the salt.

The father makes the analogy that the salt was there all along, obviously, just as the Universal Atman, or Soul, has always been with the Individual Atman. It was false perception that there was ever a sundering.

To this, the father says, "Tat Tvam Asi."

I Am the Salt.

Like a Ship upon the Waters

Without going into too much detail, I have a contraption installed in my apartment that allows me to hang upside down on a bar, from the waist. If you have done Iyengar Yoga, you will know what I mean. If not, just bear with me.

The other day, there I was, hanging upside down like a bat in a belfry, and my young daughter comes into the room, and as kids do, bent over, put her head down on the yoga mat and looked at me through her legs and we had a "yoga-bonding" moment. As also the case with Iyengar Yoga, we use "props" such as wooden blocks, cloth belts, etc. to help get into the asanas, or postures more correctly.

On my wooden block, I have a verse from the Bhagavad Gita written in felt marker in Devanagari, the "Indian" script, so to be course about it.

My daughter asked me, "Papa, what do all these funny squiggles mean?"

I told her it was Sanskrit,  read it and then translated it for her.

Transliterated, it is:

indriyãnãm hi caratãm

yan mano 'nuvidhiyate

tadasya harati prajñãm

vãyur nãvam ivãmbhasi (2/67)

meaning:

When the mind is lead by the wandering senses,
Then one's understanding is borne away, as a ship blown about upon the waters.

"Ahhh," she said, "Sanskrit, I see, that sounds funny," as she giggled and rolled around on the yoga mat, during a rather good version of an adhomukhashvasana.

Cessation of the Mind

atha yogãnushãsanam /1/

yogashcittavrttinirodah /2/

Now begins the exposition on Yoga /1/

Yoga is the cessation of the fluctuations of the Mind /2/

The first word "atha" should give one pause. Atha denotes a continuation, not an ex nihilo beginning. In other words, one does not jump into Yoga as he or she must be ready for it, mentally and physically. It is not merely something to pick up on a Sunday afternoon because you have nothing better to do, or you want to loose weight, or be seen carrying around a rolled-up yoga mat under your oxter (fancy Joyce word for armpit).  Yoga is not a cure, it is a continued practice, a philosophy, a journey of a spiritual, physical, and mental discipline. Only after such preparation can Yoga begin to be a part of one's life.