Summary Yoga Sutras 29-39 (August 14th, 2011)

The last of the set of sutras that talk about God or Iśvara (1.29) says that through the repetition of the sound that represents it, i.e. the Om, we realize our inner self and get free from all disturbances or obstacles.  It seems to me that this sutra expresses popular wisdom.  We see how people who believe in God call upon him/her through prayers when they are facing a hard situation.  Even though we do not have to believe in God or in something like Iśvara in order to be yogis or to practice yoga, the belief in something that is superior, a “special puruṣa” or a higher consciousness beyond our finite beings, can help others with a more devotional inclination, to focus their minds on a state of peace and calmness that is so precious to the yogic path.

            It is astonishing how the disturbances or obstacles mentioned in the Yoga Sutras 2000 years ago, continue to have so much meaning to us in the twenty first century.  As it was mentioned during class, we can see through this text how our human minds are still challenged by the same things. There are 9 obstacles mentioned in the sutra 1.30 which are divided by Iyengar in four groups:

1)      physical: sickness (vyādhi), sluggishness or fatigue (styāna);

2)      mental: doubt or indecision (saṁśaya), carelessness or negligence (pramāda), lazyness (ālasya),

              incontinence (avirati);

3)      intellectual: confusion or delusion (bhrāntidarśana), and

4)      spiritual: dissapointment or not having obtained a firm ground, feeling stuck    

                (alabdhabhūmikatva) and instability or giving up (anavasthitatvāni).

Along with these obstacles, the distracted and scattered mind develops the states of sorrow (duḥkha), despair (daurmanasya), a weak and trembling body (aṅgamejayatva) and irregular breathing (śvāsapraśvāsāḥ vikṣepa).  It seems as if Patañjali were describing the normal characteristics of many of our fellow humans (if not of ourselves to a certain extent) stressed, constantly worried, untrustful, unhealthy… This condition of the mind is called vikṣepa, which means “distracted” and is compared, in the next sutra 1.32, to the “onepointed” mind or ekatattva.  From sutras 1.34 to 1.39, various practices of onepointedness are described, but just before getting into them, we find a sutra that talks about the dispositions or attitudes that start bringing our mind back to a graceful, lucid, clear and “sattvic” state (cittaprasādanam): Friendship (maitrī) to those who are happy; compassion (karuṇā) to those who are unhappy; joy  (muditā) to those who are virtuous, and equanimity  (upeksanam) to those who are non-virtuous.  Sutra 1.33 is one of those parts of the Yoga Sutras that makes evident the Buddhist influence on them.  These four dispositions are exactly the same as the four virtues that are considered in Buddhism to be the antidotes to negative mental states such as envy, violence, intolerance, anger and pride.

Taking a closer look to each of them, we could find that the first one, “friendship or kindness to those who are happy”, seems not to be something difficult to practice.  And yet, Joy Devi gives a perfect example of when maintaining this quality of mind could be a challenge.  Imagine that you are in the park having a picnic with a friend in the perfect spot.  After the first few bites of the tasty dishes, a man sits very close to you and starts smoking; happily lying down on the grass, while the smoke is flowing directly to your nose.  Just take few moments to consider what would be your immediate reaction; your emotions and thoughts towards that man.  What would be the best way to act?  What this sutra tells us is that before any mental dialogue dictate our actions, words and attitudes, we must let our hearts open to kindness and act from there.  Usually, as Joy says, the other’s response will match the energy as well as the words we have put forth.  Although even if  this does not happen, we still have other resources of wisdom from which to act: compassion and equanimity, instead of judgment, anger, impatience and all the many other emotions that come to us when a situation is not as we would like.   In Joy Devi’s version, “compassion for those who are less fortunate” and “equanimity to those whose actions oppose your values” are attitudes that preserve the openness of the heart and calmness of the mind (p.84).  “Joy to those who are virtuous” is another one of those that seems easy to accomplish, and yet, this one addresses one of those sentiments that are easily disguised: envy.  In our insecurity, we may find reasons not to acknowledge others’ talents, but we may also deflate our own virtues and put others on pedestals.  “Honor for those who embody noble qualities” as Joy Devi puts it, means not only to feel happy for those who have them, but also to try to find noble qualities in everyone.  “Some of us may need to become archaeologists and dig dip”, says Joy.  But even when this is not possible, we still can remain calm.[1]

After this, Patañjali proceeds to enumerate various alternatives to focus the mind and achieve onepointedness:

1.34 - Through the practice of retaining the breath after exhalation.  (This is a type of pranayama, the practice of channeling the life force through the manipulation of the breath).

1.35 – Through the steadiness of the mind in any object arising through the senses.  (For example, focusing the mind in a specific taste, in a sound, in a visible object, or a texture, or a smell.)

1.36 – Through the contemplation of an effulgent and sorrowless light.  (This is a very cryptic sutra, difficult to interpret.  What is that light referring too?  Some say that it is the light of our inner self, the “core of our hearts” as Iyengar puts it in page 88.  It could also be referring to the practice within some yogic paths of focusing the mind in the light of a candle, perhaps as an external metaphor of our inner light.)

1.37 – Through the focus of the mind in enlightened beings.  (There is also another way of translating this sutra: “Through the focusing of the mind in any object without desire.”  But, in general, it is referring to the practice of meditating in a spiritual teacher (guru), a wise person, a sage, someone that is already beyond pleasure and pain, in a liberated state, free from desires.)

1.38 – Through the practice of observing our dreams (svapna) and the knowledge that comes from the conscious experience of dreamless sleep (nidrā).  (In the Tibetan yoga, the ability of knowing that we are dreaming while we are dreaming, in other words, to have a lucid dream, is developed to acquire knowledge, solve problems in our lives, get messages from the subtle realm, or to solve emotional issues and prepare ourselves for difficult tasks during the waking state.  There is also a yogic practice called “nidra yoga” that consists in bringing our bodies and minds to a complete point of relaxation but without falling asleep.  This gives us the experience of a state of consciousness where there are no thoughts, nor objects, but just pure awareness.)

1.39 – Through the meditation in any agreeable object.  (This sutra tells us that the mind has the ability to focus on any desired object.  Some people find focusing in sound easier than in silence, or in an external visible object rather than in an internal visualization.  Patañjali acknowledges here, one more time, the variety of paths that there are to achieve the same goal.)

            The great contribution of Iyengar is that he made of the physical poses (asanas) a point of concentration for the mind, capable of bringing us to deeper layers of consciousness and, ideally, to the experience of our true self. 

            Westerners are usually criticized for their focus in the physical poses; but Patañjali is telling us here that it does not matter in which object you point your mind towards, as long as it is agreeable to the yogic goal and to your personal inclination, the practice of “onepointedness” prepares the mind for deeper meditations, as well as being accompanied by a graceful, joyful, loving and compassionate state.  Perhaps, if there were a way to “measure” the practice of a yogi, it wouldn’t so much be how far he/she can bend in one asana, but how much, through the practice of asana or whatever the point of focus is, he/she has managed to express love, compassion, joy and equanimity throughout daily life.

Regarding this topic, I would like to share with you this short video that makes us reflect on our own attitudes towards others.  I think it illustrates nicely the idea of a distracted mind in the sense we have just discussed.  

I hope that your reading of the Yoga Sutras keeps inspiring your yoga practice, whatever form it takes and that you continue to be inspired in sharing your views, comments, doubts, questions and ideas with the group.  See you next meeting!

 

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[1] Iyengar interprets the last attitude as “indiference”. Although that is the literal meaning of “upekṣanam”, it does not convey the positive quality that the other three attitudes have.  I personally prefer the term “equanimity”.

Summary Yoga Sutras 23-28 (July 30th, 2011)

We focused our conversation on sutras 1.23 to 1.28, which talk about Īśvara.  Īśvara is usually translated as God, Lord, Supreme Soul, or Divine Consciousness.  It is interesting to note that the sutra where Īśvara is introduced (1.23) starts with “or” (vā, in sanskrit):  “Or from surrendering to Īśvara”.  What is this “or” refering to?  Previously, Patañjali had said that nirodha, the stillness of the mind, could be achieved by practice (abhyāsa) and detachment (vairāgya), and by deepening our awareness into subtler levels of reality.  Now, he is adding another way of stilling our mind: Īśvara praṇidhāna, which could also be translated as devotion to God or a Supreme Being.  This is what is called the “bhakti yoga” path –a way of uniting our individual consciousness with a higher being, a higher self, a greater soul, force, or consciousness by means of love.  Although, as it was rightly mentioned in class, the word “bhakti” does not appear in the Yoga Sutras, here Patañjali is acknowledging that some people need to have an image, an idea or something that their mind can grasp in order to relate to the infinite and deepest aspect of consciousness.

 It is true that the bhakti path exalts the dualistic relationship between the devotee and the divine.[1]   God is seen as an external deity to which to pray and look to for emotional refuge and spiritual guidance.  On the other hand, within the same dynamics of devotion, the relation with the deity is so intense that the mind becomes “full” of the attributes of that divinity, such as love, infinite compassion, and wisdom, becoming one with the Divine.   So the path of devotion also includes the other side of the spectrum where the individual consciousness totally merges with the universal consciousness.[2]  Do you remember how Patañjali described supreme detachment in sutra 1.16?  Supreme detachment involved the envisioning of puruṣa (puruṣakhyāteḥ), that is, the realization of our true self.  In a sense, devotion and surrendering to Īśvara (which is just a word that stands for whatever other name you want to give to God or the Divine) is the quietening of our minds to let our inner self emerge.  This is what makes the Yoga Sutras so great, that with just two verses, Patañjali is acknowledging a multitude of spiritual paths that exist to realize the state of union.  Within this two verses we have the possibility of either seeing “God” within (or perhaps even as) our inner self, and on the other, to seeing it as something beyond us.  But however we decide to relate to Īśvara, the authentic and detached surrendering to “It” will bring us to that place of nirodha.

    This takes us to the next sutra 1.24 which characterizes Īśvara as that “special puruṣa” (puruṣaviśeṣa) that is free from conflicts, unaffected by actions, and untouhed by cause and effect.  If we think of Īśvara as that God who is totally detached from suffering, immutable to anything that happens in the world and in humans' lives, we might see God as very cold and indifferent.  But if we consider Īśvara as that special aspect of the universal consciousness to which we have access through our true self, then we can make sense of this sutra as talking about that dimension of ourselves that can remain peaceful even through the most conflicting, affecting and terrible situations.  As usual, Joy Devi's version of this sutra is very illuminating:  “The Divine Consciousness is self-effulgent like the sun”.   Just as the sun continues to shine even when there are clouds, rain and darkness, that divine consciousness of which we all partake, is always free, in peace, still, and beyond suffering.  At this point, a very interesting discussion arose about the unity or multiplicity of puruṣas, or souls.  If Īśvara is a “special” puruṣa, does that mean that there are different puruṣas?  Or, if it is true that, in a deeper sense, we are all one with that pure and infinite consciousness, then although apparently multiple and different from each other in our bodies and minds, are we all one in our true self?

    These questions have originated heated debates between the traditional commentators and teachers themselves.  The position that we are all one puruṣa would need to accept that when one soul achieves the state of union with the divine and realizes its true self, then all the others reach it too.  But this is not very evident.  It is not clear whether Patañjali thinks if we are all the same puruṣa or not, but the most satisfactory and beautiful answer that I have found is the one given by the vedantic tradition which says that Īśvara or the Divine is like the flame of fire from which small sparks spread in all directions.  While they are coming out of the flame they are different from each other, although if we could put them together they would fuse into one; and if we put the little sparks back into the big flame, they would be indistinguishable from the main “special flame”.  So in a sense, thinking of ourselves as separate puruṣas is true, but in another sense it is false.  It all depends on which moment of the little spark we focus on.

    Sutras 1.25 and 1.26 give a further characterization of Īśvara as omniscient and foremost teacher (guru).  Characterizations like this could make us start asking whether yoga is a religion.  The question was raised in class and many answers were given, some said yes, some said no.  Someone said that it is not but it can be; someone else said that it was a way of life, and someone else thought that it is a spiritual path.  The fact is that people relate to yoga in many ways.  Whether they do it as as a religion, exercise, health regimen, philosophical system or spiritual path, all depends how far one wants to go with the practice.  It may be that as we go deeper into the yoga path and its philosophy, we may find some ideas or beliefs with which we do not agree or relate to.  But it may also be that the practice of yoga and its philosophy can enhance and enrich our own religious beliefs.

    Īśvara is understood in the yoga tradition as the very first omniscient guru of all gurus.  This is in part to justify the authenticity and value of a particular school.  At the time the Yoga Sutras were composed, there were many schools and many paths of yoga, and each of them would claim omniscience of the founder of their respective tradition –otherwise their sacred texts could contain errors, and that would be unacceptable.[3]  Such original truth could only be passed on from guru to guru in order to faithfully preserve the teachings.  This idea is present in any yoga style that you can think of (Iyengar, Ashtanga, Kundalini, etc.).  There is the strong belief that the validity of the teachings is supported by the lineage it comes from because it is thought that the very first teacher got his or her knowledge from the source, which is divine.  That is why Īśvara is said to be “sarvajñabījam”, that is, the origin or seed of all knowledge.

    If we want to understand this in a more interiorized way, we can interpret these sutras as referring to that fountain of infinite wisdom that each of us have access to through our hearts.  Our minds may not understand many things, but when we manage to silence them, we can intuit answers that we never thought we would have.  In a sense, our soul is “omniscient”, because when we do not know what to do, when we do not understand, or get something, there is always a deeper layer of our awareness that can do it, even if it takes time to surface to our normal consciousness.  As Joy translates: “The Divine is the essence of all knowledge, wisdom, and love.” “Knowledge, wisdom, and love are the omnipresent teachers in all beings.”

    Sutra 1.27 brings us to the topic of the mantra AUM and connects it with Īśvara as its representation.  There is a tantric tradition that describes the origin of the universe as a pulsating energy.[4]  This energy, through its different vibrations, creates all beings and dimensions of reality.  The original sound of this pulsation reverberates through all creation, and each manifestation has its own particular vibration and sound.  The AUM is this original sound of the universe that flows through all that exists.  It is thought that the ancient sages who gave us this sound actually heard it through their meditations.  Thus, by repeating it constantly we can experience that inner vibration in ourselves and in all beings.  To understand a little bit better the meaning of the praṇavah (this is how Patañjali refers to the mantra AUM), we read in class the Māṇdūkya Upaniṣad [5], which talks about the significance of each of the sounds that compose it.

    Iyengar says (p.80-81) that vibration and sound brings us closer to God because it is the subtlest form of his Creation.[6]  God, however, is beyond vibration.  AUM is the sound that penetrates all vibration, but also, that goes beyond it, because the last part of the “mmm” vibration is that evanescent sound that goes into silence, which is the origin of all sound.  This is why AUM can bring us closer to the source. Even more, if we sing it with full intention and feeling (tadarthabhāvanam) it can make us “disappear” in its silence.

    I will then leave you with this silence so that you can go and meditate with the AUM and reconsider by yourself what Īśvara means to you in this moment of your life and with respect to your practice of yoga.

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[1] You may have had contact with the Hare Krishnas and seen how they adore his image, chant to him, dance around invocating constantly his different names, and treat him as if he was a child, a lover, a husband, a friend, or anything that brings out love from oneself.

[2] While writing this summary, the writings of Meher Baba came to my attention.  There is one that a beautiful description of the devotional dynamic between the devotee and the Divine.  Click here if you want to read it.

[3] The sacredness of the Vedas, for example, would be endowed by the fact that the rishis, or sages, would have “heard” their content coming from the infinite source and not from a human.  Also, within the buddhist tradition, the omniscience of Buddha was something that had to be constantly proved before other traditions to state the validity of his teachings.

[4] The Trika school of Kashmir Shaivism.

[5] This is a very short reading that I strongly recommend to you. Just click in the title Māṇdūkya Upaniṣad above, and you will be directed to the text.

[6] Some yoga paths make of their practice the repetition of sacred sounds. Krishna Dass refers to chanting as the “asana of the heart”.  See documentary “Yoga Unveiled”.

Summary Yoga Sutras 16-22 (July 23rd, 2011).

We continued talking about the meaning of vairāgya in sutras 1.15 and 1.16. I brought to our attention the distinction between "detachment" and "renunciation". Although Iyengar translates it as "renunciation", the meaning of vairāgya is closer to terms like "detachment" or "dispassion", as it comes from the root "vi-rāga" where "vi" has the sense of separation from, or distinction, and "rāga", the sense of pleasure or desire. The word "renunciation" would better correspond to the Sanskrit "tyaj" which has the sense "to go away from", "to set aside", "to leave", or "to abandon". But leaving aside etymologies, as I heard one teacher at the university tell the students in a class about the same topic: "If you really want to know what the meaning of "renunciation" is, renounce something." He was inviting us to make an action that involved giving up something, even if it was as simple as not eating sugar for some time, or not eating for one day. Although renunciation, as we saw in the previous class, is a way to transcend certain patterns of thought or action in order to gain a state of freedom, it does not guarantee success in and of itself. Even though we can stop doing something, the desire can still linger in our minds. And even if we manage to renounce the desire itself and have no more conscious thoughts about it, what we thought well extinguished, may not be at all. Instead it may remain latent in the subconscious, manifesting itself unexpectedly. The act of renunciation is more of an external action, whereas the real act of freedom and detachment comes from an internal attitude of letting go, of being able to live with or without something and not suffer for it. This accomplishment, as Iyengar (Light on the Yoga Sutras, 66-67) and other traditional commentators point out, has different levels.


    The first level of detachment consists in being able to remain in peace among things that we perceive through the five senses or interact with physically. For example, particular objects (viśeṣa) and things that we like or do not like (certain food, temperature, places, sounds, etc.). Imagine that you want to detach from drinking coffee (because you know that it would be better for you to quit, for whatever reason). Your first step is the physical action, no more contact with coffee. You may still desire or crave coffee every morning, even if you serve yourself a cup of orange juice instead. Detaching from subtle and more abstract objects (aviśeṣa) like the desire, emotions, thoughts and feelings towards something, is the second level of vairāgya.  In this state, your mind would not think of coffee in the morning anymore. You are just fine with orange juice. But perhaps one day, you go by a restaurant and smell the aroma of coffee or look at someone enjoying a cup. You suddenly feel this craving for coffee that you thought was gone. The third level of detachment involves those subconscious thoughts and feelings stored deep in the psyche, requiring an even more intense and ardent attitude of dispassion. Finally, you are completely over it; there is no craving, no thought, no intention of drinking coffee. On the contrary, you do not even want to hear the word, and every time you are exposed to it, your mind immediately goes to the thought "I do not need it, I am detached from it". In a sense, you have become "attached" to your non-attachment (just as Puppetji graciously explains).[1] The third level of vairāgya is to go beyond your thought of being attached and not being attached. Achieving the fourth level of supreme detachment entails a detachment from all thought and judgment. Following our example (which is an elaboration on the one given by Iyengar on page 67), authentic attachment to coffee would be to not even think about your attachment or non-attachment towards coffee. You drink it or not, without aversion or passion. Your mental state goes beyond the effects that coffee's nature (guṇas)[2] causes on you. You are happy with or without it; and the decision of drinking it or not comes from a place in your mind that is not conditioned by a pattern, a habit, a belief, or an entrenched desire. Your decision of taking it or not comes authentically and freely.


    Perhaps the best examples of this supreme detachment or paravairāgya are found in the mystics of different traditions (Teresa de Avila, John of the Cross, Al Hallaj, Tulsidas, etc), who, in search of the real meaning of life and the experience of divine union, renounced either their possessions, or their families and/or all comfort, as well as traditional beliefs and cultural norms. Some of them even renounced food and what we would consider essential for good health. A fair question arises here: Did they really achieve detachment or did they remain attached to their "higher state of mind", to their love for God, to their supreme level of detachment? How to know if someone is really detached or not? How do we know if we, ourselves, are fully detached from something, and not deluded, unaware of the desire, ego or complacency that is still lying dormant at the bottom of our subconscious mind? There is no definitive answer from the outside. But the fact is that when supreme and authentic detachment arises, there is no more thought about it, not even the question of being detached or not. At this point, the meaning of s. 1-16 gains more light if we attend to its literal translation: tatparaṁ- the highest, ultimate; puruṣakhyāteḥ-vision or remembrance of the self, soul, spirit, consciousness; guṇavaiṭṛṣnyam- cessation of craving for the "guṇas", qualities of nature (objects of the world).  The ultimate vairāgya, which means the cessation of the craving for the objects of the world and nature (prakṛti), arises from the vision or remembrance of who we really are (puruṣa). How authentically we express the freedom of our selves, only we know. Thus, only we can know and feel if we are still attached or not. The question towards others is pointless, because there is no way to answer it from the outside.

      Parallel to the process of detachment-- understood as a process of remembering and re-envisioning our selves as the infinite and free consciousness that we are (puruṣa)-- there is a process of deepening of awareness (See Table 1). Sutra 1.17 refers to the different layers of awareness that give us access to the world and nature (prakṛti). According to the Yoga philosophy, each type of awareness reveals a different type of object. So if our awareness is only focused in the physical (vitarka), external objects, and on the field we experience through our five senses of perception (sight, touch, taste, smell and sound) and five senses of action (grasping, moving, reproducing, excreting, and speaking), then that is as far as our experience will go. If our awareness focuses in subtler objects through deeper reflection and thought (vicāra), then we are able to perceive the objects of that realm, such as feelings, emotions, abstract ideas, deeper layers of the body, and subtle energy fields. If our awareness goes deeper, we start noticing more profound and internal layers of the world of experience, such as the pure state of bliss (ānanda). And going even deeper, awareness will reveal the experience of the pure "I-ness"; the experience of "I am" (asmitā). I think we can now see how sutra 1.17 is talking about the possibilities of experience and how those are accessed through our awareness. 

         
Table 1. Stages of vairāgya and parallel processes.

         In order for you to experience this, think of any asana, like "trikonasa". Next time you practice it, try going through the different types of awareness. Your mind first goes to the physical aspect of it, focusing in the alignment of the feet, legs, hips, etc. Next, if you go deeper, your awareness starts to understand the pose in a more subtle way, such as how the stretching of the arms allows your chest to open and with that, your breath deepens, bringing a sensation of stability and clarity in your mind. Once you have adjusted, understood the details, and found that steady place in the pose, you start experiencing a sense of beauty; a personal, blissful sensation of executing your pose, as it is, with your own body and with its own possibilities. You experience, then, the so called asmitāmātra or the individual aspect of your being through that pose that now feels so personal. Going even deeper, bringing yourself to that state where you, your body, and your mind are all one in the pose; the "all" of you becomes "trikonasana". Then you can go beyond the individuality of the pose and start experiencing it as the cosmic paradigm. Now you can realize that you, everyone in the classroom, and every other practitioner in the rest of the world are doing that pose which is not yours, nor theirs, but just "trikonasa" in such a way that we, by practicing it, partake of the deeper, cosmic and universal meaning (with its physical and mental benefits). Finally, if possible, you can achieve that place of silence, where even the feeling of doing a particular pose, "trikonasana", disappears; and everything is just…yoga, nirodha, stillness, consciousness, silence, being, heart. The deepening of awareness can be applied to anything in our lives. The transformative power of the yogic physical poses (āsanas) lies precisely in that they, as Iyengar says in the introduction to Book I , p.12, "offer a controlled battleground for the process of conflict and creation. The aim is to recreate the process of human evolution in our own internal environment."[3]


 Sutras 1.18 and 1.19 talk about other states of mind experienced within this process of detachment and deepening of awareness. They are difficult to grasp because the commentaries vary in interpretation. The main idea in s.1.18 is that the state of virāmapratyaya is one where we lose the feeling of the "I". The physical body feels as if it were almost not there. The mind is absorbed in subtle, inward sensations, although the awareness is not deep enough to reach the subconscious aspects of the mind (saṁskāras). Sutra 1.19 talks about the state of consciousness where our being experiences "bodylessness" (videha) and the state of being totally merged in nature (prakṛtilayānām). The tradition understands this sutra as referring to beings that have transcended the physical level and continue having experiences in subtler dimensions. We would have to go more into hindu mythology in order to get what is meant by "subtle realms" and "unembodied beings". But because we do not have space here (nor had time in class to talk about it), I will just say that the idea of this sutra is that there is a state of mind that gives us the experience of being merged in prakṛti, where we are aware of the myriad of possibilities of creation and the infinite potentiality of manifestation in space and time.


  Of course, without having ever experienced something like the "subtle realm", all these layers of experience and awareness may sound unintelligible and hard to believe in. We could question (as it was done in class) the whole model of levels of detachment and awareness, as well as the account of experiences that supposedly come from deep meditative and yogic states. How could we know that this is not a product of imagination, a fantasy and delusion of certain people? What Yoga philosophy takes as the starting point of evolution, i.e. consciousness is, for science, just a product of the brain and the organic body. From a scientific point of view, what this philosophy takes to be an access to different levels of reality through awareness, is just an effect of the workings of different areas in our brain. In the end, when talking, reflecting and discussing about "consciousness" in the yogic sense, we are left with a feeling of not fully grasping what it is, because we, as westerners, come from a paradigm that cannot give account for something like the yogic description.[4] And yet, if we consider a comparative approach to the first person accounts of people who have been in those deep meditative states, we find a similar structure; parallelisms in the process of interiorization, as well as converging metaphors (although perhaps in a different language).[5]


   It is interesting to notice how, after having just described the "map" of awareness, introspection and possibilities of experience, sutra 1.20 presents the elements of faith (sraddha), vigor (virya), constant remembrance (smriti), absorption (samadhi), and discernment (prajña) as part of the practice for those who may have not yet experienced those levels. Sutras 1.21 and 1.22 remind us of the direct relation between practice, dedication, detachment and awareness. Through the intensity of our practice, devotion and intention (which can be mild, medium or supreme) we allow the consciousness of our authentic self to emerge more easily.


I know this is a long summary, but the topic deserves it. So many other things were discussed in class that it is impossible for me to even touch upon them here. This only confirms the beauty and enriching aspects of our classroom meetings. Thank you all for your interest and motivation. And many special thanks to Koa for her amazing help in editing these posts.

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[1] See video on the right of this blog.

[2] Guṇas refer to the three qualities of nature: sattva (harmony, delight, clarity), rajas (dynamism, motion, restlessness), and tamas (obscurity, lethargy, density).  You can find a detailed and traditional explanation of these qualities in chapter fourteenth of the Bhagavad Gita.

[3] Think of what it would be like to perform a pose with complete detachment.

[4] Not until recently, some scientists with interest in Eastern thought have tried to approach it with a different paradigm such as the one emerging from quantum physics.  See any of  Amit Goswami’s articles on the topic of consciousness for an example of this.

[5] If you are interested in these kinds of parallelisms between spiritual traditions, I recommend you  reading “The Ascent of Mount Carmel” by St. John of the Cross and compare it with the process of detachment, awareness and steps to achieve the state of nirodha or kaivalya described in the Yoga Sutras. This is one of the most astonishing parallelisms I have encountered in comparative mysticism; considering that the Catholic church does not see with good eyes yogic meditation.

Summary Yoga Sutras 1-16 (July 9th, 2011):

So far we have read sutras 1 to 16 from Book I.  Sutras 1 to 4 introduce the topic and talk about what the purpose of yoga is.  In her version of the Yoga Sutras[1], Nishala Joy Devi gives a beautiful (although not quite literal) translation of the first 2 sutras:

S.1: With humility (an open heart and mind) we embrace the sacred study of Yoga.

S.2: Yoga is the uniting of the consciousness with the heart.

            We saw that there are many ways to translate S.2 (yogaḥ citta vṛtti nirodhaḥ): [2]

Yoga is:

-          the cessation of movements in consciousness. (Iyengar)

-          the stilling of the changing states of the mind. (Bryant)

-          establishing the mind in stillness. (Ravi Ravindra)

-          the stopping of the fluctuations of consciousness. (Ibid))

-          the quieting of the turnings or projections of the mind. (Ibid)

-          cessation of the turnings of thought. (Stoller Miller)

-          suppression of the modifications of the mind. (Hariharananda)

-          restraining the mind-stuff from taking various forms. (Vivekananda)

The words cessation, stopping, restraining or controlling the vṛttis could convey, in some way or another, the idea that there is something wrong in the functioning of our mind.  But as we saw in sutras 6 to 11, if it were not for the functioning of the mind (citta) through its three aspects: intelligence (buddhi), sense of I or identity (āsmita), and attention (manas) we would not be able to perceive, to know (pramāṇa), to imagine (vikalpaḥ), to sleep (nidrā), or to remember (smṛtiḥ); all of these functions that allow us to feel the world through our sensations, to know and discover new things, to discern between what is good or bad for us, to have a good nap and rest, to create art, and to have memory.  Of course, as sutra 5 says, there are vṛttis that can cause us affliction (kliṣṭa), but there are also others that bring us enjoyment, or that we are simply indifferent to (akliṣṭa).  It is true that our mind (citta) can also make mistakes (viparyayaḥ), although this is not necessarily something negative, since it is from trial and error that we can learn.  So the question is: Why would we have to restrain and bring to cessation the contents of our mind?

Sutras 3 and 4 give the answer:  When we quiet the contents of the mind the “the seer” (draṣṭuḥ), that is, we, abide in our true nature. When the mind is full of thoughts, modifications, turnings, (vṛttis), we identify with them, and loose the real answer to the question “Who am I?”  So the purpose of yoga and the bringing of our mind´s fluctuations to a still point is to find our true self, our true nature; which is beyond any qualification, name, form, judgment, thought, emotion and/or limitation.[3]  The yoga philosophy uses the word puruṣa to refer to our true nature, and you will find it translated as “pure consciousness”, “seer”, or “soul”.

The problem then, is not the functioning of the mind per se, but a particular process of identification (sārūpyam) and perhaps also, a process of “misrecognition”.  Just as in the Greek myth of Narcissus, a handsome youth who fell in love with his own image reflected on a pond, our mind gets lost in the midst of its own creations, forgetting that they are only a mere reflection of  who we really are.  And just as Narcissus would have to take his gaze away (not without effort) from the image in the pond and turn it over towards himself in order to see and realize who that image is, in the same way we need to turn our minds away from its own mesmerizing fluctuations (pleasant as well as unpleasant) in order to see who we really are and where those fluctuations are coming from.

That is why we need a practice.  It makes sense then, that after defining the five types of mental fluctuations or vṛttis, the next sutra (S.12) says that it is through practice (abhyāsa) and detachment (vairāgya) that we can turn our minds towards our self and find the stillness of our thoughts. 

Sutras 12 to 14 define what the qualities of practice are.  Practice involves steadfast effort, applied for a long time, without interruption, with dedication and zealousness.  We talked in class about how some other schools of yoga add the element of grace to the practice in order to avoid an egotistical approach.  Practice prepares our body and mind as a gardener prepares the soil, so that when it is well nurtured, firm and ready to receive the seed, the plant can grow tall and healthy.  In the same way, the yogi, through his or her practice (asanas, meditation, discernment, study, etc.), is establishing the grounds for the seed of the true self to emerge; but this is not a process that comes from the ego or a solipsistic and individualistic effort. On the contrary, the true self can only become manifest when the “little self” is quiet. 

Sutras 15 and 16 talk about vairāgya which is usually translated as renunciation, but it can also be understood as detachment or dispassion.  We saw that there is a very extreme and traditional way to understand it.  Usually, within the hindu ascetic tradition, to renounce means to let go of all possessions, sensorial pleasures and displeasures and social roles.  In a traditional ascetic way, to renounce meant to go to the woods, live an austere life, and meditate in order to find the truth (just as Buddha, who renounced to the palace life, wife and child).   But there is also another way within the same hindu tradition to understand detachment that does not necessarily involve renouncing to the world but renouncing within the world.   To make sense of what renunciation is in our lives and our context, here and now, we just need to think of those things, people, circumstances, and beliefs that we have had to let go in order to move forward.  Renunciation or, perhaps even better, detachment, involves an element of free choice, an attitude and internal decision of releasing the past and accepting the present as it gives itself to us.

  But then a very valid question arises:  what is the difference between detachment and indifference?

The example of performing handstand was given in class.  A student does not want to perform handstand because she says she cannot do it.  But perhaps, if she just detached from the idea of “I cannot do handstand”, she would be able to do it.  The student could also say: “I am detached, I do not really care if I can do handstand or not.”  Would we say that this is detachment?  I would not say that detachment means “not caring”.  It does not really matter if she can or cannot do handstand.  What does matter is the attitude towards the pose.  So, according to my understanding, detachment is not about getting rid of our possessions or not, or not caring about our or others´ emotions or beliefs.  It is rather about how we feel and react towards them.  Perhaps, in order to feel and act free from our attachments towards something, we need to live without it and renounce to it either for a certain period of time or for good.  Practices like fasting, being in silence for certain amounts of time, being alone, or even deciding to live without a house, etc., may help some to achieve such freedom of mind.  The fact is that life is always presenting us with opportunities to let go, some harder than others.  Iyengar talks about five levels of detachment.  We will talk about them next class along with how they relate to the cosmology of yoga and the levels of reality.

            Thank you all for your interest and for making this great study group meetings happen!

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[1] Please see the previous post for the complete reference and other versions of the Yoga Sutras, as well as a preliminary list of commentaries to the Yoga Sutras.

[2] Feel free to add more translations of this very important sutra either in the commentary section or send it to me by email and I will add it to the post.

[3] Think of how this relates to your life.  How would you define yourself after knowing and realizing that you are beyond any label, any description?  How does visualizing yourself as “pure consciousness”, “pure awareness”, “pure light” makes you feel? 

Translations of the Yoga Sūtras of Patañjali (to be constantly updated):

Bryant, Edwin F., The Yoga Sūtras of Patañjali. With Insights from the Traditional Commentators, New York: North Point Press, 2009.

Harīharānanda Āraṇya, Swami, Yoga Philosophy of Patañjali, Albany: SUNY Press, 1983.

Iyengar, B.K.S., Light on the Yoga Sūtras of Patañjali, London: Thorsons, 1993.

Joy Devi, Nischala, The Secret Power of Yoga. A Woman´s Guide to the Heart and Spirit of the Yoga Sūtras, New York: Three Rivers Press, 2007.

Ravindra, Ravi, The Wisdom of Patañjali´s Yoga Sutras, Canada: Morning Light Press, 2009.

Stoler Miller, Barbara, Yoga. Discipline of Freedom. The Yoga Sutra Attributed to Patañjali, California: University of California Press, 1995.

Vivekananda, Swami, Raja Yoga. Conquering the Internal Nature, Kolkata: Advaita Ashrama, 2007.

Traditional Commentators of the Yoga Sūtras

• Vyāsa´s Bhāṣya (commentary) – First extant commentary dated around the fourth or fifth century.
  
• Śaṅkara Vivaraṇa – Influential commentator of the Vedānta school, dated around the eight to ninth century.
  
• Vācaspati Miśra´s Tattva-vaiśāradī –Next most
  authoritative commentary after Vyāsa's, dated in the ninth century.
  
• Al-Bīrunī's Arabic translation of the Yoga Sūtras – Manuscript recently discovered in 1922 but dating back to the tenth or eleventh century.
  
• The Rāja-mārtaṇḍa by Bhoja Rāja – Political figure of the eleventh century, ruler of an independent clan in the Malwa region of Madhya Pradesh, central India.
  
• Vijñānabhikṣu's Yoga-vārttika – Prominent scholar and devotee of Vishnu from the fifteenth century, attempted to harmonize the schools Vedānta and Sāṅkhya concepts.
  

  
   

 

 

 

Yoga Cosmology

In this powerpoint presentation I have tried to show in a graphical and attractive way the process of manifestation or evolution described in the Yoga Sutras.  Although such description does not appear until II.19, it will help us better understand sutra I.17.  Remember that the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali inherits the metaphysical view of the philosophical school of Samkhya.  The pictures that I have used for this presentation are from the artist Alex Grey.

More PowerPoint presentations from Ana Funes

Links where you can listen the chanting of the sutras.

Here there is a version that I have from Srivatsa Ramaswamit:

Srivatsa Ramaswamit - Yoga Sutras Of Patañjali


These are other website where you can listen to different versions of the sutras.
- http://www.ashtangayogasutra.com/ -  Complete, in streaming format.
- http://hrih.net/patanjali/ -  This site has different resources on the Yoga Sutras.  To listen to different versions of the sutras chanting go to the upper right where you will see, at the bottom of a list of links, one that says: Launch Audio Console. 

A Very Schematic History of Yoga

Thematic Division of the Yoga Sutras