Showing posts with label duhkham. Show all posts
Showing posts with label duhkham. Show all posts
Monday, September 17, 2018
Friday, August 24, 2018
Wednesday, May 23, 2018
What a Wonderful World It Would Be... (YogaSutras 2.30-34)
And, so it begins.
Having built up both a goal of liberation (moksha) from the suffering (duhkha) of life's challenges and our reactions to them, Patañjali then gets down to the nuts and bolts of his 8 limbs of Yoga, (which could be considered 7-steps + Samãdhi in one reading) and for the next 25+ sutras, things are pretty straight forward. The esoteric nature of Book 1 and the philosophical arguments of the beginning of Book 2 are quickly forgotten as we look into just what the 8 limbs (ashtanga) of Yoga are, and why should we care in the 21st century.
Let's begin then with identifying the first and second limbs, that of the Yamas and the Niyamas in sutras 2.30-33:
ahimsã-satya-asteya-brahmacarya-aparigrahãh yamãh 2.30
jãti-desha-kãla-samaya-anavicchannãh sãrva-bhaumã mahãvratam 2.31
shauca-santosha-tapah-svãdhyãya-ishvara-pranidhãnãni niyamãh 2.32
giving us:
The Yamas are: ahimsã (non-violence), satya (truth), asteya (non-stealing), brahmacarya (disciplined conduct) and aparigrahah (lack of avarice). 2.30
Unconditioned by one's birthright, location and time, they are universal, and known as the great vow. 2.31
The Ni-Yamas are: shauca (good hygiene/clean), santosha (contentment), tapah (discipline/austerity), svãdhyãya (self-study) and Ishvara-pranidhãna (reverence for a higher power). 2.32
Starting with the Yamas, then, we are off and running. Yamah and Ni-Yamah are often pitted against each other as being personal versus societal restraints and observances. As such, the pesky concept of morality comes into the picture, which is completely absent in the text. So, with respect to staying true to the words, I do not support that division, much less that there is an ethics to this. These are practical words of advice. Following the Golden Rule that Kant loved so much, if we do unto others as we would do unto ourselves, we get pretty close to the overall meaning of Yamah and Ni-Yamah as a complemental unit.
We will take the Yamas and Ni-Yamas one-by-one in a forthcoming post, so it is suffice to say that both 2.30 and 2.32 are merely lists.
However, ..., we cannot gloss over 2.31 so quickly.
Taken quite literally, 2.31 is the shot heard across India...Most texts, and especially "philosophical" and/or "religious" texts from India are highly male and caste orientated. Either they are expressly for male Brahmins (Vedas and so forth), or they are of second-highest caste, the Warrior caste (to which the Buddha belonged as well as Arjuna from the Bhagavad Gita). Yet, in 2.31, if we are to take Patañjali at face value, the Yamas are beyond gender, class and are timeless. Again, the Golden Rule or Kant springs to mind, or better yet, the age-old chestnut of sensus communis, or what we more or less know as: common sense. In other words, the Yamas, as we shall see, just make SENSE! It is not whether they are good or not, but to quote Louis Armstrong, "what a wonderful world it would be" if we all lived our lives with these in mind.
Here, in the Sutras, then they are called "the Great Vow," which sounds rather ominous, but since this word/phrase does not get repeated, nor elaborated upon further, it again merely reinforces the reading of the Yamas (and ultimately the Ni-Yamas) as just being a good idea...We shall soon see how we can apply each of the 5 Yamas and 5 Ni-Yamas to our daily lives and Yoga practice, but first, we need to deal with one (with a very important caveat) more aspect of them in sutras 2.33-2.34 (which looks daunting, but is actually quite tame):
vitarka-bãdhane pratipaksha-bhãvanam 2.33
vitarkã himsãdayah krita-kãrita-anumoditã lobha-krodha-moha-purvakã mridu-madhya-adhimãtrã duhkha-ajñãna-ananta-phalã iti pratipaksha-bhãvanam 2.34
Or,
WHEN the mind is disturbed by improper/negative thoughts, opposite thoughts are to be cultivated. 2.33
"Violence and so forth are such negative thoughts, and they can be done, made to be done, or allowed to be done, guided by greed/avarice, anger or delusion and being mild, moderate or severe, they yield the fruits of endless suffering and ignorance", such is the way to cultivate opposite thoughts. 2.34
In 2.33, the reason I have put "WHEN" in all caps is for the emphasis of the grammar. This is a locative absolute, which does not imply "IF", but "WHEN" we are plagued by negative thoughts, this is our solution. That is to say, we WILL have negative thoughts at times, so instead of throwing in the towel and giving up to Pessimism, Patañjali uses a variation on a very well-known Indian philosophical trick. If you cannot define something, then you define what it is not...this is known as Neti, Neti, which is actually na+iti, na+iti, which means, neither this, nor that. And, we shall see what the Neti that we need to be aware of when those plaguing thoughts come at us as we learn in 2.34.
Violence, or himsã and the like are such negative thoughts. This is important to pause upon as this is setting up the next 10 sutras, beginning with a-himsã, which means "absence of violence/harm" with the short "a" in front of himsã. So, instead of thinking I should not harm, we need to think about what would happen if we do harm/violence to ourselves or others, and how that can happen. It can be done by us, through an agent, or we can allow it to happen (such as watching someone suffer without helping), and it can be mild, moderate or severe and it can be caused by greed, anger or delusion. So, there are many permutations to the level and kind of himsã and so forth. It is not merely black and white, but many shades are considered. And, what happens then if we do not adhere to the Yamas and Ni-Yamas? Then, the fruits of such actions are eternal suffering (duhkha) and ignorance (a-jñãna, synonym of a-vidyã). In other words, the two things that the Yoga Sutras are trying to eradicate, suffering and ignorance, will come back at us in spades if we do not pay attention to the first two limbs, the Yamas and the Ni-Yamas.
But, again, they are not obligatory, but they are simply concepts of good advice and common sense as we shall see next...
So, stay tuned!
Having built up both a goal of liberation (moksha) from the suffering (duhkha) of life's challenges and our reactions to them, Patañjali then gets down to the nuts and bolts of his 8 limbs of Yoga, (which could be considered 7-steps + Samãdhi in one reading) and for the next 25+ sutras, things are pretty straight forward. The esoteric nature of Book 1 and the philosophical arguments of the beginning of Book 2 are quickly forgotten as we look into just what the 8 limbs (ashtanga) of Yoga are, and why should we care in the 21st century.
Let's begin then with identifying the first and second limbs, that of the Yamas and the Niyamas in sutras 2.30-33:
ahimsã-satya-asteya-brahmacarya-aparigrahãh yamãh 2.30
jãti-desha-kãla-samaya-anavicchannãh sãrva-bhaumã mahãvratam 2.31
shauca-santosha-tapah-svãdhyãya-ishvara-pranidhãnãni niyamãh 2.32
giving us:
The Yamas are: ahimsã (non-violence), satya (truth), asteya (non-stealing), brahmacarya (disciplined conduct) and aparigrahah (lack of avarice). 2.30
Unconditioned by one's birthright, location and time, they are universal, and known as the great vow. 2.31
The Ni-Yamas are: shauca (good hygiene/clean), santosha (contentment), tapah (discipline/austerity), svãdhyãya (self-study) and Ishvara-pranidhãna (reverence for a higher power). 2.32
Starting with the Yamas, then, we are off and running. Yamah and Ni-Yamah are often pitted against each other as being personal versus societal restraints and observances. As such, the pesky concept of morality comes into the picture, which is completely absent in the text. So, with respect to staying true to the words, I do not support that division, much less that there is an ethics to this. These are practical words of advice. Following the Golden Rule that Kant loved so much, if we do unto others as we would do unto ourselves, we get pretty close to the overall meaning of Yamah and Ni-Yamah as a complemental unit.
We will take the Yamas and Ni-Yamas one-by-one in a forthcoming post, so it is suffice to say that both 2.30 and 2.32 are merely lists.
However, ..., we cannot gloss over 2.31 so quickly.
Taken quite literally, 2.31 is the shot heard across India...Most texts, and especially "philosophical" and/or "religious" texts from India are highly male and caste orientated. Either they are expressly for male Brahmins (Vedas and so forth), or they are of second-highest caste, the Warrior caste (to which the Buddha belonged as well as Arjuna from the Bhagavad Gita). Yet, in 2.31, if we are to take Patañjali at face value, the Yamas are beyond gender, class and are timeless. Again, the Golden Rule or Kant springs to mind, or better yet, the age-old chestnut of sensus communis, or what we more or less know as: common sense. In other words, the Yamas, as we shall see, just make SENSE! It is not whether they are good or not, but to quote Louis Armstrong, "what a wonderful world it would be" if we all lived our lives with these in mind.
Here, in the Sutras, then they are called "the Great Vow," which sounds rather ominous, but since this word/phrase does not get repeated, nor elaborated upon further, it again merely reinforces the reading of the Yamas (and ultimately the Ni-Yamas) as just being a good idea...We shall soon see how we can apply each of the 5 Yamas and 5 Ni-Yamas to our daily lives and Yoga practice, but first, we need to deal with one (with a very important caveat) more aspect of them in sutras 2.33-2.34 (which looks daunting, but is actually quite tame):
vitarka-bãdhane pratipaksha-bhãvanam 2.33
vitarkã himsãdayah krita-kãrita-anumoditã lobha-krodha-moha-purvakã mridu-madhya-adhimãtrã duhkha-ajñãna-ananta-phalã iti pratipaksha-bhãvanam 2.34
Or,
WHEN the mind is disturbed by improper/negative thoughts, opposite thoughts are to be cultivated. 2.33
"Violence and so forth are such negative thoughts, and they can be done, made to be done, or allowed to be done, guided by greed/avarice, anger or delusion and being mild, moderate or severe, they yield the fruits of endless suffering and ignorance", such is the way to cultivate opposite thoughts. 2.34
In 2.33, the reason I have put "WHEN" in all caps is for the emphasis of the grammar. This is a locative absolute, which does not imply "IF", but "WHEN" we are plagued by negative thoughts, this is our solution. That is to say, we WILL have negative thoughts at times, so instead of throwing in the towel and giving up to Pessimism, Patañjali uses a variation on a very well-known Indian philosophical trick. If you cannot define something, then you define what it is not...this is known as Neti, Neti, which is actually na+iti, na+iti, which means, neither this, nor that. And, we shall see what the Neti that we need to be aware of when those plaguing thoughts come at us as we learn in 2.34.
Violence, or himsã and the like are such negative thoughts. This is important to pause upon as this is setting up the next 10 sutras, beginning with a-himsã, which means "absence of violence/harm" with the short "a" in front of himsã. So, instead of thinking I should not harm, we need to think about what would happen if we do harm/violence to ourselves or others, and how that can happen. It can be done by us, through an agent, or we can allow it to happen (such as watching someone suffer without helping), and it can be mild, moderate or severe and it can be caused by greed, anger or delusion. So, there are many permutations to the level and kind of himsã and so forth. It is not merely black and white, but many shades are considered. And, what happens then if we do not adhere to the Yamas and Ni-Yamas? Then, the fruits of such actions are eternal suffering (duhkha) and ignorance (a-jñãna, synonym of a-vidyã). In other words, the two things that the Yoga Sutras are trying to eradicate, suffering and ignorance, will come back at us in spades if we do not pay attention to the first two limbs, the Yamas and the Ni-Yamas.
But, again, they are not obligatory, but they are simply concepts of good advice and common sense as we shall see next...
So, stay tuned!
Sunday, April 15, 2018
The Roots of Our Discontent (YS 2.10-14)
Everything old is new again, and everything new is old again...or so it goes. Book II of Patañjali's Yoga Sutras is, on the surface, about the way we go about our abhyãsa, or diligent practice, that we learn about in Book I. However, with only marginal scratching, below this surface we find what is the core of the Sutras, namely, why bother?
Before I began a sutra-by-sutra exegesis of the Sutras, I posted on sutra 2.16, saying that for me, at least, it is that very core concept to answer that question, "why bother?" At this point we have slowly built up to that point, but not yet. A few missing pieces, however, need to be filled in before we return to that particular sutra. And, 2.10-14 provide just such pieces. So, let's take a look.
Sutra 2.10, picking up from the previous nine, which begin Book II and introduce the kleshas, or afflictions, that plague us all at one time or another, and can be varying in their intensity and effect upon us and our practice. Moreover, the kingpin of the kleshas according to Patañjali is no less than a-vidyã, or ignorance, which then generates all other kleshas.
Sutra 2.10 then takes us a step further in true Patañjali fashion by providing a solution to our problem:
te pratiprasavaheyãh sukshmãh 2.10
Or,
They/These [kleshas] [are] subtle and are eliminated by a return to the original state [of our Be-ing, or of the kleshas?].
It is not clear which "original state" is being referred to. And, yet again, owing to the hyper-economy of sutra grammar, we could also read this as:
The subtle [kleshas] are eliminated by returning to the original state.
So, either only the subtle kleshas are eliminated in this fashion, or all of them are, and they are subtle in nature. Both from more common syntax models and meaning, I am inclined to adopt the latter. This would mean that the kleshas, being subtle, are immaterial. In other words, it's all in our mind. This fits in alignment with Patañjali's overarching artha, or goal, that is, eliminating the disturbances in the mind, such as we saw from the very onset, and as we shall see in Book IV even more dramatically.
There is a common thread throughout the Sutras with this reading in that our mind is responsible for the vast majority, if not all, of our true suffering. Now, the obvious, and valid objection to this is that we can, and do, have physical afflictions that cause us suffering in life. That being said, the Yogi/ni in practice can overcome the physical obstacles through abhyãsa. Again, no small feat, nor does Patañjali give it to us as such. Patañjali does not discount the existence of the physical, but he does place a great deal more emphasis on the mental. The Sutras could easily be mistaken for modern psycho-analysis if one is not careful about which came first...
But, what is at hand here is, whichever way we do read 2.10, what is the original state? And, how do we return to it? The answer, being no surprise, is Yoga. But, let's scratch a bit deeper with 2.11, which gives us a spoiler alert for the ashtanga steps of Yoga that are imminent in Book II. We read:
dhyãna-heyãs-tad-vrittayah 2.11
Or,
The disturbances [of the kleshas] are eliminated through dhyãna. 2.11
Dhyãna, as we have already seen, and shall see again more in detail in Book III, is profound meditation, and is the seventh "step" in the 8-step program that Patañjali is building up to, more commonly known as the 8-limbs of Yoga. But, as we saw in Book I, Patañjali is wont to give us the answer first in Jeopardy! fashion, then build up to the question as he does here. The answer: Dhyãna. The question: How do we eliminate those pesky kleshas from our practice/life? And, the follow-up question is: To what end? with the answer being: Samãdhi, which is the consequence of this 8-fold path, which culminates with the application of the penultimate step, Dhyãna.
Fair enough, but we need to get to the root of the problem, or in this case, problems, which are the kleshas. Where do they come from? Sutra 2.12 happily provides the answer:
klesha-mulah karmãshayo dristha-adrishta-janma-vedaniyah 2.12
Giving us,
The root (mula) of the kleshas is the storehouse of karma, which is the lived experience of lives seen and unseen.
Now, karma, as we well know, has crept into our modern languages across the board, and most especially in New Age, Yoga and Metaphysical/Spiritual avenues of thought. But, here's the rub. More often than not, the word karma is misused at best, misunderstood even more so. Popularly used, it has come to mean, more or less, an nearly instant "tit for a tat" or "an eye for eye" essentially, meaning if you do something bad, then something bad happens to you later in the day, or if you do a good deed, then ye shall be duly rewarded by bedtime. Not exactly.
As this has been long a pet peeve of mine, I did post on this some years ago, but it bears repeating at this juncture. Karma, on its own, and its purest form simply means <<the thing done>>, or even more simply <<action>>. In itself, it does not carry a value charge, so to speak, that is, it is neither good, nor bad, nor evil, nor anything else, it just is. Karma is what we do. Basta. So, the storehouse of karma, or karmãshayah, is merely a metaphysical ledger that holds our accounts receivable of our deeds. What have we done? Karma.
This in turn is the root of our kleshas. In short, what we do in our lives affects us. Fair enough, right? So, if this is the case, then we should perhaps take a moment to be aware of what we do and how we do it. This soon becomes the crux of the first two steps of ashtanga, Yama and Niyama as we soon shall see. For now, we just need to be aware that actions have consequences, and those consequences lead to kleshas, which ultimately lead to duhkam, or suffering, which in turn, as we shall also see in my next post (or already here) is what is to be avoided in life by Yogic practice in order to free (moksha) us from the fetters of ignorance, or avidyã. Whew, that is another mouthful...
Back to karma, however, we read that it can come from births/lives both seen and unseen. This can be interpreted again in more than one way. One reading is that this means the seen births/lives are those from our Past and the unseen are those from our Future. However, it could also mean that unlike the Buddha, who could see all of his past lives, our unseen ones could be the ones which did in fact come before us and the seen birth/life is merely the one that we are living today. Both can be read logically and grammatically from this sutra.
Moving on then to 2.13-14, we see further that karma does yield consequence, or as we see, fruits (of our labors/missteps).
sati mule tad-vipãko jãtyãyurbhogah 2.13
te hlãda-paritãpah-phalãh punya-apunya-hetutvãt 2.14
Or,
When/so long as the root still exists, its yield/fruition is the experiences of life and birth. 2.13
These fruits are either pleasure or pain, as a result of pure (virtuous) or impure (vice) [karma]. 2.14
And, further, following the grammar and not the accepted translations (which don't), for 2.13, we get something akin (not identical) to:
The consequence of our action is the experience of samsãra (cycle of birth/death)
{NB: for all of you language geeks out there, the first two words of 2.14, sati mule, are a locative absolute! ]
From this we then see that karma, our actions do yield results, and it is directly related to the nature of the action, but not the action itself. That is an important distinction because some actions can also be non-action, as we see in the Bhagavad Gita in Book 3 on Karma Yoga. Often not doing something is even more important than doing something, and vice versa. It is the effects of the karma, or action, moreover that will then add or detract from our ledger in the karmãshayah.
And, since these consequences, or fruits of action, can be pleasure or pain, hlãda or paritãpah, we can relate them directly to the kleshas of rãga, passion/desire and dvesha, aversion that we saw in 2.7-8. As such, our actions are indeed the root of these two kleshas. Moreover, because of our ignoranc, or avidyã, of the ultimate consequences of our karma, both past and present (and even future), then we are led into further disruptions of the karmic balance, leading to the anxiety of what is coming our way, namely, abhiniveshah.
So, the more that we are aware of what we do, karma, and how we do it, the less impact the kleshas will exert upon us. In other words, when we then learn to follow the precepts of the 8-fold path we are about to learn, the kleshas become irrelevant.
To answer our earlier question then, to eliminate the kleshas, we go back to the original state, the root of the klesha, which is no less than karma.
Take -home message?
Act well, live well, be well...
The result?
Stay tuned...
 |
| Only in New Mexico, though East 108 would have been interesting! |
Before I began a sutra-by-sutra exegesis of the Sutras, I posted on sutra 2.16, saying that for me, at least, it is that very core concept to answer that question, "why bother?" At this point we have slowly built up to that point, but not yet. A few missing pieces, however, need to be filled in before we return to that particular sutra. And, 2.10-14 provide just such pieces. So, let's take a look.
Sutra 2.10, picking up from the previous nine, which begin Book II and introduce the kleshas, or afflictions, that plague us all at one time or another, and can be varying in their intensity and effect upon us and our practice. Moreover, the kingpin of the kleshas according to Patañjali is no less than a-vidyã, or ignorance, which then generates all other kleshas.
Sutra 2.10 then takes us a step further in true Patañjali fashion by providing a solution to our problem:
te pratiprasavaheyãh sukshmãh 2.10
Or,
They/These [kleshas] [are] subtle and are eliminated by a return to the original state [of our Be-ing, or of the kleshas?].
It is not clear which "original state" is being referred to. And, yet again, owing to the hyper-economy of sutra grammar, we could also read this as:
The subtle [kleshas] are eliminated by returning to the original state.
So, either only the subtle kleshas are eliminated in this fashion, or all of them are, and they are subtle in nature. Both from more common syntax models and meaning, I am inclined to adopt the latter. This would mean that the kleshas, being subtle, are immaterial. In other words, it's all in our mind. This fits in alignment with Patañjali's overarching artha, or goal, that is, eliminating the disturbances in the mind, such as we saw from the very onset, and as we shall see in Book IV even more dramatically.
There is a common thread throughout the Sutras with this reading in that our mind is responsible for the vast majority, if not all, of our true suffering. Now, the obvious, and valid objection to this is that we can, and do, have physical afflictions that cause us suffering in life. That being said, the Yogi/ni in practice can overcome the physical obstacles through abhyãsa. Again, no small feat, nor does Patañjali give it to us as such. Patañjali does not discount the existence of the physical, but he does place a great deal more emphasis on the mental. The Sutras could easily be mistaken for modern psycho-analysis if one is not careful about which came first...
But, what is at hand here is, whichever way we do read 2.10, what is the original state? And, how do we return to it? The answer, being no surprise, is Yoga. But, let's scratch a bit deeper with 2.11, which gives us a spoiler alert for the ashtanga steps of Yoga that are imminent in Book II. We read:
dhyãna-heyãs-tad-vrittayah 2.11
Or,
The disturbances [of the kleshas] are eliminated through dhyãna. 2.11
Dhyãna, as we have already seen, and shall see again more in detail in Book III, is profound meditation, and is the seventh "step" in the 8-step program that Patañjali is building up to, more commonly known as the 8-limbs of Yoga. But, as we saw in Book I, Patañjali is wont to give us the answer first in Jeopardy! fashion, then build up to the question as he does here. The answer: Dhyãna. The question: How do we eliminate those pesky kleshas from our practice/life? And, the follow-up question is: To what end? with the answer being: Samãdhi, which is the consequence of this 8-fold path, which culminates with the application of the penultimate step, Dhyãna.
Fair enough, but we need to get to the root of the problem, or in this case, problems, which are the kleshas. Where do they come from? Sutra 2.12 happily provides the answer:
klesha-mulah karmãshayo dristha-adrishta-janma-vedaniyah 2.12
Giving us,
The root (mula) of the kleshas is the storehouse of karma, which is the lived experience of lives seen and unseen.
Now, karma, as we well know, has crept into our modern languages across the board, and most especially in New Age, Yoga and Metaphysical/Spiritual avenues of thought. But, here's the rub. More often than not, the word karma is misused at best, misunderstood even more so. Popularly used, it has come to mean, more or less, an nearly instant "tit for a tat" or "an eye for eye" essentially, meaning if you do something bad, then something bad happens to you later in the day, or if you do a good deed, then ye shall be duly rewarded by bedtime. Not exactly.
As this has been long a pet peeve of mine, I did post on this some years ago, but it bears repeating at this juncture. Karma, on its own, and its purest form simply means <<the thing done>>, or even more simply <<action>>. In itself, it does not carry a value charge, so to speak, that is, it is neither good, nor bad, nor evil, nor anything else, it just is. Karma is what we do. Basta. So, the storehouse of karma, or karmãshayah, is merely a metaphysical ledger that holds our accounts receivable of our deeds. What have we done? Karma.
This in turn is the root of our kleshas. In short, what we do in our lives affects us. Fair enough, right? So, if this is the case, then we should perhaps take a moment to be aware of what we do and how we do it. This soon becomes the crux of the first two steps of ashtanga, Yama and Niyama as we soon shall see. For now, we just need to be aware that actions have consequences, and those consequences lead to kleshas, which ultimately lead to duhkam, or suffering, which in turn, as we shall also see in my next post (or already here) is what is to be avoided in life by Yogic practice in order to free (moksha) us from the fetters of ignorance, or avidyã. Whew, that is another mouthful...
Back to karma, however, we read that it can come from births/lives both seen and unseen. This can be interpreted again in more than one way. One reading is that this means the seen births/lives are those from our Past and the unseen are those from our Future. However, it could also mean that unlike the Buddha, who could see all of his past lives, our unseen ones could be the ones which did in fact come before us and the seen birth/life is merely the one that we are living today. Both can be read logically and grammatically from this sutra.
Moving on then to 2.13-14, we see further that karma does yield consequence, or as we see, fruits (of our labors/missteps).
sati mule tad-vipãko jãtyãyurbhogah 2.13
te hlãda-paritãpah-phalãh punya-apunya-hetutvãt 2.14
Or,
When/so long as the root still exists, its yield/fruition is the experiences of life and birth. 2.13
These fruits are either pleasure or pain, as a result of pure (virtuous) or impure (vice) [karma]. 2.14
And, further, following the grammar and not the accepted translations (which don't), for 2.13, we get something akin (not identical) to:
The consequence of our action is the experience of samsãra (cycle of birth/death)
{NB: for all of you language geeks out there, the first two words of 2.14, sati mule, are a locative absolute! ]
From this we then see that karma, our actions do yield results, and it is directly related to the nature of the action, but not the action itself. That is an important distinction because some actions can also be non-action, as we see in the Bhagavad Gita in Book 3 on Karma Yoga. Often not doing something is even more important than doing something, and vice versa. It is the effects of the karma, or action, moreover that will then add or detract from our ledger in the karmãshayah.
And, since these consequences, or fruits of action, can be pleasure or pain, hlãda or paritãpah, we can relate them directly to the kleshas of rãga, passion/desire and dvesha, aversion that we saw in 2.7-8. As such, our actions are indeed the root of these two kleshas. Moreover, because of our ignoranc, or avidyã, of the ultimate consequences of our karma, both past and present (and even future), then we are led into further disruptions of the karmic balance, leading to the anxiety of what is coming our way, namely, abhiniveshah.
So, the more that we are aware of what we do, karma, and how we do it, the less impact the kleshas will exert upon us. In other words, when we then learn to follow the precepts of the 8-fold path we are about to learn, the kleshas become irrelevant.
To answer our earlier question then, to eliminate the kleshas, we go back to the original state, the root of the klesha, which is no less than karma.
Take -home message?
Act well, live well, be well...
The result?
Stay tuned...
Monday, April 9, 2018
Is Ignorance (truly) Bliss? (YS 2.3-2.9)
We are in new territory, and that much is clear with the first two Sutras of Book Two on Sãdhana, or Practice. We've moved away from the castles in the sky to feet on the ground. The rest of Book Two, as already mentioned, then focuses upon the practical aspect of Yoga, namely, how to get things done. It is the Method that Patañjali is giving us to deal with the actual vicissitudes in life such as we caught a glimpse of in 1.30 with respect to 9 distractions of the mind. Now, atha, is the time to define our terms and make a plan as to how we shall proceed then to deal with the distractions, obstacles, fluctuations and so forth that plague our mind and body on a daily basis, and thus challenging our Yogic Practice.
At this point, then, Patañjali introduces the five Klesha's, or afflictions that we shall inevitably face.
With 2.3, we find a listing of them, and in 2.4, we find out which of them is the root of all the rest.
avidyã-asmitã-rãga-dvesha-abhiniveshãh kleshãh 2.3
avidyã kshetram uttareshãm prasupta-tanu-vicchinna/udãrãnãm 2.4
Giving us:
Avidyã (ignorance), Asmitã (Ego-ness), Rãga (attachment/passion), Dvesha (aversion/repulsion) and Abhinivesha (we shall deal with this more later...) [are the five] klesha's. 2.3
Avidyã (ignorance) is the field of all the rest, whether they be dormant, attenuated, intermittent or fully expressed. 2.4
As will be the case with Book Two, these are more or less pretty straightforward sutras. We have a list in 2.3 that will be followed by 5 definitions and 1 qualification in 2.4-9. The lone qualification being that of Avidyã is the bedrock of all of the other klesha's. In other words, ignorance, and here it is literally a lack of knowledge a-Vidyã (the "a" in front denotes an absence of what follows and is therefore slightly more loaded the merely the negation. As such a+Vidyã is the lack of knowledge, or Vidyã, that is ignorance, by the absence of knowledge) is what causes all of the other 4 afflictions we must face. Arguably, it is a-Vidyã that is the root cause of our suffering then, our duhkha as we shall see later.
Our five klesha's then are ignorance, Ego, attachment, aversion and abhiniveshah, all of which shall be defined in turn. Avidyã is the kingpin kleshah and they can either be dormant, or latent, attenuated/weak, intermittent/fractured or fully expressed. Nevertheless, avidyã is present as the driving force behind them.
So, let us see what this Avidyã is in 2.5, which reads:
anitya-asuchi-duhkha-anãtmasu nitya-suchi-sukha-ãtma-khyãtir-iva-avidyã 2.5
Or,
Avidyã is the concept of mistaking something temporary as eternal, impure as pure, suffering as comfort and the non-Self for the true Self.
Again, pretty straightforward.
The main point that is often pointed out here is the usage of "ãtman" for the "true Self" or Soul. Traditionally this term is used in the Upanishads and other Vedanta-type texts, which for us does not seem like such a big deal. However, for someone who is supposedly an adherent of Dualism with the Samhkhya tradition, to use the non-Dualistic term "ãtman" over "purusha" would indeed have raised some eyebrows, and it has over the years. Personally, I feel it furthers he case that we should be very cautious to label the Yoga Sutras as an exclusively Dualistic. (In fact, as we shall eventually see in Book 4, it is tenuous at best to even suggest that, but I digress as that is for later.) Take-home message here is that avidyã is deception about the true nature of things and it leads us to further kleshas as we shall see in the following sutras.
Beginning with 2.6 and the concept of Asmitã:
drig-darshana-shakhyor-eka-ãtmatã-iva-asmitã 2.6
Or,
Asmitã (Ego-ness) is mistaking the Seer and the action of See-ing as being of one and the same nature.
In other words, back to the beginning with the Seer and the Seen we saw in Book 1 at 1.3-4. This is again something that will be solved (in a non-Dualist manner) in Book 4 where we understand the mistake being made with relating the Seer (the Ego) with the act of See-ing and/or the object that is seen. Meaning, it is an illusion that there is a separation at all, and it is from the power of the concept of the Ego that promotes this illusion, something along the lines of "I am, therefor I see" which gives too much power to the Ego according to the Yoga Sutras. If we take credit for the very act of See-ing, then our Ego has outstretched its boundaries. This is akin to the concept that there is no possession, in that to say "I" or "Mine" is hubris on a universal scale. There is only "Atman" and we are all part of that. Again, a very slippery non-Dualist/Advaita slope we are on here.
We continue then with 2.7:
sukha-anushayi rãgah 2.7
Which seems very simple, but we have two very different possibilites:
1) The consequence of sukha (happiness/eudaimonia) is rãgah, or attachment/desire.
or
2) Rãgah is the result of sukha. (!)
Very different translations, and the grammar does not help us. We ultimately have to chose between 1) which is cause and effect, or a definition 2) of Rãgah. The import of this is whether sukha or rãgah is to be taken as the subject. Semantically this would mean that rãgah could be "a" consequence of sukha, or "the" consequence/result of sukha. In other words, either desire could come from happiness, or more strongly, desire is the result of happiness.
The following sutra provides the same conundrum for duhkha (suffering) and dvesha (aversion):
duhkha-anushayi dveshah 2.8
Giving us again two choices:
1) The consequence of duhkha (suffering) is aversion.
Or,
2) Aversion is the result of suffering.
This may seem like splitting hairs, but when you are looking for precise definitions, this ambiguity is large enough to drive a Yoga Truck through (Bekir, my dearly departed Yoga mentor from Austin, Texas used to say after a challenging class, "you haven't done Yoga if you didn't feel like a truck ran over you, the Yoga Truck"). We shall pick up on this discrepancy in a forthcoming post. For the time being, it is more important to realize that BOTH attachment/desire and aversion are considered kleshas. Why? Simply because they are both a form of attachment. It is the same as if someone quits smoking, drinking or whatnot but is just as consumed by NOT smoking, drinking or whatnot as he or she was by the habit/action in question. The opposite can be the same. That is Patañjali's warning to us here. Don't be fooled by thinking we are doing one thing when we may be doing another.
And, finally for the kleshas, we reach 2.9 with:
svarasa-vãhi vidusho'pi tathãrudho'bhiniveshah 2.9
Or,
Abhiniveshah affects even the wise as it is inherent to ourselves.
Abhiniveshah is usually translated as "clinging to life" and it is normally seen as a weakness amongst the ascetic scene as it is giving priority to the physical body, or life, over the immortal aspect, the Soul. Currently I am not 100% convinced by this standard translation, so I am going to leave this in the original Sanskrit as I ponder on it a bit more...so, there shall be an update on 2.9 in the near future as a result.
In summary, from these sutras 2.3-9, we have been introduced to the kinds of afflictions and given their definitions and/or qualifications. As with the vritti's, or mental disturbances, the kleshas need to be dealt with, and how we go about doing so will be the topic of the next post...
Stay tuned.
At this point, then, Patañjali introduces the five Klesha's, or afflictions that we shall inevitably face.
With 2.3, we find a listing of them, and in 2.4, we find out which of them is the root of all the rest.
avidyã-asmitã-rãga-dvesha-abhiniveshãh kleshãh 2.3
avidyã kshetram uttareshãm prasupta-tanu-vicchinna/udãrãnãm 2.4
Giving us:
Avidyã (ignorance), Asmitã (Ego-ness), Rãga (attachment/passion), Dvesha (aversion/repulsion) and Abhinivesha (we shall deal with this more later...) [are the five] klesha's. 2.3
Avidyã (ignorance) is the field of all the rest, whether they be dormant, attenuated, intermittent or fully expressed. 2.4
As will be the case with Book Two, these are more or less pretty straightforward sutras. We have a list in 2.3 that will be followed by 5 definitions and 1 qualification in 2.4-9. The lone qualification being that of Avidyã is the bedrock of all of the other klesha's. In other words, ignorance, and here it is literally a lack of knowledge a-Vidyã (the "a" in front denotes an absence of what follows and is therefore slightly more loaded the merely the negation. As such a+Vidyã is the lack of knowledge, or Vidyã, that is ignorance, by the absence of knowledge) is what causes all of the other 4 afflictions we must face. Arguably, it is a-Vidyã that is the root cause of our suffering then, our duhkha as we shall see later.
Our five klesha's then are ignorance, Ego, attachment, aversion and abhiniveshah, all of which shall be defined in turn. Avidyã is the kingpin kleshah and they can either be dormant, or latent, attenuated/weak, intermittent/fractured or fully expressed. Nevertheless, avidyã is present as the driving force behind them.
So, let us see what this Avidyã is in 2.5, which reads:
anitya-asuchi-duhkha-anãtmasu nitya-suchi-sukha-ãtma-khyãtir-iva-avidyã 2.5
Or,
Avidyã is the concept of mistaking something temporary as eternal, impure as pure, suffering as comfort and the non-Self for the true Self.
Again, pretty straightforward.
The main point that is often pointed out here is the usage of "ãtman" for the "true Self" or Soul. Traditionally this term is used in the Upanishads and other Vedanta-type texts, which for us does not seem like such a big deal. However, for someone who is supposedly an adherent of Dualism with the Samhkhya tradition, to use the non-Dualistic term "ãtman" over "purusha" would indeed have raised some eyebrows, and it has over the years. Personally, I feel it furthers he case that we should be very cautious to label the Yoga Sutras as an exclusively Dualistic. (In fact, as we shall eventually see in Book 4, it is tenuous at best to even suggest that, but I digress as that is for later.) Take-home message here is that avidyã is deception about the true nature of things and it leads us to further kleshas as we shall see in the following sutras.
drig-darshana-shakhyor-eka-ãtmatã-iva-asmitã 2.6
Or,
Asmitã (Ego-ness) is mistaking the Seer and the action of See-ing as being of one and the same nature.
In other words, back to the beginning with the Seer and the Seen we saw in Book 1 at 1.3-4. This is again something that will be solved (in a non-Dualist manner) in Book 4 where we understand the mistake being made with relating the Seer (the Ego) with the act of See-ing and/or the object that is seen. Meaning, it is an illusion that there is a separation at all, and it is from the power of the concept of the Ego that promotes this illusion, something along the lines of "I am, therefor I see" which gives too much power to the Ego according to the Yoga Sutras. If we take credit for the very act of See-ing, then our Ego has outstretched its boundaries. This is akin to the concept that there is no possession, in that to say "I" or "Mine" is hubris on a universal scale. There is only "Atman" and we are all part of that. Again, a very slippery non-Dualist/Advaita slope we are on here.
We continue then with 2.7:
sukha-anushayi rãgah 2.7
Which seems very simple, but we have two very different possibilites:
1) The consequence of sukha (happiness/eudaimonia) is rãgah, or attachment/desire.
or
2) Rãgah is the result of sukha. (!)
Very different translations, and the grammar does not help us. We ultimately have to chose between 1) which is cause and effect, or a definition 2) of Rãgah. The import of this is whether sukha or rãgah is to be taken as the subject. Semantically this would mean that rãgah could be "a" consequence of sukha, or "the" consequence/result of sukha. In other words, either desire could come from happiness, or more strongly, desire is the result of happiness.
The following sutra provides the same conundrum for duhkha (suffering) and dvesha (aversion):
duhkha-anushayi dveshah 2.8
Giving us again two choices:
1) The consequence of duhkha (suffering) is aversion.
Or,
2) Aversion is the result of suffering.
This may seem like splitting hairs, but when you are looking for precise definitions, this ambiguity is large enough to drive a Yoga Truck through (Bekir, my dearly departed Yoga mentor from Austin, Texas used to say after a challenging class, "you haven't done Yoga if you didn't feel like a truck ran over you, the Yoga Truck"). We shall pick up on this discrepancy in a forthcoming post. For the time being, it is more important to realize that BOTH attachment/desire and aversion are considered kleshas. Why? Simply because they are both a form of attachment. It is the same as if someone quits smoking, drinking or whatnot but is just as consumed by NOT smoking, drinking or whatnot as he or she was by the habit/action in question. The opposite can be the same. That is Patañjali's warning to us here. Don't be fooled by thinking we are doing one thing when we may be doing another.
And, finally for the kleshas, we reach 2.9 with:
svarasa-vãhi vidusho'pi tathãrudho'bhiniveshah 2.9
Or,
Abhiniveshah affects even the wise as it is inherent to ourselves.
Abhiniveshah is usually translated as "clinging to life" and it is normally seen as a weakness amongst the ascetic scene as it is giving priority to the physical body, or life, over the immortal aspect, the Soul. Currently I am not 100% convinced by this standard translation, so I am going to leave this in the original Sanskrit as I ponder on it a bit more...so, there shall be an update on 2.9 in the near future as a result.
In summary, from these sutras 2.3-9, we have been introduced to the kinds of afflictions and given their definitions and/or qualifications. As with the vritti's, or mental disturbances, the kleshas need to be dealt with, and how we go about doing so will be the topic of the next post...
Stay tuned.
Sunday, March 4, 2018
The Bee in the Rose (YS 1.12-16)
A bit of a handful, but bear with me, the Bee and the Rose shall make it clear enough, soon enough.
Once we begin to see the logic and the method behind the Yoga Sutras, things begin to become a bit clearer (though not always...as we shall see). When I talk about the Sutras, I stress one thing, they are in line with the Bhagavad Gita and Buddhism in one very important distinction to all that has come before in Indian thought, that is, Samsara, the cycle of birth and re-birth, influenced by one's storehouse of Karma, and characterized by duhkham, or suffering, can be broken within this lifetime. Previously, the duhkham, suffering, of life was unavoidable and eternal. There was no release, no true moksha, only pacification of the gods by sacrifice and mitigation of suffering by noble birth as a male, brahmin priest, steeped in the knowledge of the Vedas, the definitive texts on the nature of the Universe.
We were merely the Who's such as those living on the dust speck, at the mercy of an uncaring, impersonal Cosmos.
And, along came our Horton, Siddhartha Guatama, the Buddha. The Buddha came from the warrior caste, the kshatriya, not the priestly caste of the brahmins. This could not be more important. Since time immemorial, the brahmin priests had sole authority over the welfare of our Souls...we were doomed to rebirth based upon our lack of full reconciliation of our karma storehouse.
The Buddha, however, more in line with the Upanishads, which moved from the general cosmology to the specific person, set out one day and stumbled upon the harsh facts of life. We suffer. We get sick. We get old. We die.
From his wanderings in the city as a pampered and sheltered prince, and against his father's wishes, the young warrior (heir to the throne), devised what has become known as The Four Noble Truths, which is important for our following Sutras, and the Sutras' ultimate method for moksha, or release in this lifetime.
They are in shorthand form: (Pali/Sanskrit)
1. All is suffering (dukkha/duhkham).
2. Suffering is caused by craving, or thirst (tanhã/trshna)
3. There is cessation (nirodhah) (hmmm...sounds familiar) of suffering.
4. The way is the 8-fold path (patipada/ashtanga...let's put a pin in that one shall we...)
As such, the Buddha basically levels the entire teachings of the brahmins within fewer than 50 words...quite the accomplishment. As you can imagine, the Priests were none too happy about this. (Rush's classic LP 2112 comes to mind when our protagonist rediscovers music, much to the distress of the Priests of the Temples of Syrinx.)
So, how can we map this onto our Sutras at hand? Let's take a look. Patañjali has given us the definition of Yoga, that being the cessation/temperance of the vritti's, which he then lists and defines, and now, we get the first part of the Method to bring this change about in our lives with 1.12.
abhyãsavairãgyãm tannirodhah 1.12
Or,
The cessation/restraint/temperance of these (tan=vritti's here as a collective pronoun) by way of (the dual compound, meaning both are necessary) abhyãsa (diligent practice) and vairãgyam (disinterest in worldly objects).
Or, in plain words,
We can calm the mind with diligent practice and relinquishing the desire to possess.
As such, we have a two-fold preparatory approach to dealing with the vritti's, which will later be complemented by Patañjali's own 8-fold path (I seriously doubt that 8 is a coincidence here, which we will discuss later in chapter II...). We have diligent practice/effort and a disinterest in material goods. Let's go further with this as there can be some confusion, especially concerning vairãgyam.
First, we take on abhyãsa in the following two Sutras:
tatra sthitau yatno'byãsah 1.13
sa tu dirghakãlanairantaryasakãrãsevito dridhabhumih 1.14
Or,
When firmly established (locative absolute for you linguists), diligent practice is an effort. 1.13
Moreover, it is a firm foundation, attended by a reverence for uninterrupted (effort) over a long period of Time. 1.14
The first comment I would like to make is on the word yatnah, or effort. When I am teaching an ãsana-based class, whether it be Yin, Hatha or Vinyasa, I stress the difference between "effort" and "strain". There is a fine line between the two, and part of one's Yogic practice (abhyãsa) should be attention to that difference. When we cross the threshold from effort to strain, we often cross many other boundaries as well including: discomfort to pain, dedication to obsession or humility to arrogance. These are all pitfalls in life that we may encounter, and the insidiousness of the subtlety between one and the other is often what lands us in unsavory situations. Again, I speak from experience, having transcended each of these thresholds at various times in my life, whether it be in relationships, sports, Yoga, studies, work or you name it. This is real. It can happen to you.
So, we must be vigilant not to cross the line. But, oh, the places you'll go...sometimes you will cross the line. Then what? Then, you re-set. More often than not, these transgressions shall cause you and others pain. Do you give up and throw in the proverbial towel? No, you re-set. Re-set the humility. Re-set the dedication. Re-set the mind.
In 1.14, Patañjali goes a step further, telling us that this diligent effort of abhyãsa must be done over a long period of Time, with a sense of reverence. My excuses to the late Mr. Lennon, but this is not Instant Karma.
Reverence, or here in Sanskrit ãsevitah, is one of my favorite words in English. One of my old colleagues (though I was vastly junior in every way) at The University of Texas, Prof. Paul Woodruff, wrote an excellent book on this word, entitled (you guessed it!) Reverence. Reverence is not religious as it might seem on first blush, but it is a heightened respect for something greater than ourselves. I recently attended a workshop with Mati Guerra at Antwerp Yoga about the Yamas and the Niyamas of the Sutras, and he pointed out that words can lose meaning. I could not agree more. "Love" has lost nearly all of its meaning in modern times, especially in America.
For example, what does it mean any more to love someone or something? If you have no reverence for the word, it basically means no-thing. Only a reverence for the word, for the emotion, for the experience can retain its meaning, and only you, the bearer of the reverence can ever really know. For me, that word, Love, still retains a great deal of reverence, and I do not use it lightly with people or things, but, it does require vigilance not to abuse those big words that make us so afraid, as Stephen Dedalus says in James Joyce's Ulysses. Abhyãsa then requires a sense of reverence. It is not merely showing up on the mat in the shala, or at the dojo for zazen, or the pool to swim laps, or whatever one's diligent practice is. It requires attention and samkalpa, or intention as well, buoyed by a sense of reverence.
Furthermore, this diligent practice must be executed uninterruptedly and over a long period of time. Easier said than done. With work, kids, relationships, bills to pay and mouths to feed, our abhyãsa can suffer. And, something I find rather hypocritical in the Yoga world is a lack of empathy for when this happens. There is a lot of head shaking and tsk-tsking whether verbally or silently judging, despite the shellac of "non-judgement" espoused in studios across the globe. Sometimes, life simply gets in the way. Again, do we roll over and call it quits? No, when you can regain your center, when you can gain control again, you can re-set, re-implement and resume. This is a lifetime's process, not merely a Summer fling for your body and Soul. Yoga becomes a way of life, but, over a long period of time.
The second prong on this initial Method to tackle the vritti's is a bit trickier and easily misunderstood. One of the leveling criticisms of Buddhism (and Yoga as we shall see) over the ages has been: it is an escape from feeling/emotion, and therefore not really living, but a pessimistic checking out of life's course. Not necessarily. However, vairãgyam is the culprit for this sentiment with respect to Yoga. Literally taken, it means "a total absence of 'taste/craving/desire, that is rãga'" and "for material goods" is implied for good measure. On the surface then, it seems like it means, you don't care. Let's see.
dristhãnushravikavishayavitrishnasya vashikãrasamjñã vairãgyam 1.15
Or,
Vairãgyam is the conscious/volitional control of one who is devoid of thirst for material objects, whether seen firsthand or learned from scripture. 1.15
And,
tatparam purushakhyatergunavaitrishnyam 1.16
The highest form of that (vairãgyam) is the absence of desire/thirst of the gunas for the perception of the Soul.
Right. What do we do with that mouthful?
In 1.15, we see that this is volitional, a choice. So, if someone is immersed in vairãgyam, you could say that he or she chooses to check out of life. You could, but that is missing the point. In Western philosophy, we have correlation in Kant's Third Critique, that of Judgement. Kant speaks about the disinterested observer as being the true observer, because no filters or categories are used. In other words, there is no pre-judgement or pre-judice. We just simply experience it. Kant further tells us that the only two things we can truly experience in this way are: the Beautiful (Schönheit) and the Sublime (Erhabenen). When we encounter Beauty or the Sublime, we experience, according to Kant im-medi-ately. In other words, there is no "I" thinking that "oh, that is a beautiful flower" or "that mountain range is sublime". It just happens. There is literally an absence of taste or Geschmack, which is an exact translation of vairãgyam. That, for Kant, is dis-interested observation. Vairãgyam is similar in that it is not a lack of "care" it simply precedes that.
So, a rose is a rose is a rose...right?
Maybe; imagine we experience a beautiful rose. In the moment before we even classify it as a rose, or that it smells nice, or we like its color, or that we say that it is beautiful, at THAT MOMENT, we experience Beauty, without taste, without pre-judice. The moment, we then say, "that's a rose" perhaps because a Bee stings us as we smell the flower and are jolted into "reality", then we are judging the Beauty, not experiencing it. As soon as we judge it as rose and as beautiful, something sinister happens, we desire it. Why is this sinister? Because, the result of desire of something is the will to possess it. The Ego then steps in and says, "I want this beautiful thing to be mine." And, that is the beginning of our duhkham, or suffering. The desire which leads to the will to possess.
Vairãgyam, then, is not a distancing ourselves from the material world, nor for tuning out, but rather, for willfully putting that desire to possess into check, because, we can never truly possess another thing, nor person.
When we can see the rose, experience the immediacy of its Beauty, and then not have the desire to possess it, but to let it be, then we are one step closer to vairãgyam...
Once we begin to see the logic and the method behind the Yoga Sutras, things begin to become a bit clearer (though not always...as we shall see). When I talk about the Sutras, I stress one thing, they are in line with the Bhagavad Gita and Buddhism in one very important distinction to all that has come before in Indian thought, that is, Samsara, the cycle of birth and re-birth, influenced by one's storehouse of Karma, and characterized by duhkham, or suffering, can be broken within this lifetime. Previously, the duhkham, suffering, of life was unavoidable and eternal. There was no release, no true moksha, only pacification of the gods by sacrifice and mitigation of suffering by noble birth as a male, brahmin priest, steeped in the knowledge of the Vedas, the definitive texts on the nature of the Universe.
We were merely the Who's such as those living on the dust speck, at the mercy of an uncaring, impersonal Cosmos.
And, along came our Horton, Siddhartha Guatama, the Buddha. The Buddha came from the warrior caste, the kshatriya, not the priestly caste of the brahmins. This could not be more important. Since time immemorial, the brahmin priests had sole authority over the welfare of our Souls...we were doomed to rebirth based upon our lack of full reconciliation of our karma storehouse.
The Buddha, however, more in line with the Upanishads, which moved from the general cosmology to the specific person, set out one day and stumbled upon the harsh facts of life. We suffer. We get sick. We get old. We die.
From his wanderings in the city as a pampered and sheltered prince, and against his father's wishes, the young warrior (heir to the throne), devised what has become known as The Four Noble Truths, which is important for our following Sutras, and the Sutras' ultimate method for moksha, or release in this lifetime.
They are in shorthand form: (Pali/Sanskrit)
1. All is suffering (dukkha/duhkham).
2. Suffering is caused by craving, or thirst (tanhã/trshna)
3. There is cessation (nirodhah) (hmmm...sounds familiar) of suffering.
4. The way is the 8-fold path (patipada/ashtanga...let's put a pin in that one shall we...)
As such, the Buddha basically levels the entire teachings of the brahmins within fewer than 50 words...quite the accomplishment. As you can imagine, the Priests were none too happy about this. (Rush's classic LP 2112 comes to mind when our protagonist rediscovers music, much to the distress of the Priests of the Temples of Syrinx.)
So, how can we map this onto our Sutras at hand? Let's take a look. Patañjali has given us the definition of Yoga, that being the cessation/temperance of the vritti's, which he then lists and defines, and now, we get the first part of the Method to bring this change about in our lives with 1.12.
abhyãsavairãgyãm tannirodhah 1.12
Or,
The cessation/restraint/temperance of these (tan=vritti's here as a collective pronoun) by way of (the dual compound, meaning both are necessary) abhyãsa (diligent practice) and vairãgyam (disinterest in worldly objects).
Or, in plain words,
We can calm the mind with diligent practice and relinquishing the desire to possess.
As such, we have a two-fold preparatory approach to dealing with the vritti's, which will later be complemented by Patañjali's own 8-fold path (I seriously doubt that 8 is a coincidence here, which we will discuss later in chapter II...). We have diligent practice/effort and a disinterest in material goods. Let's go further with this as there can be some confusion, especially concerning vairãgyam.
First, we take on abhyãsa in the following two Sutras:
tatra sthitau yatno'byãsah 1.13
sa tu dirghakãlanairantaryasakãrãsevito dridhabhumih 1.14
Or,
When firmly established (locative absolute for you linguists), diligent practice is an effort. 1.13
Moreover, it is a firm foundation, attended by a reverence for uninterrupted (effort) over a long period of Time. 1.14
The first comment I would like to make is on the word yatnah, or effort. When I am teaching an ãsana-based class, whether it be Yin, Hatha or Vinyasa, I stress the difference between "effort" and "strain". There is a fine line between the two, and part of one's Yogic practice (abhyãsa) should be attention to that difference. When we cross the threshold from effort to strain, we often cross many other boundaries as well including: discomfort to pain, dedication to obsession or humility to arrogance. These are all pitfalls in life that we may encounter, and the insidiousness of the subtlety between one and the other is often what lands us in unsavory situations. Again, I speak from experience, having transcended each of these thresholds at various times in my life, whether it be in relationships, sports, Yoga, studies, work or you name it. This is real. It can happen to you.
So, we must be vigilant not to cross the line. But, oh, the places you'll go...sometimes you will cross the line. Then what? Then, you re-set. More often than not, these transgressions shall cause you and others pain. Do you give up and throw in the proverbial towel? No, you re-set. Re-set the humility. Re-set the dedication. Re-set the mind.
In 1.14, Patañjali goes a step further, telling us that this diligent effort of abhyãsa must be done over a long period of Time, with a sense of reverence. My excuses to the late Mr. Lennon, but this is not Instant Karma.
Reverence, or here in Sanskrit ãsevitah, is one of my favorite words in English. One of my old colleagues (though I was vastly junior in every way) at The University of Texas, Prof. Paul Woodruff, wrote an excellent book on this word, entitled (you guessed it!) Reverence. Reverence is not religious as it might seem on first blush, but it is a heightened respect for something greater than ourselves. I recently attended a workshop with Mati Guerra at Antwerp Yoga about the Yamas and the Niyamas of the Sutras, and he pointed out that words can lose meaning. I could not agree more. "Love" has lost nearly all of its meaning in modern times, especially in America.
For example, what does it mean any more to love someone or something? If you have no reverence for the word, it basically means no-thing. Only a reverence for the word, for the emotion, for the experience can retain its meaning, and only you, the bearer of the reverence can ever really know. For me, that word, Love, still retains a great deal of reverence, and I do not use it lightly with people or things, but, it does require vigilance not to abuse those big words that make us so afraid, as Stephen Dedalus says in James Joyce's Ulysses. Abhyãsa then requires a sense of reverence. It is not merely showing up on the mat in the shala, or at the dojo for zazen, or the pool to swim laps, or whatever one's diligent practice is. It requires attention and samkalpa, or intention as well, buoyed by a sense of reverence.
Furthermore, this diligent practice must be executed uninterruptedly and over a long period of time. Easier said than done. With work, kids, relationships, bills to pay and mouths to feed, our abhyãsa can suffer. And, something I find rather hypocritical in the Yoga world is a lack of empathy for when this happens. There is a lot of head shaking and tsk-tsking whether verbally or silently judging, despite the shellac of "non-judgement" espoused in studios across the globe. Sometimes, life simply gets in the way. Again, do we roll over and call it quits? No, when you can regain your center, when you can gain control again, you can re-set, re-implement and resume. This is a lifetime's process, not merely a Summer fling for your body and Soul. Yoga becomes a way of life, but, over a long period of time.
The second prong on this initial Method to tackle the vritti's is a bit trickier and easily misunderstood. One of the leveling criticisms of Buddhism (and Yoga as we shall see) over the ages has been: it is an escape from feeling/emotion, and therefore not really living, but a pessimistic checking out of life's course. Not necessarily. However, vairãgyam is the culprit for this sentiment with respect to Yoga. Literally taken, it means "a total absence of 'taste/craving/desire, that is rãga'" and "for material goods" is implied for good measure. On the surface then, it seems like it means, you don't care. Let's see.
dristhãnushravikavishayavitrishnasya vashikãrasamjñã vairãgyam 1.15
Or,
Vairãgyam is the conscious/volitional control of one who is devoid of thirst for material objects, whether seen firsthand or learned from scripture. 1.15
And,
tatparam purushakhyatergunavaitrishnyam 1.16
The highest form of that (vairãgyam) is the absence of desire/thirst of the gunas for the perception of the Soul.
Right. What do we do with that mouthful?
In 1.15, we see that this is volitional, a choice. So, if someone is immersed in vairãgyam, you could say that he or she chooses to check out of life. You could, but that is missing the point. In Western philosophy, we have correlation in Kant's Third Critique, that of Judgement. Kant speaks about the disinterested observer as being the true observer, because no filters or categories are used. In other words, there is no pre-judgement or pre-judice. We just simply experience it. Kant further tells us that the only two things we can truly experience in this way are: the Beautiful (Schönheit) and the Sublime (Erhabenen). When we encounter Beauty or the Sublime, we experience, according to Kant im-medi-ately. In other words, there is no "I" thinking that "oh, that is a beautiful flower" or "that mountain range is sublime". It just happens. There is literally an absence of taste or Geschmack, which is an exact translation of vairãgyam. That, for Kant, is dis-interested observation. Vairãgyam is similar in that it is not a lack of "care" it simply precedes that.
So, a rose is a rose is a rose...right?
Maybe; imagine we experience a beautiful rose. In the moment before we even classify it as a rose, or that it smells nice, or we like its color, or that we say that it is beautiful, at THAT MOMENT, we experience Beauty, without taste, without pre-judice. The moment, we then say, "that's a rose" perhaps because a Bee stings us as we smell the flower and are jolted into "reality", then we are judging the Beauty, not experiencing it. As soon as we judge it as rose and as beautiful, something sinister happens, we desire it. Why is this sinister? Because, the result of desire of something is the will to possess it. The Ego then steps in and says, "I want this beautiful thing to be mine." And, that is the beginning of our duhkham, or suffering. The desire which leads to the will to possess.
Vairãgyam, then, is not a distancing ourselves from the material world, nor for tuning out, but rather, for willfully putting that desire to possess into check, because, we can never truly possess another thing, nor person.
When we can see the rose, experience the immediacy of its Beauty, and then not have the desire to possess it, but to let it be, then we are one step closer to vairãgyam...
Saturday, February 24, 2018
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.
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