Matsya (“Fish”) incarnated with the specific purpose of saving Manu Satyavrata, the progenitor of the human race during the deluge at the beginning of the present world age.
Kûrma (“Tortoise”) took form out of Vishnu’s infinitude in order to recover various treasures lost during the deluge, notably the elixir of life. Both the deities (deva or sura) and the counter-deities (asura) collaborated in churning the world ocean by using the cosmic serpent (Ananta) as a rope and the cosmic mountain Mandara as a churning rod. Kûrma served as the pivot for the rod. Through their churning, all the lost treasures were recovered, thus restoring the universal order and balance.
Varâha (“Boar”) was born with the mission to destroy the demon Hiranyâksha (“Golden- Eyed”) who had flooded the entire Earth.
Nara-Simha (“Man-Lion”) manifested in order to destroy the evil emperor Hiranya-kashipu (“Golden Vestment”) who had tried unsuccessfully to kill his son Prahlâda, a great devotee of Vishnu. As a result of a boon granted by God Brahma, Hiranya- kashipu could not be killed by day or by night, by a deity, human being, or beast, and neither inside nor outside the walls of his palace. Thus, Nara-Simha appeared at twilight, as a lion-headed human, and within a pillar. With his claws he tore open the king’s body, destroying him.
Vamâna (“Dwarf”) incarnated specifically in order to destroy the demonic Bali, who had ousted the deities and gained dominion over the universe. He requested from Bali as much land as he could cover with three steps. Amused by such a request, the demon emperor granted his wish. Vamâna took two steps and encompassed all of creation, and with his third step placed his foot on Bali’s head, pushing him into the hell realms. Because Bali was not entirely devoid of virtues, Vamâna granted him rulership of the nether regions. Vishnu’s three steps are referred to already in the Rig-Veda (e.g., 1.23.17–18, 20).
Parashu-Râma (“Râma with the Ax”) was a warlike incarnation. He destroyed the warrior estate twenty-one times, which suggests a great struggle between the kshatriyas and the brahmins in early Vedic times.
Râma (“Dark one” or “Pleasing one”), also called Râmacandra, was a wise and just ruler of Ayodhyâ and a younger contemporary of Parashu-Râma. His life story is told in the Râmâyana epic. His wife was Sîtâ (“Furrow”), who is often identified with the Goddess Lakshmî (“Good Sign”) and who symbolizes the principle of marital fidelity, love, and devotion. She was kidnapped by the demon-king Râvana, whose kingdom may have been located in Sri Lankâ (formerly Ceylon), and rescued by the monkey-headed demigod Hanumat, who represents the principle of faithful service.
Krishna (“Attractor”) was the God-man whose teaching is featured in the Bhagavad- Gîtâ and many other sections of the Mahâbhârata epic. Krishna’s death inaugurated the kali-yuga, which is still in full swing and will last many thousands of years.
Buddha (“Awakened one”) was born in order to mislead evil-doers and demons. Some authorities question whether this refers to Gautama the Buddha, but there can be little doubt that this was the intent of the brahmins who created the doctrine of ten incarnations.
Kalki (“Base one”) is the avatâra yet to come. He is described in various Purânas as riding a white horse and brandishing a blazing sword. His task will be to bring about the destruction of the present world (yuga) and the birthing of the next Golden Age, or Age of Truth (satya-yuga).
Of the Hindu trinity, God Brahma is the most abstract and consequently has not captured the imagination of the brahmins. He simply is the Creator of the world. He must be carefully distinguished from brahman, which is the nondual transcendental Reality. Those who do not belong to the great religious communities, such as Shaivism or Vaishnavism, are often described as Smârtas, or adherents of the Smritis (nonrevelatory literature).
Closely associated with God Shiva is Ganesha (“Lord of the hosts”), the elephant-headed God, who is called by many other names, including Ganapati (having the same meaning) and Vinâyaka (“Leader”).22 In 1995, Ganesha made the headlines of the New York Times and other prominent newspapers around the world for what has been dubbed the “milk miracle” (kshîra-camatkâra). On September 21 that year, an otherwise ordinary Hindu in New Delhi dreamed that Ganesha was craving some milk. When the man got up in the morning, he went straight to the nearest temple and, with the priest’s permission, offered a spoonful of milk to this deity’s statue. To his and the priest’s astonishment, the milk vanished. Within hours, news had traveled around the country, and tens of millions of devout Hindus flocked to the temples. Apparently, countless others-including shocked skeptics-saw the miracle repeated in many sacred spots and even not-so-sacred locations (such as Ganesha figurines on automobile dashboards). Within twenty-four hours the miracle ceased as suddenly as it had begun.
Whatever view we may take of this event, it affords us the opportunity to ponder the symbolism of the milk offering. In ancient Vedic times, milk was often mixed into the fabled soma draft before it was offered into the sacred fire for the deities’ enjoyment, or was imbibed by the sacrificial priest to facilitate his communion with the deities. In subsequent times, soma sacrifices were understood and practiced merely metaphorically. Soma became the nectar of immortality generated within the human body itself through intense concentration. Milk, as a product of the sacred cow, is full of symbolic associations. Ganesha is particularly connected with the symbolism of the life force (prâna) and the serpent energy (kundalinî), which, when it has fully risen to the psychospiritual center at the crown of the head, causes the ambrosial liquid to irrigate the yogin’s body.
Of the various female deities, we must single out Durgâ (“She who is difficult to attain”), who represents the cosmic energy of destruction, particularly the removal of the ego (ahamkâra), which stands in the way of spiritual growth and ultimate liberation. She is a nurturing mother only for those who walk the path of self-transcendence; all others experience her wrathful side.
Kâlî (“Dark One”), a personification of Durgâ’s wrath, is one of a group of ten major Goddesses known as the “Great Wisdoms” (mahâ-vidyâ). The others are Târâ, Tripurâ-Sundarî, Bhuvaneshvarî, Chinnâmastâ, Bhairavî, Dhûmâvatî, Bagalâmukhî, Mâtangî, and Kamalâ. Of these, Chinnâmastâ (“She whose head is cut off’) holds special significance for Yoga. This fierce Goddess is typically depicted in the nude and with a garland of skulls around the stump of her neck from which spout two fountains of blood. She holds her severed head in her left hand. Various myths seek to explain her unusual condition, but they all are agreed that the Goddess cut off her own head in order to feed her two attendants, called Dâkinî and Vaminî, or Jayâ and Vijayâ. Yogically interpreted, this primal sacrifice of the divine Mother stands for the left and right current-idâ and pingalâ-which must be sacrificed in order to induce the free flow of the psychospiritual energy through the central channel (sushumnâ-nâdî). The head-symbol of the mind-must be severed, that is, transcended, in order for enlightenment to occur. This yogic symbolism is suggested in this Goddess’s alternative name, Su- shumnasvara-Bhasini, meaning “She who shines with the sound of the central channel.”
The benign aspect of the Ultimate in its feminine form is emphasized in the Goddess Lakshmî, whose name is derived from lakshman (“sign”) and means “Good Sign” or “Fortune.” The South Indian Goddess Lalitâ Tripurâ-Sundarî (“Lovely Beauty of the Triple City”) expresses the same aspect of the Divine. She is described as benevolent (saumya) and beautiful (saundarya), rather than terrifying (ugra) and horrifying (ghora). Yet, since Lakshmî and Lalitâ are conceived as the ultimate Reality, they also necessarily include the destructive aspect. From our limited human point of view, the Divine is neither merely positive nor exclusively negative, but it transcends all such categories. The most important Hindu work extolling the Divine in its feminine aspect is the voluminous Devî-Bhâgavata, a Shâkta counterpart of the Vaishnava Bhâgavata- Purâna, which has been dated between the seventh and twelfth centuries.23 Here the great Goddess is introdu
ced as the eternal essence of the universe.
“This immutable Yoga I proclaimed to Vivasvat. Vivasvat imparted it to Manu, and Manu declared it to Ikshvâku. Thus handed down from one to another, the royal seers learned it.”
-Bhagavad-Gîtâ (4.1—2)
I. HISTORY FOR SELF-UNDERSTANDING
Yoga has been called a living fossil. It belongs to the earliest manifestations of India’s cultural heritage. Thanks to the missionary efforts of Hindu swamis, it has entered a new phase of flowering in our century, both in India and in other parts of the world. Today, millions of Westerners are actively practicing some form of Yoga, though they do not always have a clear understanding of its traditional goals and purposes. To a large extent this is because they are generally uninformed about Yoga’s richly textured history. Therefore, Part Two of this volume is dedicated to outlining the essential developments in the long and complex evolution of Yoga.
History provides a vital context for understanding the world, especially human culture. More than that, history tells us about ourselves, because our beliefs and attitudes are largely shaped by the culture to which we belong. We are what we are, not only because of our own personal history but also because of the collective history of human civilization. As the German philosopher and psychiatrist Karl Jaspers commented:
No reality is more essential to our self-awareness than history. It shows us the broadest horizon of mankind, brings us the contents of tradition upon which our life is built, shows us standards by which to measure the present, frees us from unconscious bondage to our own age, teaches us to see man in his highest potentials and his imperishable creations … We can have a better understanding of our present experience if we see it in the mirror of history.1
Without adequate understanding of the historical unfoldment of Yoga, it is hard to imagine that we could arrive at a genuine appreciation of its spiritual treasures, or could practice it meaningfully and with ultimate effectiveness. A study of the history of Yoga gives us a broader picture than we can glean from most of the popular literature on the subject.
To learn about the historical evolution of Yoga is more than an academic exercise; it actually furthers our self-understanding and hence our efforts to swim free of the boundaries of the ego-personality. The following chapters will reveal some of the glory of the Yoga tradition, which has generated an immense wealth of insight into the human condition. It is, of course, impossible to capture even on a few hundred pages everything that scholarship has brought to light. Indeed, no one has so far attempted to integrate all the available data, which would require mastery of several languages (especially Sanskrit and Tamil) and a truly encyclopedic knowledge. Therefore, what I will attempt in this book is the more modest goal of erecting a preliminary framework for our understanding of Yoga.
In the previous chapter we have seen how the history of Hinduism can conveniently be arranged into nine periods, extending from the Pre-Vedic Age to our Modern Age-a span of over 8,000 years. In reading the following chapters it will be helpful to bear that schema in mind. Since yogic ideas and practices are not unique to Hinduism but also are found, for instance, in Buddhism and Jainism, it would be possible to write quite different histories. However, given the superlative position of Hinduism in the historical development of India’s civilization, this would only add needless complication. In the following, therefore, the development of Yoga is presented from the point of view of Hinduism, though I have included short chapters on Buddhism and Jainism. These two traditions are treated in their relative chronological sequence: Jainism appears after the earliest Upanishads and is followed by Buddhism.
Before beginning the panoramic treatment of the history of Yoga, I would like to briefly introduce a useful evolutionary perspective: the Gebserian model of structures of consciousness.
History and Consciousness
In its fully developed form, the psychospiritual technology of Yoga belongs to what Karl Jaspers called the “axial age,” the crucial period around the middle of the first millennium B.C.E.-the age of Lao Tzu and Confucius in China, Mahâvîra and Gautama the Buddha in India, and Pythagoras, Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle in Greece.2 These geniuses and a host of other pathmakers of that time ushered in a new paradigm or style of thought.
What this new orientation means in the overall history of human civilization has been brilliantly articulated by the Swiss cultural philosopher Jean Gebser.3 According to him, humanity has traversed a series of four structures of consciousness, or cognitive styles, which he characterized as follows:
Archaic consciousness: This is the simplest and earliest identifiable cognitive style, which has the least degree of self-awareness and is still almost completely instinctual. Historically, it takes us back to the time of Australopithecus and Homo habilis. Today, this consciousness manifests in us, for instance, as the impulse toward self-transcendence. Also, it is activated in some types of ecstatic experience (samâdhi) or even certain drug-induced altered states of awareness, where the barrier between subject and object is temporarily lifted.
Magical consciousness: Emerging from the archaic consciousness, the magical consciousness is still pre-egoic, with a diffuse awareness. It operates on the principle of identity, as it is expressed in analogical thinking, which is a gut-level (archetypal) response that relates apparently disjointed elements into a whole. This type of consciousness may have characterized Homo erectus, over one-and-a-half million years ago. It is still effective in us today whenever we are spellbound or in sympathy with someone or something. It manifests negatively in such diverse situations as blindly falling in love or temporarily losing one’s judgment (and sometimes one’s humanity) under the hypnotic influence of a large crowd. The magical consciousness also is strongly present in those aspects of Yoga that involve extreme inward concentration, leading to loss of body awareness. Of course, it also is the cognitive basis for all forms of sympathetic magic, which is an ingredient of some yogic paths, notably those schools of Tantrism that emphasize the cultivation of paranormal powers, or siddhis.
Mythical consciousness: This represents a more pronounced degree of self-awareness, corresponding to, though not identical with, that of a child. Thinking operates on the principle of polarity rather than magical identity or mental duality. It unfolds through symbol rather than calculus, myth rather than hypothesis, feeling or intuition rather than abstraction. The Neanderthals and Cro- Magnons may largely have embodied the mythical consciousness. Like the other structures of consciousness, it continues to be effective to this day and was a principal factor in the creation of the immense variety of sacred traditions, including Yoga. We activate the mythical consciousness whenever we close our eyes and immerse ourselves into the imagery of the mind, or when we give poetic expression to our deep-felt thoughts. The mythic component is strong in most traditional approaches of Yoga, and they can usefully be grouped together under the label of Mythic Yoga, as opposed to a more integrative orientation, such as Sri Aurobindo’s Integral Yoga. Mythic Yoga follows the verticalist motto of “in, up, and out.” I have explored all this more fully in
Wholeness or Transcendence?4
Mental consciousness: As the name suggests, this cognitive style is the domain of the thinking, rational mind, operating on the principle of duality (“either/or”). Here self-consciousness is acute, and the world is experienced as split up into subject and object. Since the European renaissance, this cognitive style has dominated our lives and has in fact become a destructive force. Today, the mental consciousness, which is inherently balanced, has degenerated into what Gebser calls the rational mode.
The mental consciousness at its best was still at work when Patanjali wrote his Yoga-Sûtra or when Vyâsa composed his commentary on it. Thus, Yoga by no means excludes this particular cognitive style, but all traditional schools of Yoga call for the transcendence of the mind, both in its lower form as manas and in its higher form as buddhi. The truth is always considered to lie beyond the mind and the senses. In
what I have dubbed Mythic Yoga, the mind is frequently portrayed as the arch enemy of the spiritual process. This notion, however, is a limitation that is not present in more integrative forms of Yoga. Intellectual work is not necessarily detrimental to spiritual growth, although, in order to realize the Self, the mechanism of the mind must indeed be transcended and freed from its egoic anchorage.
In his magnificent work The Ever-Present Origin and in several of his other books, Gebser argued that today we are witnessing the emergence of a fifth structure of consciousness, which he called the integral consciousness. This is not the place to furnish a detailed description of this emerging modality of the human mind. I merely wish to mention that, in Gebser’s view, this new consciousness is an antidote to the one-sided- ness of the exaggerated rational mentality that is a degradation of the original mental consciousness. The rational consciousness, in Gebser’s sense of the term, is excessively egoic and is at odds with the spiritual Reality. The integral consciousness, by contrast, is inherently ego-transcending and open to what Gebser called the “Origin,” that is, the Ground of Being. There are obvious parallels here to Sri Aurobindo’s philosophy, and Gebser admitted to standing in the spiritual gravity field of that great sage.
The task before us-individually and collectively-is to help this emerging integral consciousness to take effect in us and in our human civilization as a whole. Only in this way can we hope to restore the balance between the various structures of consciousness, allowing each to express itself according to its inherent values. It is my belief that the Yoga tradition-as well as other spiritual traditions-contains many elements that, applied judiciously to our contemporary situation, can assist greatly in this challenging work of integration.
II. FROM SHAMANISM TO YOGA
Cultural heroes like Gautama the Buddha or the Upanishadic sages stood at the threshold of the mental structure of consciousness, which they helped usher in. Thus, the psychospiritual technology of Yoga is the product of the early mental structure of consciousness. Prior to that we find the Proto-Yoga of the Vedas, couched in heavily symbolic terms. Before that we have the ecstatic technology of Shamanism extending back to the Stone Age. Although Shamanism has been dated to around 25,000 B.C.E., it is probably very much older. As we know from other contexts, the absence of artifacts does not necessarily imply the absence of the belief system with which they are typically associated.
The Yoga Tradition Page 21