My mind fell like a hailstone into that vast expanse of Brahman's ocean. Touching one drop of it, I melted away and became one with Brahman. And now, though I return to human consciousness, I abide in the joy of the Atman. Where is this universe? Who took it away? Has it merged into something else? A while ago, I beheld it—now it exists no longer. This is wonderful indeed! Here is the ocean of Brahman, full of endless joy. How can I accept or reject anything? Is there anything apart or distinct from Brahman? Now, finally and clearly, I know that I am the Atman, whose nature is eternal joy. I see nothing, I hear nothing, I know nothing that is separate from me.
- Shankara, Crest-Jewel of Discrimination
One can take issue with the translation, which favors conceptual clarity over literal fidelity, or with the fact that Prabhavananda tends to shoehorn Patañjali—who adhered to the Sāṃkhya philosophy, which is dualistic and conceives of liberation not as the unity of all in Atman-Brahman, as does Vedanta, but as the isolation of each of a plurality of Puruṣas from the oneness of Prakṛti—into his own Vedantic system; even to the point of translating Puruṣa as Atman throughout the text. Nonetheless, even though he covers much of the same territory as Mircea Eliade’s justly-lauded study of Yoga, Prabhavananda offers a much more user-friendly guide to a collection of aphorisms which the uninitiated reader would otherwise find too obscure and minimalistic to be of use. The following is an unthematic jumble of quotes from Prabhavananda’s commentary (and a few from the Yoga Sutras themselves); mostly for my own recollection. But perhaps others might find some interest in them as well.
A yoga is a method—any one of many—by which an individual may become united with the Godhead, the Reality which underlies this apparent, ephemeral universe.
According to Patanjali, the mind (chitta) is made up of three components, manas, buddhi, and ahamkara. Manas is the recording faculty which receives impressions gathered by the senses from the outside world. Buddhi is the discriminative faculty which classifies these impressions and reacts to them. Ahamkara is the ego-sense which claims these impressions for its own and stores them up as individual knowledge.
God-within-the-creature is known in the Sanskrit language as the Atman or Purusha, the real Self. Patanjali speaks always of the Purusha (which means literally "the Godhead that dwells within the body"), but we shall substitute Atman throughout this translation, because Atman is the word used in the Upanishads and the Bhagavad-Gita, and students are therefore likely to be more accustomed to it.
The mind seems to be intelligent and conscious. Yoga philosophy teaches that it is not. It has only a borrowed intelligence. The Atman is intelligence itself, is pure consciousness. The mind merely reflects that consciousness and so appears to be conscious.
Knowledge or perception is a thought-wave (vritti) in the mind. All knowledge is therefore objective. Even what Western psychologists call introspection or self-knowledge is objective knowledge according to Patanjali, since the mind is not the seer, but only an instrument of knowledge, an object of perception like the outside world. The Atman, the real seer, remains unknown.
When an event or object in the external world is recorded by the senses, a thought-wave is raised in the mind. The ego-sense identifies itself with this wave. If the thought-wave is pleasant, the ego-sense feels, "I am happy"; if the wave is unpleasant, "I am unhappy." This false identification is the cause of all our misery—for even the ego's temporary sensation of happiness brings anxiety, a desire to cling to the object of pleasure, and this prepares future possibilities of becoming unhappy. The real Self, the Atman, remains forever outside the power of thought-waves; it is eternally pure, enlightened and free—the only true, unchanging happiness. It follows, therefore, that man can never know his real Self as long as the thought-waves and the ego-sense are being identified. In order to become enlightened we must bring the thought-waves under control, so that this false identification may cease. The Gita teaches us that "Yoga is the breaking of contact with pain."
What does yoga philosophy mean by "character"? To explain this, one may develop the analogy of the lake. Waves do not merely disturb the surface of the water, they also, by their continued action, build up banks of sand or pebbles on the lake bottom. Such sand-banks are, of course, much more permanent and solid than the waves themselves. They may be compared to the tendencies, potentialities and latent states which exist in the subconscious and unconscious areas of the mind. In Sanskrit, they are called samskaras. The samskaras are built up by the continued action of the thought-waves, and they, in their turn, create new thought-waves—the process works both ways. Expose the mind to constant thoughts of anger and resentment, and you will find that these angerwaves build up anger-samskaras, which will predispose you to find occasions for anger throughout your daily life. A man with well-developed anger-samskaras is said to have "a bad temper." The sum total of our samskaras is, in fact, our character—at any given moment. Let us never forget, however, that, just as a sandbank may shift and change its shape if the tide or the current changes, so also the samskaras may be modified by the introduction of other kinds of thought-waves into the mind.
Not all samskaras are acquired during the course of a single human life.
To the thoughts of anger, desire and delusion we must oppose thoughts of love, generosity and truth. Only much later, when the "painful" thought-waves have been completely stilled, can we proceed to the second stage of discipline; the stilling of the "not painful" waves which we have deliberately created.
In the Taoist scriptures we read: "Heaven arms with compassion those whom it would not see destroyed".
Non-attachment is the exercise of discrimination. We gradually gain control of the "painful" or impure thought-waves by asking ourselves: "Why do I really desire that object? What permanent advantage should I gain by possessing it? In what way would its possession help me toward greater knowledge and freedom?" The answers to these questions are always disconcerting. They show us that the desired object is not only useless as a means to liberation but potentially harmful as a means to ignorance and bondage; and, further, that our desire is not really desire for the object-in itself at all, but only a desire to desire something, a mere restlessness in the mind.
Human love is the highest emotion most of us know. It frees us to some extent from our egotism in our relation to one or more individuals. But human love is still possessive and exclusive. Love for the Atman is neither. We readily admit that it is better to love people "for what they really are" than merely for their beauty, their intelligence, their strength, their sense of humour or some other quality—but this is only a vague and relative phrase. What people "really are" is the Atman, nothing less. To love the Atman in ourselves is to love it everywhere. And to love the Atman everywhere is to go beyond any manifestation of Nature to the Reality within Nature.
To love someone, even in the usual human manner, is to get a brief, dim glimpse of something within that person which is tremendous, awe-inspiring, and eternal. In our ignorance, we think that this "something" is unique. He or she, we say, is like nobody else. That is because our perception of the Reality is clouded and obscured by the external manifestations—the character and individual qualities of the person we love—and by the way in which our own ego-sense reacts to them. Nevertheless, this weak flash of perception is a valid spiritual experience and it should encourage us to purify our minds and make them fit for that infinitely greater kind of love which always awaits us. This love is not restless or transient, like our human love. It is secure and eternal and calm. It is absolutely free from desire, because lover and beloved have become one.
What is this cosmos? What is it made of? Vedanta teaches that the cosmos is made of Prakriti, the elemental, undifferentiated stuff of mind and matter. Prakriti is defined as the power or effect of Brahman—in the sense that heat is a power or effect of fire. Just as heat cannot exist apart from the fire which causes it, so Prakriti could not exist apart from Brahman. The two are eternally inseparable. The latter puts forth and causes the former.
[Percy Shelley: “Life, like a dome of many-coloured glass, Stains the white radiance of eternity.”]
If we think of Brahman as "the white radiance," then Prakriti is represented by the colours which disguise the real nature of its beams.
Prakriti remains undifferentiated and the universe exists only in its potential state. As soon as the balance is disturbed, a re-creation of the universe begins. The gunas enter into an enormous variety of combinations—all of them irregular, with one or the other guna predominating over the rest. Hence we have the variety of physical and psychic phenomena which make up our apparent world. Such a world continues to multiply and vary its forms until the gunas find a temporary equilibrium once more, and a new phase of undifferentiated potentiality begins.
Collectively, they may be thought of as a triangle of forces, opposed yet complementary. In the process of evolution, sattwa is the essence of the form which has to be realized, tamas is the inherent obstacle to its realization, and rajas is the power by which that obstacle is removed and the essential form made manifest.
If we wish to describe the gunas individually, we can say that sattwa represents all that is pure, ideal and tranquil, while rajas expresses itself in action, motion and violence, and tamas is the principle of solidity, immobile resistance and inertia. As has been said above, all three gunas are present in everything, but one guna always predominates. Sattwa, for example, predominates in sunlight, rajas in the erupting volcano, and tamas in a block of granite. In the mind of man, the gunas are usually found in a relationship of extreme instability— hence the many moods through which we pass in the course of a single day. Sattwa causes our moments of inspiration, disinterested affection, quiet joy and meditative calm. Rajas brings on our outbursts of rage and fierce desire. It makes us restless and discontented, but it is also responsible for our better phases of constructive activity, energy, enthusiasm and physical courage. Tamas is the mental bog into which we sink whenever sattwa and rajas cease to prevail. In the state of tamas, we exhibit our worst qualities—sloth, stupidity, obstinacy and helpless despair.
In the Hindu system, the first stage of evolution from undifferentiated Prakriti is called mahat, "the great cause." Mahat is the cosmic ego-sense, the first drawing of differentiated consciousness. It may perhaps be compared to the Spirit moving on the face of the waters which is mentioned in the Book of Genesis. From mahat is evolved buddhi, the discriminating faculty which has already been described. From buddhi is evolved ahamkara, the individual ego-sense.
Creation is here described as an evolution outward, from undifferentiated into differentiated consciousness, from mind into matter. Pure consciousness is, as it were, gradually covered by successive layers of ignorance and differentiation, each layer being grosser and thicker than the one below it, until the process ends on the outer physical surface of the visible and tangible world.
The gunas pass through four states—gross, subtle, primal and unevolved. [Yoga Sutras]
When the universe exists only in its potential form, the gunas are in perfect equilibrium and their state is described as unevolved or "signless." When the universe begins to evolve, and the guna-balance is disturbed, we find the dawning of mahat, the cosmic ego-sense. This state is described as primal or "indicated." In the next stage of evolution, when the gunas have entered into the combinations which form the mind and the inner essences of things, their state is described as subtle or "undefined." And finally, when the universe has reached its external, physical manifestation, the state of the gunas is described as gross or "defined."
[Thoughts and subconscious impulses—indeed all the workings of the mind—are objects too, of varying degrees of grossness or “definition.”]
Meditation is evolution in reverse.
When the spiritual aspirant has achieved the highest degree of concentration upon a single object, he is ready to attempt the supreme feat—concentration upon consciousness itself. This is the state of perfect yoga, in which one passes beyond Prakriti, beyond all object knowledge, into union with the Atman—the undifferentiated universal consciousness. The state of perfect yoga can only be entered into when the thought-waves have been stilled and the mind has been cleared of all its samskaras, both the evil and the good—when Patanjali has ceased to believe that he is Patanjali and knows that he is none other than the Atman.
He who achieves yoga is said to be "liberated." When his present life ends, he will be united with the Atman forever. However, the achievement of perfect yoga does not necessarily mean the immediate end of mortal life. Saints have reached the supreme spiritual experience and continued to live on for many years. They have continued to think, speak and act on the plane of external phenomena—but with a difference. The thoughts, words, and actions of a liberated man are said to be like "burnt seeds"—that is to say, they are no longer fertile; they cannot bring forth any more samskaras, they cannot create any new addiction or bondage.
When such concentration is not accompanied by non- attachment, and ignorance therefore remains, the aspirant will reach the state of the disincarnate gods or become merged in the forces of Nature. [Yoga Sutras]
Brahman, the ultimate Reality, cannot properly be said to create, sustain or dissolve, since Brahman is, by definition, without attributes. Ishwara is Brahman seen within Prakriti. He corresponds, more or less, to God the Father in the Christian tradition.
[It’s not a perfect correspondence, since Christian theology holds that one only “sees” the Father in Christ, who is “Lord” (the literal meaning of Ishwara). Christ is the visible image of the invisible God. The Father is probably the closest thing to Nirguna Brahman in Christian thought, but he is still “personal”. Christianity would find a closer affinity with Ramanuja, who simply denied the existence of Nirguna Brahman and identified Brahman with Ishwara.]
"In the beginning was the Word,” says the Gospel according to St. John and "the Word was with God, and the Word was God.” This statement echoes, almost exactly, a verse from the Rig Veda: "In the beginning was Brahman, with whom was the Word; and the Word was truly the supreme Brahman."
Undisturbed calmness of mind is attained by cultivating friendliness toward the happy, compassion for the unhappy, delight in the virtuous, and indifference toward the wicked. [Yoga Sutras]
"The supreme heaven shines in the lotus of the heart," says the Kaivalya Upanishad. "Those who struggle and aspire may enter there. Retire into solitude. Seat yourself on a clean spot in an erect posture, with the head and neck in a straight line. Control all sense-organs. Bow down in devotion to your teacher. Then enter the lotus of the heart and meditate there on the presence of Brahman—the pure, the infinite, the blissful.”
Even so large as the universe outside is the universe within the lotus of the heart. Within it are heaven and earth, the sun, the moon, the lightning and all the stars. Whatever is in the macrocosm is in this microcosm also. [Chandogya Upanishad]
According to Vedanta philosophy, the Atman in man is covered by three layers or "sheaths."
[Psychical (psyche), subtle (pneuma), causal (ego-sense, mind)]
In the waking state, Vedanta tells us, all of these three sheaths come between us and the Atman, but in dreamless sleep the two outer coverings are removed and only the casual sheath, the ego-sense, remains. It follows, therefore, that we are nearer to the Atman in dreamless sleep than in any other phase of our ordinary unspiritual lives; nearer—yet still so far, for what separates us is the toughest covering of the three, the basic layer of our ignorance, the lie of otherness.
Through intense concentration we may become identified with the [object] and yet still retain a mixture of "name," "quality" and "knowledge" in the mind. This is the lowest kind of samadhi, known as savitarka, which means "with deliberation." The term savitarka is only applied when the object of concentration belongs to the order of the gross elements, the most external order of phenomena.
In the samadhi called nirvitarka ("without deliberation") we reach a higher stage. Our achievement of identity with the object of concentration is now unmixed with awareness of name, quality and knowledge. Or, to put it in another way, we are at last able to still the thought-waves which are our reactions to the object, and to know nothing but the object itself, as it truly is: "the thing-in-itself", to use Kant's famous term.
Nirvikalpa samadhi is said to be seedless because it is nothing but pure, undifferentiated consciousness; it contains no phenomenal impressions whatever, no seeds of desire and attachment. Brahman is not "an object of concentration"; in Brahman is neither knower nor known. Brahman, as we have seen, is pure, undifferentiated consciousness; and so, in nirvikalpa samadhi, you are literally one with Brahman, you enter into the real nature of the apparent universe and all its forms and creatures.
[Review continues in comments]