The ‘others’ of this sutra are those who do not fall in to the categories of videha (the disembodied) or prakṛti-layanam (merged with matter). For us Patanjali is telling us the foundations of a practice come before cessation of thoughts.
Patanjali loves a list so here he is listing the foundations:
Faith or Certainty – we need to believe firstly that liberation is possible, secondly that Patanjali’s methods will get us there.
Vigour, bravery, commitment – we need to be committed to our practice and our conviction. Faith leads to commitment.
Memory – we constantly remember our faith, we remember our focus and our aim, kaivalya. Commitment leads to this remembering why we are doing our practice.
Absorption – in the task of practice. This naturally arises when we keep coming back to our focus and faith and it spontaneously gives rise to >
Discernment or wisdom – we see and comprehend that we are more than prakṛti: we are puruṣa. Understanding arises that we do not need to associate our self with the whirling mind stuff but rather the underlying consciousness that pervades the universe.
Its probably worth noting Patanjali still hasn’t outlined what we should be practicing, he continues to focus on how we practice. This is probably why it takes so many readings of the yoga sutras before we start to make sense of them, we need to have an overview of where Patanjali is leading us and then when we look back on the methods for practicing it becomes clearer. A linier approach to understanding the sutras leads to a less comprehensive understanding.
That śraddhā is placed as the foundation of the foundations resonates with me. It is faith in the practice which takes me to my mat in the morning, which keeps me vegan, which gives me solace when I feel sad.
As the man says “keep the faith” 😉
भव - प्रत्ययो विदेह – प्रकृति – लयानाम् ॥१९
bhava-pratyayo videha-prakṛti layānām
This is the hardest sutra I’ve yet to interpret. Even a literal translation is challenging. I have accessed many sources and find little cohesive thought. Have a look at the table below and get a sense of the disparate interpretations.
Where does this wealth of information leave us? The previous sutra was describing a state of Samadhi which is achieved without external support, where the mind needs nothing specific to focus on (ie a mantra, mandala, technique) as an to aid its journey to clarity. In the Samadhi achieved without a supporting technique the mind simply turns to look at itself and is absorbed in that Self. In this context the Self is pure consciousness, puruṣa. So, following the pattern of the sutras that each threads together from the preceding one (unless Patanjali notifies us of a change of direction which he doesn’t seem to be here) let’s try to deduce (using logical inference, maybe – अनुमान ) what this sutra is about. Probably some form Samadhi. Probably the same form of Samadhi as the last sutra.
There is consensus that the subject of the sutra is the videha and the prakriti-layanam; those who are unembodied or merged in matter. To me that these two classifications of being are placed in the same context is deeply confusing. how can we be incorporeal and merged in matter? Unless when we become merged in matter we become incorporeal?
In Shri Bhramanda Saraswati’s commentary on this sutra he seems to be suggesting that the act of becoming totally absorbed in something gives rise to a feeling of being out of bady – take an intense physical or psychological task (researching this for example, an asana practice, driving on a busy road in adverse weather conditions) anything that requires your full attention, when we are engaged in this task, which is of the physical relam, prakṛti, we are merged with the ‘real’ world around us. During the activity it is as though time has no meaning, place has no meaning, we have no sense of the individual self because we are so focused. If we let our concentration slip for a moment the consequence is that we come back to an awareness of separation between our self carrying out the activity and the activity. But for the duration our concentration holds it is as though we do not have a body, our consciousness is liberated from the restraint of ego or thinking mind and flows freely.
Perhaps Patanjlai is suggesting that this state is very similar to the state when the mind ceases it’s whirling and sees itself because it is so focused so concentrated, but that when we become ephemeral through being merged with matter it is very easy for the mind to be jolted back out of this state?
To be utterly honest this sutra is a real challenge for me to make sense of. Some of the commentaries talk about the videha as being the devas, the demi gods of the hindu pantheon. Or they mention that both those without bodies and those merged in matter are yogis who have not quite reached the state of Samadhi that transcends matter, and are still connected to prakṛti. But then there is Desikachar who favours a simple translation that some people are naturally born in a state of yoga.
I shall continue to explore the ideas in this sutra in my own practice, and perhaps through that study (swadyaya) I too may experience being ephemeral, outside of time and space, for a while.
pūrvaḥ – east (as in pūrvottanasa), early, before, previous. saṃskāra – mental imprints, learnt behaviours, habitual responses. śeṣaḥ – remaining, residual. anyaḥ – the other.
Patanjali has given us the descriptions of some states of Samadhi in the previous sutra. in this sutra he is describing the other (anyaḥ) kind of Samadhi.
The types of Samadhi in sutra 1:17 require an object for the mind to become absorbed in. The mind needs support to find absorption, something to anchor it and allow it to be focused, something to actively help it cease to whirl.
This begins as an active process, we have to put forth effort to concentrate on the object that supports the mind, for example if we are focusing our awareness towards, concentrating on, a flower we have to look at the flower, hold the image of the flower in our mind, and keep coming back to that flower as the mind tries to wander off to look at the rest of the garden. We have to stop the thoughts (virāma-pratyaya). The act of bringing the mind back to the point of focus is effortful and requires practice (abhyāsa).
In this analogy the remainder of the garden, full of bright flowers and butterflies, represents arising thoughts (pratyaya). The flower is the focus and everything else which encroaches on that focus is the mind being drawn into an old pattern of thinking (saṃskāra). Our focus is the flower but perhaps that shade of red reminds us of the soup we had for dinner last night and the mind falls into thinking about that. We have to consciously keep bringing the mind back to concentrating on the flower. And this process, this repetition of bringing the mind back, gathering it in to one point, this practice, then creates a new groove for the mind to rest in.
Once we have practiced stopping the ideas, thoughts, as they arise, they eventually stop arising. The mental imprints, grooves, are still there but they are latent (śeṣaḥ), the mind does not fall into them. Eventually with practice the mind rests in the groove of focus, and concentration. Eventually, with practice, the mind can rest here concentrating only on it’s own nature and requiring no external support – this is the other (anyaḥ) form of Samadhi that Patanjali is alluding to here.
We sit in the garden surrounded by the flowers of our thoughts but the mind rests completely in it its Self, the insects buzz by, the flowers are fragrant, but the mind is still.
ānanda = joy, happiness, bliss. (the end of the drama)
āsmitā = sense of “I”, I-ness.
रूपानुगमात् = rūpānugamāt =
rūpa = form.
anugamāt = followed by, attended by, accompanying.
संप्रज्ञातः = samprajñātaḥ = state of Samadhi in which there is still an object for the mind to focus on.
In the previous 16 sutras Patanjali has described what yoga is and what the mind is. We have a foundation for trying to still the vṛttis through this information. Essentially, and to simplify, we are trying to encourage the mind to get out of the way of our true nature.
In Patanjalian thought the mind is as much matter, physical stuff, as the body, more subtle matter but matter non the less. The only thing that isn’t matter is the consciousness of the universe. Puruṣa. In order to access Puruṣa we need to practice the focusing of the mind and adopt an attitude of dispassion.
For the next section of the first chapter Patanjali describes how the mind can focus to ever more subtle levels, each level moving our awareness through the prakṛti (matter) and towards Puruṣa.
This first chapter is called Samadhi Pada as it is giving information about Samadhi, interestingly though, it isn’t until almost halfway the chapter Patanjali specifically mentions Samadhi, everything is alluding towards this state, this clarity of mind, but the word is not stated unambiguously until sutra 20. Possibly this is due to the understanding that the teachings were not linear, this is a collection of aphorisms about the state and process of yoga. Patanjali is beginning with definitions of terms rather than practical advice. We start by learning about the state of the mind as it is and then move to some processes of how the mind may begin to quiet, before looking at a more detailed map of which route to follow.
Imagine a map without a legend. If we are looking for a church but don’t know the symbol for a church and we had never seen a church before we could be standing next to one and never realise it.
Patanjali is giving us the legend for yoga, before suggesting the best route.
To continue the route analogy (indulging in a bit of vikalpa here, do excuse me), climbing routes vary in difficulty and grade so to reach the summit there may be many paths, one which is suitable for any level of climber, just as Patanjali will offer us a range of techniques. But just as before we attempt to climb we need to know where we are going Patanjali offers us markers and check points, and an idea of where we may end up.
It is also significant that Patanjali is expecting us to practice, we are given waystones for where we are in our practice and what further stages of focus we can develop.
This sutra is the first which describes different states of clarity the mind can find. All of these states are samprajñātaḥ they are states in which the citta still requires a form (of some kind), to focus on.
Vitarka, the most concreate form. The mind becomes absorbed in something physical, for example the colours or shape of an idol, or a flower. There is something tangible the mind is focusing on.
Vicāra, more subtle, the essence of the form becomes the focus. So rather than the shape or colour of the flower the mind rests on the essential nature of the object – note an object is still present.
ānanda, from contemplation on the essential nature of the flower the mind rests in a state of deep bliss. Take the beauty and majesty of a sunset, we begin by admiring the physical form of the sunset, the oranges and purples, and the mind becomes cleared from the thoughts of the day, the anxieties and the triumphs, absorbing the beauty until the mind rests in that beauty, from this a sense of deep peace, bliss, or joy arises. It started with an object – the sunset.
I hope we have all experienced this at some time, I believe it is the experiential nature of the sutras which make them accessible. Patanjali is giving word and clarity to the mystical experiences we may have encountered.
The last state of clarity is āsmitā in this context it could be likened to the third sutra with the seer seeing it’s self. āsmi means ‘I am’. tā denotes ‘ness’. So this ‘I am – ness’ could be interpreted the deep sense of ‘everything will be alright’ which arises out of the bliss of absorption. We feel we belong, the yearning of the soul desists and we dwell fully in our own being. It is the sense of well being after savasana, the sense of lightness that comes in the heart when we allow the mind to clear and focus, when expectation and judgement cease and we can fully inhabit our essence. āsmitā begins with prakṛti (from the bliss that came because the mind became absorbed in an object) but ends in puruṣa.
tat = that paraṃ = highest (the highest vairāgyā/dispassion) puruṣa = the soul kyhāter = knowledge of/ perceiving
guṇa = the substances which make up the world, rajas, tamas, sattva. vaitṛṣṇyam = indifference
The highest dispassion is born from perceiving Puruṣa, this leads to indifference towards the guṇas (and therefore prakṛti).
vairāgyā can be achieved through a committed, sustained, firmly established practice of focusing the mind and thus stilling the citta vṛttis. In the previous sutra Patanjali describes that this is a dispassion towards objects in the material world and objects we have heard about and may desire. In this sutra Patanjali goes further in saying that it is possible to find indifference towards everything in prakṛti (which is everything in existence apart form Puruṣa). This includes matter not only in the physical world but also the psychological one. Thoughts and feelings are also composed of the guṇas. Emotions can be rajasic (firey), tamasic (lethargic) or clear (sattvic). Once we have knowledge of puruṣa we can become indifferent towards everything. Only puruṣa is not subject to guṇas and therefore puruṣa is the only constant thing in existence. Thus once we have perceived this what purpose does attachment to Prakṛti serve?
Once again there is the potential for nihilism to creep in. If everything is irrelevant except for puruṣa, what’s the point of it all? Now we need to apply śraddhā (faith) remember that the mind, the thoughts are coloured by the experiences, the saṃskāras, patterns and by the guṇas. Therefore the little voice which is the nagging doubt is no more real than the sky flowers or unicorns of vikalpaḥ. The part that questions and fears is not the seer seeing itself. Once the seer has seen itself and there is kyhāti of puruṣa then indifference towards the world naturally follows.
But indifference is not distain, nor is it careless, it is a security rooted in knowledge that beyond all this suffering and chaos is quietude, beatitude. Once the vṛttis cease and the mind is not seesawing between rajas and tamas with glimpses of sattva, like the sun through the clouds, once the clouds clear and we are illuminated by seeing the seer, then we become most effective, efficient and discerning, because we act without fear.
Dispassion (vairāgyam) is when ones consciousness (sañjña) is free from, or brought under control (vaśīkāra) so it no longer craves, or ‘thirsts for’ (vitṛṣṇasya) any worldly object in the sphere of the sensual (viṣaya). Regardless of whether these objects have been perceived directly or heard about from the Vedas.
There is a subtle difference between being free from craving and controlling craving. Which is liberation? To be devoid of desire or to feel desire but be unaffected by it?
It is possible to interpret the yoga sutras in a very ascetic way: where one has no desire and exists in a vacuum free from emotion. However it is equally possible to interpret the sutras as practical: a manual for the householder, the everyday human who is humbled by emotion and affected by the world. There is a difference between not feeling something and feeling it but not being distressed by it. It is possible to become cold and unfeeling to achieve dispassion, but I do not believe that this was Patanjali’s intension. Rather here we are offered the possibility to feel but to remain efficient in the world and act as a force of good by controlling the feelings. Again not suppressing or denying that we feel but rather acknowledging that we are not just a messy ball of emotions (although a perfectly reasonable reading of vaśīkāra could be subjugate, love the ambiguity of Sanskrit) rather that emotions are experienced by something, interpreted by the mind and how we react to those emotions is within our control.
For example I thirst for a new yoga mat, which I cannot afford to buy and I do not need. Without dispassion that thirst could grow into an obsession, my thoughts circling about how only when I have this new mat would I be able to achieve the perfection in asana (something else I thirst for) and only when I achieve perfection in asana can I achieve happiness (something else I thirst for). But I cannot have the new yoga mat so my asana remains sketchy and my happiness denied. The thing I am actually thirsting for is the happiness but I have associated this with the asana and the mat so the happiness is not possible without these material objects. I am also objectifying happiness as though it were a thing, an object to acquire. Patanjali asks us to question all of these assumptions.
What are we thirsting for? and why? and how do we quench that thirst?
In the context of this sutra, weight is placed on sensory objects for example a craving for coffee. Dispassion is the capacity to enjoy coffee when it is available but to take pleasure in water when there is no coffee. Ultimately the practice of becoming neutral toward sense objects will take us inwards towards a peace of mind and quietening of emotion.
Patanjali references both those sense objects we know of through direct experience (touch, taste, sight, smell etc) and those that we may have heard about in the Vedas. For example the celestial wealth possible only through the sacrifices and ritual presented in the Vedas. In his commentary on the Yoga Sutras Edwin Bryant suggests that this is an example of Patanjali directly criticising the Vedic traditions and presenting Yoga as a way to self realisation which will lead to liberation from samsara (the cycle of rebirth). Yoga is an internal practice, not requiring dogma or anyone to intercede between humanity and God.
The concepts of vairāgyā and abhyāsa are entwined, being able to experience emotion without becoming distressed takes practice. We practice focusing the mind and develop control so we can feel without becoming entangled (dispassion), and of course enjoy our coffee when we can have it but avoid distress when we can’t.
sa tu digha kāla nairantarya satkārāsevīto dṛḍha bhumiḥ
it (practice), but, long/extended, period of time, without interruption/ continuous, with reverence, solid/firm, ground.
For practice to become effective at undoing or rewiring the citta vṛtti it must be established over a lengthy period of time, it must be continuous and with reverence, or an attitude of supplication – then there is a firm ground for citta vṛtti nirodha.
Edwin Bryant’s analogy of a garden best illustrates this. In order for a garden to flourish, the earth must be prepared, nourished, cultivated, then seeds can be planted, which in turn require care. Once the garden is in full bloom (after we have tended it with attention and love) we still cannot simply stop gardening or weeds will take root. In this analogy the plants are the citta vṛtti some are intended to be present, some we plant and encourage, the weeds are also citta vṛtti, these we need to remove. We cannot simply cut them down we need to pull them out from the root and still part of the nature of a garden (mind) is that it is exposed to the world around it so other seeds will be blown to the earth and try to take root. The conscientious practitioner knows that we cannot take a holiday from tending the garden of our mind or if we do, there may be a fair bit of maintenance to do when we get back!
Practice is the effort we put in to achieving steadiness of mind. So whenever we are putting effort into making our mind steady we are practicing, whether this is through asana (physical shape making), dhyana (concentrating), yama (our conduct in the world) or anything else. Patanjlai is inclusive, rather than prescriptive, there is an acknowledgement that the mind may be made steady through many means and it is the effectiveness of the means rather than dogmatic adherence to a specific path which will lead to Self evolution.
As this is a short sutra and easy to grasp I thought you might be interested in a little Sanskrit?
from this sutra let us take ‘sthitau’ and ‘yatno’.
Sthitau comes from the root class sthā from which words associated with standing come. For example tishṭhati (third person) – stands, or samasthitiḥ – same standing or even/balanced standing, or sthira grounded, steady, firm. When you begin to get your head around the root, suffix, prefix, case system of Sanskrit you begin to find a melody and a poetry in the language. A word rarely, if ever, has one meaning. Mostly words are associated with ideas, for example standing can conjure images of a statue or an ancient tree, or people waiting at a bus stop. Because there is a spaciousness in the way Sanskrit can be translated, there is room for us all to find our own understanding. The essence of the idea is captured but we are not limited by a prescriptive definition. This flexibly acknowledges the inherent limitations of language. What I call green and you call green are probably not the same colour, what I consider just and your comprehension of justice is possibly different. Words mean what we want them to mean. Remember vikalpa? metaphor or imagination born of words with no foundation in reality? We live our lives striving for understanding, often times we think this comes through language, critical thinking and study but what if it came through putting effort into steadying the mind?
Yatno is probably from the root yam via yat. The origin of yam is to stretch – which is of particular interest to asana practitioners as we are stretching our bodies in an effortful way. Or in the context of concentration/mediation we are stretching our attention, in yoga we stretch our awareness to encompass all things, rather than alone we are all one.
The mind is unstuck from its habitual patterns (tannirodhah) through practice (abhyāsa) and nonattachment (vairāgyābhyām).
Also through the practise of nonattachment. It is the practise of yoga that Patanjali is advocating, the details of this will be expounded at the sutras continue. The more I study, explore and live with the yoga sutras the more I appreciate that they don’t exist in isolation of each other, whilst we can break them down and examine them each specifically, this is unlikely to be the most efficient way of grasping them . Patanjali lays firm foundations, I would describe this as a guide book rather than an instruction manual. Even when Patanjali does begin to go into greater detail about what we can practice the instructions are minimal and terse, it is the act of practising which becomes the teacher.
It is worthy of note that nonattachment rather than detachment is the translation I favour. It is a subtle but important difference. Nonattachment acknowledges that we love, we feel, we experience emotions and we may well need to acquire some material possessions to function effectively within society, but we are not attached to them, they come, they go we remain equanimous. From detachment I infer a coldness, an aloofness, a not engaging with life. Yoga is not about disengaging from life but rather living as fully as we can in a state of freedom. We are undisturbed by the horrors but this does not mean that we don’t see them and that we can’t agitate for change but we are more effective advocates as we see beyond the whirling mind stuff.
Please note this is bloody difficult, which may well be why it’s a practise! If at first you don’t succeed, try and try again, across as many life times as we need.
Hopefully you have seen that Patanjali is systematic in his approach to conveying information. He is grounded in definitions and explanations.
These first 11 sutras have given us;
a definition of yoga,
a description of what yoga is,
and what yoga is not,
– further to what yoga is not there have been some detailed descriptions of the five citta vṛtti.
Patanjali is striving for us to come from an attitude of negation: if we can clearly define and understand what constitutes citta vṛtti then what is left will be yoga.
In some respects this could be related to the practice of “Neti, neti” where we strive to understand Brahman through understanding what Brahman is not “not this, not that”. For example sitting in contemplation and focusing on our body our thoughts, realising that if we can focus on them whatever the thing that is doing the focusing can not be the same a the thoughts or body, therefore we are not our thoughts or body, so what are we?
Patanjali is offering us an opportunity to look deeply into the way the mind works. Remember that these five different patterns that the mind follows can be both detrimental and helpful in our evolution towards the cessation of all fluctuations of the mind, as we move towards steadiness.
The five patterns are: Knowledge, error, metaphor, sleep and memory.
When the mind is no longer stuck in these patterns then we can see that we are not the mind but something else, we see our true form.
