Six Not-So-Easy Pieces (YS 1.40-45)

Having taken some time to apply some of the Sutras to my own Vritti's as well as allowing readers to come up for air, time to take another serious plunge into the deep waters of Patañjali, though when we resurface, we will be very close to the other shore towards which he guides us. In Hermann Hesse's novel, Siddhartha, there is a ferryman, Vasudeva, who has lived a full life and ultimately becomes content, with Santosha, to be a simple ferryman, fulfilling his Dharma then by fording the waters of the river that speaks the sacred syllable "OM" for travelers of near and far, with grand and modest journeys ahead of them. Hopefully, through these posts I may humbly serve as your Vasudeva across these flowing sutras...

So, let's us return to the river of words, and remembering the words of Heraclitus, one can never step in the same river twice, lending us to new and uncharted readings each time.

In the previous few Sutras, we found out a variety of ways in which to hone our focus in upon a singularity, and in doing so, bringing the mind into a more luminous state of consciousness as we then further refine our diligent practice (abhyãsa) via profound concentration, or Dhyãna, a term that is going to soon receive a great deal more importance and attention on our path through the Sutras.

What follows in the subsequent 6 Sutras falls more into what might be considered the meta-physical aspect of our Abhyãsa, which merely means that things become a bit more abstract for the moment before we arrive at the highly practical ashtanga of Yoga, or the eight-fold method revealed in the second book/chapter.

For the Time Being, then, let's see what we can tease out of Sutras 1.40-45, and no Time like the Present to dive back in:

Sutra 1.40 reads:

paramãnuparamamahattvãntho'sya vashikãrah  1.40

giving us:

Mastery of this (Dhyãna) extends from the smallest atom to the greatest entity. 1.40

The "asya" in this Sutra is ambiguous as it could be either the one practicing Dhyãna (the Yogi adept) or the Mastery itself. Most translations take it to be the former, but again, grammar does not support this reading very strongly. Sutras connect to one another, and there is no mention of the Yogi at all before this, so to me it is dubious to take it as such. Instead I prefer going back to 1.39, where Dhyãna is the subject, and now the Mastery, or skill in this practice can lead to the experiencing of the very small to the Infinite. This is not too far-fetched for when one is in deep concentration, the physical body can be negligible and the "mind" may indeed "feel" quite small, or on the contrary, Infinite, moving from the physical to the meta-physical, which merely means "next to" or "beyond" the physical.

Having then made that initial step into the meta-physical, we arrive at 1.41:

kshina-vritter-abhijñãtasyeva maner-grahitri-grahana-grãhyesu tat-stha-tad-añjantã samãpattih  1.41

Coming to us as:

Samãpattih, or total absorption of the mind, when the vritti (noise in the mind) is weakened, is like that of a rarefied jewel that is affected by that which placed next to it, whether it be in objects of comprehension, the means to comprehend or the one comprehending an object. 

Boiled down a bit to give us:

Samãpattih, or profound reflection, is like an exquisite jewel that perfectly reflects all that is placed before it, without distinction of being the object of comprehension or the comprehension itself.

And a bit more,

The experience of deep meditation brings undivided clarity to the mind. 

This image of the perfectly reflecting jewel brings something dear to me to mind, that being the concept of Indra's Net, the name of my meta-blog, of which Sanskrit Street is merely a nodal point of. Indra's Net is the meta-physical concept of the Universe being an infinite net, in which at every juncture of the threads, there is a perfect jewel that reflects every other jewel in the Net ad infinitum. In other words, every atom reflects the entire Universe in a cosmic hall of never-ending mirrors. Here, in the Sutras, the mind then is able to reflect the nature of the minutest Quantum of the atomic scale to the Infinity of the Cosmos, leading to a state of Samãdhi,  the ultimate goal of Yoga according to Patañjali.

And, what happens then when this is achieved?

Sutra 1.42 goes further:

tatra shabdãrthajñãnavikalpaih samkirnã savitarkã samãpattih 1.42

Leading to:

At this moment/then, Savitarka Samãpattih (profound meditative state based upon conjecture) is mixed with concepts of the knowledge of the meaning of words. 

Or,

Then, there is a form of profound meditation that is based upon conjecture, which is a result language. 

We've seen vitarka before in 1.17, and sa-vitarka merely means with vitarka, or conjecture. In that Sutra I argued that there are two types of meditation discussed there, vitarka and vicara, which is borne out here as Asmitã and Ãnanada are no longer mentioned, but rather vitarka and vicara are broken down further.

So, listening to the language itself, namely the words of the Sutras, we see that our verbal storehouse of ideas can influence our meditation practice, and our Yogic Abhyãsa. This is when we put names to things, but that is arbitrary and artificial as words are merely placeholders for the objects themselves. What we call a "rose" is only a "rose" because we call it that and remember that from learning the word and its meaning, and then if we meditate upon a "rose" the meaning of the word will influence our experience, but we shall be stuck in the language of humans. However, while that is all well and good, to go beyond the words shall render an even more powerful experience as seen in 1.43, which reads:

smriti-parishuddhau svarupa-shunyevãrtha-mãtra-nirbhãsã nivitarkã 1.43

Giving us,

Nivitarka, (thought devoid of concepts) shines forth when the memory is purged, as if the object is without form, and only meaning remains. 

Which more or less means,

When we let go of names/words, we can experience something as it truly is.

This concept is central to Taoism and Zen Buddhism in that as soon as we name something, or explain it, we have lost it, and those who understand it, cannot explain it, and those who explain it, cannot understand it, providing a very nasty paradox indeed! This is the basis of many koans, such as the one about what is the "sound of one hand clapping"? To explain it, loses it.

Patañjali here presents this very conundrum with our attachment and memory of words for things, which we then confuse with their meaning, or very essence (svarupa). When we TRY to focus our attention with profound concentration, we are encumbered by our memory of words, concepts and ideas that bombard us constantly throughout the day and our life. The temperance of the mind, the nirodhah of the vritti's then again is the attempt to clear the noise from the mind.

And, furthermore, the aspect of rational deliberation, or vicara is a great tool, up to a point. But, at a certain point, THINKING about something won't get you there, but rather becomes a hinderance as well.

1.44 merely implies that sa-vicara is good, but ni-vicara is better, though without further analysis, perhaps even a cheeky example of Patañjali not explaining something because to do so would to limit the meaning! Perhaps.

So, we read:

etayaiva savicãrã nivicãrã ca sukshmavishayã vyãkhyãtã 1.44

Or,

In this same way, sa-vicãrã and ni-vicãrã, whose objects are of a subtle nature, are explained. 

In other words, rational thought about abstract ideas is surpassed by the koan way of thinking, namely beyond reason. We can only think so far before we paint ourselves into a corner. There is an acronym for this in English: KISS, or Keep It Simple Stupid. We can overthink things, and this is Patañjali's caveat for that.

So, having refined our diligent practice of profound concentration, and if we are successful in letting go of our attachment to words and their meanings (1.40-42) and then furthermore realize, in the lines of Kant, we can only know an approximation of the mystery of the Universe through rational thought, and we can let go of overthinking it (1.44), then we arrive at 1.45, which reads:

sukshma-vishatvam cãlinga-paryavasãnm 1.45

Or,

The Subtleness of reality (mystery?) results in the absence of definition. 1.45

Simply put,

The nature of reality is beyond our mortal comprehension.

This leaves us at a meta-physical crossroads then. With some, such as Heinrich Von Kleist, who is said to have suffered a Kant-krisis (a crisis having read Kant) when he realized that one can never TRULY know anything, leads to paralysis of action and thought, while with others, this is the ultimate act of Surrender to Ishvara, the Higher Power of the Universe, which can only be approximated by the intonation of the sacred syllable "A-U-M", and that surrender provides a profound sense of freedom, or release (moksha), which in short, is what we are after!

And, now, we are on the doorstep of what Yoga is for Patañjali.

Stay Tuned...

Methods to [End] the Madness (YS. 1.33-39)

As we previously saw, Patañjali may have a singular goal in mind for Yoga, but he is much more open-minded when it comes down to how exactly one might reach that goal. The remainder of the first chapter/section of the Yoga Sutras commonly called "Samãdhi" is devoted to this process and suggested methods in which one can effect these changes of Life via the Mind, known as Yoga, and ultimately what that goal is.

However, for the present, the following 7 sutras now provide such options or methods to precede with our diligent practice, or Abhyãsa that has been discussed in previous sutras and consequent posts.

Turning then to 1.33, we see that the right attitude is crucial, and furthermore, the appropriate attitude for the situation is what is called for here:

maiti-karunã-muditã-apekshãyãm

sukha-duhkha-punya-apunya-vishayãnãm

bhãvanãtad-citta-prasãdanam                      1.33

Giving us the advice that:

Clarity of mind comes from the attitude/disposition of being amicable to those (things/people) that are pleasant, compassion for suffering, joy for virtue and equanimity towards the non-virtuous.  1.33

Simply put,

Temper your reactions to suit the situation or person, but in the worst-case, remain equanimous, and this will bring clarity or lucidity to our state of mind.

You can pay a psychoanalysis quite a bit of money for similar advice these days, buy self-help books, and empower yourself, but ultimately it usually comes down to this simple fact suggested here; namely, the way we respond, rather than react is a powerful tool for the mind's well-being and clear vision for the circumstances we encounter.

Moving along, we now encounter a list of 6 alternatives for helping refine our singularity of diligent practice, having the proper mind-set in place.

On to 1.34, we read:

pracchardana-vidhãrnãbhyãm vã prãnasya 1.34

Or, by way of breath retention (later to be known as prãnãyama in book II). 1.34

Though the actual method of breath control is not elaborated upon here, this is one of our first glimpses into the 8-fold path that is immanent in book II, which explains the Yogic abhyãsa, or diligent practice in detailed steps, with Prãnãyama being the fourth.

1.35 gives us:

vishayavati vã pravrittir-utpannã manasah sthiti-nibandhani  1.35

that is,

Or, an activity can arise, which has an intended object, and cause steadiness of mind. 1.35

One of those less-than-clear sutras here, and you will find a whole range of variations on translations and interpretations.

In all honesty, I need to reflect on this sutra more before offering a comfortable translation, much less commentary...so, with that in mind...

1.36 is a bit more straightforward, with:

vishokã vã jyothismati  1.36

Being free from sorrow, one is luminous. 1.36

Although duhkham, or suffering is not used here, vishokã is a close synonym, meaning being in a state absent of sorrow. Not quite happiness either, as that too is temporary. However, one can be brilliant and radiant in this state when the obstacles of sorrow are removed.

vitã-rãga-vishayam vã cittam.   1.37

Or, a mind comprising an object devoid of desire/passion.  1.37

This is, more or less, vairãgyam, which we have looked at in more detail. Again, for all intents and purposes, this is not to become numb to the world without feelings, but rather to not identify with the feelings/passions/desires that become associated with objects, for those are temporary and lead to confusion. The object in and of itself is not "bad" per se, but it is how we let it affect us that can lead our mind astray. A temperance of this is what is asked for here.

As someone who goes after things "with a passion" I have been at odds with such sentiment, yet, I do see the great merit in it as well. Some advice we know might be good for us, but our mind is quite persuasive to tell us otherwise. 1.37 might fall into that category for many of us, no? Just thinking out loud.

Once again, pre-dating Freud by nearly 2,000 years, we se in 1.38:

svapna-nidrã-jñãna-ãlambanam vã  1.38

giving us:

Or, wisdom arising from sleep and dreams.   1.38

Here, again grammar is tricky as we are missing a few clues as to what this agrees with. Most likely, it agrees with the cittam from the previous sutra, meaning the Mind that is calmed by the singularity of the abhyãsa. But, always the caveat that we cannot over assume certain things, and further reflection may be in order. Nonetheless, this is interesting in the fact of suggesting that dreams can in fact serve as portals to wisdom (jñãna), though also, when deceptive can be the very vrittih that needs to be calmed.

And, finally, with 1. 39:

yathã-abhimata-dhyãnãd vã  1.39

as

As such, also from the desired intense concentration. 1.39

It needs to be noted here that abhimata, or desired, does not mean the same as the desire that comes from rãga, or the thirst for material goods or from spiritual dearth, but rather, it is the imagined form of concentration, or dhyãna that we seek to intensify and support our diligent practice.

The take-home message of this swath of sutras is that Patañjali is given us options, a variety of methods with which we can use as tools to help still the mind's fluctuations. Again, not to stop or nullify them, which I still contend is impossible, or rather is not a veritable goal, but to gain focus and clarity, and then to be able to confront Life with such clear and discrete vision. And, for that, we shall see in the coming sutras what that shall mean for us...

Pr(act)ice Makes Perfect? (YS 1.12-16, redux)

Pr(act)ice Makes Perfect?

Before moving on to what could be considered some slightly more esoteric sections of the Yoga Sutras, it is best to stop a while longer on the concepts of abhyãsa (practice/praxis) and vairãgyam (devoid of desire for possession/disinterest), two sides of a balancing scale, that when in alignment can help us calm the whirlwinds (vritti’s)of our Mind (citta), bringing us one step closer to the challenge of samãdhi (a very tricky word that we shall deal with in detail in due time).

As we saw in previous Sutras (1.12-14), abhyãsa is no quick fix to our mental, nor physical maladies. In order to have a strong Yogic practice according to Patañjali, it must not only be a strong foundation, grounded by a reverence for uninterrupted effort, but it must also be diligent, regular and over a long period of Time. Now, for the Brahmin man of 2000 years ago, sitting around navel gazing for hours at a stretch every day of the week was merely de rigueur, just another day not at the office so to speak. For the 21^st century person who has not checked out of society to live in a cave of the foothills of the Himalayas, this is not the case, by far.

We have to make Time…and that is not always easy, and sometimes, not entirely possible. We can always make a few minutes, to be sure, to quiet ourselves and bring our breath into focus, even if it is literally for just a few minutes in silent contemplation or meditation, but the trick is that when we need that most is when it feels most difficult to do.

Ideally then, we want to try and carve out a portion of time in our schedules to take care of the mind’s fluctuations on a daily basis, over the course of our life’s time. As Socrates hints at though at the end of Plato’s Republic, to actually encounter the Ideal in this physical world is nothing short of a Noble Lie we tell ourselves. And, we try to counteract that with the Noble Truths of the Buddha (or chose your flavor of precepts to follow, even if your own), to help us combat or mollify our sufferings in life, which are generated by none other than a-vidyã, or ignorance.

With this quest in mind, there are many studios that have the well-known saying by Shri Patabi Jois that  “Yoga is 99% practice, 1% theory” printed on the walls or elsewhere. I would like to pick that apart a bit more with respect to abhyãsa and vairãgyam. 

Something very common in ãsana-based Yoga (which on the grand face of the history of Yoga clock only arrived at 5 to midnight to be fair), we see a familiar phenomenon—way too zealous practice that ultimately, and always, results in two things: injury and/or burnout. (Having gotten into Yoga 25  years ago because of injuries as I overdid abhyãsa with swimming and water polo, and having gone off the deep end with Yoga abhyãsa some years ago, I again write from experience. It can happen.) Often when people discover the magical mystery tour of Yoga, whether it be via meditation, ãsana, kirtan or Yoga retreats, teacher trainings and workshops, there can be a highly zealous, shall we say even, obsessive approach that emerges by gunning for that 99%. Going to 2-3 classes a day, every day, watching countless Yoga Youtube clips, posting sexy ashtavakrasana (apparently one cannot be a “true” yogi/ni without doing this pose…) pics of one’s self on FB or Instagram, one then becomes addicted to the abhyãsa.

What follows is seldom good.

Whereas one can say that this leads to a “better” life or stronger Yoga practice, often it begins to highlight the one thing that increases our suffering, our Ego. Trying to outdo the last amazing pose, it becomes a mere posturing of the Ego. In other words, don’t make an ãsana out yourself by becoming a Yoga poser. As we see in the forthcoming Sutras, the asmitã, or self/ego-aggrandizement, can be a very powerful pitfall in our practice. We may well listen to our inner guru, but often it takes an outside observer to remind us of just how far our asmitã has gone. The abhyãsa can take over if we are not careful, and this is where vairãgyam plays a balancing role.

Making an ãsana out of myself with asmitã: thinking, my leg is not perpendicular

As we looked at with the Bee in the Rose, vairãgyam is not the disconnection or total withdrawal from the world, but rather it is experiencing Life directly, without the intermediacy of the senses. Seeing and experiencing things as they are, without filters, prejudices and aversions or attractions, and moreover, going beyond the concept of the gunas, or qualities in things, that is the vision of vairãgyam, hardly shutting oneself off from the world, but quite the opposite. Then, we may actually see the world as IT IS, not as we want it to be.

The gunas, brushed over quickly in the Sutras, are generally considered three in number: sattva (true/authentic), rajas (zealousness) and tamas (sloth, inertia). Taken in various combinations, these three gunas will give flavor or taste to people, places and things. Vairãgyam is the concept of not being swayed by this taste, but to have direct, unmitigated experiences. No matter how refined one may be in this area of disinterest, eventually taste, flavors, and the filters will kick in; it is inevitable. We could not get out of bed if they did not, for we would not even know what a bed is.

However, we can still appreciate what this can do, and a prime example then is with our abhyãsa. Can we practice with diligence, regularly and over a long period of time without falling into the trap of becoming attached to that practice? Without giving it a quality of sattva, tamas or rajas or some combination thereof? Without judging ourselves and others when that practice may fall short, or overly compromising when it is going so well? That is the key, and the challenge. Does our inner guru tells us when enough is enough in time, or is it usually too late, after the burnout, the crash or the injury? Honestly.

By practicing vairãgyam then with our practice of abhyãsa, we can see how we can bring the scales into balance. Finding how much praxis is enough is, in fact, part of the theory. I have long believed in this balance in all aspects of life. Simple action is useful at times, but fools do rush in where angels fear to tread. However, the flipside is that if we have our nose stuck in the books, our heads in the clouds, and cannot touch our toes in bent-knee uttanasana, yet claim to ardently practice (modern) Yoga, then something is out of whack. We need to balance the physical and mental ledger.

Finding and making the time for our abhyãsa is paramount in the world we live in. A simple look around tells us the world is indeed sick, and if we do not take time to heal ourselves, then it shall only get sicker by proxy of our negligence. Yet, in order to create and engage an efficient and effective praxis, a healthy dose of theory does neither a body, nor mind, harm; so long as it too is taken in moderation.

Get on the mat (and then off again), get off the couch (and back on again), meditate, chant, bend and breathe, but also, take a moment to nourish the Mind and Soul. It’s not just physical, nor mental, but a union, it’s Yoga.

Tangled Up

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

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

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

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

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

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

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