Knowing Our Asmitã from Our Elbow (YS 1.17-22)

Danger Will Robinson, Danger…!

When I teach a Yoga class, one of the things I like to say is that there is no One Size Fits All in Yoga…and as we shall see, I think that holds true for the Yoga Sutras.

Okay, as mentioned previously, sometimes the Yoga Sutras are startling clear and lucid, while at other times, they can be quite opaque and murky. Sutras 1.17-22 are just such an example of the latter. I am going to be going notionally rogue on this post and make a few major departures from the traditional translations and interpretations of these Sutras as a result. Having read about 7 different translations and checking Vyãsa’s commentary, only one thing is certain about this handful of Sutras, namely, No-thing. There is no general consensus at all, so I am going to do something crazy here, and that is, to just look at the Sanskrit and see what it says. So, again, bear with me. This is a work in progress.

Let’s begin (again).

With the last few Sutras (YS 1.12-16) we learned about the two-pronged method of Abhyãsa and Vairãgyam as a means for obtaining the nirodhah, or temperance/cessation of the vritti’s, the mental fluctuations of the mind as per Patañjali’s definition that this is the goal of Yoga. In 1.16, we see that the highest form of that, (vairãgyam) is the absence of desire/thirst of the gunas for the perception of the Soul. In other words, transcending any prejudices we may have of an object or experience, we can still the noise in the mind.

Yet, suddenly, in 1.17, the text seems to skip to an entirely new concept, or at least according to the commentaries, but not necessarily the Sanskrit. In the commentary, it is said that (Samprajñah) Samãdhi, the final stage of the ashtanga system of Patañjali (to be discussed in detail in chapter II) is the subject, not vairãgyam. This doesn’t jibe with me, nor the language.

Let’s take a look at the actual words, not the interpretation for a moment. Here are 1.17-20, because semantically, the function more like a quatrain, rather than individual thoughts, which would be more in line with the method of writing Sutras. So, here it goes.

Vitarkavicãrãnandãsmitãrupãnugamãt samprajñãtah  1.17

Virãmaprtyayãbhyãsapurvah samskãrashesho’anyah  1.18

Bhavapratyayo videhaprakritilayãnãm   1.19

Shraddhãviryasmritisamãdhitprajñãpurvaka itareshãm  1.20

Before translating, a quick note on structure, which is going to inform my translation, and that will be the cause of me going quite rogue from the tradition. Without bogging you down with details, from the grammar, we see two parallel constructions: 1.17 and 1.18 are a case of “on the one hand…on the other hand” and then furthermore 1.17 seems (and I mean seems as it is not clear) to go with 1.19 and 1.18 with 1.20.  So,…

A trial:

On the one hand, it (supreme vairãgyam) is recognized/characterized as being accompanied by the Ego’s (asmitã) delight (ãnanda) in rational deliberation (vicãra) and conjecture (vitarka). 1.17

And, on the other hand, it is characterized as a residue of impressions of previous diligent practice (abhyãsa) of the cessation of analysis (in other words, cittavrittinirodaha…that is Yogah). 1.18

Pause.

Okay, this may seem innocent enough, but, anyone who knows the traditional interpretation of these two lines just blew a gasket…

Vyãsa, the main commentator of the Sutras (and every other Sanskrit work, meaning, it is not a real person as Vyãsa means “editor” or “compiler”) says the subject now is Samãdhi, and that is how it has been taken for centuries upon centuries. This would not be so troublesome if the theory that this Vyãsa might actually be Patañjali himself, meaning, the commentary is by the author.

As such, the usual translation interprets this as Samprajña Samãdhi as having four stages: conjecture, deliberation, bliss and Ego-awarenes. Fine, but coming from Patañjali, a writer who loves to define things as we have seen and will see again, there is no mention of Samãdhi here, and then furthermore, no mention of a-Samprajñã Samãdhi, which is how 1.18 is taken…Does not seem to work for me, at all. It is much more logical that this is a continuation of thought from 1.15-16, that being the param vairãgyam, or highest level of relinquishing our desire/thirst for material objects and their effects.

So, now that Vyãsa is properly turning in his grave, let’s continue with 1.19-20:

For those absorbed in disembodied materialism, [there is] the notion of becoming.  1.19

For others, [there is] a previous knowledge of the synthesis (samãdhi) of a vigorous memory of Faith (shraddhã).  1.20

What the…?

Because of the grammar, again, these lines can be interpreted/translated completely differently, but, there are some subtle clues that suggest otherwise, which I will not bore you with the details (you can write me personally, then I’ll bore you with them!). In a follow-up post, I will provide a few of these variations, but for clarity, let us continue as is.

Let’s turn all of this into readable language then, because that is my two-fold goal: to make the Sutras readable and relevant, while also sticking to the Sanskrit as much as possible and not getting mired in the Theory that has been piled upon them over the years. Occam’s Razor, the theory the suggests the simplest answer is the correct one, is being applied here by me. So, we shall cut into this and then suture it up with clarity.

So,

The highest form of vairãgyam for those absorbed in the thought of non-materialism, there is a sense of becoming (being) that is characterized by the Ego’s delight in rational analysis and conjecture. 1.17 and 1.19

For others, there is the strong memory of the notion of Faith, and vairãgyam is the residue of impressions (our filters/prejudices) from quieting the fluctuations of the mind. 1.18 and 1.20

In other, other words.

We can achieve the highest form of releasing our desire for materialism through engaging in deep thought (meditation) on the nature of being, and this may result in leaving a trace of our diligent practice of Yoga.

Meaning,

We meditate, via Yoga, and we can achieve the release of our desires, which are the causes of our suffering and mental anguish.

Maybe. Again, this is MY interpretation and translation, and it flies smack in the face of the tradition, but it holds to my caveat for translation: if it made sense in the original, it has to make sense in the target language. None of the translations I have read make sense, and they are full of side trips and mental gymnastics to pull meanings out of these 4 Sutras that simply are not there in the Sanskrit, neither in vocabulary, nor grammar.

Taking this leap of Faith (shraddhã) then, the next two Sutras actually now make sense (as do the subsequent seven Sutras we shall look at in a forthcoming post), and they are:

Tivrasamvegãnamãnnah  1.21

Mridumadhyãdhimãtratvãt  1.22

Or,

For those with keen intensity (in praxis), (this), [that is vairãgyam]) is immanent.  1.21

For others, there is still a distinction due to the degrees (of intensity of praxis) of mild, medium and excessive. 1.22

Meaning,

For those with strong practice, the goal is near; but for others, with varying degrees of effort, there is still a difference in degree of attainment.

Coming back to the thought that, there is no one size fits all for Yoga. There will be a variety of paths, a variety of practitioners and a variety of methods. We are not all at the same place in our practice, and according to Patañjali here, as far as I can read it, that is perfectly natural and is to be expected.

Moreover, going back further to the previous concept of Abhyãsa, it will only bear fruit with a reverence for diligence over an extended period of Time, and the milder the effort, the longer that period of Time will be; but, as we shall also see in chapter III, TOO MUCH is just as dangerous as not enough. Once again, we must find the balance, find the union, find the Yoga…

…To be continued.

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.