The Eyes Have It (YS 1.3-4)

To be seen, or not to be seen, that is the question...

One of the more "mysterious" aspects of the Yoga Sutras appears for the first time in 1.3, namely with the word drashtuh. This is the genitive form of the noun coming from the verb <<drsh>> or, to see. This verbal root is not unfamiliar in many yoga shalas as it comes into daily practice with the word drishti. Drishti, is the past passive participle of the verb and it literally means "the thing that is seen." In Yoga practice, we use this word to denote a fixed point on which to turn our gaze in order to maintain focus and balance. Usually not a good idea to choose the person wobbling in front of you in Utthita Hasta Padangusthasana (that would be me...one of my less-good asanas to be fair), but rather somewhere such as a spot on the floor or the juncture between the wall and the ceiling. However, in the Sutras, this enigmatic "seer" pops up here and there, without any real explanation as to what or who it is.

This drishti, however, is not so cryptic and simply becomes our meditative aide while holding a pose, more often than not a balance posture. As such, if we lose our focus, we lose our balance, much as in life. Our dristhi gives us purpose, direction and stability. And, when the mind wanders and wonders, the vritti's take over, and we can fall. Life and Yoga are full of distractions and obstacles, and it is a constant struggle of vigilance to maintain our dristhi.

Yoga Sutra (YS) 1.3 reads:

tadã drashtuh svarupe'vasthãnam (YS 1.3)

or,

At this time, [Yogah] abides in the true nature (svarupe) of the seer.

It is not clear if Yoga is meant here, so I have left it in a parenthetical way. Most translations take the seer to be the subject, but grammatically that is impossible. It is literally "in the true nature of the seer". No ambiguity in the Sanskrit.

However, it would be possible to also translate as:

At this time, the abiding of the seer is in its true form/nature.

The "at this time" comes from the moment when Yoga becomes the "nirodhah" of the "vritti's" as we have already seen in YS 1.2, or the goal of tempering the noise created in or by the mind.

By extension, it is tempting to then take the "seer" to be not necessarily the two eyes with which we see the world, but rather the metaphysical third eye, the mind's eye as the seer of true sight. Why? Mainly because our eyes can deceive us. Eye witness accounts are seldom correct as the mind plays tricks on us by filling in the blanks or creating the illusion of things we want to see or the delusion of removing things we do not want to see. As we shall see later, attraction and aversion are quite powerful distractions and obstacles for our minds to see clearly. Moreover, this would completely discount the perceptions of a blind person, and when one closes his or her eyes in meditation, the ocular orbs no longer serve a purpose.

So, when we can calm the machinations and fluctuations of the busy mind, the mind's eye can take over and at that moment, we can function in our "true nature" and seek out our svadharma, which is ultimately where we are going with Yoga. But, all in good time. This is the end, we have to go back to the beginning, with patience, leading us to YS 1.4

vrittisãrupyamitaratra (YS 1.4)

or

However, at other times, (there is) the appearance of behavior/conditioning.

Huh?

Again, as the sutra style leaves out certain words, such as verbs, and case endings, we have to make some guesses here and there.

When Yoga is functioning on all levels, the mind's eye can see clearly and resides within its true nature, but at other times (namely, most of the time), the mind's eye is clouded by our behavior and conditioning, in other words, by our habits borne out of ignorance, or avidyã. What is important to note here is that avidyã, or ignorance, or even a-gnosis, does not mean stupidity, but rather a lack of knowledge. Perhaps we have not seen properly with the mind's eye, or, we have forgotten. Either way, at that moment, the movements of the mind, the vritti's are in control, and we are no longer in a state of our "true nature". This is not so surprising as it would be impossible to maintain the state of samãdhi at all times as we would not be able to function in the world.

What we can strive for, at least, is to use the knowledge that we do gain in our better moments to try and help us in our, shall we say, not-so-good moments. Usually easier said than done as when we are weak in our minds, then emotions and distractions of the so-called "monkey mind" can wreak havoc on us and cause us to do stupid things, even we we should and do "know better".

Humanity 101.

Ridding ourselves, or tempering our deep-seated behaviors, conditionings and habits is a monumental task, and it takes time (perhaps a lifetime), and it takes patience, lots of it, and the path will involve failures and disappointments. Yet, the only true failure is giving up the forward progress through the dark or unfamiliar woods of the Soul's life experiences. To fail and to fall is part of life, as is suffering, but to close the Mind's Eye to the world and to the challenge of getting back up and trying again, is the only true failure.

The Anatomy of a Sutra (YS 1.2)

The Yoga Sutras of Patañjali present many challenges as anyone who has ever attempted to read them can attest. However, if you also happen to be into reading the original Sanskrit, you will see that understanding the Sutras is merely the tip of the linguistic and semantic iceberg.

Sanskrit itself is already a highly challenging language given its vast range of verb tenses and moods, conjugations and declensions, and something most troublesome when translating the genre of sutras, the grammar often falls away, leaving larges swatches of ambiguity as to how to actually read the text at a basic level.

The form known as "sutras" is based upon the concept of terseness, or, saying as much as possible in as few words as possible. Furthermore, Sanskrit's propensity for compounds allows for one to cut off the vital suffixes which normally would give us clues as to how the words works in the verse, thereby excising the very syntax necessary to understand the text.

Let's take a look at the most well-known sutra, that being 1.2, the definition of Yoga according to Patañjali. The standard translation for YS 1.2 is something along the lines of: "Yoga is the cessation of the fluctuations of the mind stuff". Right...and what does that actually mean? Let's take a look at the original, and then dissect it a bit to tease out some translations of our own.

Yogash'cittavrittinirodhah: 

That is how the sutra would look in Roman script. In the Devanagari, it would also look like one single word. As such, the first challenge in taking apart a sutra is actually to figure out where one word begins and ends, and then start to re-assemble the pieces into a coherent sentence. The problem is that this can often lead to a Frankenstein-like sentence in the target language that makes little or no sense. Or, the translator, hoping that none of his or her readers actually knows Sanskrit (and often neither does the translator...) and the result looks nothing like the original.

So, how do we begin?

Here is a typical notecard that I use when translating:

On the top, you can see the sutra in Devanagari in a single "word" with the pieces of the puzzle split up below.

When we do dissect the sutra, we end up with the following four words: Yogah   citta-  -vritti-  -nirodhah

Then, I begin to define the pieces.

Yogah:  yoking/union/joining/connection

Citta:    attention/reason/intellect/thinking/mind/memory/consciousness

Vrittti:   condition/conduct/behavior/character/flux/fluctuations

Nirodhah: temperance/restraint/cessation/control

For the linguistically inclined, you will immediately notice something is missing, a verb. In Sanskrit, the verb <<as>> or "to be" does not have to appear, and if no verb is there, then that is usually the default, thus we supply "is" for our verb.

Looking at the endings of the words, we can see that two are in the nominative, Yogah and Nirodhah. In mathematics, we have x=y, and that should be commutative, meaning: x=y  =  y=x. In other words, it does not matter if the x is on the right or the left. In language, however, x=y does not necessarily mean y=x. Let's see how.

Yogah is Nirodhah   or   Nirodhah is Yogah. Not quite the same. One defines Yogah, the other Nirodhah. Since it is the Yoga Sutras, we probably are safe taking Yogah as the subject to be defined. So, we have Yoga (is) temperance/restraint/cessation/control. We have a start. But, now things can get interesting.

Because Citta and Vritti are in the compound form, they do not have declined endings, meaning, we don't know how they really function on a grammatical/syntactical level. Sanskrit has seven forms of a noun: vocative, nominative, accusative, instrumental, genitive, dative, and locative. By comparison, German has four, English one, and Finnish 15... So, it could be harder, but could be easier.

Taking Citta, or attention/reason/intellect/thinking/mind/memory, we have to make a choice. If we choose the genitive, it is "of the mind", but locative would be "in the mind" and instrumental would be "by the mind", just to name a few.

So, we then take vritti-,  or condition/conduct/behavior/character/flux, and that again could be a variety of cases, such as "by conduct" or "of the flux/fluctuations" or "from the condition"... you can see how this becomes exponentially exhaustive.

As a translator and reader then, we have to make choices. Sometimes there are clues in various commentaries about the syntax, but those are not always reliable. There is a strong theory that Patañjali also wrote the commentary attributed to the nebulous "Vyasa", which could shed quite a bit of light on the Sutras, but that is not an absolute certainty.

Suturing the pieces back together then, with the possible definitions, along with the probable cases of the nouns, we get something like this:

And, we can begin to approximate a translation or two, or three that at least makes some sense. My Golden Rule of Translation is: If it makes sense in the original, then it needs to make sense in the target language...but, we also need context to better understand.

And, a few options emerge:

Yoga (is) the temperance of the consciousness within the mind.

Yoga (is) the control of the mind's behaviors.

Yoga (is) the restraint of the fluctuations by the intellect.

or,

Yoga is the cessation of the fluctuations of the mind stuff....

And, so forth.

However, the final point to be made is that this is not meant to stand alone. We want our bumper sticker Sutras, but the truth is, 1.2 does not make sense until you continue reading to find out what exactly the vritti's are and why is nirodhah the "goal" of Yoga?

In other words, I am all for finding the one or two sutras which speak to someone, but again, with the nota bene that they are part of a larger whole, and do need some context to ultimately make sense.

How Soon is Now? (YS 1.1)

Discussing the Yoga Sutras this weekend and on previous occasions with the Antwerp Yoga Teacher Training group and then later with my dear friend (who has indirectly taught me more about the Sutras than all books/translations combined), we discussed the first word of the Yoga Sutras by Patañjali, that being "atha".

The Yoga Sutras begin thus:

atha yogãnushãsanam

Again, with the sutra style of writing, with sutra being the origin of our English medical term, suture, they are short, pithy phrases that are linked together like the threaded stitches of the surgeon's closure.

The word "atha" is important. Seemingly innocuous, we still must give pause on it. Unlike today, writing used to be an effort because space and materials were at a premium. Although the Sutras and most major Indian texts were originally oral, eventually they were written down, and as such, were an effort. One could not merely (for example, I just edited this as I saw a typo when posted...) type so prodigiously on a laptop as I am now, not worrying about mistakes because we can just press delete, and it is deleted. Spelling? No problem, spell check is there for us.

This was not always the case, in fact, when you sit down and scratch your head and really think about it, it is shockingly recent. Now we don't have worry about the resources needed to write. Now everything is instant, ephemeral.

However, when the Sutras were composed, every word counted, so we should count the first one, "atha".

Atha can mean a few things, namely: "now", "then", "at this time" or "next" among others. Most often in translations of the Sutras, the word "now" is chosen. Fair enough, but what does that really mean? Now...

The full translation of 1.1 could read:

Now for the official explication of Yoga.

or

At this point begins the treatise on Yoga

and the like, again, remembering that without specific grammar clues, we have some options.

Let's choose "now" then. Seems simple enough, but, as Morrissey asks, "How Soon is Now?" And, if it is now, what came before? And, that gives us the pause. What came before now?

There are a couple of interpretations about this word. One is that Patañjali of the Yoga Sutras is the same Patañjali who wrote about Sanskrit grammar and Ayurvedic studies. That theory (which is highly unlikely in truth) is that this would be the third piece in his triptych on mental and physical health, Yoga. As such, one would have had to master Sanskrit and Ayurveda before, and the "now" said person could begin the study of Yoga. Interesting theory, but again, highly unlikely they were composed by the same person. Yet, it is a good caveat. Before beginning the study of Yoga, some preparation may be in store.

The objection may arise, "But, Yoga is not academic, and there is no one way, it is what you make it." Yeah, well, okay. Yoga does have a wide berth of definitions and iterations these days, but if you are going to read the Yoga Sutras, some context does suit you well.

The Yoga talked about in the Sutras was primarily, if not exclusively about meditation and self-study. It is a a fascinating look into the psychological make-up of the human mind, millennia before the advent of neuroscience and psychoanalysis. It is not always easy going and they are extremely dense and do take time to "study". We are allergic to that word these days. We want our Sutras, and we want them now. And, so, most people skip to the bumper-sticker worthy 2.46 sthirasukhamãsanam (I'll deal with this one in another post...) and smugly say they are quoting the Yoga Sutras...not knowing the slightest about what this means and how it fits into the Sutras as a whole.

We skip what comes before "now" and then just take what we want now. I want it NOW says the petulant Veruca Salt, and we all know her fate in the Chocolate Factory.

So, how soon is now?

How much preparation should one take or not take before delving into the Sutras? What tools will you need?

Simply answered: Patience

When reading the Sutras, it is tempting to skip to what serves us well, but, remembering that they are Sutras, the key word, a la Dirk Gently is, "Everything is connected." And, so, we should not take the "atha" for granted.

Now is the time...are you ready for it?

The Dis-ease of Life (YS 2.16)

I am a teacher, that is my Dharma.

Today, I was teaching Patañjali's Yoga Sutras for the Antwerp Yoga Teacher Training program, a program that I was a graduate of a few years ago. I have read the Sutras over the years, with varying levels of success and failures, tending towards the latter as they just didn't make that much sense. It felt like an obligation more than anything else. If I were to be an Instructor of Yoga, much less one who also teaches the philosophical and literary texts of Yoga, then of course, I needed to read the Sutras, right?

Not so clear.

The Sutras present numerous obstacles for a reader, both experienced and novice. For starters, as they are written as "sutras", the grammar is by and large absent, which in Sanskrit can leave a great deal of room for interpretation and a variety of translations styles. However, many of the translations I have come across do not remotely stick to the Sanskrit, but rather devolve into modern-day lip service for Western Yoga.

The Sutras were indeed written a long time ago (in a galaxy...no, not going there) by a man in India who had the luxury to spend the days meditating. Ultimately, that is the gist of the Sutras, meditation over a long period of time and regularly can set you free (moksha). But, to read them as such would be a grave mistake.

As we discovered today, the Yoga Sutras could have been written yesterday. They are highly pertinent once you get past the archaic translations and the bugaboo of the word "philosophy". They are simply put, good advice on life and how to live it. I will be devoting many posts to the breakdown of the Sutras in the near future, but I want to pause on what I consider to be the most important Sutra of them all, namely II.16.

Heyam duhkham anãgatam.

Three simple words.

Three words that are at the root of the human condition. Three words, that when taken to heart can change one's life. However, it is a hard lesson to learn.

In short, the translation is:

Suffering (that has yet to manifest) ought to be averted.

or

The suffering that has not yet happened is to be avoided.

When reading the Sutras, one realizes this is the crux of the entire text. Suffering (duhkham) that is caused by ignorance (avidyã) is our life's dis-ease. Suffering can lead to disease as well as the dis-ease of wondering what our purpose, our Dharma, in life is. Why are we here? What are we supposed to be doing? 

The Sutras are merely a road map for that journey. We begin now (atha) in order to find out what our true Self is, and its power (citi-shaktih). From beginning to end, the Sutras give us tools to address this suffering and ultimately how we can mitigate it within our lives.

Sounds easy enough, but it is a tall order, and even with the best tool kit in town, we can still fall, we can falter, and we can fail. And, we get back up again, and give it another go, equipped with the one thing that can help diminish the ravages of avidyã, awareness.