Many scholars maintain that the doctrine of reincarnation (punar-janman, lit. “rebirth”) and its corollary doctrine of moral causation (karma) were unknown in early Vedic times and were adopted from the Dravidians. Some researchers alternatively have proposed that the Upanishadic sages themselves discovered the cycle of births and deaths governed by the iron law of karma, rather than borrowed the idea from supposedly native tribes. However, both these views ignore the Vedic evidence, which suggests that already the Rig-Vedic rishis believed in reincarnation and karma.
Be that as it may, both esoteric teachings became a prominent feature of Hinduism, Buddhism, Jainism, and Sikhism. Each tradition of course has its own interpretations of how reembodiment works, and how the self-perpetuating mechanism of karma can be outwitted through spiritual practice. Early on, the escape from the round of successive births became a principal motive behind India’s spirituality, and we will therefore meet this idea again and again in the remaining chapters of this book.
In the Vedas, the doctrine of the transcendental Self is nowhere clearly enunciated, though it is implied in many mystical passages. In the Brâhmanas and ranyakas, however, we find amidst much theological speculation about the ritual and its cosmological correspondences the first scattered references to the Self, which is omnipresent. But only in the Upanishads is this precious teaching fully articulated.
What is the Self? Sage Yâjnavalkya put it thus in the Brihad-ranyaka-Upanishad (3.4.1):
He who breathes with your inhalation (prâna) is your Self (âtman), which is in everything. He who breathes with your exhalation (apâna) is your Self, which is in everything. He who breathes with your diffusive breath (vyâna) is your Self, which is in everything. He who breathes with your up-breath (udâna) is your Self, which is in everything. He is your Self, which is in everything.
When asked how that Self is to be conceived, Yâjnavalkya continued:
You cannot see the Seer of seeing. You cannot hear the Hearer of hearing. You cannot think the Thinker of thinking. You cannot understand the Understander of understanding. He is your Self, which is in everything. Everything other than Him is irrelevant. (3.4.2)
This passage epitomizes the essence of the Upanishadic mystery teachings, which were passed from Self-realized teacher to disciple by word of mouth: The transcendental ground of the world is identical with the ultimate core of the human being. That supreme Reality, which is pure, formless Consciousness, cannot be adequately described or defined. It must simply be realized. Upon realization, the Self will be found to be infinite, eternal, utterly real, and free, as well as unqualifiedly blissful (ânanda).
How can the Self be realized? The Upanishadic sages emphasized the need for world renunciation and intensive contemplation. They dismissed the idea that action (karman) can lead to liberation, insisting that only wisdom (jnâna) has the power to free us from bondage, because it is of the same nature as the transcendental Self. Yet, surprisingly, the earliest Upanishads contain few practical instructions about the art of introspective meditation. This was apparently a matter to be settled between the teachers and their disciples. We know, however, that the spiritual path included extensive service to the teacher and constant discrimination between the Real and the unreal—all sustained by a burning desire for Self-realization and a willingness to transcend the ego.
Despite their radical orientation, the Upanishads are considered a continuation of the Vedic revelation. Their teachings, in fact, conclude the Vedic revelation, and hence are known as Vedânta. The term vedânta means literally “Veda’s end.” All subsequent teachings, such as the knowledge contained in the Sûtra literature, are deemed to be no longer shruti or “revelation,” but smriti or “tradition.”
The Extent of the Upanishadic Literature
Over two hundred Upanishads exist, and most of them have been translated into English. The earliest works, as mentioned, were composed almost four millennia ago, whereas the youngest scriptures of this genre belong to our own century. Hindu traditionalists, following the list furnished in the at least 700-year- old Muktikâ-Upanishad, generally recognize 108 Upanishads.
The oldest principal Upanishads can be arranged in rough chronological order as follows: The first group comprises the Brihad-ranyaka-, Chândogya-, Taittirîya-, Kaushîtaki-, Aitareya-, Kena- (or Talavakâra-), and Mahâ-Nârâyana-Upanishad. The second group includes the Kathâ-, Shvetâshvatara-, Îsha-, Mundaka-, Prashna-, Maitrâyanîya-, and Mândûkya-Upanishad.
The remaining Upanishads are generally divided into the following five groups:
Sâmânya-Vedânta-Upanishads, which expound Vedânta in general;
Samnyâsa-Upanishads, which elaborate on the ideal of renunciation;
Shâkta-Upanishads, which disclose teachings related to shakti, the feminine aspect of the Divine;
Sectarian Upanishads, which expound teachings related to specific religious cults and dedicated to such deities as Skanda (God of War), Ganesha (the elephant-headed God who is invoked specifically to remove material or spiritual obstacles), Sûrya (the Sun God), or even Allah (the Moslem Creator- God), etc.;
Yoga-Upanishads, which explore different aspects of the yogic process, especially Hatha-Yoga. This category includes the Brahma-Vidyâ-, Amrita-Nâda-Bindu-, Amrita- Bindu-, Nâda-Bindu-, Dhyâna-Bindu-, Tejo-Bindu-, Advaya-Târaka-, Mandala- Brâhmana-, Hamsa-, Mahâ-Vâkya-, Pâshupâta-Brahma-, Kshurikâ-, Tri-Shikhi- Brâhmana-, Darshana-, Yoga-Cûdâ-Mani-, Yoga-Tattva-, Yoga-Shikhâ-, Yoga-Kundalî-, Shândilya-, and Varâha-Upanishad. These works, all of which probably belong to the Common Era, are discussed in Chapter 15.
It should be remembered that originally all these texts—the Vedas, Brâhmanas, ranyakas, and Upanishads, as well as the Sûtras—were not written down at all but memorized and transmitted from teacher to pupil by word of mouth. The Vedic corpus is what has been dubbed a mnemonic literature. To this day there are some brahmins who can recite from memory one or more Vedic Samhitâs, or the entire Mahâbhârata and Râmâyana, each comprising tens of thousands of verses.
While memorization was not deemed a yogic feat in itself, it helped young students acquire a rare degree of concentration that proved useful in their later spiritual work. Besides, in learning the Vedic texts by heart they were constantly exposed to the highest wisdom, which naturally opened them to the spiritual path. Today, immersed as we are in a lopsided materialistic culture, it is sometimes difficult for us to find and maintain a spiritual perspective. Fortunately, the inspired creations of ancient and modern Hindu saints, yogins, and sages are readily available to us in book form. We need not abandon home and work to sit at the feet of the great adepts and benefit from their vision of humanity’s potential and destiny. Modern technology brings their timeless wisdom and encouragement right to our doorstep. Yet, for some of us, this only serves as preparation for a flesh-and-blood encounter with a living master of Yoga, who can unlock hidden doors in our mind so that we can experience the yogic heritage more directly and profoundly.
II. THE BRIHAD-ARANYAKA- UPANISHAD
The oldest among the earliest Upanishads is the Brihad-ranyaka- (“Great Forest”) Upanishad, in which the meditative path is still closely connected with sacrificial concepts. This scripture begins with a set of instructions about the horse sacrifice (ashva-medha) interpreted as a cosmological event. The horse sacrifice was a major ceremony performed in honor of a successful king to ensure the continued prosperity of his rule. For instance, in the fourth century C.E., King Samudrâgupta staged this lavish ceremony after his conquest of thirteen kingdoms in southern India. On this occasion he minted gold coins depicting on one side the sacrificial horse and on the other side his favorite wife. The proud inscription on this commemorative coin reads: “After conquering the earth, the great King of Kings with the might of an invincible hero will conquer Heaven.” The last-known performance of the horse sacrifice took place in the eighteenth century at Jaipur in Rajasthan.
In the course of the horse sacrifice, the
chief sacrificer’s wife mimics sexual intercourse with the dead horse just before it is dismembered and cooked. The parallel to the sexual symbolism of Tantra is obvious: Like the Tantric adept during intercourse, the horse does not lose its semen during this symbolic ritual, but the “copulating” woman partakes of the animal’s vital energy. In later Hindu Tantra, the yogic God Shiva is often depicted as a corpse, and his spouse Shakti is shown seated on him in a pose of sexual union.
Early on, the horse came to signify the sun and, by further symbolic extension, the resplendent transcendental Self. The Self is the ultimate source of all life and yet, because of its transcendental nature, is more appropriately understood as passive (like a corpse) rather than active. It is the Self’s power or shakti aspect, in the form of the life force animating the human personality and consciousness, that creates access to the Self. In the Brihad-ranyaka-Upanishad, these symbolic associations are vaguely hinted at.
For instance, we find speculations about the origin of the world born from the Singular Being that split itself into two—male and female—thus creating the entire cosmos. Linked with this cosmogonic notion is a fundamental ethical conviction which is characteristic of the subsequent psychotechnology of liberation: Because there is essentially only the One, it is sinful to cling to the multiple objects of the universe. This One is described as the true goal of humanity. Yâjnavalkya, the most outstanding figure of the early Upanishadic period, is credited with these stanzas:
As a tree, or lord of the forest,
just so, truly, is man (purusha):
his hairs are leaves,
his skin the outer bark.
Verily, from his skin flows blood,
as sap from the bark.
Therefore, when the skin is torn,
blood issues from him,
as does sap from a wounded tree.
His flesh is the inner bark,
the tendons the inner layer, which is tough.
Beneath are the bones, as is the wood.
The marrow is comparable to the pith
[of the tree].
If a tree, when felled, grows again
from its root into another,
from what root grows the mortal [person],
after he has been felled by death?
Do not claim, “From the seed,”
for that is generated in the living.
A tree grows indeed from seed.
After it has died, it springs forth [again].
If, however, the tree is destroyed with its roots,
it does not spring forth again.
From what root does the mortal grow
when he has been felled by death?
He is simply born [and then dies, you may
argue]. No, [I say]. He is born again. Born by
what? The conscious, blissful Absolute (brahman),
the Principle of grace, the Refuge of
him who knows and abides in It. (3.9.28.1-7)
This marvelous passage of the Brihad-ranyaka- Upanishad intimates the higher knowledge of the mystic and yogin, who knows the one indivisible Ground of Being and who, like Sage Yâjnavalkya, confidently declares: Aham brahma asmi (written aham brahmâsmi), “I am the Absolute.”
The last stanza contains the key to the whole metaphor: The human “tree” is born again and again, by force of his karma, as is made clear in other passages. It is this repeated drama of birth, life, and death that, to the sensitive psyche of the yogin, is only pain (duhkha). This cycle is imaged most potently in another passage of the same scripture:
Just as a leech when it has reached the end of a blade of grass draws itself together before making a further approach [to a different blade], so this Self, after having cast off the body and dispelled ignorance, draws itself together before making another approach [to a new body], (4.4.3)
Clearly, there is no solace in this cycle (samsâra); hence, the Upanishadic sages taught the esoteric means by which the world of change can be transcended. Elsewhere in the same scripture, Yâjnavalkya proclaims:
I have touched and found the narrow ancient path that stretches afar. By it the wise, the knowers of the Absolute, go up to the heavenly world and then are released. (4.4.8)
He who has found and awakened to the Self that has entered this perilous and inaccessible [body-mind] is the Creator of the world, for he is the Maker of all. The world is his. He is indeed the world. (4.4.13)
When one perceives directly the bright (deva) Self, the Ruler of what has become and what will be, then one does not recoil [from It anymore]. (4.4.15)
Those who know the Life (prâna) of life, the Eye of the eye, the Ear of the ear, the Mind of the mind, have realized the ancient, primeval Absolute. (4.4.18)
It is to be seen by the mind alone. There is no difference in It whatsoever. He who sees difference in It reaps death after death. (4.4.19)
It should be seen as single, immeasurable, perpetual. The Self is spotless, birthless, great, perpetual, and beyond [the subtle element of] the ether (âkâsha). (4.4.20)
Liberation, which is identical to immortality, is the realization of the Self in its immutable purity. This realization coincides with the transcendence of the limited mechanisms of the human body-mind and thus of conditional existence itself. What is more, Self-realization is the hidden program of the universe—what transpersonal psychologist Ken Wilber called the “Atman project.” Again it is Yâjnavalkya who illustrates this point in a striking image:
As the ocean is the single locus of all waters, as the skin is the single locus of all touch, as the nostrils are the single locus of all smells, as the tongue is the single locus of all tastes, as the eye is the single locus of all forms, as the ear is the single locus of all sounds, as the mind is the single locus of all volitions (samkalpa), as the heart is the single locus of all knowledge, as the hands are the single locus of all acts, as the genitals are the single locus of all pleasure (ânanda), as the feet are the single locus of all movement, as speech is the single locus of all the Vedas—so is this [Self],
As a lump of salt, when thrown in water, dissolves in water, and no one can perceive it, because from wherever one takes it, it tastes salty—thus, my dear, this great, endless, transcendental Being is only a Mass of Consciousness (vijnâna-ghâna). (2.4.11-12)
Since the Self, or the Absolute, is all there is, It cannot be an object of knowledge. Therefore Yâjnavalkya argues that, ultimately, all descriptions of It are mere words. He responds to all positive characterizations of the Self by exclaiming “not thus, not thus” (neti- neti). This famous procedure of negation is fundamental to Vedânta spirituality: Yogins of this tradition are asked to constantly remind themselves of the fact that all the states and expressions of their body-mind are, in themselves, other than the transcendental Reality. No experience amounts to Self-realization. The body, as it is ordinarily experienced, is not the Self; nor are thoughts or feelings as they normally present themselves. The Self is nothing that could be pointed to in the finite world. This perpetual vigilant discernment is called viveka, which literally means “separating out.”
Through steady application to this practice of discernment, yogins develop an inner sensitivity both to what is ephemeral in their nature and to the underlying eternal Ground of all their experiences. This awakens in them the will to renounce everything that they have identified as belonging to the world of change Discernment and renunciation finally lead to the discovery of the universal Self, the âtman, beyond all concepts and imagery, beyond all change.
III. THE CHANDOGYA-UPANISHAD
Another archaic Upanishad is the Chândogya, whose name derives from the words chandas or “hymn” (lit. “pleasure”) and ga or “going,” here referring to those brahmins who sang the hymns of the Sâma-Veda during the sacrificial ritual in Vedic times. Thus the Chândogya-Upanishad consists of the esoteric teachings of the chândogas, the Vedic chanters.
It is therefore not surprising that this scripture commences with elaborate mystic
al speculations about the sacred syllable om, the most celebrated numinous sound, or mantra, of Hinduism. In his commentary on this work, Shankara, the great propounder of Vedântic nondualism, observes that this syllable is the most appropriate name of the Divine, or transcendental Reality.
The syllable om has a long history that stretches back to Vedic times. It was used at the beginning and end of ritual pronouncements, just as the Christians use the word amen. Like all other words in the Vedas, om is regarded as divine revelation. The yogins of later periods have described how, in deep states of meditation, they can hear the sound om vibrating through the entire cosmos. This has a parallel in Pythagorean and Neoplatonic thought in the notion of the Music of the Spheres, the cosmic harmonic generated by the motion of the heavenly bodies.
In the third chapter of the Chândogya-Upanishad, the sacred gâyatrî-mantra (which to this day is recited by all pious Hindus during the morning ritual) is introduced. The text of this ancient mantra, which stems from the Rig-Veda (3.62.10), runs as follows: Om tat savitur varenyam bhargo devasya dhîmahi dhiyo yo nah pracodayât, or “Om. Let us contemplate that celestial splendor of God Savitrî, so that He may inspire our visions.” Savitrî (“Stimulator”) is the personification of the quickening aspect of the Vedic solar deity, Sûrya, who embodies the luminous ultimate Reality and the principle of spiritual illumination.
This chapter also contains a section (3.17) that speaks of Krishna, “son of Devaki,” who is identified by some scholars as the Krishna of the Mahâbhârata epic. Given the new dating of the Upanishads, this identification now has greater credibility. Significantly, another passage (3.17.6) introduces Ghora, “son of Angiras” (after whom the Atharva-Veda was also named Angirasa-Samhitâ), as the teacher of Krishna. Here a teaching is mentioned according to which one should repeat, at the hour of death, three specific mantras from the Yajur-Veda: “You are the Undecaying! You are the Unchanging! You are the very essence of life!” This doctrine curiously resembles the teaching in Lord Krishna’s Bhagavad-Gîtâ (8.5-6) according to which a person’s final thought should be of the Divine rather than any mundane concerns, for whatever one thinks, one becomes.
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