The classical commentators assume that Patanjali believed in the existence of many transcendental Selves, yet nowhere in the Yoga-Sûtra itself is this clearly stated. Therefore, it is just as possible that Patanjali, true to Epic Yoga, admitted of the existence of only a single great Being containing within its infinite compass all Selves. Whatever Patanjali’s position may have been, it matters little whether there are many Selves or only a single Self appearing to be manifold, because the process of realization always unfolds in the arena of duality: The witnessing Consciousness confronts the play of Nature in the form of the body-mind. If Patanjali’s metaphysics should indeed stand closer to the panentheism of Epic Yoga than is generally believed, then Vijnâna Bhikshu’s interpretation of the Yoga-Sûtra would gain greatly in credibility.
The Yogic Concept of the Unconscious
The path to Self-realization has two main aspects. The first is dispassion (vairâgya), which consists in disentangling one’s false identification with the nonself— that is, with everything that belongs to the various realms of Nature. The second aspect is the practice (abhyâsa) of identifying with the Self through repeated meditative absorption and ecstasy (samâdhi).
Every experience leaves its impress on the psyche, or mind. Ego-derived experiences reinforce the ego-illusion, whereas moments of self-transcendence in daily life or in the ecstatic state strengthen the spiritual impulse. The carriers of this process of either “egoification” or “spiritualization” are traits (vâsanâ). These make up the depth of the human mind. If we liken the psyche to soft wax, then these vâsanâs are the karmic imprints left behind by our psychic activities. Every single time we sense, feel, think, will, or do anything at all, we create what the yogic authorities style a subliminal activator (samskâra). We can picture this as an atom that is added to a string of atoms comprising a molecule—a molecule of destiny.
The vâsanâs, then, are entire chains of similar karmic activators (samskâra). They are responsible for renewed psychomental activity in the conscious mind in the form of the five types of fluctuations or “whirls” (vritti) spoken of by Patanjali. The activators, combining into complex traits, are the hidden forces behind our conscious life and form the soil of our destiny. For this reason, Patanjali also uses the term “action deposit” (karma-âshaya), or karmic stock, for these stored impressions.
The following example will make this doctrine a little clearer: In entering this section of the book into my computer, I first of all perform the relatively complex movement of my fingers over the keyboard. In doing so, I exercise a skill acquired many years ago. I am also aware that I constantly reinforce several bad habits, such as the tendencies to tighten my shoulder muscles and squint at the screen. This is a form of karmic conditioning on the simplest level—I am likely to behave similarly the next time I sit down to write.
On a different level, I think about what I am going to write, drawing on my learning and active vocabulary. This too has its karmic aspect, for I am continually propelling my mind to think, and to think in a certain way. From a conventional point of view, this is a desirable activity because I am said to be training and refining my mind. From a spiritual perspective, however, rational thinking coincides with a particular state of being that is not altogether true of “me,” because after all “I” am the transcendental Witness-Consciousness, not the contracted ego-mind-personality. “To be in one’s head” means not to be present as the entire body-mind, and it is only when one is bodily present and open at the heart that the Self beyond the ego is likely to reveal itself. Therefore, when thinking becomes chronic, because of the subliminal traits set up by the constant exercise of thought, it runs counter to Self-realization.
On a further level, my actions as a writer are imbued with all kinds of spoken and unspoken expectations and motivations that generate their own karmic impressions. For a subliminal activator to be produced, I need not even be fully aware of my own feelings or moods. Thus, even sleep is not exempt from this inexorable process of karmic self-duplication.
In this theory of subliminal activators, Yoga anticipated the modern notion of the unconscious, but it went beyond the insights and goals of psychoanalysis in developing means by which the entire unconscious content can be uprooted. As we learn from the Yoga-Sûtra (1.50), unless the traits of subliminal activators are completely transcended through the repeated practice of supraconscious ecstasy (asamprajnâta-samâdhi), we are trapped in the circle of our own egoic experiences, forever alienated from the Self, which is our true identity.
The Dimensions of Nature
The opposite pole to the multiple transcendental Selves is Nature (prakriti). The Sanskrit term prakriti means literally “she who brings forth” or “procreatrix” and refers to both the transcendental ground of the myriad manifest forms and those forms themselves. In Sâmkhya philosophy, the former also goes by the name “foundation” (pradhâna), which is the primordial undifferentiated continuum that potentially contains the entire universe in all its levels and categories of being. Patanjali speaks of this as the Undifferentiate (alinga), in which we may see a primordial field of energy.
This world ground is frequently defined as the state of balance between the constituents (guna) of Nature, which were introduced in Chapter 3 in the discussion of the Sâmkhya school of thought. When this primordial harmony is disturbed, the process of creation occurs. Then Nature unfolds according to a definite ground plan, whereby simpler principles give birth to ever more complex configurations (called tattva). This theory of cosmic evolution bears the technical name sat-kârya-vâda and also prakriti-parinâma-vâda. The former phrase implies that the effect (kârya) is preexistent (sat) in its cause, whereas the latter phrase signifies that the effect is a real transformation (parinâma) of Nature, not merely an illusory change (vivaria), as is thought in the idealistic schools of Vedânta and Mahâyâna Buddhism.
What this position implies is that whatever comes into existence is not a completely new production—out of nothing as it were—but rather the manifestation (âvirbhâva) of latent possibilities. Furthermore, the disappearance of an existing object does not mean its total annihilation but merely its becoming latent again (termed tirobhâva). This theory may well have been derived from the kind of metaphysical speculation that we find, for instance, in the Bhagavad-Gîtâ, where Krishna instructs Arjuna about the deathless nature of the transcendental Self. He argues that it is deathless precisely because it is never born; that is, it cannot be destroyed, for it is immune to change.
Of the nonexistent (asat) there is no coming-into-being (bhâva). Of the existent (sat) there is no nonbecoming (abhâva). Also, the boundary between these two is seen by the seers of Reality (tattva).
Yet, know as indestructible that by which this entire [universe] is spread out. No one is able to accomplish the destruction of that which is immutable.
Finite, it is said, are these bodies [“owned” by] the eternal embodier [i.e., the Self], the Indestructible, the Incommensurable. Hence fight, O Bhârata!
He who thinks of It as slayer and he who thinks [that the Self can be] slain—these both do not know. It does not slay nor is It slain.
Never is It born or does it die. It did not come-into-being, nor shall It ever come to be. This primeval [Self] is unborn, eternal, everlasting. It is not slain when the body is slain. (2.16-20)
Like the Self, the transcendental core or ground of Nature—pradhâna or alinga—also is indestructible. Yet it has the capacity to modify itself, and it does so in the process of creation, or manifestation, during which it gives birth to the multidimensional universe. Yoga reminds the spiritual practitioner, however, that even though his or her body-mind is a composite of the forces of Nature and is merely a temporary modification, it also is associated with an eternal transcendental aspect, the Self. Upon death, the material and psychic constituents of the body-mind are resolved into their hierarchically simpler forms until there is only the transcendental ground of Nature. The challenge, both du
ring life and at the moment of death, is to awaken as the Self beyond all dimensions of Nature. Those who fail to do so continue to exist in simpler form on different levels of manifestation until they are reborn. At best, they merge into the transcendental ground of Nature, become “absorbed into Nature” (prakriti-laya), a state of pseudoliberation. Only Self-realization is genuine enlightenment and emancipation.
Cosmic Evolution and the Theory of the Gunas
The Self transcends the primary constituents (guna) of Nature. As was noted in the discussion of the relationship between Yoga and other Hindu schools of thought in Part One, the guna theory is one of the most original contributions of the Yoga-Sâmkhya tradition.
The gunas, which can be looked upon as three phases within the same homogeneous field of Nature, produce by their interplay the entire structure of the cosmos, including the psyche. Classical Yoga recognizes four hierarchic levels of existence, whose character is determined by the relative preeminence of any of the three gunas:
the Undifferentiate (alinga)
the Pure Differentiated (linga-mâtra)
the Unparticularized (avishesha)
the Particularized (vishesha)
The Undifferentiate is the transcendental core of Nature, which is pure potentiality. It is without any “mark” (linga), or identifiable characteristic. It simply is. Although Patanjali does not state so explicitly, the Undifferentiate is the perfect balance of the three types of gunas.
Out of the Undifferentiate emerges the Pure Differentiated, or linga-mâtra, as the first principle of manifestation or level of existence. Viewed from a psychological point of view, this is also known as Pure I-am-ness (asmitâ-mâtra), the cosmic sense of individuation. It has its analog in the I-maker (ahamkâra) or I- am-ness (asmitâ) on the microcosmic or individual human level. From this cosmic sense of individuation evolve the five types of fine structures (tanmâtra), or potentials, of sensory experience. These, in turn, give rise to the eleven types of senses (indriya) on one side and the five types of material elements (bhûta) on the other. In other words, it is the principle of Pure I-am-ness that produces both the psychomental and the physical realities.
Outside this evolutionary dynamic abide, in perfect autonomy, the numerous (or countless) transcendental Selves, which are all omnipresent and omnitemporal. But their transcendental status is not obvious to the unenlightened or ego-bound personality, which confuses the body-mind (a product of unconscious Nature) with the supraconscious Self. Yoga is a tour de force designed to undermine this confusion and guide us toward authentic existence.
In our journey toward the Self, we must inevitably cross the “ocean” of conditional reality. This passage takes place not in ordinary space-time but vertically, as it were, through the depths of our multilayered universe. The ontology of Classical Yoga provides a rough sketch of the psychocosmic geography that yogins can expect to encounter on their pilgrimage to the Self.
II. THE EIGHT LIMBS OF THE PATH OF SELF-TRANSCENDENCE
Patanjali’s practical spirituality comprises eight aspects, known as the limbs (anga) of Yoga. These are:
discipline (yama)
restraint (niyama)
posture (âsana)
breath control (prânâyâma)
sense-withdrawal (pratyâhâra)
concentration (dhâranâ)
meditation (dhyâna)
ecstasy (samâdhi)
Because one limb builds upon the other, the eightfold path has sometimes been depicted as a ladder leading from the common life of self-involvement to the uncommon realization of the Self beyond the ego-personality. This progression can be looked at from a number of perspectives. Seen from one angle, it consists in the growing unification of consciousness; from another angle, it presents itself as a matter of progressive purification. Both viewpoints are present in the Yoga-Sûtra.
Ethics
The foundation of Yoga, as of all authentic spirituality, is a universal ethics. Patanjali’s first limb, therefore, is not posture or meditation but moral discipline (yama). This practice includes five important moral obligations, which can be considered the property of all major religions. These are:
nonharming (ahimsâ)
truthfulness (satya)
nonstealing (asteya)
chastity (brahmacarya)
greedlessness (aparigraha)
Together, these constitute the great vow (mahâ- vrata) that, according to the Yoga-Sûtra (2.31), must be practiced irrespective of place, time, circumstance, or a person’s particular social status. These moral attitudes are meant to bring our instinctual life under control. Moral integrity is an indispensable prerequisite of successful yogic practice.
The most fundamental of all moral injunctions is nonharming. The word ahimsâ is frequently translated as “nonkilling,” but this fails to convey the term’s full meaning. Ahimsâ, in fact, is nonviolence in thought and action. It is the root of all the other moral norms. The Mahâbhârata epic (3.312.76) employs the word anrishamsya (“nonmaliciousness”) as a synonym of ahimsâ.
The physician Caraka, one of the great lights of the naturopathic medicine native to India, observed that doing harm to others reduces one’s own life span, whereas the practice of ahimsâ prolongs it because it represents a positive, life-enhancing state of mind. While this is likely to be true, the yogin’s motive for cultivating this virtue is a higher one: The desire not to harm another being springs from the impulse toward unification and ultimate transcendence of the ego, which is characteristically at war with itself. Yogins thus seek to nurture those attitudes that will gradually help them realize what the Bhagavad-Gîtâ (13.27) calls the vision of sameness (sama-darshana)—a vision that penetrates beyond the apparent differences between beings to their transcendental Self-nature.
Truthfulness, or satya, is often exalted in the ethical and yogic literature. For instance, in the Mahanir- vâna-Tantra we are told:
No virtue is more excellent than truthfulness, no sin greater than lying. Therefore, the [virtuous] man should seek refuge in truthfulness with all his heart.
Without truthfulness the recitation [of sacred mantras] is useless; without truthfulness, austerities are as unfruitful as seed on barren soil.
Truthfulness is the form of the supreme Absolute (brahman). Truthfulness truly is the best asceticism. All deeds [should be] rooted in truthfulness. Nothing is more excellent than truthfulness. (4.75-77)
Nonstealing, or asteya, is closely related to non- harming, since the unauthorized appropriation of things of value violates the person from whom they are stolen.
Chastity, or brahmacarya (lit. “brahmic conduct”), is of central importance in most spiritual traditions of the world, though it is differently interpreted. In Classical Yoga it is defined in ascetical terms as the abstention from sexual activity, whether in deed, thought, or words. Some authorities, like the Darshana-Upanishad, relax this rule for the married yogin. Moreover, in the medieval tradition of Tantrism, as we will see, a more sex-positive orientation came to the fore that revolutionized both Hinduism and Buddhism. But even here no unbridled hedonism is embraced. Generally speaking, sexual stimûlâtion is thought to interrupt the impulse toward enlightenment, or liberation, by feeding the hunger for sensory experience and possibly leading to a loss of semen and vital energy (ojas).
Greedlessness, or aparigraha, is defined as the nonacceptance of gifts, because they tend to generate attachment and the fear of loss. Thus yogins are encouraged to cultivate voluntary simplicity. Too many possessions are thought to only distract the mind. Renunciation is an integral aspect of the yogic lifestyle.
Each of these five virtues is said to procure, when fully mastered, certain paranormal powers (siddhi). For instance, perfection in nonharming creates an aura of peace around yogins that neutralizes all feelings of enmity in their presence, even the natural hostility between animal species like the cat and the mouse or, as the Yoga commentaries put it, the snake and the mongoose. Through perfect truthfulness yog
ins acquire the power of having their words always come true. Perfection in the virtue of nonstealing brings them, effortlessly, treasures of all kinds, while greedlessness is the key to understanding their present and former births. The reason for this, presumably, is that attachment to the body-mind is a form of greed, whereas greedlessness implies a high degree of nonattachment to material things—including the body—and this loosens the forgotten memories about former existences.
Finally, when yogins are established in the virtue of chastity, they gain great vigor. All Yoga scriptures are agreed that sexual abstinence does not turn yogins into weaklings. On the contrary, it invigorates their body and makes them especially attractive to the opposite gender—a fact that, as some yogins have discovered, can be either a blessing or a curse.
Some later Yoga texts mention an additional five moral precepts:
compassion (dayâ), or active love
uprightness (ârjava), or moral integrity
patience (kshamâ), or the ability to assume the witnessing consciousness and allow things to unfold as they will
steadfastness (dhriti), or the ability to remain true to one’s principles
sparing diet (mita-âhâra, written mitâhâra), which can be considered a subcategory of nonstealing, since overeating is a form of theft from others and from Nature
In a way, the above virtuous practices are subsumed under the five categories of yama, or moral discipline. This creative regulation of the outgoing energies of yogins results in a surplus of energy, which can then be used for the spiritual transformation of the personality.
The Yoga Tradition Page 48