Yoga,

Karma, and Rebirth

Yoga, Karma, and Rebirth
A Brief History and Philosophy

Stephen H. Phillips

COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY PRESS NEW YORK

 Columbia University Press
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Copyright © 2009 Columbia University Press All rights reserved
E-ISBN 978-0-231-51947-2
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Phillips, Stephen H.,
1950– Yoga, karma, and rebirth : a brief history and philosophy / Stephen
H. Phillips.
p. cm.
Includes bibliographical references and index.
ISBN 978-0-231-14484-1 (cloth : alk. paper)—ISBN 978-0-231-14485-8
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 Contents

Preface
Introduction: Setting an Intention

1 Theory and Practice

Principles of Yoga Practice and Types of Yoga Theory

The Yoga Class
Yoga Literature and Classical Philosophies

2 Yoga and Metaphysics

Yogic Self-Monitoring
Yoga on Philosophy’s Mind-Body Problem
Mind-Body Interactive Dualism
Yogic Control and Integration: Spiritual Holism

3 Karma

Dispositions
Ahimsa, Nonharmfulness
Karma Yoga
Karmic Justice
4. Rebirth

Personal Identity
Translife Consciousness
Arguments For and Against

5. Powers

Holistic Health
Extraordinary Emotion: Bhakti (Devotional Love), Rasa
(Relish), and Ananda (Bliss)
Psychic Transformation

Appendix A. Select Yogic Passages in the Upanishads

Appendix B. Yogic Passages in the Bhagavad Gita
Appendix C. The Yoga Sutra
Appendix D. Selections from (Tantric) Kashmiri Shaivite
Texts
Appendix E. Selections from the Hatha Yoga Pradipika
Glossary
Notes
Bibliography
Index
 Preface

his book grew out of an upper-division course I developed

T at the University of Texas at Austin, “Yoga as Philosophy
and Practice,” and I would like to thank first of all Ellen
Briggs Stansell, my teaching assistant for its first three years.
Together we discussed all the topics broached here.
Concurrently Ellen became a yoga teacher as well as a doctoral
candidate, completing a thesis on the Bhagavad Gita. Matthew
Dasti and Neil Dalal, also graduate students at Texas, made
helpful comments, as did my philosophy colleague and fellow
yoga student Kathleen Higgins. Matthew helped me select
passages from the Gita to translate in appendix B. Insights and
lots of feedback were provided by my wife, Hope. Kisor
Chakrabarti, J. N. Mohanty, and Peter Heehs read portions of
early drafts and made solid suggestions. For chapter 2, 3, and
4, the book has benefited from extensive comments by Colin
Foote, particularly with regard to Buddhist theories and
practices.
Let me thank my yoga teachers, many of whom I have
doubtless copied in scripting a yoga class in chapter 1: Brigitte
Snyder (best of flow teachers), John Schlorholtz (author of the
DVD series Ageless Yoga, and my brother-in-law), Peggy Kelly
(founder of Austin School of Yoga), Mary Keator, Cary Choate,
Jessica Montgomery, Annick Sebbane, Ravyn Abboushi,
Genevieve Gilbreath, Larissa Rogers, Jenn Wooten, Charlie
Llewellyn, Pam Brewer, Jessica Wozniak, Brienne Brown,
Devon Dederich, Jerry Balderas, Enid Baptiste, Kaye Klier, Matt
Borer, Rachel Hector, Ana Pilar, Elizabeth Cafferky, Chuck
Hausman (“Kewal”), Dorothee Bethscheider (“Dodo” in
Auroville, South India), Kimberley Jones, Esta Herold (“Seva”),
Tenille Collard, Jessica Goulding, Jenny Dawson, and Christina
Sell. Two of these guru-jis attended my lectures on Indian
philosophies at UT and read portions of the book in draft,
providing helpful reactions; Ravyn Abboushi and Genevieve
Gilbreath thus deserve special acknowledgment—as does
Peggy Kelly, dean of Austin yoga teachers, and senior Anusara
teacher Christina Sell, who read portions of the Kularnava
Tantra with me. Tracie Brace, founder of Yoga Rasa, Houston,
and Michael Benton (“Mehtab”) and friends at Yogayoga,
Austin, graciously rewarded a little teaching of Sanskrit on my
part by enriching my practice through help as teachers or
students, as did dozens more, all of whom I salute with heartfelt
thanks.
Chapter 4, first section, written as a presentation at an APA
conference, was in large part published in the Newsletter of the
American Philosophical Association (Fall 2005). Much of
chapter 3, second section appears in The Encyclopedia of
Violence, Peace and Conflict, 2nd edition, ed. Lester Kurtz
(Amsterdam: Elsevier, 2008). I also read part of it as the paper,
“Ahimsa (‘Nonharmfulness’): The Vedantic, Buddhist, and Jaina
Arguments,” Seventeenth International Congress of Vedanta,
University of Miami, Oxford, Ohio, September 2007. Ideas on
the mind-body problem in particular were developed in
connection with efforts by Daniel Bonevac and me to introduce
the readings in our Introduction to World Philosophy (New York:
Oxford University Press, 2009). Much of the second section of
chapter 2 was presented at the International Seminar on
Understanding Consciousness, Ramakrishna Mission Institute
of Culture, Kolkata, January 2008, and will appear in the
conference proceedings. The third and fourth sections began
as the paper, “The Mind-Body Problem in Three Indian
Philosophies,” presented at the International Conference on
Mind and Consciousness, Indian Institute of Technology,
Kharagpur, West Bengal, January 2002, and included in the
conference proceedings. Part of chapter 4, third section will
appear in the Jadavpur Journal of Philosophy (in press) and
was read as part of the Sri Aurobindo Annual Lecture Series,
Jadavpur University, Kolkata, 2008. Special thanks go to
Indrani Sanyal and her colleagues in the Philosophy
Department at Jadavpur and to editors and others who have
facilitated these papers and publications.
I am especially grateful to Wendy Lochner, Christine
Mortlock, Leslie Kriesel, Martin Hinze, Derek Warker, and
Milenda Lee at Columbia University Press. Wendy Lochner in
particular had a large hand in shaping this book through
championing the appendices as well as editing several sections
while encouraging me to write for a wide audience.
 om paramatmane namah

Introduction

Setting an Intention (or, Enlivening an Intention

Already Set)

agnim ile.… I call the fire, ancient priest of the sacrifice, the divine who
summons (the divinities), bringing here jewels.
—RIG VEDA 1.1.1

This is the life energy (prana) that radiates out from every being. Knowing
this, the knower tends not to excessive disputation. / Playing and
relishing in the self (atman) with self as his delight, doing works he
becomes the best of Brahman knowers.
—MUNDAKA UPANISHAD 3.1.4

Sumedha: “Surely a buddha I shall be.”

—JATAKA1.3

Setting himself in a clean place in a steady asana (posture, seat) that is

neither too high nor too low (to be comfortable), on a cloth, animal skin,
or kusha grass, there fixing heart and mind on a single point, working to
bring his thought and emotion along with his faculties and organs under
control, let him practice yoga for self-purification.
—BHAGAVAD GITA 6.11–12

atha yoga-anushasanam.… Now instruction in yoga. Yoga is the stilling

 of fluctuations of thought and emotion (chitta). Then the seer (the
conscious being) rests in its true nature. At other times, fluctuations are
identified with.
—YOGA SUTRA 1.1–4

Yoga is the unity (ekatva) of one thing with another.

—MALINI-VIJAYOTTARA TANTRA 4.4.1

he consciousness traditions of ancient India constitute the

T roots of yoga teaching. Buddhism carried yoga eastward,
and all Eastern spiritual traditions—including the martial
arts—have common background with the yoga traditions of
India. Some have argued that Christianity too is influenced by
yoga, perhaps in the figure of Jesus himself. Clearly Sufism is.
In India, traditions of yoga practice include or overlap with
Vedantic, Jaina, Buddhist, Sikh, Vaishnavite, and Shaivite
teachings. These are multidimensional complexes of ideas and
culture, and are in large part the origins of yoga training
programs that have spread all over the world.
There is, for example, the invocation, dedication, or other
ritual beginning of a typical yoga class. This can be as simple
as a single out-breath of the chant om, which is a mantra or
sacred syllable according to very old Upanishads. Upanishads
are “secret teachings” composed in Sanskrit, which was the
lingua franca of ancient and classical India.1 Upanishads are
the oldest texts in which the word yoga is used in our sense,
our anglicized “yoga” (some earlier usages carry a different
meaning). The meaning and symbolism of om is laid out very
early in the Mandukya Upanishad (c. 500 B.C.E.) and elsewhere:
“Om—this syllable is all this (universe)” and so on.2
There are indications of yoga practice even earlier than the
earliest Upanishads. The Rig Veda (“Rig” from Sanskrit rik,
which means “verse”), the oldest text in Sanskrit (c. 1200 B.C.E.
or earlier), is a source for yoga teaching, although, to be sure,
there are disputes about its meaning. We will survey yoga
literature in the last section of chapter 1, setting the Vedas,
Upanishads, Bhagavad Gita, Yoga Sutra, and other yoga texts
in chronological order, as we identify the main themes of Yoga
philosophy and trace their development up to the modern
period. This book will become a first-person defense of a
contemporary view that all yoga practitioners and sympathizers
can stand behind confidently. But first we will review our Yoga
inheritance.
Another example of reverberations of the Indian past in the
modern studio is the practice of a teacher’s asking everyone to
“set an intention” for the class to come, the session of an hour
or so of asanas and conscious breathing. Sometimes it is
suggested that one might “tune into” or refurbish an intention
already formed. Such setting of an intention (samkalpa in
Sanskrit) and bhavana (enlivening an intention already set) are
found in the Upanishads in stories of young people going to a
guru to learn the truth of the self (atman). Because resolve
shapes what is possible, much emphasis is placed on intention,
samkalpa, in yoga traditions—on the idea of what is to be
accomplished through yoga practice. Yoga philosophy has long
held that practice follows thought, as well as that what we do is
what we become. Traditionally, the “thought” here in this mantra
is samkalpa. Yoga asks us to set our sights high. In the
Upanishads, the names of some of the seekers, such as
Satyakama in the Chandogya (c. 800 B.C.E.), “He whose desire
is the truth,” conform to the theme.
A wonderful dramatization of setting an intention occurs in
the earliest texts of Buddhism (c. 300 B.C.E.) in the story of
Sumedha and the Buddha’s “first vow.”3 Wealthy, well
educated, and of high social status in the “town of Amara, a
place of beauty and delights,” a young man named Sumedha,
despite the surrounding splendor and advantages he has in
society, comes to the realization, “What misery to be born
again, and have the flesh dissolve at death!” And he resolves to
find freedom from evil through yoga. Then after years of yogic
discipline, Sumedha hears of the arrival in Amara of a buddha
(awakened one), Dipankara by name, a person of such
radiance, power, and wisdom that throngs gather to strew
flowers at his feet. Sumedha joins the crowd, loosening his
long, matted hair to form part of the buddha’s path. As the
Blessed One approaches, our yogin is inspired to want to be
like that, setting an intention that, according to Buddhist
tradition, remains firm through lifetimes of more moderate
practice and progress (the Middle Way)—until he is born
Siddhartha Gautama of our age.
Recognizing the sincerity of Sumedha’s intention, Dipankara
stops and announces, “Surely a buddha you shall be.” From his
words echoed by the crowd, Sumedha comes to carry with him
not only the intention but also a deep confidence. One of the
tasks of a Yoga philosophy (Buddhist or another) is to protect
such confidence from attack.
Similarly, in the Bhagavad Gita, which is of about the same
time (c. 300 B.C.E.) as the Jataka tale of Sumedha, it is the
sincere aspiration of the character Arjuna that provokes his
divine charioteer Krishna to instruct him in yoga and provide a
whole worldview to boot (see the introduction to appendix B).
Yoga is more than postures and breath control. It comprises
processes of psychological transformation complementing
physical development and maintenance of good health. The
Yoga Sutra, for example, lays out asana and breath control
(pranayama), but only as practices among other practices,
specifically, as two limbs within an “eight-limbed” ashtanga
yoga. The ashtanga yoga of Patanjali includes meditation and
right focus as well as ethical and personal constraints (yama
and niyama). One goal of this book is to help yoga teachers
and practitioners appreciate the breadth and depth of yoga.
Traditionally, yoga is a way the sacred can come into life.
There are of course many kinds of yoga: hatha yoga, which
targets the body and breath; meditational or jnana yoga; karma
yoga, which is the yoga of action and self-sacrifice; bhakti yoga,
which is the yoga of devotion and love; tantric yoga aimed at
uniting with Shiva/Shakti; Kundalini yoga to open the occult
chakras or centers of consciousness and awaken the “serpent
power” (kundalini) to rise in the central channel (sushumna); the
“eight-limbed” ashtanga yoga of the Yoga Sutra focused on
quieting the mind; the specialized yogas of japa (repetition of
mantras or sacred syllables); yogic sleep (yoga nidra); and so
on. The list is long. A second purpose of this book is to chart
common and uncommon suppositions of the central manuals of
the more prominent types.
Practices of yoga are not only grounded in ancient spiritual
traditions but also defended by certain Eastern philosophies.
This book, despite the attention to history, is itself a work of
Yoga philosophy, extending classical Yoga traditions. As a
practitioner, I think of it as yoga for the buddhi, for the intellect,
or svadhyaya, self-study, in the phrase of the Yoga Sutra (2.1).
The point is to develop intellectual confidence about ideas used
in yoga practices. Thus the central goal, beyond sorting and
clarifying, is to defend central concepts involved in the
practices, especially certain psychological concepts (such as
karma and its underpinnings in mental dispositions, samskara),
as well as pieces of Yoga philosophy from the past.
The phrase “Yoga philosophy” (with a capital Y) is
sometimes used by scholars to refer to the views of the Yoga
Sutra and its commentaries. These views are without question
important for this book. But here “Yoga philosophy” is construed
much more broadly, and the resources for our own Yoga
philosophy include Vedanta and the Upanishads, the little-
known school of Nyaya, Buddhism, Jainism, tantra, and other
Eastern and now Western philosophies centered on yoga
practices. Indeed, as practices of spiritual development from all
over the world, including from Western traditions, are by
analogy “yogic,” so too are philosophies. Thus Rumi’s is in our
usage a Yoga philosophy. Patanjali’s Yoga Sutra is mentioned
here probably more than any other single instance of yoga
literature, and a new translation is appended (appendix C). But
my intention is not to defend the philosophy of the Yoga Sutra.
In general, “Yoga” (with the capital) will designate a framework
of ideas about self and reality connected tightly with yoga
practices by way of explaining the experiences or abilities to
which the practices lead. By this definition, there is much that
qualifies as Yogic within classical Eastern and now some
modern philosophy with a global audience. The classics of
Yoga are, however, mainly Indian: Vedantic, Buddhist, Jaina,
Nyaya, and tantric texts as well as the Yoga Sutra and its
Sanskrit commentaries. Especially from such classic sources,
which are mostly in Sanskrit, I try to frame a Yoga philosophy
that is not so much new as useful to, in particular, yoga
students and teachers. This book is dedicated to everyone who
has led or will lead a yoga class, or has begun a serious
practice. It is also, to be sure, written for philosophers and
students of philosophy—with a global interest.
Chapter 1 opens with a section on the nature of yoga
theories, which is followed by a description of a yoga class
(what it’s like from a first-person point of view) along with some
suggestions for yoga teachers and practitioners, and then a
section on yoga literature. First-person description shows levels
and types of theoretic commitment, although nothing more bold
practicewise will be undertaken than what goes by the name of
Sun Salutations (along with two varieties of breath control and a
couple of mantras).
Chapter 2 takes up a challenge to Yoga theory from
scientific materialism and recent work in metaphysics by
academic philosophers. Theoretic commitments and options for
Yoga are laid out. Yoga philosophic inclusivism is the
disjunction of views that together form a spiritual camp,
opposed to a collection of views that are materialist.
Materialism locates causal power solely in objects, things that
are material and only material. Yoga does not, locating our
power over ourselves in something subjective, something more
than a brain. Yoga philosophy is not limited to any single
position on the relation of body to mind or spirit or
consciousness, but all Yoga philosophy stands in opposition to
certain claims held in common by materialists. Indeed, at the
heart of Yoga, I shall argue, is commitment to two-directional
causation and possibilities of self-development.
Chapter 3 takes up the psychological concept of karma and
explores its metaphysical and, especially, its moral dimensions
as well as its importance for yoga practice. Karma constitutes
habits and is summed up as character, character built up from
below, from choices we make. There is also a special meaning
of the word in “karma yoga,” which is explained following the
Bhagavad Gita. The concept of karmic fate is also illuminated,
as well as the foundations for the yogic practice of
nonharmfulness (ahimsa, nonviolence). A view of ecological
responsibility flows from a right understanding of karma.
Chapter 4 examines Yogic views of rebirth, sifting
superstition from occult psychology. Principal arguments for
and against reincarnation are examined. The nature of possible
cross-life continuity is of primary interest. The soul-making
model of the Gita is contrasted with an underappreciated tantric
top-down model that posits a status for the individual beyond
embodiment and embodiments, as in part manifestations of a
larger type of self, not just developments along lines continuous
with previous births. In this tantric view, spiritual enlightenment
is not such a big deal, being both easy to come by and often
secondary to the ends of the Divine Mother for the individual,
the compulsions of divine shakti or energy to finite
manifestation.
Chapter 5 takes up further ethical and social dimensions of
yoga practice along with traditional claims of extraordinary
capacities and “powers.” What is the point of yoga? What are
the legitimate goals? Does yoga have social value? The good
of holistic health is explored along with traditional teachings. In
our age, can yoga be more than physical exercise? I shall
argue in favor of an expansionist program, discussing yoga in
life, especially bhakti yoga, as well as the yoga of beauty and
art along with the theme of psychic transformation.
Traditionally, however, extraordinary powers called siddhis, if
not to be renounced, are thought best directed to the spiritual
(adhyatmika). We shall examine the tantric among other
answers and attitudes, worldly and otherworldly combinations.
Five appendices present new translations from Sanskrit of
classic yoga (and Yoga) texts: the Upanishads, the Gita, the
Yoga Sutra, the Hatha Yoga Pradipika, and a few other tantric
texts drawn from Kashmiri Shaivism.
As mentioned, I have thought of part of the audience for this
book as yoga teachers, teachers of asanas and pranayama,
who are now perhaps the principal conveyors of Yoga
philosophy, and their interested students. To you let me say,
please be patient with my tentativeness (“What is true is A or B
or C or…”). Probably many will feel a need for metaphysical
doctrines that are more specific than anything here. But nothing
here rules out faith in the power of consciousness beyond that
defended here explicitly. Versions of theism are discussed, for
example, without endorsement, but definitely without rejection
(in the last section of chapter 3 the idea of God’s goodness is
defended by doctrines of karma and rebirth). The point is to
open a Yoga umbrella sheltering a whole family of views and
spiritual paths. This attitude is in line with the spirit of
inclusivism found in many Yogic texts, including the Yoga Sutra
itself, which presents alternative methods to achieve the yogic
goal.4 As Yoga philosophers, we have to deny materialism; its
causal theses have to be opposed, as explained in chapter 2.
But our Yoga philosophy tries as far as possible to be friendly to
a broad inheritance of philosophies encouraging yoga. Such
inclusivism demands abstraction, and details are inevitably
overlooked as our plane, our intellectual vahana, rises and we
scan a wide expanse. And like a difficult asana, philosophic
flights, although Yogic, are not for every practitioner. The basic
idea is, however, entirely simple: we may have confidence in
our Yoga inheritance.
Thus our Yoga philosophy not only is inclusivist but also has
to be in a sense minimalist: trying to say as much as necessary
to support the practices and understand the experiences and
abilities they lead to, but not more, especially not more as a
matter of strong commitment. This attitude is motivated by the
facts of our global times and circumstances and the diversity of
belief systems in the Yoga camp. Note that an attractive
alternative to minimalism is the relativism or perspectivalism
developed by Jaina philosophers, anekanta-vada,
nonabsolutism. This position will be examined closely at the
end of chapter 3, but the gist is to treat all views as having a
grain of truth, as right with qualifications. In the Jaina spirit, I
find a rough trade-off—though hardly a zero-sum game—
between ways of weakening the content of claims, mainly
abstraction and alternation, and levels of justified confidence.
(Devadatta sees what looks like a snake crawl into the
doghouse, but is not entirely sure and says, “I saw something
[abstraction] crawl into the doghouse. I think it may be [less
than absolute confidence] a snake.”) The genius of the Jainas
was to forge a logic of the maybe (syat) that, we shall see
below, is able to disarm metaphysical conflict, an intellectual
ahimsa, nonharmfulness. The logic of the maybe has both an
epistemic and a metaphysical dimension, and my minimalist
strategy, though not the same, is similar.
All this suggests another story from Buddhist tradition and a
final reminder about the spirit of Yoga theorizing. The story of
Sumedha is from the Pali canon of southern Buddhism, where
are also found the “Sermons of the Buddha” that scholars view
as the oldest Buddhist texts. In a famous sermon in the Majjima
Nikaya, the Buddha warns against too much intellectualizing.
There are questions that “do not tend to edification,” and the
Buddha draws analogies to a house on fire and to a man shot
with an arrow. Just as one would not discourse on the nature of
fire, its composition or source, but would rush to put it out if
one’s own house were ablaze, and similarly a man shot would
not discourse on the nature of the arrow but would pull it out, so
we should act to change ourselves and win the highest good,
not wasting time in idle talk.5 But it seems to me—as it has to
hundreds of previous yoga (and Yoga) enthusiasts, including
hundreds of Buddhist philosophers—that a little theory is
needed. Otherwise, we might be discouraged, for example, by
the materialists, and miss opportunities that yoga presents.
Thus is our attitude pragmatic, humble, and not to claim the
final word.
 1

Theory and Practice

Principles of Yoga Practice and Types of Yoga Theory

Insofar as yoga practice is a form of bodily movement (and

sometimes effortful absence of bodily movement), it does not
require much theoretical knowledge. Although yoga is not mere
exercise, intellectually it’s often only a matter of knowing the
meaning of words that refer to basic body parts and motions,
like lifting your arms and holding your palms together. A yoga
teacher conveys skills, mastery of the body, breath, and so on
from his or her own first-person point of view. It’s “knowledge
how” rather than “knowledge that,” like how to ride a bicycle or
to swim as opposed to certain facts or laws that obtain. Asanas
or postures and the transitions between them in a class require
little theoretical knowledge, no knowledge of aerodynamics, for
instance, although all movement is governed by aerodynamic
laws.
Of course, in yoga practice not every body part needs to be
known and identified, only those capable of being moved as
targeted in the instructions of the teacher—the left hand, for
example, as opposed to the spleen. One of the purposes of
doing the posture called Corpse Pose, shavasana, is to learn to
identify body parts, but not as one would in an anatomy class.1
The main purpose of the asana is to relax the entire body and
psychological system consciously, as you lie flat on your back
on the floor without going to sleep. Learning to locate and relax
a specific part mentioned is a means to this end and is how the
asana is taught to beginners in some traditions: toes, arches,
ankles, heels, calves, upper and lower thighs, fingers, hands,
arms, shoulders, and (to quote a contemporary teacher)
“loosening hip sockets and relaxing the buttocks, moving from
the tailbone and relaxing through the lumbar, the thoracic
vertebrae, relaxing the back of the neck, and softening the
throat, releasing any tension from the muscles of the jaws, lips,
and tongue, relaxing the cheeks” [parting the lips and moving
the tongue to lie away from the teeth], “feeling the eyeballs
grow heavier and softer as they drop down away from the
eyelids, the eyelids floating lightly above the eyes as you relax
the eyebrows and forehead and make the temples grow soft
and hollow, relaxing the scalp and crown of the head.”2 Let me
stress that these two are not the same: the ability to identify and
move or relax a body part as required to do yoga, and knowing
the location and function of an anatomical part, such as the
pineal gland, as explained in medical science. The distinction is
of enormous importance to Yoga philosophy.
Yoga teachings engage, like a “how-to” book of practical
instruction, a first-person point of view as opposed to the
externalist, third-person point of view of science. Thus Yoga
philosophy has a touchstone in the utility of its ideas for the
practices. Medical science does not have the same orientation,
and although often scientific hypotheses overlap with Yoga
principles, the phenomenology (how they appear or are present
to consciousness) of the practices as well as of the experiences
to which they lead carries Yoga philosophy into its own special
area of psychological theory and, as we shall see, metaphysics.
To move more slowly, let us ask whether knowing the
body’s anatomy, the bones and muscles, the pulmonary,
digestive, and cardiovascular systems, could be of help in yoga
practice. Shouldn’t the ideal yoga instructor, if not the weekend
practitioner, know the body parts and their functions as
explained in medicine? The answer is complex, and surely not
entirely negative. Some such knowledge could prevent injury in
imaginable circumstances (though few get injured in yoga
since, unlike in sports, we attend closely to bodily feedback).
Nevertheless, Yoga instructors need not be medically trained.
The direction of the question is misleading. We should not lose
sight of the fact that in yoga practice, as in sports, our
intellectual knowledge is in the service of what we are doing.
Consider the illiterate yogin or yogini. Many unschooled in
letters have without question thrived, being accomplished in the
practices—for instance, the revered Sri Ramakrishna, the
nineteenth-century illiterate Bengali mystic and guru of Swami
Vivekananda (Vivekananda taught Vedanta to William James,
among other achievements, at the Chicago 1893 Congress of
World Religions, and translated the Yoga Sutra). To be able to
pull the shoulder blades down away from the ears and relax
them, for example, or to spread the toes requires no scientific
knowledge whatsoever.
Let us look at instructions and descriptions of Corpse Pose,
shavasana, in three current yoga manuals: first one that tries to
explain scientifically the relaxation process in the midst of
instructions, and then two other, more traditional renditions of
instructions for the same asana.

Relax completely, allowing your body to rest on the floor under the
influence of gravity. When you first lie down most of the motor
neurons that innervate the skeletal muscles are still firing nerve
impulses, but your breathing gradually becomes even and regular,
and the number of nerve impulses per second to your muscles starts
to drop. If you are an expert in relaxation, within a minute or two the
number of nerve impulses to the muscles to your hands and toes
goes to zero. Then, within five minutes the motor neuronal input to the
muscles of your forearms, arms, legs, and thighs diminishes and also
approaches zero. The rhythmical movement of the respiratory
diaphragm lulls you into even deeper relaxation, finally minimalizing
the nerve impulses to the deep postural muscles of the torso. The
connective tissues are not restraining you. Pain is not registered from
any part of the body—the posture is entirely comfortable. This is an
ideal relaxation.3

There are at the very least two referential expressions in this

passage that are not phenomenological, not identifiable in a
yoga practice from the inside, from a first-person point of view:
“motor neurons” and “nerve impulses.” These are part of a
theory, of an explanation, not of instructions telling the yoga
student what to do or watch for. If they were pared away, you
could be told to do the same thing. The term “respiratory
diaphragm” is phenomenological; it can be identified
proprioceptively in direct inner feeling and control. But in this
passage the diaphragm is mentioned as part of a mechanism
that, with this asana, is dissociated from conscious control. In a
traditional teaching, in contrast, the diaphragm would not be in
such sharp focus, the emphasis being instead on “breath
energy,” prana, sometimes translated “life energy,” as will be
explained.
Next, two “how-to” presentations of Corpse Pose that are
woven into traditional Yoga theories.
In what has become the most popular asana manual in the
United States, B.K.S. Iyengar, who has trained yoga teachers in
Pune, India, for more than fifty years, quotes, on shavasana,
three verses from the Hatha Yoga Pradipika (HYP 1.32, which
describes shavasana, and then 4.29 and 4.30, which provide
occult interpretation) along with another classical text. Having
just previously spelled out the physical positioning, Pandit
Iyengar provides a translation of the verses along with some
commentary. In the ideal Corpse Pose, one draws in the
senses into a generic sense awareness (called pratyahara),
which has no particular objects. This in turn is drawn into the
breath or prana and then the prana into a deeper, essentially
blissful consciousness:

In good relaxation one feels energy flow from the back of the head
towards the heels and not the other way around.…
[From the Hatha Yoga Pradipika:] “The mind is the lord of the
 Indriyas (the organs of senses); the Prana (the Breath of Life) is the
lord of the mind. When the mind is absorbed it is called Moksha (final
emancipation, liberation of the soul); when Prana and Manas (the
mind) have been absorbed, an undefinable joy ensues.”4

In Iyengar’s usage and translation, “Prana” is not just the

breath but an energy that flows in occult cavities and canals,
not only the lungs. It animates the physical but also a subtle
body. Normally the main pranic energy has an upward
buoyancy, but, as the master teacher says, in Corpse Pose one
begins to feel flow in the reverse direction. This is an important
yogic experience. Deep breathing and shavasana help
eliminate restlessness, agitation, and “stress,” Iyengar says, but
getting rid of these in turn is part of a larger process of
controlling and harmonizing the “Breath of Life,” as he
translates prana.
Philosophers might expect that this “Prana” is bad theory.
But it is clearly more a matter of direct experience than the
earlier “motor neurons.” The concept may have a theoretic side,
but here the word even in the Hatha Yoga Pradipika’s
expanded sense has concrete meaning for yoga practice and in
yogic experience.
Gestalt psychologists and others have taught us about
“seeing as,” about how our beliefs and conventions influence
our perceptual language, even basic depictions of that which
we perceive. Do you see the faces in the trees, the duck or the
rabbit? A doctor will see a hairline fracture in an x-ray if she
thinks there is one on other evidence, and not if not. Standing
on a cliff overlooking a movie set, the uninformed will see an
old western town. But when told it’s just a set, a person will
suddenly see the façades. Perception is theory-laden. This
does not mean that we should be skeptical about tables and
chairs, but it might mean that we should be skeptical about
“Prana.” For theory impinges on even the lowest-level use of
names to pick out something of which we are directly aware,
and not everyone talks about prana as they do about tables and
chairs.
However, in yoga it is common to become aware—directly,
intimately—of objects of which formerly, before the practice, we
were unaware. And this is true even though these things or
phenomena are parts of ourselves, of our very own bodies or
consciousness! Thus, in good faith Iyengar and many others,
including myself, say that in yoga we become aware of prana—
which is at a minimum more than filling and emptying the lungs
—phenomenologically. This is perhaps most readily evident in
breath and attention being directed and merging at specific
spots. In any case, the claim is that pranic energy, which
includes but is more than breath, is a matter of as immediate an
experience as anyone’s own inner feeling of legs and arms.5
Before moving on to another traditional explanation of
Corpse Pose, let us note that whatever the precise nature of
“Prana” in Iyengar’s usage, the object of which the yogin or
yogini is aware stands outside science. You will not find prana
mentioned in any medical textbook, no “Breath of Life” as
understood by Iyengar or any other traditional yoga master.
Though not all agree with Iyengar overall, there is a common
phenomenology of prana, of “life energy,” in yoga shastra, the
traditional literature that teaches yoga practice and Yoga
philosophy.
By reputation the most popular asana manual nowadays in
Europe, Asana Pranayama Mudra Bandha, by Swami
Satyananda Saraswati of the Bihar School of Yoga, provides
instructions for Corpse Pose that include a dramatic and even
more controversial example of a mysterious but reputedly
phenomenological item, i.e., a “spiritual center of
consciousness,” or chakra. Chakras are crucial to tantric occult
psychology. The instructions also include a nicely
complementary uncontroversial phenomenon of yogic
awareness, pratyahara (also mentioned by Iyengar; see
above), “pulling the senses back from their objects.” We’ll take
up the uncontroversial first.

Relax the whole body and stop all physical movement.

Become aware of the natural breath and let it become rhythmic
and relaxed.
Begin to count the breaths from number 27. Mentally repeat, “I am
breathing in 27, I am breathing out 27. I am breathing in 26, I am
breathing out 26,” and so on to, back to zero.…
Duration: According to time available. In general, the longer the
better, although a minute or two is sufficient between asana practices.
Awareness: Physical—first on relaxing the whole body, then on the
breath and counting.… Spiritual: on ajna chakra [the “third eye,” or
center of consciousness located between the eyebrows].
Benefits: This asana relaxes the whole psycho-physical system. It
should ideally be practiced before sleep, before, during and after
asana practice, particularly after dynamic exercises such as surya
namaskara [Sun Salutation, an asana series that marries breath and
movement]; and when the practitioner feels physically and mentally
tired. It develops body awareness. When the body is completely
relaxed, awareness of the mind increases, developing pratyahara.6

This “pratyahara” is limb number five of the eight-limbed

yoga, ashtanga yoga, of the Yoga Sutra, literally “pulling back.”
At YS 2.54– 55, it is spelled out as “the disconnection of the
sense organs from their objects as if in imitation of the talent of
the chitta,7 ‘thought and feeling’ (to be still). From that comes
supreme control of the sense organs.” The Bhagavad Gita also
has several verses on this (e.g., 6.24–27; see appendix B), as
do other yoga manuals, old and new.
Such “withdrawal (of the senses from the objects of sense)”
is the yogic equivalent of phenomenology as practiced in
philosophy, it seems to me. Philosophy students, I think, will
naturally like the exercise. Something similar is taught in the
tradition of Descartes. It involves paying attention not to the dog
that is barking but to the sound of the bark and the “canoid
shape” (in the phrase of Bertrand Russell); the smell of the
flower, not the flower itself; the “sense data” of colors and so
on, taken altogether, multidimensionally, regarded as mere
objects of the senses. In classical India as in the West, a
presentation dissociated from its objective indication is viewed
as having a type of objecthood (vishayata) where veridical
experience is the same as illusion. The snake that is a rope
looks real. In pratyahara, the rope that is real looks like an
illusion. We witness sense presentations as though their
objects were not there, “pulling back (the organs of sense)” into
a generic “sense mind” (manas).
In the yoga studio, a modified pratyahara seems all that is
possible, since one has to hear and trust the words of the
instructor transmitted through the sound of his or her voice.
One can, however, close the eyes, as one does normally with
at least certain postures, and while practicing breath control,
pranayama, by itself (as opposed to in conjunction with a flow
or sequence of postures). And closing your eyes heightens
other capacities, as is traditionally taught. With Corpse Pose,
shavasana, though, mastery requires pratyahara, at least
according to Swami Satyananda and other traditional teachers.
Just how to interpret the sense data of yoga will occupy us
in the next chapter, on the mind-body problem, where we will
look at top-down approaches to the relation of theory and
practice. Now, in contrast, let us look at Yoga theories from the
bottom up. Through pratyahara and other practices, changes
occur in experience; there are new phenomena. How should we
think about these?
 For example, consider the obviously controversial term,
“ajna chakra,” in the last quote on shavasana. I say it is
controversial because I presume not everyone is aware of this
“center of consciousness.” I would guess that among the entire
human population, few would report being conscious of
anything such. But there are many yogis and yoginis who are
committed to its existence as a matter of immediate experience,
prototypically a yoga master such as Satyananda in line with a
confluence of traditional texts. It is hard to know how to interpret
such experiences. But any self-respecting Yoga philosophy has
to defend their possibility and their value. Of course, not
everything traditionally imputed to the center of consciousness
has to be endorsed. But one point of Yoga philosophy is to
remove intellectual blocks (granthi, pratibandhaka) we might
have to this or another line of yogic self-development. The ajna
chakra is traditionally taught as the “third eye,” a mystic center
of consciousness in a subtle body somehow connected with the
center of the forehead, between the eyebrows (see figure 4C).
It is traditionally described as luminescent, bluish or camphor
white (as seen in inner vision), and comprised of two lobes or
petals spanning the body’s midline. In Yoga psychology and
cosmological theory, the third eye is not itself made of matter
but is capable of transmitting spiritual influences on us and our
physical selves. Such influences or energies are said to
originate in other worlds or planes of being or from a deeper or
higher self. Yoga philosophy does not necessarily endorse all of
this, but it legitimates intellectual as well as practical exploration
of such ideas.8
In much the same vein of occult psychology are the
bandhas of hatha yoga. These, however, are physical
contractions, certain muscle tightenings, which are under our
direct control. Masters of yoga talk about them as both bodily
and spiritual—unlike ajna chakra, which is said to be only
spiritual and not ordinarily under our direct control. The
bandhas are, furthermore, much exercised in hatha yoga,
especially in advanced practices. They are locks (bandha =
[psychic] lock) said to enable transition to a sense of energy
flow in occult pathways and between or in and out of chakras
such as the third eye. Again, unlike chakric centers of occult
consciousness, bandhas are voluntarily exercised in asana
practices as well as in breath control, pranayama. One does not
have to believe in or be able to identify chakras in order to
exercise a bandha. Ordinarily we do not pay them much if any
attention. But we do not “awaken” to their activity. We initiate
their activity through conscious engaging or letting go.
There are three bandhas prominently referred to in hatha
yoga: mula bandha, uddiyana bandha, and jalandhara bandha,
respectively Root Lock, Stomach Lock, and Throat Lock. A
fourth, maha bandha, the Great Lock, is the simultaneous
practice of all three. Let us look again at our three manuals, in
reverse order this time, starting with Satyananda explaining the
bandhas in the tantric psychology of chakras, then Iyengar on
Stomach Lock, and finally our contemporary anatomist on Root
Lock.
From Asana Pranayama Mudra Bandha (see figure 4C for
the chakric system that Swami Satyananda mentions and figure
4A for the theory of vital and mental bodies or “sheaths,” kosha,
which he refers to obliquely):

These three bandhas directly act on the three granthis or psychic

knots [which block the flow of psychic energy].… The granthis prevent
the free flow of prana along sushumna nadi [the central channel of
tantric psychology: see figure 4C] and thus impede the awakening of
the chakras and the rising of kundalini [psychic energy asleep in the
lower chakras].
Brahma granthi is the first knot and… when brahma granthi is
transcended, the kundalini or primal energy is able to rise beyond
mooladhara and swadhisthana [the first two of seven chakras, linked
to the base of the spine and the area above the genitals, respectively,
which are said to control the survival and sexual instincts] without
being pulled back by the attractions and instinctual patterns of the
personality.
The second knot is vishnu granthi, associated with manipura and
anahata chakras [the next two chakras, at the level of the navel and of
the heart, respectively].… Manipura sustains… the physical body,
governing the digestion and metabolism of food. Anahata sustains…
the mental body and the energy body. Once vishnu granthi is
transcended, energy is drawn from the universe and not from the
localised centres within the human being.
The final knot is rudra granthi which is associated with vishuddhi
and ajna chakras [the next two chakras, at the level of the throat and
in the middle of the forehead, respectively]. Vishuddhi and ajna
sustain… the intuitive or higher mental body.… When rudra granthi is
pierced, individuality is dropped, the old ego awareness is left behind
and the experience of unmanifest consciousness emerges beyond
ajna chakra at sahasrara [the seventh chakra located just above the
crown of the head].9

From Iyengar’s Light on Yoga:

Uddiyana means flying up. The process in Uddiyana Bandha is to lift

the diaphragm high up the thorax and to pull in the abdominal organs
against the back of the spine. It is said that through Uddiyana Bandha
the great bird prana is forced to fly up the sushumna nadi, the main
channel for the flow of nervous energy, which is situated inside the
meru-danda or the spinal column.10

From the Anatomy of Hatha Yoga by H. David Coulter,

quoted earlier:

mula bandha (the root lock) is a gentle contraction of the pelvic

 diaphragm and the muscles of the urogenital triangle. It… seals
urogenital energy within the body, controlling and restraining it during
breathing exercises and meditation (again, this is a literary rather than
a scientific use of the word “energy”). What actually happens is more
easily sensed than described, so we’ll begin with a series of
exercises.11

Here such “literary” usages are unavoidable, dare we say?

Of course, according to the two traditional teachers, the literary
is literal in an experiential sense. But the explanation tying the
practices to occult energies and chakras is at least one level of
theory higher, or more abstract, than the system of terms used
to teach the exercise. Nevertheless, as with breath exercises,
there can be little question that these do indeed expand one’s
sense of bodily energies—Iyengar’s “nervous energy” and the
like—to the point of developing special yogic “powers” or
siddhis (a theme and major preoccupation of this book). The
difficulty of how to square different interpretations of these
phenomena is pretty apparent.
Our contemporary Yoga philosophy cannot avoid the conflict
between the tantric and other traditional explanations, on the
one hand, and science, on the other. One of many common
texts Iyengar and Satyananda share is the Hatha Yoga
Pradipika, which belongs to the fifteenth century but
summarizes and echoes yogic and tantric texts of more than
two millennia. In the university setting, the instinctive suspicion
would be that the rich tradition of common sources would be
responsible for an identical confusion on both gurus’ parts,
despite the insistences that chakras, etc. are experiential. Let
us call this the historicist worry. We shall return to it along with
the issue of a partial intersubjectivity in chapter 4 and again in
appendix E.12
For the present, it is sufficient to note that the conflict is not
just about theories, since the one camp takes as experiential
what the other rejects as explanatory and wrong. The
distinction between the phenomenological and the theoretical
applies to traditional Indian theories as much as to anatomical
accounts, but no one tries through practices of controlling the
breath to master medical science. The theory of the chakras, et
cetera, is supposed to be backed up by rather immediate and
convincing experience brought about by, or facilitated by,
breath control, bandha mastery, asanas, and other practices,
so experts tell us.
Without worrying about all the intricacies of Yoga
psychology at the beginning, I should like to point out to close
this section that it is the path of wisdom to give the benefit of
the doubt to yogic testimony, like all testimony, especially from
experts, about things with which we are unacquainted. This
maxim holds for philosophers but is all the more imperative for
practitioners. “Innocent until proven guilty” is to be the by-
word.13 The alternative, “Guilty until proven innocent,” is
unworkable, and slightly crazy in the context of ongoing
training.
We must trust our teachers. Theories range from the
concrete and particular to the abstract and general, and we are
not called to believe every bit of Yoga metaphysics or even
psychology. However, we should not be mindlessly skeptical of
claims just because we personally have not had the experience
(yet!). There are of course contexts and subjects, such as God,
where we might legitimately be suspicious of the interests of the
testifier or guru. Consider, for example, testimony about sexual
relations or religious commitment. But we shall not be able to
learn very much if we should have to have a very high level of
epistemic or justificational confidence in order to pay attention.
(Imagine an obnoxious student in the yoga studio questioning
the evidence for prana. “Just breathe!” my teacher would say.)
Indeed, classical Nyaya (a venerable Yoga philosophy that
specializes in questions about the acquisition of knowledge)
holds that all knowledge from testimony fuses belief with
uptake, and that unless there are abnormal conditions, real
grounds for doubt, we all naturally accept—as is our right—the
information we receive by being told.14
In sum, while there may be real and interesting issues for
philosophy, including Yoga philosophy, concerning testimony, it
is at least not unreasonable to have as policy giving the benefit
of the doubt. Some rather reasonable-seeming doubts will be
dispelled in later chapters, in particular chapter 2. But as we
turn to a description of a contemporary yoga class, please
bracket—as one would (appropriately) if one were actually to
attend such a class—doubts about the objects and movements
mentioned.
The Yoga Class

There are several styles of yoga class in modern studios.

Probably, classes in India classically were simpler than
anything now. They were without rubbery “sticky mats,” for
instance. However, incense may have been used (an
uncommon practice now, I gather). In any case, here we shall
attend a few minutes of a class of “hatha flow,” which can be
described as a dancelike meditation comprised of asanas and
deep regular breathing, regulating movements by breath and
pausing to hold—or to flow through—a series of asanas. We
might like to say that all flow classes combine asanas with
pranayama, but many teachers restrict proper pranayama to
practices where breath work is the primary focus.15 There are
many such practices that isolate the breath and make it the
target of the exercise,16 and in a flow class awareness includes
more than deep, focused breathing. The breathing is
nonetheless the soundtrack of the asana sequences, a rhythm
and control challenged by the movements and postures.
The most famous flow series practiced traditionally is called
surya namaskara, Sun Salutations, and practically all flow
classes, including Ashtanga or Power Yoga (at least the
Ashtanga Primary Series), incorporate a variation of the
sequence. Indeed, many “hatha” classes begin with Sun
Salutations, in order to warm up. Personally, I find a flow series
called Moon Salutations, chandra namaskara, equally good for
the challenge to the breath and for the rasa (delightful relish) of
the asana sequence (surely too the Moon is quite deserving of
salutations).17 But surya namaskara is the modern vernacular.
We shall follow only part of one variation and then skip to the
end of the class, which closes with a breath-control exercise
and a mantra.
Music is an important feature of many flow classes, although
not all teachers use it. The rhythm of the class with or without
music is provided by maximal breathing coordinated by “Inhale”
and “Exhale” commands from the teacher. But when used,
music ideally blends and interweaves with both the collective
breath and the level of muscular and emotional intensity (in, for
example, facing pain, which changes collectively as well as for
the individual as the teacher leads everyone to attend to it
properly, to breath into it, as is said). Music can provide a
collective emotional and mental object that both fuses class
unity and inspires effort. Furthermore, music can facilitate
engagement of an emotionally bhakti (devotional love)
dimension in asana practice, as it has and does in rituals and
singing of bhajans, devotional songs, in classical and modern
India. Indeed, I daresay no asana teacher, no matter how filled
with bhakti, can communicate it as well as can music and
devotional singing (as performed by Pandit Jasraj, Krishna Das,
M. S. Subbulakshmi, Sheila Chandra, Jai Uttal, and others).
Music can also be distracting, and no teacher should have to
compete with catchy lyrics. For a flow class, a teacher needs to
have good timing, but that is a matter of knowing where
peoples’ breath is, the timing of inhale and exhale commands.
Probably for many students music can be distracting, and
perhaps should not be used with beginners who need to
concentrate on what the teacher is saying. A flow class,
however, presupposes asana familarity, so that minute
instructions are unnecessary (despite the impression that may
be given below).
Among other difficulties in using music is the unfortunate
fact that almost any tune can become stale. Not every yoga
teacher is a talented DJ. And clearly some music is more
appropriate than other, melodious chanting, for example,
although the criteria of successful selection are a little elusive (it
seems that any style can suffuse a bhakti element). In any
case, combining music and asana flow to bring up bhakti
seems legitimately yogic, bhakti being a major inheritance from
our yoga forebears. Music is not necessary for bhakti, of
course. In the modern Anusara yoga of John Friend, for
example, many teachers try to engage the heart in devotion in
asana practice without music. Sun Salutations, Power Yoga,
etc., are often done without it. The presentation of Sun
Salutations below cannot of course include music along with
the teacher’s instructions. But occasionally I should like to
return to the topic in comments, imagining its use in the class.
Below, meanings of Sanskrit words and historical
observations are provided in notes indicated by superscripted
numerals (as usual). My voice as pupil (with chattering mind
and tape recorder) is squarebracketed, and comments are not
in real practice time but rather in the less restricted space of
reflection.
The teacher is fictional, perhaps a composite of many with
whom I have been privileged to practice. This teacher,
however, probably knows more Sanskrit than most. Also, her
style may be a tad pedantic and dry, considering that yoga
teachers tend to be full of the rasa, the delight, of yoga practice.
This teacher is expert not only in asanas but also in knowing,
by inner sense, lines of pranic energy along which attention
may flow in unison with “breath” (in a sense larger than just
breathing). Proficiency in yoga flow requires attention (manas)
to merge with breath in the foreground so that one leads with
breath in all movements and changes of direction and body
position. Feeling pranic lines and movements is this and more,
a peculiar kind of abstraction and disconnection from one’s own
body in action while paradoxically at the same time identifying
with the energy that controls the body. The key is being able to
absorb the mind in the effort. An analogy to dance is not
accidental. Our ideal teacher gives her instructions between
breaths, so to say, never failing to conduct the breathing
correctly according to the flow, whether communicating by
voice or with her own breath made demonstrative and loud-
sounding. Once a rhythm is firmly set, however—with, say,
students of intermediate asana ability—our teacher speaks
across breaths, in longer sentences. Individual students may
have slightly different breath patterns depending on a variety of
circumstances, and they are told to try for as full and regular
breathing as possible even if that means missing the beat.
Everyone’s full extension apparently differs slightly from
everyone else’s. Nevertheless, in fact people bring their
breathing back into unison with the class at various points,
especially on the teacher’s commands.
As a pupil, I have at least one flaw or peculiarity worth
mentioning (compare telling the teacher about injuries before
class): I try to practice a kind of “sense withdrawal,” pratyahara
(the fifth limb of Patanjali’s eight-limbed yoga), by drawing in
the vision and closing the eyes (better to attend to the teacher’s
voice and my own breath and bodily movement), whereas
others are (correctly) positioning the gaze, the drishti, with eyes
open, as called for by a particular asana, or are looking at the
teacher for a model to imitate. Of course, mine is not a genuine
or entire pratyahara, which would require not attending to the
words of the teacher but only to the sound of her voice. The
point is that the following presentation is oriented around verbal
instructions, not visualization, with no modeling by the teacher
(with the exception of loud breathing). However, all the asanas
about to be mentioned may well best be learned by looking at
someone actually demonstrating or from pictures. All good
manuals have drawings or photographs. Here I attempt
something different.
[Fourteen or fifteen men and women of different ages enter
quietly a sunny room with a polished wooden floor and a dais
for the instructor, each unrolling a yoga mat (about six by two-
and-a-half feet) in a pattern that respects the placement and
surrounding space of other students, all facing the front. Some
sit cross-legged with hips raised on a blanket or yoga block.
Others sit in Hero’s Pose, virasana, legs folded with the heels
under the sit-bones and the knees together, with spine straight.
Those sitting in Easy Seat, sukhasana, are noticeably a little
more slouching, but most also seem to be trying to sit back
properly, tucking the chin in with shoulders back. The teacher
enters (everyone straightens a little) and puts a CD into a
player (the room is equipped with a sound system) so that she
can discreetly begin the music after the invocation. She sits
about a minute in Lotus Pose, padmasana, on the dais.
Opening her eyes, she gets up and closes the door, then
returns to her cross-legged seat and greets the class.]

Namas te. Let’s begin today standing, Mountain Pose, tadasana,

bringing our hands together, thumbs touching the heart, each fingertip
feeling its partner, in anjali mudra,18 chin tucked, feet hips’ distance
apart and parallel, weight distributed equally in four corners on each
foot, the left and right corners of the front of the heels, the little-toe
mound and the big-toe mound pressing down on the floor, on the
earth, noticing the rebound of energy, shoulders down and back,
chest up feeling the thumbs, elbows up and out, lifting through the
crown of the head. Rock a little left and right and up and back to feel
your balance. The Gita says that yoga is balance.19 Let’s begin with
three rounds of om. We’ll take a full inhale and exhale and then inhale
to chant. Inhale. Slowly. Fully. Exhale. Inhale to chant.

[Class in unison chants om three times, with three full

inhales and the chant lasting as long as the exhale. There is a
harmony of voices, though a few remain silent and many chant
only in low volume. The teacher’s individual voice is discernible
above or through the collectivity, and she chants clear and long
with an audible interval of silence during each inhalation.]

You may begin ujjayi pranayama.20 Breathe through your nose,

restricting the glottis, making a sound like the ocean. You should be
able to hear your breath and maybe your neighbor’s if you listen. Offer
your full breaths into the room, giving their sound over to our
collective effort. Let’s make this class our puja, our offering to
whatever we think the highest in ourselves or the universe, our best
possibilities. Yoga teaches that puja makes bridges and crossings.
So, breathe to the very top of your lungs and exhale completely,
pushing all the air out as you draw the navel in. Try to maintain full
and complete breaths while we celebrate with our bodies and hearts.
Bring your hands down to your sides, stretching your fingers and
brightening your fingertips, in this variation of Mountain Pose. On an
inhale slowly take your arms up, spreading them out wide—be aware
of people on either side—to reach the ears, elbows straight but not
locked, shoulder blades down the back, urdhva hastasana, Raised-
Hands Pose. Let’s take one breath here. Inhale. Feel yourself
connecting heaven and earth. Exhale. Inhale and lean back and lift
with your heart. Exhale slowly and just as slowly bring your arms
down, completing your exhalation when your hands reach your sides.
Two more times. Inhale, arms up. Hold and lean back, tucking your
chin and then, if you can, leaning the head back, gracefully, not
hurting the neck, extending from the top of the head, joining the palms
in offering. Exhale, bringing the hands all the way down. One more
time. Inhale up. Hold and lift. Exhale down.

[Doing this leaning back with arms up can have an effect on

the emotional center, bringing a smile. A line of energy flows
out the fingertips. Imagine also devotional music, a voice
singing gurave, to the guru, with tremelos on the “vay” sound
just as the class is all leaning back the third time. The
accompanying awareness can augment effort, make you try
harder to bring the arms down very slowly, eyes closed.
Sometimes the teacher says, “Feel your heart center, anahata
chakra, as you gently lean back.”
In many religious ceremonies as well as art performances in
both traditional and contemporary India, activities commence
with saluations to the guru. Feeling gratitude to the guru is
traditionally one of the sources of bhakti. The “guru” can be the
living teacher in front of you; Shiva, the founder of yoga; an
intermediary such as Patanjali, the author of the Yoga Sutra; or
an entire lineage. This is taken up in chapter 5.
The psychology of puja, ceremonious worship and offering
to a divinity—to make a stab at definition—will, however, not be
much addressed. The yogic connection is said to be the
maintenance of occult connections—which tantrics would also
view as the purpose of asanas. So the puja metaphor is
appropriate.]

Inhale up to end with an arched back. Exhale and this time swan dive
down with straight back, head up but chin tucked, all the way down to
the floor, leading with your heart, chest out, joyful, breathing out with
control with your stomach muscles, hands to the floor, ankles, or
shins. At the next-to-last moment of the exhale, release the head and
the neck and then exhale completely. Hold a half count, kumbhaka,21
and breathe slowly in, enjoying the forward bend. Bend your knees as
necessary. Let’s take another breath here.
Now inhale and lengthen your spine, lifting your chest slightly.
Exhale and fold under. Inhale. Raise up again and hold in the gentlest
of heart openings and backbends, knees bent if necessary, fingers on
the floor. Exhale and release into Standing Forward Fold.
Inhale now with your fingers on your shins or the floor, and
straighten your back to look up, leading with the heart. Hold it there
for a moment, feel the energy in your breast. Exhale and fold back
down, letting your arms hang loosely on the outside of your legs. Hold
out just a second, kumbhaka, after you push all the stale air and
energy out of your nose and top of the head. Push. Feel your crown.
Inhale and come all the way up, lean back, elbows by the ears,
fingertips touching, trying to feel each vertebra as you come up. Feel
your spine or central channel as you just for an instant hold. Feel the
upward flow of prana. Exhale and swan dive slowly all the way down,
with straight back, chest up, exhaling with control, uttanasana,
Standing Forward Fold. Inhale and look up, hands to shins, ardha
uttanasana, half uttanasana. Exhale and fold. Good. Beautiful.
Inhale and step the left foot back into a long lunge, right knee bent,
thigh perpendicular to the floor, fingertips lightly touching your mat,
toes spread pushing into the floor on both feet, heel pushing back,
lifted kneecap on the left. Head and heart up. Let’s take three breaths
here. Feel the line of energy from your left heel to the crown of your
head, neck and back in line, making space between the vertebrae.
Exhale and push back into Downward-Facing Dog, adho-mukha
shvanasana. Inhale and step the left foot forward, keep the right foot
back, and keep the left thigh perpendicular; looking slightly up, focus
on the crown of your head, in the movement leading with your heart
and breath. Three breaths. On an exhale, push back into Downward
Dog. Five breaths. Feel the energy lines. Move your heels up and
down, stretching out slowly your calf muscles, even if you are able to
put heels on the floor. Make sure your fingers are spread. Outer
rotation in the upper arms. Shoulders down. Inner rotation with the
upper thighs. Spread your toes. Check your alignment. Feel your
head and neck in line with your spinal column. Om.
Now this time let’s repeat the series adding Warrior One, vira
bhadrasana one. Don’t worry about the Platonic Form, the perfect
pose, but do your best to have the right alignment: forward knee
perpendicular so that you can just see your toes, but then gently tilt
your head back into a graceful backbend. Okay, starting from
Mountain Pose. Inhale up and exhale swan dive down. Inhale and
look up. Exhale and step back to Down Dog. Inhale and lift your left
leg even with your spine, three-legged Down Dog, toes pointing
toward the floor, and exhale to a long lunge, left foot forward. Inhale
and swing your arms up to your ears and lean back, Warrior One,
lifting your heart. Let’s hold here a couple of breaths. Inhale and lift,
 exhale and swing the leg gracefully back and then on into Downward-
Facing Dog. Take a breath. Now the other side.…

[On the swan dive down, often I keep my hands together in

anjali mudra and trace the midline. Since my eyes are closed,
this prevents accidentally bumping into somebody, among other
virtues.
To pick up the bhakti theme, there are occasions when the
teacher’s encouragement is crucial, when a phrase like “Good,
beautiful” feels authentic and inspirational and not routine.
Sometimes she talks with en thusiasm about the beauty of the
poses we are collectively making, which, she says, she feels
privileged to see.
I like the feature of yoga classes that no one is supposed to
see you except the teacher—at least, the usual rule is that no
one is supposed to look at you. We do nonetheless get a sense
of the class working together, doing the same pose, breathing
together, feeling lines of energy in the same ways. It’s as
though each of us is nothing but a universal body and being,
individual quirks ignored (or accepted), individual identity gone.
Admittedly, this sense is more likely to come at the end of a
class than at the beginning, unless the group is advanced.]

On an inhale pass through Plank—the push-up variation of Four-

Limbs Pose, chaturangasana—arms straight, eyes or insides of the
elbows looking out, outer rotation in the upper arms, elbows hugging
the ribs, and then exhale into Knees, Chest, and Chin, Eight-Points
Bowing, ashtanga namaskara, saluting the Earth, the Mother,
touching your mat or the floor with feet, knees, palms, chest, and chin.
Stay on your toes, not the top of your feet. Hold and then inhale,
rolling over your toes into—your choice—Upward-Facing Dog or
Cobra. Hold here a few breaths. Don’t throw the head back but lift into
a gentle backbend in both poses. If you’re in Up-Dog, lead with your
heart, push the ground with the top of the feet, move gracefully into a
 backbend of lightest intensity, chin tucked at first and head back last,
eyes up. If in Cobra, lying on your stomach, palms on the floor at
breast line, elbows in, tops of the feet on the floor, be aware of your
little toes and try to push the whole foot evenly into the floor. Work
with the legs and the stomach and back muscles; don’t push too hard
with your hands. Let the breath do the work as you rise slowly with
control. Hold and sway up and down a bit with the rhythm of the
breath. Lift on an inhale. Pull your shoulder blades down and back on
an exhale. Extend your chest. Lower slowly down on an exhale. Let’s
do this two more times. Inhale up and hold. Take a couple of breaths.
Exhale down. Again. Inhale. Exhale. Now everyone inhale and push
back, raising your hips, up on your tiptoes, and exhale down into
Down-Dog.
In Down-Dog, while you are breathing five full and deep breaths,
try engaging a bandha. Let’s do Stomach Lock, uddiyana bandha.
Engage it on the exhale, holding the navel in against the backbone
and practicing retention, kumbhaka, and then release, but still hold
the navel back a little when you inhale, slowly. Try a few times.

[For me, Down-Dog, though maybe the most basic pose,

clearly will remain imperfect this lifetime. But I try as best I can
to follow the instructions. Stomach Lock I find more difficult to
get and hold than Throat Lock and also Root Lock, although
Root Lock, everyone seems to say, is generally the most
difficult to hold for much duration.]

On an inhale, step or jump to the front of your mat, keeping your

hands in place, into ardha uttanasana, Half Standing-Fold. Exhale into
uttanasana. Inhale and sweep all the way up into Raised-Hands
Pose. Exhale and trace the midline with your hands in prayer position
into anjali mudra. Take a couple of breaths. Feel your energy. Let’s go
again, this time with the first lunge on the left side.…

[Our class continues in the same pattern, incorporating

several further standing poses, then a sequence of seated
poses followed by a few on the stomach and then the back,
Bridge Pose (setu bandhasana), along with Shoulder Stand
(sarvangasana, All-Limbs Pose), shirshasana (Headstand),
Fish Pose (matsyasana), a few twists and leg lifts, and then
finally shavasana, Corpse Pose (about which see the previous
section). With each change of sequence, standing, sitting, etc.,
our tuned-in teacher changes the background music
appropriately, in part at least according to tempo. In Corpse
Pose, we are treated to soft sounds of gently breaking waves
and a barely audible ocean roar and then no music, and no
music for the breath work and the rest. We pick up with the
instructor bringing the class to life, out of Corpse Pose, to sit
cross-legged in sukhasana, Easy Pose, me with my hips raised
by a folded blanket or two (if handy) so that my knees are
below my waist and each is supported by a foot or the floor. We
are instructed to keep our eyes closed as much as possible as
we change positions and to sit quietly for a minute or two,
hands in chin mudra,22 and our focus—our choice—on the heart
chakra, the forehead chakra, or the crown chakra.]

Let’s open our eyes and do a little pranayama. We’ll do nadi shodana,
Cleansing the Channels, the left and right channels of breath energy,
which begin at the nostrils.23 Sit in a comfortable pose, with your spine
straight and shoulders above your sit-bones.24 Easy Pose, Hero’s
Pose, Lotus, and siddhasana are some that are recommended. With
one hand comfortably in the lap or on the knee in chin mudra, place
the other hand on the forehead, the forefinger and middle finger
gently resting against the middle of the forehead, symbolically
activating the third eye, ajna chakra. Position the thumb above one
nostril and the ring finger joined by the pinkie over the other nostril.
Try to keep some peripheral attention on the forehead center as you
keep your main focus on the breath. At the beginning of an exhale,
close the right nostril and breathe out the left. Pause after all air is
expelled. Keeping the right nostril closed, breathe in gently and
 smoothly through the left nostril. Hold and retain, closing the left
nostril. Open the right nostril and exhale slowly and completely with
control, trying to balance the inhales and exhales in length as you
balance the flow of air through the separate nostrils into the lungs and
corresponding pranic energies. Let’s do this silently, at your own
pace, for three minutes. Begin. [Three minutes pass.] Okay, now stop
on an exhalation through the right nostril and breathe normally.
Finally, let’s do a kriya from the Hatha Yoga Pradipika.25 Just sit
quietly if you don’t want to try this. We’ll attempt to engage all the
locks, the bandhas, in a certain order and in connection with in-
breath, out-breath, and retention. First, tuck your chin and engage
Throat Lock (jalandhara bandha), on an inhale. Keep it engaged and
breathe slowly a couple of breaths. Then on an exhale engage in
rapid succession Root Lock (mula bandha) and Stomach Lock
(uddiyana bandha). That is, with Throat Lock in place, do Root Lock,
complete exhalation, and finally Stomach Lock. Try a couple of times
and then pay attention to the energy flow along your spine or the
central channel. Just watch. Breathe normally.
Let’s end with one round of the peace mantra, om shantih shantih
shantih. Recall your intention and resolve to carry it out with you off
your yoga mat. Now the mantra. Inhale. Exhale completely. Inhale to
chant.

[The class chants beautifully, emphasizing the final syllable,

“hee,” the visarga (written ḥ in the standard transliteration), of
the last shantih. The session ends with the teacher bowing to
everyone from her seat in Lotus Pose and uttering what has
come to be the traditional closing, the mantralike greeting,
Namas te, “Salutations to thee.”]

Namas te.26
Yoga Literature and Classical Philosophies

The early and classical literature of Yoga theories as well as of

yoga practices is in Sanskrit, an Indo-European language akin
to Greek. Current speculation has it that Sanskrit-speaking
tribes began invading the Indian Subcontinent from the
northwest as early as 1500 B.C.E. Or, possibly, tribes speaking
early Indo-European languages migrated from India to the West
(there is little archeological evidence). In any case, Sanskrit
verses known as the Vedas—Revealed Knowledge—were
composed over many centuries, and came to be regarded as
sacred within an early culture located first near the Indus River
(now in Pakistan) and then in the Gangetic plain. Four Vedas
are the oldest documents in Sanskrit. Theirs is an archaic,
preclassical Sanskrit, just a little less distant from classical
Sanskrit (which begins around 500 B.C.E.) as the English of
Beowulf is from modern English.
Vedic poems and hymns express various themes, some of
which are precursors of Yoga doctrines and possibly yoga
practices. The earliest usages of the word yoga, however, are
restricted to the meanings yoking and joining, joining a pair of
oxen, for instance, and more abstractly a connection between
any two things.27 The meaning of self-discipline that is
continuous with practices of yoga today occurs in “secret
doctrines” appended to the Vedas called Upanishads, which
are foundational texts for both yoga practice and Yoga
philosophy.
In forms of the root yuj from which the word yoga is derived,
our meaning of self-discipline also occurs in Brahmana and
Aranyaka literature that was also appended to the Vedic
Samhitas or core texts prior to the Upanishads. See figure 1.
Both temporal and textual priority in the sense of the sequence
of materials as traditionally preserved runs: Veda (Samhita),
Brahmana, Aranyaka, and Upanishad, as determined in the first
case by academic indology and in the second by Vedic schools.
To be precise, although the word yoga is used for a yoke or
any connection between two things in the Samhitas and is not
reported occurring in our sense of self-discipline, gradually the
verbal root yuj comes to be used in this way, for example, to
restrain or yoke the mind (manas, attention).28 The tantric sense
of yoga as union, as in union with God or union with the higher
self, is a later usage suggested by the content of Upanishadic
teachings but not appearing in at least the earliest Upanishads.
(See appendix A, Maitri Upanishad 6.25, the last Upanishadic
verse rendered, for an early usage in the sense of divine
“union.” There are also certain verses in the Bhagavad Gita
which at least suggest the sense of a divine “connection” or
“oneness.”) “Self-discipline” or “spiritual discipline” is the sense
common among Upanishads, the Gita, the Yoga Sutra, and
other classic texts—up to the emergence of tantra, where often
the sense of self-discipline becomes secondary to that of union.
Now legitimate Upanishads number more than two hundred,
but most collections are much smaller. Different sets have been
preserved in different recensions and Vedic or Hindu lineages
(including some called Yoga Upanishads). Upanishads were
apparently gradually appended to Vedic literature, eleven or
twelve or thirteen being the oldest, according to indologists, as
well as the most important, according to practically everyone.29
Recensions follow lineages of teachers and pupils whose
religious life early on included rituals employing chants called
mantra and later broadened to include many forms of yoga in
our sense. However, Vedic culture encouraged marriage and
family life and practices that contrast with ascetic patterns of life
endorsed in some Upanishads, though there are many lines of
continuity with Vedic teachings.

The timeline represents currrent indological opinion which is quite a bit less than certain.
Indeed, for the older texts all opinion rests on scanty evidence. For our purposes, the precise
dates matter less than order, chronological order, about which there is less dispute. That is to
say, whatever is correct about the date of the Vedas, etc., the Rig Veda is older than the
Brihadaranyaka Upanishad. The columns would remain the same if the numbers were
altered.

FIGURE 1 Yoga Authors and Literature.*

Early Upanishads (from 800 to 300 B.C.E.) show most of all a

new intelligence that is at once abstract and mystical, free from
myth and ritual as well as honed by yoga practice and
experience. Prose appears, and Upanishadic poetry is usually
discursive, didactic, and less imagistic than that of the Vedas.
There is also punning, along with stories that read like jokes.
Although argument and elaborations of positions are not nearly
as pronounced and professionalized as in later periods of
classical thought, even the earliest Upanishads employ self-
conscious argumentation, which is rare in the Vedas.
Furthermore, much of the reasoning seems self-consciously
based on yogic experience. Early Upanishads are above all
mystical texts. They are also regarded as revelation, in
particular by the classical Vedanta school of philosophy, whose
texts stretch from the Brahma Sutra (c. 200 B.C.E.) through the
classical commentaries of Shankara (c. 700 C.E.), Ramanuja (c.
1050), and others and numerous subcommentaries and other
Vedantic literature extending into the modern period.30
The Vedanta school takes itself to speak for the
Upanishads, but other schools take different attitudes,
especially about Upanishadic authority. Most importantly, there
are distinct views within the Upanishads themselves about
human nature and psychology as well as about reality.
Nevertheless, there is a pretty well discernible core message,
namely, that there is possible for us a self-discovery—a
discovery of a true self or atman—which is, or leads to,
awareness of the Absolute, Brahman. This state of
consciousness is called brahma-vidya and deemed our
“supreme personal good,” parama-purushartha, Brahman being
the One, God, the fundamental reality. The thesis that Brahman
is your self as well as somehow the universe has enormous
influence on Yoga philosophy.
See the introduction to appendix A for background to the
particular passages translated from the early Upanishads.
Concerning the dates of individual Upanishads, the best that
can be said is that on the basis of archaisms, quirks of style,
and repetitions, scholars identify an oldest group of prose
Upanishads along with several later clusters. Much, however,
remains controversial, and we should keep in mind that the
mainstream classical position (though of course rejected by
Buddhists and other groups) is that the Upanishads were
“heard” (shruta, revealed in yogic experience) immemorially,
with no question of chronology. That they speak timelessly may
be deemed a genre requirement, an attitude embedded in the
Upanishads themselves. Vedantic theists take them to have
been uttered by God. Similar genres, such as tantric scriptures
(see the introduction to appendix D), which scholars concur are
much later than the early Upanishads, are also considered by
their advocates to have such a revealed character.
Excluding the early Upanishads, the Bhagavad Gita (c. 300
B.C.E.) is the most important early Yogic text, itself seeming to be
a little Upanishad inserted into a massive epic poem. The Gita
is composed in verses that are stylistically continuous with the
larger poem, the Mahabharata, but the tract is exceptional in its
content. This “Song of the Blessed One” is devoted to yoga
teaching within a theistic framework. Philosophical in thrust and
subject matter, it is not written in the argumentative style of
classical philosophy but rather as a yogic teaching, a secret
teaching or upanishad (as the word is used within the
Upanishads themselves and elsewhere), conveyed from guru to
student. Krishna, the Blessed One, is the guru in the Gita, and
lays out several methods of yoga. These will be elaborated
later, especially in the third section of chapter 3 and the second
of chapter 5, and the Gita’s philosophic ideas will engage us
throughout.
Table 1 lays out the principal schools and divisions of Yoga
philosophy abstractly, independently of the chronologies of the
textual traditions, showing certain key commonalities and
differences.

TABLE 1
CLASSICAL YOGA PHILOSOPHIES
*All these schools and traditions value, with qualifications, yogic self-monitoring consciousness
along with self-determination and other theses about karma and rebirth. The five questions track
important differences. But the chart glides over distinctions within subschools and other nuances.
The answers are general and mainstream.

Vedanta is a school of philosophy that derives its name from

an epithet for the Upanishads. “Vedanta” means literally the
end (anta) of the Veda, in both the sense of the sequence of
Vedic texts as traditionally preserved and in the sense of the
goal or fulfillment of Vedic teaching. Advaita Vedanta is a
classical Vedanta subschool that upholds a nonduality (advaita)
between the individual consciousness and the supreme
Brahman (“Thou art That,” “I am He”). There is also a second
sense of nonduality championed by Advaita: our deepest
consciousness is immediate and nondual in the sense of self-
illumining (svayam prakashamana). These claims are aired in
chapter 2.
A second broad division of Vedantic philosophies is the
theistic, which holds that Brahman and the individual are in
some way distinct though also, in many versions, in some way
identical. Theistic Vedanta will also often occupy us.
Then there is Mimamsa, Exegesis, which is Vedanta’s sister
school focused on the Veda and Brahmanical rituals (as
opposed to the Upanishads). Though there are yogic themes
among the Exegetes, yoga is not the school’s forté (which is
philosophy of language), and it will not receive from us much
attention. Furthermore, Kumarila (c. 700) and other Mimamsa
philosophers reject yogic perception in favor of testimony as the
way we comprehend the most important truths as well as
dharma, the teaching of the way we should live. Endorsement
of yogic perception, in contrast, is practically a defining mark of
Yoga philosophy.
Buddhism originated a little earlier than the Gita, although
the earliest Buddhist texts do not predate the Gita. The Buddha,
who lived in the sixth century B.C.E., preached doctrines similar
to the Upanishads and encouraged certain mainstream yoga
practices. He rejected, however, what he saw as the
imbalances of too much asceticism as well as the Upanishadic
doctrines of self, atman, and Brahman. He espoused a goal of
a supreme personal good, nirvana, enlightenment, which is
nevertheless comparable to the “Brahman knowledge” of
Upanishadic philosophy. Buddhism was socially revolutionary,
rejecting caste (as did its sister religion of Jainism; see below).
Like Krishna in the Gita, the Buddha-to-be, Gautama
Siddhartha of the Shakya clan, was a prince in northern India,
or perhaps what is now southern Nepal, in the Gangetic valley.
He preached sermons and gave spiritual advice for years after
his enlightenment. The oldest texts date to the reign of the
Buddhist emperor Ashoka in the third century B.C.E., when an
enormous canon sacred to “southern” Buddhism (the Buddhism
of Sri Lanka, Burma, Thailand, and elsewhere in Southeast
Asia) was compiled. Known mainly in its Pali version, it is
sometimes called the Pali canon. A distinct literature in
Sanskrit, much of which was translated into Tibetan and
Chinese, belongs to “northern” or Mahayana Buddhism
(practiced in Nepal, Tibet, China, Korea, Japan, etc.), though it
does not entirely reject the teachings of the southern canon.
Buddhism flourished in India for some seventeen centuries
before succumbing to the intolerance of Islamic conquerors.
And Buddhism matured in India for some seven or eight
centuries before becoming prominent in the courts of China and
elsewhere in Asia. Buddhist thinkers were great innovators in
many areas of philosophy, including logic, theory of knowledge
and justification for what we believe, the assumptions implicit in
everyday speech, and causal reasoning. Buddhist yoga
coalesces and overlaps with the practice teachings of other
schools and movements.
 Mahavira, who was roughly contemporary with the Buddha
(c. 550 B.C.E.), founded Jainism, another religion and religious
philosophy that is concerned with enlightenment and yoga
practice, in particular practices connecting with the premier
virtue of nonharmfulness, ahimsa. Though not historically as
prominent as Buddhism, the religion has an extensive literature,
and its defenders in the classical period were among the most
astute minds.
The formation of the great Hindu or Vedic schools and
systems of philosophy (Mimamsa, Vedanta, Samkhya, etc.)
occurred at about the same time as the earliest Jaina and
Buddhist literature, what we might call the epic period of
classical Indian civilization in honor of the massive poem, the
Mahabharata, of which the Gita is a part. Unfortunately, we
have little direct record of the debates and efforts of those
highly creative intelligences responsible for the wide-ranging
explanations—of the world and its ground, of the human in
relation to nature and God, of the meaning of existence, as well
as of perceptual experience and conventions of everyday life
along with, to be sure, yogic abilities and experiences—that
make up the six or seven earliest of the major philosophies of
classical India, the great schools. The work of the earliest
system makers has become inseparable from centuries of later
interpretation and advocacy. We know what we know about
their formation primarily through their embeddedness in the
Mahabharata and the earliest Buddhist literature, in particular,
the “Third Basket” of the Pali canon, which is centered on
metaphysical controversy.
Within the first two centuries of the Common Era, philosophy
in India made another quantum leap, this one captured in texts
expressly devoted to philosophy and exposition of worldviews.
This second jump centered on argument, patterns of
argumentation, and the metaissue of what counts as good and
bad reasoning. Argument and defense of positions appear in
earlier literature, but there is not the attention to details of
reasoning—what precisely follows from what and why—that
became the obsession by the midst of the classical age. The
Yoga philosophies formulated in this period—including that of
the Yoga Sutra (more about which just below)—are world
explanations defended by increasingly intricate strategies.
A pivotal figure in the second revolution was the Buddhist
philosopher, Nagarjuna, of the second century C.E. Bent upon
establishing that our everyday world, naïvely assumed to be
real and captured by the words we use in ordinary discourse, is
not in fact real, Nagarjuna won fame as a philosopher because
of the penetrating questions he put to all the schools of his time,
Buddhist and non-Buddhist, and indeed to much common,
nonscholastic opinion.31
It was also around the time of Nagarjuna that the sutra texts
of the earliest schools appeared in their final forms. The
Sanskrit word sutra means literally thread, and by extension an
aphorism that captures a philosophical tenet in a most succinct
statement. The sutra texts are systematic expressions of entire
worldviews (darshana, world vision), although they are also
digests that usually require commentary—probably oral at first
—by a guru to students (shishya).
Thus much later than the Gita is the Yoga Sutra (YS, c. 400
C.E.) (the subject matter of appendix C). It is written in this new
and different style or genre of literature, the sutra collection,
threads strung together into a textbook of science, shastra, or a
handbook for a craft. Though portions of the YS probably date
way back and are contemporaneous with the Gita or even
earlier, the final version (what has come down to us) belongs to
the period after Nagarjuna. Scholars date the YS at about the
same time as a similar text, the Samkhya Karika (c. 400 C.E.),
which presents a similar worldview (a dualism of purusha, the
conscious being, and prakriti, nature, as explained in chapter
2). Further introduction to the YS is provided in appendix C.
The Samkhya school is famous for a trenchant metaphysical
dualism of nature and consciousness but also for three other
teachings that influenced Yoga philosophies. First, there is a
disidentification practice theme that relies on dualism,
encouragement to pull back into one’s true self apart from
nature, including one’s own nature, one’s body, life, and mind.
Second, there is emanationism on the part of nature, an
evolution of primordial undifferentiated stuff into various forms,
principles (tattva) or stages of the unfolding of the cosmic
display continuing down to the five gross elements, ether, air,
fire, water, and earth. The emanationism influenced later tantric
conceptions in particular—though tantric principles (tattva) are
viewed as coming from God (Shiva/Shakti), not an unconscious
nature—at least not in the monistic tantra of Abhinava Gupta,
which will be our main focus. Third, there is the notion of the
subtle body, linga sharira, comprised of subtle elements (such
as internal sights, sounds, etc., as well as thought and
emotion), which is incorporated into tantra but also Vedanta.
Early versions of these Samkhya ideas are found in the
Upanishads and the Gita and in some dualistic tantras as well.
But they were only later systematized into a worldview, as
explained. In late classical thought, Samkhya was eclipsed by
the much greater prominence of Nyaya, or absorbed, as
mentioned, into tantric philosophies.
The long-running school of Nyaya philosophy endorses
yoga practices and indeed the value of yogic trance, samadhi,
in much the same fashion as the YS, but its fame derives from
a hard-headed realism and careful analysis particularly of
methods of knowledge. It originated earlier than Nagarjuna, as
we know since Nyaya views are among those targeted by the
Buddhist dialectician. Nyaya texts span almost two thousand
years, with much reflection on yoga and defense of “yogic
perception” as a special source of knowledge. The school’s
primary focus is on knowledge, the means thereto, and right
procedures in debate and critical inquiry. Perhaps because of
its realist position in metaphysics, it does not enjoy the Yogic
reputation of some of its idealist rivals, such as Advaita
Vedanta. But Nyaya makes solid recommendations in defense
of the reality of the self against materialism as well as other
opponents, and in chapter 2 we shall learn much on that score.
Nyaya’s root text is the Nyaya Sutra (NyS), c. 200 C.E., which
is also the oldest extant Nyaya text. Commentators elaborated
its theses over many centuries, and with Udayana (c. 1000) and
Gangesha (c. 1325), a New Nyaya school was launched and
solidified. It came to have wide influence throughout the late
classical culture, providing in particular the terminology for
debates and serious inquiry. Nyaya had a sister school in
Vaisheshika (Atomism) that was totally merged into the Nyaya
stream by Udayana, and thenceforth had practically no
separate literature.
Late Upanishads (“late” according to secular scholarship;
see above), the epic poem the Ramayana, as well as various
minor epics and didactic poems called Puranas contain yogic
themes and colorful stories about yogins and yoginis in addition
to gods and goddesses, contributing to a rich culture. Some
Puranas, the Bhagavata Purana, for instance, c. 900 C.E.,
contain stories of the divine guru Krishna when he was a child;
the Bhagavata is revered in sects of Vaishnavism as much as
any Upanishad. Puranas are nonetheless solidly within what we
might call a Vedic or Vedantic fold, and in this way differ from
another cultural movement of great moment for yoga, tantra,
which broke from Vedantic orthodoxy. Here we may also
mention the Yoga Vasishtha, a long work of more than 25,000
verses also composed about 900 C.E., which combines Buddhist
idealist philosophy with themes from Samkhya.
The word tantra in Sanskrit can be used for any systematic
instruction; a tantra is a web or (more literally) woven fabric of
belief. It is not the name of a single school of philosophy or
yoga practice. Tantra as a movement presupposes Vedanta:
texts are called tantras—along with views concerned with yogic
experiences, practices, and philosophy—that deny the
exclusive right of Vedanta to pronounce on these topics in
general and to classify sacred texts in particular. Tantra
expanded the base, at a minimum, of yogic and spiritual
authority, beyond the Upanishads as “revealed” in yogic
experience.
In other words, tantric traditions usually recognize the
authority of the Upanishads, etc., but find a greater or more
accessible authority in later revelations, the instructions of one’s
own guru, and personal yogic experience—in reverse order, so
it is said, in a notably empiricist temper (per a parallelism
argument that is aired in the last section of chapter 4). Among
the clusters of features characterizing most if not all tantric
views is an emphasis on a feminine divine being or principle,
called the Goddess or Shakti, Divine Energy, who secures
enlightenment and transformation. Further, not only is bhoga,
enjoyment, important as part of the goal of yogic practice, but
the opposition between bhoga and worldly life, on the one
hand, and yoga and liberation, mukti, on the other, is dissolved
on a tantric path: “Enjoyment (bhoga) becomes yoga,
misbehavior the good deed [or ‘art,’ sukrita], and all of life
liberation,” says the Kularnava Tantra (see appendix D), “for
one following the [tantric] Kula Way.”
Tantric literature is complex, having emerged in Kashmir
and South India at about the same time, clearly by the eighth
century C.E., with some texts earlier. But to talk of “emerging”
tantra and “novel” practices of yoga and ritual, as scholars do,
is to go historically by the standards of the Upanishads, the
Gita, the Yoga Sutra, and Sanskrit literature in general. In truth,
who knows how old are the various tantric practices? Some
texts say that they, like the Upanishads, reveal the “secret of
the Veda,” and there are discernible connections with Vedic
symbolism. But probably tantra has roots as much in the
cultures of people speaking non-Indo-European languages as
in the culture of Sanskrit. Perhaps very ancient traditions
surface in the Sanskrit of the tantric Agamas, which are the
earliest tantric texts (sometimes called instead Tantras, as with
the Malini Vijaya Tantra, etc.), although as compositions
scholars believe they are no earlier than the Yoga Sutra (c. 400
C.E.) and many are much later. There are, by the way, more
than 700 Agamas and Tantras, by one scholarly count,
including texts not only in Sanskrit but also in related
languages.32 When one includes the commentarial and
noncommentarial literature, the result is staggering, a broad
and complex history of texts and traditions. If then one throws
Tibetan (Buddhist tantra, which parallels Hindu tantra) and texts
in other non-Indo-European languages into the mix, a series of
rebirths would be needed by even the greatest pundit to take
them all in. Appendix D, which is devoted to tantric yoga,
includes by necessity a small sample, focusing on Kula Tantra
and the teaching of the great tantric system maker and
synthesizer, Abhinava Gupta, who lived in the tenth century C.E.
in Kashmir.
While all tantra is connected to yoga practices, it is not just
asanas, breath control, and meditation that are advocated.
Indeed, tantra emerged on the classical scene not as
something new in doctrine as much as something new in ritual.
Classically, tantric practice involved elaborate pujas,
ceremonies of worship, centered on the Goddess or powerful
female divinities or yoginis. These tantric ceremonies, in turn,
did not add just new mantras, new ways of mantric recitation, or
renewed emphasis on mantra, although this did occur, along
with occult gestures (mudra) and diagrams (yantra), the
contemplation of which is said to absorb thought and quieten
the mind. Tantra also added new forms of bhakti and karma
yoga (to be elaborated in chapter 3), which are enormously
important. But some of the novel practices of tantra, which we
may call “transgressional” practices, seem to have offended, for
instance, Vedantins, although all late Vedanta shows tantric
influence. The most famous, or infamous, of these “immoral”
practices involve wine (or bhang, which is made from
marijuana), meat, and/or sex. Thus does the word “tantra” even
in English carry the sense of the illicit and taboo. Personally, I
imagine even the so-called Left-Hand rites (compare the
connotation of the Latin word for “left,” sinister) as pretty tame.
That tantra emerged against a background of a rather
puritanical Vedanta seems a healthy guess (and the
transgressional practices directed to the overly self-righteous,
not as a palliative to the self-indulgent, as says the Kularnava
Tantra; see appendix D).
Despite the importance of ritual and practice more generally
in the culture of tantra, there are distinctive doctrines running
practically throughout all its varieties. Perhaps most notably,
there is, as mentioned, belief in a Divine Mother, a cosmic
Shakti, Divine Energy, who is cosmologically the active and
creative side of Shiva, in Shaiva philosophies the Great God,
maha deva. In Vaishnavism, a similar role is given to Shri or
Lakshmi, the feminine side or consort of Vishnu. In Shaiva
philosophies, Shiva embraces the omnipresent Brahman—at
least according to Abhinava Gupta and company, who will be
our main focus. The great tantric master lived in Kashmir at the
end of the tenth century (c. 975). He reformulated a Shaiva
Siddhanta present in various Agamas that imported the dualism
of Samkhya as an interpretative framework (somewhat in the
fashion of Patanjali in the case of the Yoga Sutra; see chapter
2). Abhinava thus originated a spiritual philosophy of a divine
creatrix, a philosophy that is monist yet also world affirmative,
as will be explained (in chapter 5 along with appendix D).
Within the classical culture, we may mention finally the more
specialized yoga manuals such as the fourteenth-century Hatha
Yoga Pradipika (HYP), which is focused on practices but
presupposes many theses of Yoga philosophy and psychology
(see appendix E). Like all late yoga texts, the HYP draws upon
centuries of earlier literature, in this case with admirable
conciseness and brevity. It focuses on asanas, bandhas, and
the breath, along with the benefits of yoga.
The history of modern yoga literature is beyond the scope of
this book. The modern era may be defined by a global culture,
science and technology, and a global sense of history, but there
are modern yogins and yoginis such as Swami Vivekananda
(1863–1902), Sri Aurobindo (1872–1950), Swami Muktananda
(1908–82), Pandit Iyengar, and Swami Satya nanda Saraswati,
who write in line with traditional perspectives and to whom I will
sometimes refer. There will also be references to modern
scholarship, including philosophy and psychology as well as
indology. But I shall attempt no overview of trends and
tendencies beyond saying that we moderns are the inheritors of
all the ancient and classical traditions, and modern Yoga
philosophers may be defined as trying, as in this book, to
preserve and champion traditional theories—usually in fact with
a tilt toward tantra, at least in outlook if not also in name.
 2

Yoga and Metaphysics

Yogic Self-Monitoring

All yoga practice and all Yoga philosophy presuppose a

monitoring consciousness, though of course details vary with
different theories. It is also presupposed that consciously,
willfully locating one’s attention in the witness produces certain
desirable results, such as, most dramatically and
uncontroversially, an increased ability to withstand pain. It is
also claimed that eventually the practice leads to supernal bliss.
Be this as it may, at even a beginner’s level it is crucial to learn
to observe steadily a bodily sensation without trying to alter it.
But it will alter just by being witnessed, normally for the better.
Recent philosophic literature has identified several distinct
types of consciousness, but Yoga’s self-monitoring
consciousness is underappreciated.
This type of consciousness might be called self-
consciousness, as it is in Sanskrit by its champions, and
sometimes in English too, by those who have the Sanskrit
tradition in mind. But in the recent academic literature, self-
consciousness is usually talked about as the possession of a
concept of self or as the ability to use such a concept in thinking
about oneself, whereas the self-consciousness that is the
concern of Yoga is nonconceptual and independent of thought.
In the Yoga Sutra, yoga is defined (YS 1.2) as the power not to
think, and according to all Yoga philosophies as well as yoga
studios, humans have the ability to monitor bodily feedback
without thinking. Buddhism goes so far as to deny self, but
witnessing bodily and psychological movements is at the heart
of Buddhist practices. Yoga’s self-monitoring consciousness is
not a matter of a self-concept.
Indeed, according to the YS, our self-concept is the source
of our troubles: we identity with thoughts and emotions (chitta),
a persona that is not us.1 False identification is an old
Upanishadic theme, now commonly identified with the Samkhya
school. Samkhya (analysis) proposes careful understanding of
one’s nature and personality—to include subtle presentations of
thoughts and emotions, chitta—as the means for self-discovery.
This amounts to the self disidentifying with the body and mind.
Fluctuations of chitta are viewed as part of nature and external
to the purusha, our true self. All personality is a mask, to be
analyzed away as a distraction from consciousness’s native
state of self-absorption and bliss.2 According to Yoga (in this
usage comprising almost all the classical schools, even the
Buddhists who deny an enduring self), the individual conscious
being is subject to rebirth, where he or she takes on most
literally another persona. In sum, one’s true self or
consciousness is discovered through achieving a mental
silence that allows consciousness to pull back into itself,
disidentifying with its changing mind, body, and personality.
In the Upanishads, the term “self-illumining consciousness”
is used to describe our essential self. In the Brihadaranyaka, it
occurs in a passage about transformations of consciousness in
dream and mystic trance. A person is said first to dream by his
“own light” and then to become “self-illumined,” svayam jyotih.3
Light is chosen as an analogy because light illumines itself. A
lamp illumining objects other than itself does not require
another lamp to be seen. Witness consciousness is said to be
able not only to witness other things but also to witness its own
witnessing, without, however, doubling.
All the classical Yoga philosophies of India talk about the
phenomenon, but the Advaita Vedanta school of Shankara (c.
700 C.E.) gives it the most play metaphysically, putting it at the
very center of the Advaita system. As we shall see a little later,
Advaita is close to certain Buddhist philosophies here, and
although I do not think that either the Advaita or the Buddhist
version is tenable, there is a lot to learn for our own Yoga views
from these (yogically as well as philosophically) venerable
traditions. The central Advaita claim is that this consciousness
is “nondual,” advaita, that it knows itself by being itself, that is,
nonreflexively, or at least that it can do so, in a nonintellectual
and indeed nonobservational manner. Thus “self-illumining
consciousness” seems an appropriate label, capturing what
appears to be a consciousness where there is a kind of a self-
content.
In other words, Advaitins appear to have in mind a
phenomenal consciousness whose content is itself. All Yoga
philosophies embrace a version of this, although not all
embrace Advaita’s. For tantrics, for example, both Buddhist and
Hindu, the witness is powerful, over self and others, and a self-
determination thesis is, I shall argue, a fundamental Yoga
commitment. Advaitins are mysterians or even outright deniers
of self-determination. But on the consciousness’s self-
illumination, the Advaitins have the radical view, which we need
to understand if for no other reason than to appreciate the lines
of debate.
Advaitins consider the self a “state consciousness,” not a
“consciousness of,” not a transitive consciousness but a, so to
say, intransitive one. Thus it is unlike other types of
phenomenal consciousness that are transitive, such as
awareness of red. Alternatively, it is a “consciousness of” in a
sense; it is a consciousness of itself. So here the
“consciousness of” relationship has to be understood not as the
asymmetrical relation philosophers normally take it to be but
rather as something like identity. Note that in the Advaita
understanding of this as self-consciousness, “self” is not taken
to refer to the body or even the person but only the
consciousness that is self-aware.
Contemporary discussions of types of consciousness
typically proceed by presenting examples that are analyzed as
exhibiting one type in contradistinction with others with which it
might be confused. But here, by the admission of distinguished
followers of Shankara, the best that can be done is a so-called
“indicatory” or ostensive definition. Directions are given where
self-illumining consciousness may be found—e.g., the
injunction, “Meditate.” This is supposed to be like a phenomenal
definition of “red” that describes conditions under which one
would experience red normally (the color of blood exposed to
air). Nevertheless, Advaitins are not elitist, claiming that the
conditions under which we would know directly what this is are
available to anyone capable of understanding the directions
(“Meditate”) for consciousness to attend to itself. There is no
third-person access to this consciousness, it is said. It does not
show itself in action. The gap between this consciousness and
everything else makes discourse that seems to be about it
problematic, anirvacaniyatva, “it is impossible to say.”
Despite the self-confessed puzzle about language, classical
Advaitins do contrast self-illumining consciousness with other
types of consciousness or cognition, jnana, presupposing, it
would seem, a yogic audience of fellow meditators who know
directly, or who could know were they to sit down on their yoga
mats, what this consciousness is. But there is also from
Shankara and company an identifying argument for self-
illumining consciousness, which may or may not be at cross-
purposes with the ineffability stance. It is also sometimes called
the sublatability argument for the Upanishadic “self,” atman, as
the witness of itself and the subject of all experience. It runs as
follows.
Everything dualistically experienced is at risk of being shown
illusory through experiential sublation, as a snake appearing
can turn out to be a rope. Any cognition and the information it
contains could be sublated and shown to be false or
nonveridical, except self-illumining consciousness. For, since
among conscious states only self-illumining consciousness is
not an appearance of one thing in or qualifying another, only in
its case is the crucial precondition for sublation not met.4
To elaborate, a perceptual illusion can be sublated because
a perception presents an object as qualified by or bearing a
property. A piece of mother-of-pearl can be mistaken for silver
because invariably the perceived object, the real thing in your
hand, is taken as being some way or other, that is, as
possessing a property. And a property presented may not
qualify the object perceived in fact, as in the case of silverhood
presented as qualifying what is in fact a piece of mother-of-
pearl. Normally, cognition is “qualificative,” to render the
Sanskrit expression, vaishishtya; something a is cognized as F,
at a minimum. Sublation is an ensuing experience that shows
the a not to be F.
Self-illumining consciousness is not, however, in this way
qualificative. Its nondualistic mode of presentation precludes
sublation. It cannot be shown to be nonveridical—unlike all
perception and indeed all thinking (remembering, inferring,
understanding what someone has said, et cetera), all normal
cognition, which is invariably consciousness of the transitive
type. Self-illumining consciousness is self-authenticating, at
least so Advaitins say to themselves and, it seems, to classical
philosophers who were almost invariably concerned with
questions about validation no matter what the school or banner
under which they philosophized. Interestingly, Advaitins also
say that there is no real point to the question about
authentication. To itself, self-illumining consciousness stands
self-revealed.
I do not intend to pursue the question of the cogency of the
sublatability argument. I mention it mainly in the Advaita spirit of
trying to get us to recognize such self-awareness. Self-
monitoring consciousness is fundamental to all yoga practice
and for Yoga philosophy. Self-monitoring consciousness is a bit
more than Advaita’s self-illumining self, since it not only knows
itself in what it monitors, it alters it for the better, bringing
integration and wellness. Schools and individuals differ about
whether the goal of yoga is self-absorption, as Advaitins seem
to think. The phenomenon of self-monitoring consciousness
leaves open the question of the best direction of attention. That
would be, according to Advaita, consciousness’s losing itself in
a trance of self-experience to the exclusion of everything else
(to frame the possibility rather negatively). This does look to me
rather unappealing in comparison with a larger, tantric goal of
psychological harmony, about which, of course, there is much
more to say. The tantric goal is also, I shall argue, in better
consonance with the monitoring nature of yogic consciousness.
Suffice it to say for the present that Advaitins do not put forth
the sublatability argument to show that our cognitions and
various types of consciousness are unreliable. Advaitins may
be illusionists in a sense, but they are mislabeled skeptics.
They do not deny epistemic value to sense perception, for
example. With their sublatability argument, they would help us
yogically, using epistemic terms to distinguish self-illumining
consciousness. For Advaitins first and foremost extol the value
of self-illumining consciousness, tying it to a supernal bliss
(ananda). That is, they tie the goal of imperishable bliss as the
supreme personal good, the ultimate goal of yoga practice,
which is first stated in the Upanishads, to the full realization of
self-illumining consciousness. The point of the argument is to
encourage people to attend to it, to attend to Yoga’s pure
witnessing, not the witnessed.5 We shall see how this connects
with both a theoretical minimalism in Yoga philosophy and
baseline commitments. Advaita is half right, and there we find a
crucial part of the story of Yoga’s attitude to science.
 Philosophers known by the Advaita label wrote throughout
the middle and later periods of classical thought on into the
modern period. The resilience of Advaita lies in part in its
suitability to be aligned with several distinct theories when it
comes to world knowledge, including science. Although there is
a mainstream theory of perception, for example, it seems that
any hypothesis about the operation of the sense organs and the
generation of cognitions through physical processes is
compatible with Advaita’s central commitment to self-illumining
consciousness. Indeed, as mentioned, Advaita appears
compatible with all science and externalist theory—except that
which proposes to explain self-illumining consciousness itself.
More about the exception in a moment.
First, there is no call from the Advaita side to try to explain
the world in relation to self-illumining consciousness. For self-
illumining consciousness is self-contained and there is nothing
to be explained. Furthermore, any such explanation would have
to employ terms that are learned through training involving
teachers and pupils and the customs of everyday life, whereas
self-illumining consciousness is accessible only, so to say, from
the inside. This radical internalism can only be ostensibly
indicated by speech in the sense explained, not referred to
directly. We’ll come back to this point about language. What’s
key is that self-illumining consciousness is in itself
nonrelational, whereas an explanation would purport to find a
tie between explanandum and explanans. Self-illumining
consciousness does not explain anything.
Nor can it be explained. That there is mystery in
consciousness revealing diversity, and in the transition from
one to the other, is readily admitted by Advaitins. That is to say,
why there is both self-illumining consciousness and the worldly
display is said to be inexplicable, anirvacaniya. More precisely,
Advaita does not deny that this consciousness somehow
connects with the body and the physical world. There might well
be a relation, but it is impossible for us to elaborate. There is an
uncloseable gap, not between matter and consciousness, but
between our thought about the one and about the other. Here
we have a kind of Advaita “mysterianism” on par with the
materialist mysterianism that holds that while everything is
material, we are constitutionally incapable of understanding
how mind reduces to matter. Trying to conceptualize the self-
illumining self would be like trying to determine at once the
position and momentum of an electron. It cannot be done. Self-
illumining consciousness is inaccessible to representation and
all third-person point of view. All talk of it is nonliteral, meant to
direct a person to the experience.
Yoga theistic philosophers tend to hold self-illumining
consciousness as that which we share with God, with Brahman,
who as the supreme person in this way knows its/his/her own
existence (compare the biblical “I am that I am”). Such theism
has just as good credentials in the Upanishads as the Advaita
nontheism. The Yoga philosophy of the Yoga Sutra largely
agrees with the Advaita interpretation, or at least with the
Advaita value judgment about self-illumining consciousness.
Although Patanjali’s philosophy is realist about the objects of
sense experience, not “antirealist” like Advaita, all value is
placed in the self; nature is intrinsically valueless.
In yoga practices, however, no matter how great the value of
the witness to itself, there is always application, always
something witnessed. The problem with the Advaita view is not
its insistence that consciousness is self-illumining but its
ignoring consciousness’s other-illumining capabilities.
Consciousness is both self-and other-illumining. With respect to
the body, it is self-transformative too. Through a combination of
identification (sometimes called self-acceptance) and
monitoring, yoga practice shows that witnessing brings
wellness. Yogic self-monitoring consciousness is transitive in
proprioceptive sensation, in developing conscious control,
balance, and health. The Advaita tendency to limit the power of
consciousness so that it would be able to illumine only itself
(everything else being sublatable) does not accord with the
evidence.
Nevertheless, there is an asymmetry here between the
witnessed and the witnessing that is just the reverse of the
asymmetry of materialism (more about which below). Advaita is
a spiritual philosophy, without question within the Yoga camp.
In all Yoga philosophy, there is a fundamental commitment to
the value of self-monitoring consciousness. In finding it basic to
what we are up to, Yogins are in solidarity with Advaita,
although we depart from the school on the value of the body
and the power of yogic self-transformation.
Perhaps the greatest strength of Advaita is that, like much
Buddhist teaching, it eschews intellectual argument for advice
that runs, “Do this and see for yourself.” We don’t know why
yoga facilitates self-realization, say Advaitins. It appears to
work for some, and what’s the harm in trying? What we really
need, they stress, is simply to know consciousness as it is in
itself. Since self-illumining consciousness is what it is and it is
already accomplished in our deepest self, yoga practices
should be thought of as removing obstacles.6
The list of great Advaita philosophers includes several who
are expert at dialectics, expert at concocting counterexamples
and in general disputing metaphysical theories. Sometimes one
can find no motive behind the Advaita refutations beyond a
form of delight. And Advaitins typically embrace the science of
the day, although there are exceptions. Nevertheless, there are,
from the Advaita point of view, theories that overstep the
bounds of science and purport to explain self-illumining
consciousness itself. Here is where I think all Yoga philosophy
should take the Advaita attitude.
I am not so sanguine about the Advaita conception of self-
illumination, again because it seems that the self-monitoring
has, in the case of the body, power over what it is witnessing.
Consider what happens in yoga when you “breathe into” pain. A
pain considered at first negatively as simply hurting can be
changed into a helpful monitor and even to a pain that is not
pain, that feels good and bring wellness and strength. And this
is something we can talk about in the most literal and
straightforward of terms.
Thus the right Yoga response, it seems to me, is to agree
that, as attested in different lineages, a self-absorptive yogic
trance is a valuable yogic accomplishment, or ability, but it is
hardly the only yogic goal. Self-absorptive yogic trance seems
to be psychologically what Advaitins value. And for the person
so absorbed, a self-witnessing consciousness may well be not
related to other things, at least not at the time. Thus it is hard to
see how such self-absorption as a live possibility ties up with a
fuller self-conception and self-awareness. We may agree with
Advaitins on this. But we should part company with them on
their unmitigated mysterianism. For consciousness is intimately,
bodily relational in yoga, and principles of yoga that specify
correlations can be put into words. Consider all the yoga
manuals.
In response to similar objections, Advaitins take an
epistemological stance: self-illumining consciousness is self-
authenticating and, unlike other conscious states and material
phenomena, has exclusive access to itself. Thus only it has the
right to pronounce on itself. (Of course, about itself it says
nothing.)
But whether or not we buy into this or a similar thesis about
the authority of self-consciousness to pronounce on itself,
clearly consciousness has the right to pronounce not only on
itself but also on other things. It is other-as well as self-
illumining. Furthermore, it is self-determining and indeed self-
transformative. Self-determination is as basic a Yoga thesis as
any, and a coherent conception of consciousness as both self-
illumining and self-determining is to be desired, denying neither.
Advaitins are right that those who would explain consciousness
in materialist or externalist terms are trespassers who
misrepresent the putative explanandum. Where Yoga departs
from Advaita is on the explanans side of theory, with the views
that do the explaining. These concern, according to Yoga, the
power of consciousness. About the inadequacy of theories that
would try to explain self-illumining consciousness in material or
“scientific” terms, Yoga and Advaita are in accord.
There are several indications that the radical mysterianism
of Advaita is unsatisfactory. Just how do Advaitins know that
self-illumining consciousness’s relation to other things cannot
be verbalized? The idea seems to be that this consciousness’s
being absorbed exclusively in itself translates into its being
explanatorily unavailable. An explanation would be like an
unwanted disturbance violating self-illumining consciousness’s
self-absorbed trance. But how do Advaitins know so much
about this inexplicable to be able to explain why it is not
explicable? This brings us back to the problem of the language
Advaitins use.
Advaitin philosophers draw a distinction between descriptive
use of words and the indicatory, as mentioned earlier. The
difference is between describing Devadatta’s house along with
explaining what a house is—say, to a child—and indicating
Devadatta’s house conversationally by saying that it is the one
where some crows pointed to are hovering. The currently
hovering crows have nothing to do with what the house is and
its proper description. In Sanskrit linguistic philosophy, this is
the visheshana/upalakshana distinction. It is a distinction
between true and pseudo-qualifiers in connection with words
used, on the one hand, to pick out something (a) by way of a
property it really has (Fa), as opposed to, on the other, words
used to direct someone’s attention to something (a) by means
of a thoroughly contingent and accidental relation it has to
something else (b). It is that something else to which the words
refer literally. Advaitins see talk of self-illumining consciousness
as a matter of the indicatory, upalakshana. There is no way
literally to refer to it, since the act of referring is something other
than self-illumining consciousness itself. “Speech does not go
there,” in the words of the Kena Upanishad, which are then
themselves indicatory.7
This move is, however, even considering Advaita’s own
agenda, unhelpful. In their arguments Advaitins consider
themselves to know some true properties of self-illumining
consciousness. Why else would they say that it is self-
illumining, or nondual, and then reason according to these
attributions?
Then to Yoga—which, to repeat, I see as in the service of
and responsive to the full panoply of yogic goals and
accomplishments, never only to even the fullest realization of
self-illumining consciousness—I say, let us expose our necks,
committing ourselves to more about consciousness than the
possibility and value of self-illumining trance (samadhi). Self-
monitoring consciousness is not only valuable in itself, as the
Advaitins have it, it is valuable instrumentally, in accomplishing
health, balance, harmony, self-perfection.
In other words, we may expose our necks without risking
much injury in fact, protected by yogic discoveries. The value of
consciousness is not only to itself but to our bodies. Yoga
practice teaches this lesson to Yoga philosophy. Advaitins
seem blinded by the transcendental logic of their sublatability
argument to much else of value in what is made available
yogically. Nevertheless, as a matter of what one takes to be the
last trench behind which lies no option save surrender, the
Advaitins, it seems to me, are correct in their (Upanishadic)
idea of self-illumining consciousness, which they equate to the
(Upanishadic) “self,” atman.
Yoga on Philosophy’s Mind-Body Problem

Many philosophy professionals occupy themselves nowadays

with what they call the mind-body problem, how consciousness
is related to the body and the brain in particular. There is said to
be a hard as well as a soft problem of consciousness. The soft
problem is to correlate phenomenal states, such as seeing red
or a toothache, with brain states and bodily processes. Great
progress in the science of this has occurred just in the last
couple of decades. Yoga philosophy views this as the
successful specification of necessary but not sufficient
conditions in the brain or another body part for the occurrence
of whatever physical ability. The soft problem of consciousness
will be solved eventually. We shall know how the brain
functions. There is no challenge to Yoga philosophy from such
developments.
The hard problem of consciousness is to explain why or how
material processes result in consciousness or how certain
material states or processes can be identical with the thoughts,
perceptions, feelings, self-consciousness, etc., we take to be
ourselves or to belong to our conscious experience. The hard
problem of consciousness presumes a materialist perspective.
This presents a certain prejudice against Yoga. For Yoga as a
philosophy, whatever its details or traditions, in order to support
yoga practices, must make us believe in the power of
consciousness, for itself and for its instruments.
In tantric and other non-Advaita traditions, the goal of yoga
goes beyond the ideal of realizing a self-illumining
consciousness. In the broadest terms, yoga is practiced to
promote harmony between whatever is our highest or deepest
self or consciousness and mental, emotional, and bodily
instruments. Now yogic experience shows, I shall argue, that
there is no ultimate separation of mind and matter.
Nevertheless, in the current intellectual climate, Yoga
philosophy, to defend consciousness and its powers and
possibilities, has to insist on a certain division. Yoga has to be
dualist—in a sense to be explained—or monist in a different
way than materialism is monist, that is to say, spiritually monist,
like much Vedanta or Mahayana Buddhism, which though
monist, deny that everything is material.
The reigning opinion in universities is, unfortunately,
decidedly monist in the materialist sense. In the range of views
that dominate professional philosophy, thought and
consciousness are considered either in some sense identical to
brain states and processes or invariably dependent on them as
effects or properties. There is nothing mental or conscious
apart from the physical body. Yoga, in sharp contrast, teaches
the causal independence of consciousness, its kingship or self-
rule, as well as its ability to govern thought, emotion, and the
body, indeed all of its various instruments and “sheaths.”8 I shall
call this Yoga’s self-determination thesis. It stands at the center
of Yoga metaphysics. That is to say, central to Yoga is the
proposition that we can change ourselves, that our bodies are
shaped by karma, by what we do, by exercises and training and
self-discipline. Self-determination extends to our emotional and
mental bodies as well as our physical “sheath.” Consciousness
transcends and can make, or shape, its embodiments. Yoga
metaphysics—whether dualist or something else—has the
responsibility to make the power of consciousness plain.
Antidualist opinion in academic philosophy is carried by
arguments first directed against a Western and early modern
tradition of viewing consciousness as a substance. Descartes
(1596–1650) saw consciousness as a kind of stuff distinct from
things physical. But how can consciousness—begins the now
standard refutation—be separate from matter? An unbridgeable
gulf is unimaginable. If there were an absolute barrier, we could
neither perceive physical things nor act in the world. Descartes
relied on God to pair up the psychological and the physical.
Science, however, admits no supernatural causes. So without
God, the connection seems impossible. Modern materialism
develops from this insight.
There are of course several competing materialist views,
and numerous considerations motivate them.9 Arguments for
one theory and against another occupy the professional
journals. On all views, however, explanatory priority rests with
the physical in that consciousness is physically caused.10
“Materialism” is the word I use to capture this common
commitment. On all the theories, conscious states are either
identical to physical processes or bubble-like effects of physical
causes that themselves have no causal power. In other words,
consciousness is not only inseparable from the physical body, it
is identical to or entirely dependent on physical states. All
volition, everything we choose to do, as well as all thought and
emotion and indeed self-consciousness, have physical
determinants in the brain or another body part.
Materialists are, generally speaking, naturalists.
Consciousness may be a bit peculiar as events or properties
go, but all subjective as well as objective occurrences belong to
a closed physical network, i.e., to the natural world.
Consciousness emerges in the evolution of life according to
physical, chemical, and biological laws. Yoga’s self-
determination thesis is, therefore, false, along with much of our
common belief about ourselves as knowers and agents.
Yoga denies a supposition common to all materialism,
namely, that either an identity or a one-directional causal
relationship from body to mind is the truth about consciousness.
That is to say, Yoga denies that consciousness is either
identical to or the result of physical entities and processes. This
is the materialist view boiled down to its essence—albeit a
disjunctive essence, two mouthfuls—a rasa that is hard for
Yoga to stomach, since Yoga is committed to the irreducible
reality of consciousness and its power over itself and its
instruments. Although there are disputes among Vedantins,
Buddhists, Jainas, and other advocates of yoga practices
ancient and modern, on all Yoga views at least some
consciousness transcends the body and indeed the mind.
According to the new materialists, in contrast, correlations
between brain states and processes and conscious states and
processes may be extrapolated to deny all such transcendence.
Some correlations, such as the severing of the spinal cord and
loss of consciousness, are commonly cited in favor of a general
connection. However, a dramatic example of a necessary
condition is no argument for sufficiency. As mentioned, the soft
problem of consciousness is resolvable by identification of
necessary conditions for conscious states in the brain and
bodily processes. Yoga has no quarrel with this. Our quarrel is
with the supposition that things physical could be sufficient for
consciousness. You need an unsevered spinal cord to live and
breathe and think and feel, but you also need something
beyond the bodily instrument.
By definition the mind’s receptivity to sensory input and its
ability to respond through bodily movement depend on physical
processes properly functioning. In other words, we know a priori
that bodily events, such as visual perception or lifting a limb,
depend on the normal functioning of bodily processes. So why
should this bit of analytic insight mean that every conscious
state correlates with something going on in the brain?
Introspectively, yogins report self-consciousness during periods
when their brains show practically no activity.11
 The materialist answer is typically that in such cases
science has a project. We may not know yet, but we shall.
Science’s trajectory is progress. This of course is a convenient
attitude toward inconvenient phenomena, such as, to cite
another large example, our apparent freedom to move about.
The materialist may be taken to presume that any
consciousness touted by Yoga would have a physical correlate
and exclusively physical causes. After all, what is the
alternative? The entirety of this chapter constitutes a response
to this challenge and attitude, but here is the gist.
First, Yoga in entering philosophy’s mind-body debate
inherits rich dualist resources, counterarguments about
consciousness that so far have not been answered by
materialists. I shall survey a few of these, and give further
references.
Second, Yoga metaphysics itself, if it need be dualist, need
not be Cartesian, need not endorse a dualism of noninteractive
substances. Yoga dualism may or may not find that
consciousness is a substance in the sense of a locus or
substratum of peculiarly psychological properties, but whatever
the precise ontology, Yoga at a minimum will be interactionist,
avoiding the mysteries of Cartesian dualism and its
noninteractionist progeny.
Yoga need not oppose science, not even brain science,
although it must be opposed to causal closure. Brain science
reveals necessary conditions, never in themselves sufficient. In
classical India, the Nyaya school is famous for making the
point. Nyaya, Logic, is a premier dualist philosophy classically
allied with Yoga in our broad sense. Nyaya philosophers point
out, in the stock example, that a genuine perception of a thorn
through the sense of touch requires physical contact between
the thorn and a body part, a left toe, for instance. But you do
not need the toe to remember the thorn. This is one indication
of the transcendence of consciousness.
The Nyaya philosopher definitely would agree with the
modern materialist that having a brain is a condition of human
consciousness. Cut off the head and the person dies. The
particular stream of cognition forming Devadatta’s mental life
ends with the death of Devadatta, according to Nyaya. This
school does not, unlike mainstream Yoga (Vedanta, Buddhism,
and so on), recognize an occult or “pranic” body. But Nyaya
does recognize that Devadatta the person is a composite of a
self and a body and indeed a life. The body is not sufficient for
consciousness, since, Nyaya philosophers argue, we see that
material things, excepting the living body, are not conscious.
We shall come back to the general topic of causality later in
the chapter and also in connection with discussion of karma in
chapter 3. Let us move on with the remark that it is not worth
disputing the basic anti-Cartesian argument that we are aware
of the world that is explained by physics and chemistry and we
act and are acted upon by things physical. Cartesian dualism is
untenable. But Yoga dualism is different, building from the
insights of its Eastern ally, Nyaya.
Four types of causal relationship are recognized by the
philosophers of classical Nyaya. Causal capacities are
dispositions, samskara, which are latent properties, lawful
tendencies for something to change under certain
circumstances, as captured by conditional statements. For
example, water has the disposition to freeze at a certain
temperature. The liquid in a glass possesses this property,
though its having it is not immediately evident. Similarly, we do
not continuously remember our breakfast this morning but can if
prompted. Simplifying a bit, we may say that Nyaya finds
dispositions of four broad types:12

1. Physico-physical dispositions, for example, elasticity, as of a rubber

 band. (A rubber band is a physical thing both before and after being
stretched.)
2. Physico-psychological dispositions, for example, perceptual
capacity, the ability to perceive a pot in the stock example. (The
sense organs triggered by connection with a physical object of the
right type have the ability to generate, for example, the
psychological event of awareness of the pot.)13
3. Psycho-psychological dispositions, for example, inferential capacity,
as sight of smoke on the mountain leads to the occurrent
knowledge that there is fire over there. (The self carries the
disposition to infer fire from detection of smoke, a disposition
acquired by “wide experience” of the connection between smoke
and fire.)
4. Psycho-physical dispositions, for example, to effort and action, as
wanting the mango on the table leads to the effort and action to pick
it up. (The self is the locus of a, let us say, desiderous disposition
—chikirsha in Sanskrit, desire to do—to such effort and action on
the body’s part.)

With its self-determination thesis, Yoga is committed to the

importance of developing dispositions of types 3 and 4, as will
become clear.
The bottom line is that Nyaya’s dualism—which is one
option for Yoga, so let us say “Yoga dualism”—does not make it
impossible to understand mental-physical interaction. There are
many obvious correlations, and doubtless many less obvious
that remain to be discovered in science or yogic research. Yoga
dualism is a thesis that centrally concerns consciousness and
self-determination. Consciousness transcends matter and is
self-determining or can be. It can reshape its physical sheath,
perfect it, bring it into a new harmony with the breath, feeling,
and thought. This we find through yoga practice to be the
nature of yogic self-monitoring consciousness: that it alters
what it monitors, the body, the emotions, thoughts and
intentions, whatever it identifies with and nourishes. That is,
consciousness changes its embodiments for the better, for
health and integration, for what we might call the (tantric theme
of) spiritualization of the faculties. In special experiences,
consciousness finds it has, or can have, a body of different stuff
or energy than the physical (a pranic body, a karmic body, a
subtle or astral body, sukshma sharira). Always capable of
connecting with matter, it can withdraw into itself and, except
for the dispositional property to reconnect, be undisturbed by
material happenings. This power (called samyama in the Yoga
Sutra) is a foundational fact shaping Yoga metaphysics.
There are laws of self-determination, shown by correlations
in the reverse direction from those touted by materialists. These
include principles of yoga practice. But Yoga hardly rules out
physical dependences. Causal relations run both ways, and
mental events are typically the result of a complex collection of
factors, some of which are physical and some of which are not.
We might add that if consciousness and the body were not at
all physically determined, there would be no point to yogic
exercises. We do yoga to augment the causal factors that lie on
the side of consciousness.
Yoga dualism, in our sense of stressing the power, or
potential power, of consciousness, is compatible, it is important
to note, with several forms of monism. By sketching a dualist
version of Yoga metaphysics (in line with Nyaya), I mean to
emphasize the transcendence of consciousness and
potentialities of dependence, opposite to the assumptions of
materialists. Consciousness can but need not be material. In
part it is material in perception of material things and in
movements of the physical body. But that it is so in those states
is no argument that it cannot exist otherwise.
To sum up our response, then, to the correlations argument
of the materialists: Who would not expect (given the truth of
Yoga dualism) correlations between brain and mental events?
Insofar as the mental events belong to embodied persons,
correlations are guaranteed. That there are correlations,
however, leaves open the questions of identity and the
directionality of the causal relations.
Yoga contends both that consciousness is not identical to
the body and that mind-body (or consciousness-body) causality
is not one-directional. What we do shapes the body. The
physical universe is not causally closed. There are psycho-
psychological and psycho-physical dispositions.
The truth of this thesis is rather easy to see. Evidence for it
couldn’t be closer. For instance, insofar as you and I are
moving our eyes as we read (instead of, for example, closing
our eyelids), we are right now programming, materially
changing, our brains, the physical underpinning of our
memories, by reading. Or, if no physical underpinning of
memory is required, we are making a psycho-psychological
disposition resting in something else, a mind, a subtle body, or
a nonmaterial self. But let us suppose that the brain is like a
computer, as materialists think. Then each of us is right now
chiseling in a property necessary to a later remembering.
People who do not do so cannot remember this sentence. Thus
we do not have to look at the special feats of yogins to find
reverse correlations between mind and brain that refute
materialism.14
Yoga philosophy admits physical determinations of
consciousness but challenges us to recognize our potential.
Yoga stresses personal responsibility: we shape our own good
selves or personalities and need not be fatalistic or resigned to
biological and physical inheritances (yoga as a “makeover”
without cosmetics or plastic surgery). There are Yoga
perspectives that have us as preparing the way for a larger self
to integrate with us, with our ultimate act a surrendering. But on
these (bhakti and tantra) views too we have to make ourselves
ready by mastering the practices, the asanas, the breath
control, the meditation, and the rest. What we do to get ready
remains essential.
A second prop to anti-Yoga prejudice may be dealt with
more briefly. It is motivated by scientific explanations revealing
physical identities. That is to say, a “reductionist” argument
marshals to the materialist cause scientific successes in
explaining things macroscopic by formula, which are taken to
govern the microscopic. Consider weather, heat, and crystals.
We understand these things by understanding their physics and
chemistry. All phenomena, it is then hastily supposed, can be
explained by theories that refer only to physical events and
entities (niceties about the ontology of numbers, words,
theories, etc., being beside the point).
The problem, however, is how to carry out this agenda with
consciousness, with thought, feeling, and other mental events,
including the meditative experiences of yoga. The fact is that no
one has a clue. In the case of weather, the microscopic is both
necessary and sufficient for the macroscopic. Mean kinetic
energy is identical with heat. Given a certain value for the one,
the other will be absolutely fixed. Similarly, if something is H2O,
then it is water. And there is no water that is not H2O. With this
much, Yoga has of course no quarrel: certain physical things
and events can be explained reductively in chemical and
physical terms without reference to consciousness. The
classical Yoga of Patanjali is realist in this sense, and we
should have no qualms about admitting physico-physical
capacities and processes going on independently of the mind—
at least of our minds (the question of the universality of some
sort of divine or cosmic mind is another matter). However, Yoga
teaches that nothing in the brain ever absolutely fixes the mind
—a fortiori where “the mind” includes extraordinary states of
yogic consciousness. In Yoga we see this, what philosophers
call the “explanatory gap,” as a corollary to the thesis of the
self-determining power of consciousness, its control, or
potential control, of its range of instruments (thought, emotion,
bodily movement, and so on).
To be sure, how the brain works is now better known. We
even have chemical remedies for certain “mental” illnesses.
Nevertheless, it must be kept in mind that science presents only
correlations between (a) brain or more broadly bodily states or
processes and (b) mental phenomena. It does not have a
theory about how the latter (b) are required by (a) things
physical. In other words, neurology and medicine make plain
precise dependences of certain conscious states on certain
physical processes. When a loud sound goes off near our ears,
we hear it, even if our concentration is elsewhere. But we can
block out noise, not attend to it, consciously fail to perceive
available data. In other words, Yoga grants that the physical
factors can predominate in the determination of a mental event.
But often the story is different, and never is a physical one by
itself sufficient when it comes to conscious states.
The burning question for materialists is why the physical
should bring the mental about or require mental events in some
other, noncausal fashion. Why should neural firings in the
synapses of a brain produce, or even “occasion,”
consciousness and the life of the mind? This is the explanatory
gap talked about in the philosophic literature. It is brought out in
a particularly telling fashion by a thought experiment about a
possible “zombie.”15
Imagine an exact physical duplicate of your body that did not
have consciousness. (We could also call this the “mannequin”
thought experiment.) Clearly we can imagine the artifact without
having to imagine that the thing is conscious. So why do you
who have the same physical constituents as the zombie have
consciousness? Why are you conscious but not the zombie?
Why should the state of your body right now bring about your
current or subsequent consciousness while the exact same
state of the zombie does not engender consciousness? Of
course, the Yoga dualist avoids the question because
according to us the difference between you and the zombie is
the presence in you of consciousness. Consciousness is some
sort of basic entity, according to Nyaya and Yoga dualism.
Consciousness is irreducibly different from the material body,
though it can shape and move a body or (according to monist
Yoga philosophies) become one. In explaining the phenomenon
of consciousness, there will always be a gap so long as matter
is all that is recognized.
The difficulty of the zombie question, and of others bringing
out differences between bodies and minds, has spawned
incredible ingenuity and dozens of difficult books, without,
however, much agreement about proposed solutions. Still, the
assumption reigns that mind is somehow equivalent to matter
or in itself causally impotent. Isn’t this simply prejudice that flies
in the face of our abilities? Yoga would urge us to pay attention
to ourselves, expand our horizons—perhaps also paying
attention to the cogency of dualism!16
The correlations and reductionist arguments seem to be
regarded—however fantastic this may now appear—as the
most powerful weapons in the materialist arsenal. There is,
however, another argument that is commonly paraded. It
derives from the later Wittgenstein, and I shall call it the public-
language argument.17 It too does not challenge the dualism of
Yoga. Against the self-determination thesis, it has no force
whatsoever.
How could a person identify a subjective occurrence, and
thus talk about it, even to herself, without knowing objective,
i.e., physical, signs or indications? The basic insight is about a
need for public criteria for the applications of words to refer
even to subjective events. To talk to herself (silently so that only
God or a telepath could eavesdrop), a person has to have
words whose application is governed by rules set by
convention. If one person can set up a rule and follow it, in
principle another can follow it too. How otherwise could anyone
keep up with his or her own subjective happenings? In
principle, therefore, there can be no “private language.” We
come to know in the sense of “being able to talk about” inward
states (“That’s a toothache”) by learning to recognize
behavioral indications, because only bodily behavior has the
objectivity—the publicness and accessibility by numerous
minds—that makes linguistic conventions possible.
By this demand, it seems that nothing that we could talk
about could be unconnected to the physical. And it would seem
to follow that nothing transcending the physical should be
introduced into the debate about consciousness. However,
Yoga dualism is not scathed by the assumption that human
beings learn language by learning to recognize public signs.
Yoga practices show forms of knowledge and awareness that
are not mediated by language. Intellectual position is not the
highest prize. This is the core response.
Then with respect to statements of instruction in a yoga
class, there are several points to be made. First, the reason
there is so much complaint among yogins and other mystics
about the difficulty in describing their special experiences is
rather obvious. If sentences are in their literal meaning
restricted to relations among physical things, then thank God
for nonliteral meaning.18 Through analogy and imagination,
mystics do manage to be understood by nonmystics. Why else
would there be such a substantial literature? Second, linguistic
conventions are developed among master yogins and yoginis,
who forge technical terms in connection with special training
and meditative experience—for example, the term “chakra”
discussed in chapter 1. The technical language of yogic
practices is no less an instrument of communication than the
special vocabulary of an art, craft, or scientific discipline.
In sum, Yoga does rely on imaginative meaning beyond the
range of normal experience. But there is surely a good word to
be said in general for imaginative capacities. Our imaginations
articulate goals of work. Furthermore, yoga develops its own
technical vocabulary to be learned in the course of yoga
practice. Therefore, there is no cogent public-language
argument that defeats Yoga.
Let us move on to consider Yoga theories of mind-body
interaction unencumbered by materialist biases.
Mind-Body Interactive Dualism

In the context of the professional mind-body debate, teachings

about yoga practice and experience are dualist in the sense of
affirming the integrity of self and consciousness against
materialism. Yoga teachings engage a first-person point of view
as opposed to an externalist, third-person point of view as in
science. We have reviewed positions within the now dominant
materialist camp. But there are of course many philosophers
who champion such a “how-to” first-person perspective in
opposition to materialism. There is thus ready at hand an
intellectual alliance, which because focused on errors of
materialism perhaps lacks the spirit of yoga practice, but
provides philosophically rich resources for Yoga to mine.
Existentialism with its emphasis on choice (we make choices)
and absurdity (science’s impersonal view of nature) is perhaps
the most prominent among Western dualist schools with which
Yoga can make common cause. That is to say, Yoga as an
antimaterialist philosophy joins hands with some who couldn’t
care less about extraordinary capacities and experiences. (Can
you picture Jean-Paul Sartre in an asana—with the pipe?)
The distinctive feature of Yoga as a dualism is its
understanding of mind and body as instruments.19 The locus of
control lies, or potentially lies, in consciousness. The point of all
yoga practice is to take a step toward greater psychological
harmony, including, to be sure, self-control as in, for example,
bodily suppleness and athletic dexterity fostered by yogic self-
monitoring consciousness. So, at a minimum, Yoga must be
wedded to the value of subjectivity, of being a self, and of
exercising control. It has to deny that consciousness is fully
determined by matter (we determine matter—or a larger self
does, on Yoga views where the aim is to unite with a larger
self). Yoga, then, is “dualist” in contrast with philosophic
materialism. But probably we should say “provisionally dualist”
since we want to leave open the question of ties to spiritually
monistic views.
This section surveys both the classical Yoga dualism of
Patanjali and Nyaya dualism; the former is a close sister of
Samkhya dualism, first articulated in certain Upanishads. In
other words, dualist philosophies became prominent in India
very early and remained so.20 Patanjali, the author, or more
likely compiler/editor, of the Yoga Sutra, c. 400 C.E. (see the
introduction to appendix C), presents a deeply dualist vision,
probably following a Samkhya vogue.21 Indeed, the YS’s
dualism is, like that of Samkhya, much more radical than the
variety we require. I shall argue that contemporary Yoga
dualism should follow Nyaya, which is, of all the classical Indian
schools, arguably the closest to common sense. (It also has a
long and rich textual history, and is related to ayurveda,
medicine, and legal texts as well as having much influence in
classical aesthetics.) We shall see how Nyaya handles mental-
physical correlations in a moment. First let us see what is
wrong with the dualism of the Yoga Sutra (YS).
After defining yoga as mental silence, control of the
fluctuations of thought and emotion (chitta-vritti-nirodha, “stilling
the fluctuations of mentality,” YS 1.2: see note 7 to chapter 1),
Patanjali casts the goal of yoga practice in terms of a radical
dualism. There are, one, self (purusha) and two, nature
(prakriti), and though both are real, only the former has value.
“Then the seer rests in its true form” (YS 1.3), by which is
meant (according to all the classical commentators) “rests in
itself, self-rapt, unaware of anything other than self, entirely
separate from nature” (emphasis mine).
 There are several problems with this position. Perhaps the
worst is that Patanjali’s dualism of self and nature is in
opposition to his own yogic tradition of siddhis, the
extraordinary capacities or powers to which yoga leads, many
of which are occult. The ties between yoga practices and
siddhis are in my judgment intrinsic, both culturally (in the
conventions of designating just certain people yogins and
yoginis) and in psychological fact. No one counts as a master
yogin or yogini who does not possess siddhis, and all yoga
practice helps to develop siddhis at least generically in the
sense of self-control. Patanjali, however, seeing self-rapt self-
awareness as the sole locus of value (joining Advaitins), places
no value in siddhis. YS 3.37: “Though wonders to ordinary
persons [yogic powers] are obstacles to the goal of yoga.”22
The denial of the value of siddhis presents a problem of
textual interpretation. Practically the whole of the YS’s chapter
3 (out of a total of four chapters) is concerned with the
development of siddhis. In addition to this oddity about the YS
itself, by setting aside the value of siddhis, Patanjali does
violence to yoga tradition.23 Despite the detailed teachings of
chapter 3, our author/editor apparently became concerned
exclusively with mystic trance, samadhi. On this reading,24 the
man would have compiled the text from sutras that had been
formulated generations before him, adding a few framework or
metaphysical ideas in accordance with (Samkhya or) his
personal sense of consciousness’s power to withdraw utterly
into itself. There, he seems to think, it can rest content, totally
apart from the world.
It may well be that certain yogins have considered this state
the single goal of their endeavors. Maybe it’s a real possibility,
as proposed by Patanjali, who doubtless was an extremely
accomplished yogin, a guru worthy of reverence, whatever his
merits as a theorist. Probably Patanjali’s samadhi is the same
as the Advaitins’ self-illumining consciousness, since both
schools claim that the state is blissful beyond imagination.
Note, however, that as far as we the unenlightened are
concerned, such an idea of “liberated” consciousness
—kaivalya, aloneness, in Patanjali’s term—is pure speculation.
The state could not be reported, since reporting requires
instruments such as a body and a keyboard.
Furthermore, the YS’s dualism is subject to a charge of self-
stultification. Such a self-absorbed yogin develops only one of
his or her possibilities, being lost to the world. Especially in the
light of Yoga’s self-determination thesis, this seems a shame.
By the power of self-determination I mean to include the ability
to enter a self-absorbed samadhi, but also potential
transformations of body, life, and mind.
Please bear in mind that the criticism that Patanjali teaches
a self-stultifying philosophy is not only my opinion but also that
of a host of yogic movements in India, belonging to what we
may call in general the tantric turn (see below). Embrace of
siddhis may be called the tantric refutation of Patanjali’s theory.
The mental silence that yoga achieves is not just a state but
a power. Patanjali in YS 1.3 and elsewhere falls victim to a
false dilemma. He says that when the chitta becomes quiet the
self or true person, purusha, rests in its true form. At all other
times, he asserts at 1.4, it falsely identifies with chitta. However,
the self, while self-conscious, can also think if it likes. Ask any
yogin, anyone who claims to have the ability to turn off the
mind, whether he or she can turn it back on. According to the
unacceptably trenchant dualism of Patanjali, in contrast,
mentality, chitta, is part of nature, prakriti, and thus divorced
from the self. Since self-awareness apart from nature is the
goal, control has to be illusory.
Furthermore, awareness of anything other than self is for
Patanjali bad, that is, in comparison with the supremely good
trance of self-absorption. He uses the word kaivalya,
aloneness, for what he sees as the ontological equivalent of
asamprajnata samadhi, a meditation without prop, i.e., without
any content or intentionality other than self-awareness itself, a
self-absorption beyond space and time. In this way, the
metaphysics of the YS is made to tie up with the traditional idea
of mukti or moksha, liberation from suffering and endless
rebirth. (But isn’t rebirth, generally speaking, a good thing?
Would you rather be reborn or totally vanish? More about this in
the next two chapters.) In sum, according to the YS a self’s
recovery from other-into self-absorption is the summum bonum,
the supreme value for a person, parama purushartha, the
“supreme personal good.” But here I say we should line up with
tantrism and assume that a larger goal is possible, one not so
world-negating, including the proposition that siddhis are good.
Tantrics disagree that life is inevitably a matter of suffering, or
that its suffering is not worthwhile, not itself instrumentally
valuable to a yoga practice that aims at self-perfection.
Patanjali probably inherited many—in all likelihood most—of
the approximately two hundred sutras that make up the YS. In
fact, I think he is responsible only for the text’s dualist cast. The
YS is thematically voluntarist in spite of the dualism of purusha
and prakriti and the world-denying concept of kaivalya. These
concepts comprise a kind of metaphysical overlay and can be
replaced.
Rich psychological veins are there to mine nevertheless, as
well as practice concepts of which any Yoga philosophy needs
to take stock. Let me underscore that there are invaluable
practice concepts from which any yogin or yogini could draw
benefit. The YS is not the one and only indispensable practice
manual, but it clearly ranks among the most seminal,
considering centuries of yoga practitioners. And philosophers of
all the rival schools know the text. So, despite the untenability
of the dualism and Patanjali’s impoverished conception of the
goal of yoga, the YS is an authority for both yoga practices and
Yoga philosophy.
The chief cost to yogic sensibilities, honed on the very
practices outlined in the sutras, is, as pointed out, the cutting off
of one half of Yoga’s self-determination thesis, to wit, a denial
of consciousness’s power, or potential power, over its
instruments. Patanjali can make no sense of the healing power
of yogic self-monitoring consciousness directed to an injured
body part or a pranic blockage. But let us note that Patanjali’s
metaphysics is also untenable pretty much for the same
reasons that Cartesian dualism is untenable: we act in nature
and perceive physical objects.
The self’s identification with a mind, body, personality, etc.,
is, according to the YS, an illusion. Thus Patanjali aligns himself
with world-denying Advaitins who take just one further step to
declare the self not only the only value but also the only reality.
To be sure, the YS’s chapter 4 is comprised of argument
directed against idealists, presumably Buddhist idealists, to the
effect that nature is real. The main contention is articulated at
YS 2.22: when a single yogin is liberated everyone else
remains bound, and therefore nature must be objective. But if
the line separating Patanjali from Buddhist and Advaita
illusionists is only on this point, of prakriti though renounced
continuing in the same old ways for the deluded, it is fair to say
he shares their perspective in the crucial point of denigrating
normal life. Yoga practice would have no social value, or
negative social value, in the loss of an individual to our
collective enterprises and culture. Note too that the highest self
in Advaita Vedanta seems hardly different from Patanjali’s
purusha, since on both theories there is in enlightenment no
awareness of anything other than bliss and self-consciousness.
But, to review, the main problem is that the self does not act
on Patanjali’s view. Power of will is stripped from
consciousness. In accordance with the conception of kaivalya
and its monolithic value, power is not just renounced but
banished as never ever a part of the self. But note that far and
away the greater part of the YS concerns self-determination,
i.e., yogic transformations of body, life, and mind, not just
achievement of the highest trance. Indeed, interpreting self-
absorbed trance, asamprajnata samadhi, as itself a power or a
capacity that an accomplished yogin would have, the self-
determination thesis can be seen to subsume Patanjali’s
interest. I repeat that practically a fourth of the text is expressly
concerned with siddhis. The power of trance is another siddhi.
Finally, let us look at a telling bit of metaphysical reasoning
in the YS. Quandary occurs about how it could be that the self
who practices yoga is not the self who benefits (the former
being the illusory image of “self” in nature, the latter the self as
it is “in itself,” sva-rupa). The problem is ingeniously resolved in
the proposal (YS 2.21) that nature, prakriti, is in the service of
purusha. Nature practices yoga for the purpose of the self’s
release. Thus nature is teleological; yoga practices serve her
highest goal, purification, “sattvafication” of the body, life, and
mind, so that the true person, purusha, can recover self-
awareness and remain forever self-absorbed. However, the
idea that not the conscious individual but unconscious matter
does anything (including yoga practices) is entirely
counterintuitive. Patently it seems proposed out of a sense of
system.25 For we practice yoga, not a body, life, or mind
mechanically conceived in the fashion of YS’s prakriti.
In the awakening of chakric centers and other occult
phenomena, some yoga teaching has it that we have to wait for
a higher part of ourselves that we do not control to take the
action for which a person has by yoga practice become “fit”
(adhikari). In bhakti yoga teaching as well as in tantra, we as
the yoga practitioners become receivers or objects (as in the
expression “object of love”). But in such processes of self-
integration, clearly what we do counts. We make ourselves fit
receptacles of “grace,” “shakti,” “divine energy,” or something
else occult. Even the largely theistic Yoga to which these ideas
belong is not fatalistic. To be sure, almost all Yoga embraces
karma as a causal and moral principle. But karma is
misinterpreted as a fatalistic doctrine, as will be shown.
In the final analysis, metaphysics is not Patanjali’s talent. As
should become ever more plain as we continue, the YS’s value
lies in its psychological and practice concepts, which can be
extracted out of a flawed metaphysics of kaivalya.
Fortunately, in classical India and elsewhere hardly all Yoga
metaphysics—in our sense—is in accord with the YS’s
extremism.26 There are other world-denying views of a supreme
good, but, speaking roughly, there occurs a shift in both
Hinduism and Buddhism from a world-denying model of
enlightenment to a world-affirming one. This is the “tantric turn.”
It is nicely exemplified in the Buddhist doctrine of the
bodhisattva. The saint refuses dissolution of personality in the
ultimate bliss of nirvana, that is to say, refuses to enter that
utterly transcendent state of consciousness, in order to become
instead perfectly embodied and thus a perfect vehicle of
compassion. The bodhisattva’s six signs, six “perfections”
(paramita)—generosity, uprightness, energy (joyous effort),
patience, concentration, and wisdom—are qualities that make
him or her capable of helping everyone achieve the highest
good.
A similar idea is present in the karma yoga teaching of the
Bhagavad Gita (elaborated in the third section of chapter 3 and
in appendix B). World-affirming Yoga philosophies are hardly
rare. In the long history of classical metaphysics in India,
Vedantins, Buddhists, Jainas, Tantrics, and others all
incorporate yoga practices into life-affirming views that propose
different goals than the YS’s.
Let us take stock. All Yoga philosophy—and here I include
Advaita and theistic Vedanta, Patanjali’s dualism, Buddhist
philosophies and traditions, etc., practically all the spiritual
philosophies of the East—sees mind and matter in a
dependence relationship that is the reverse of that touted by
materialism. Yoga is thus “dualist” by current standards and
mainstream sensibilities within academic philosophy.
Consciousness comes first in Yoga theory. There are of course
interesting details in the different ways mental and bodily
phenomena are identified—by Buddhists, tantrics, etc.—some
of which we shall look at closely in subsequent sections. But a
central commitment in all the views is that consciousness
transcends matter, so it need not depend on it. (Not everything
is material.) Then in practically all the views, including the
dominant strain in the YS, it is claimed additionally that
consciousness has the power to shape and determine its
physical and other embodiments, to control and transform the
body, the mind, and the emotions, by the direct action of yoga
practices, without external technology, gas engines, electricity,
and the like, working on ourselves only.
Yoga asanas, for example, are premised on the power of
the mind, or consciousness, to change the body through better
connection with prana, our breath and life energies, to make it a
more supple and reliable instrument. Other yoga practices are
to be responsible for changes of consciousness, self-discovery,
self-acceptance, and better psychological as well as physical
health. Taking aspirin or another drug may relieve a headache,
but yoga practices can do the same trick and, more importantly,
teach a person how to prevent the affliction in the first place.
Physically and mentally therapeutic, the practices are becoming
widely embraced by individuals and also in programs of
preventive medicine (funded by profit-wise HMOs). Indeed, the
practices are fast becoming part of a global culture, no longer
restricted to ashrams and meditation halls. The reason, broadly,
is that they promote well-being. An adequate Yoga philosophy
should explain why this is so—a positive consideration that, it
may be argued, pushes Yoga past dualism. This is the topic of
the next section. First, I sum up the extent of Yoga’s dualist
commitment.
Yoga dualism need not be a (Cartesian) division of
substances. All that is required is that there be distinctively
mental entities and properties such as a self or selves, and not
only brains and other material things. In Western terms, Yoga
dualism finds its best ally, in my estimation, not in Descartes
but in David Hume (1711–76), whose metaphysical minimalism
has it that recognizing correlations is theory enough. In
classical Indian philosophy, a similar stance is taken by both
Buddhists and Nyaya philosophers. Nyaya in particular has
what is called a Humean position about causality: we know only
that entities are related causally (through observation of
concurrence), not why they are.
Nyaya is not only dualist in the sense of countenancing
mental entities, including a self, but also pluralist, finding nine
types of property bearer and several types of property as
ontological items. An awareness is a psychological property, for
example, distinct from physical properties such as colors and
shapes that belong to rocks and other things that are made of
material atoms. The main point is that Nyaya philosophers
formulate causal principles on the basis of correlations without
bias about the sorts of things that can be correlated.
For example, sensory connection with an object a that
possesses a property F is found to be a cause—in the sense of
a necessary condition—of a veridical and reliable perceptual
awareness with Fa as its object. An induction is made relating
mental entities, e.g., perceptions of such a type, and physical
entities, the F-possessing objects that come to be in sensory
connection. Correlations are made, similarly, between efforts
(which, being goal directed, presuppose cognition) with
propositional content and certain physical, i.e., bodily, acts.
Thus Nyaya has an ingenious strategy for the mind-body
connection following the motto, “Look for correlations, but don’t
overinterpret. Be economical.” There are causal continuities
and processes involving entities that are physical and mental, in
one direction through the operation of the sense organs and in
the other in guiding action. There is also a third type of
cognitive causal relationship, a kind of mind/mind causation
exhibited in the causality obtaining between two successive
cognitions. This is, by the way, important for meditative
accomplishment, according to the YS and commentaries, since
one wants to be able to battle the firings of distracting
samskara, subliminal dispositions to desire and remembering,
and maintain a quiet mind.27
A standard objection against Western varieties of dualist
interactionism is that they leave the interaction unexplained.
Nothing is said about how it is possible that things of such
disparate natures interact. Yet to my mind this is a strength. As
a philosopher, I can live with Nyaya’s Humean skeptical
dualism. The mental-physical correlations indicative of yoga
progress—“You do this (the mental cause) and that is gained
(the physical or mental effect)”—are, I believe, sufficient
paradigm for the sorts of research to be encouraged by Yoga
theory, if not also for individual pursuits. I shall look at more
expansive opinions in the next section.
On the classical Indian scene, there were others who saw
intellectual restraint as a strength. The intellectual openness of
Advaita Vedanta, the compatibility of Advaita with science, has
already been reviewed. There is in Buddhist philosophy a
similar position about nirvana and the “emptiness” taken to be
revealed in nirvana experience. On these views, which also
endorse yoga, we do not know the fundamental nature of the
connections of the world and consciousness. The Buddhist
Nagarjuna (c. 150 C.E.) is famous for taking a skeptical stance,
and interesting discussion of the limitations of mentality occurs
in classical sources as well as in a now rather rich secondary
literature.28
Some great names of Yoga’s past—Patanjali, Shankara,
and Nagarjuna—may have no interest in Yoga’s self-
determination thesis (at least as thinkers, as opposed to—
wearing different hats—yoga masters teaching practical
principles). To try to connect intellectually the world to
consciousness through an understanding of powers (siddhis)
that flow from its nature as self is to trespass on the
unknowable, according to them. But how, then, can so much be
known about the unknowable? Our Yoga minimalism avoids
such intellectual hubris.29
Nevertheless, I can see that a combination of spiritual
mysterianism with the Nyaya/Humean causal minimalism may
be the path of wisdom: at least there would be room for mental
causation and the reverse correlations identified in Yoga
psychology, the dependences of body and mind on
consciousness. In the context of Yoga, the Nyaya/Humean
strategy encourages paying attention to mental causation. This
is perhaps the crucial result, potentially the most concrete
ramification of the needed shift away from a materialist
paradigm for psychological research. Note that, historically,
anti-intellectual Advaita and Buddhism have not only
encouraged yoga practice but have also maintained a view of
rebirth, although it is not any true self that reincarnates, only a
karmic aggregate.
Yogic Control and Integration: Spiritual Holism

The dualism just sketched has the merit of protecting

philosophers from embarrassment when they try to say
something substantial on the relation of consciousness and
matter. But more, I think, needs to be said with respect to
Yoga’s self-determination thesis, at least about the nature of
yogic self-monitoring consciousness and about how
consciousness can be a cause of physical effects. What is it
about consciousness and its embodiments that makes self-
determination possible? As pointed out, Yoga philosophy is
committed to dependences that run from mind to matter. It
should also embrace, I shall argue in chapter 4, karmic
continuities of individual identity that stretch past an individual
lifetime. (In the context of previous Yoga philosophy, this is
hardly a shocking thesis.) Karma is an inheritance of past
choices that extends before birth and after death, determining
talents and traits in future embodiments as well as in the
current lifetime. Emotions affect health, and self-monitoring
consciousness leads to wellness, et cetera.
So what makes all this possible, what illumines these mental
dependences? And what in general do proponents of Yoga
have to say about the metaphysics of self-determination? First
note that much has been said, in India and elsewhere, usually
in attempts to see the entire world as in some way the result of
consciousness. We find self-determination writ large as the
dominant theme of whole schools and philosophic movements.
In world-affirming Yoga philosophies, self-determination is
tied up with spiritual holism. In the Upanishads, the One, the
Absolute, the mystery of Being and Self called Brahman, unites
everything. World-affirming Vedanta finds Brahman’s
consciousness, will, and reality extending everywhere. Or, as in
Buddhist philosophy, every event is interconnected, arising
interdependently, pratitya-samutpada, as claimed by Nagarjuna
and practically the whole Mahayana camp. Spiritual holism is
key, furthermore, to the interpretation of several important yogic
phenomena. That this kind of holism has close ties with Yoga’s
self-determination thesis will be shown.
I should like to focus on phenomena of psychic integration
and their implications for Yoga philosophy. This is admittedly
countercurrent, being practically ignored by the entire mind-
body industry. But spiritual explanations about ways matter
depends on mind are our launching pad. A good example is
visualization, e.g., of healthy tissue where there is damaged
tissue. This helps it to heal. The consciousness factors of
concentration and the summoning up of a healthy image have
been shown to correlate with an increase in healing rate.30 A
benefit of Yoga philosophy is being to able to see why this is
true. If a person does not believe in the power of a practice, she
is unlikely to take it up. An explanation that the self and its
attention are intrinsically sacred, healthy, or pure, with the
power to pull or attract the body back to its normal state through
the exercise is, for example, one way she might be encouraged
to extend effort.
Yogic phenomena such as the healing power of visualization
—which are special instances of the wellness making of yogic
self-monitoring consciousness—suggest holism as well as self-
determination in our sense. But many common activities and
experiences illustrate the general thesis of self-determination.
We don’t really need yogic phenomena to show its truth; any
voluntary action will do. Just because this is such a wide class,
and walking, talking, etc., are so taken for granted, perhaps
more useful polemically are extraordinary illustrations of ways
matter depends on mind.31
Yogic practices and the capacities that are developed by
yoga exaggerate or augment everyday dependences that we all
know firsthand. For, yoga or no yoga, it seems practically a
priori that the power of human consciousness is responsible for
much of what is human. Yoga metaphysics is a matter of trying
to stretch this insight (an asana for the mind) in consonance
with the fact that yoga practices show that consciousness could
be responsible for more. Bringing the formerly involuntary within
the range first of awareness and then of will and control,
making it voluntary with awareness and supple, aligned, and
healthy, as, for example, with pranayama, breath control, is a
fundamental Yoga principle. It bears repeating that a good
Yoga philosophy would encourage yoga practices by explaining
how a reverse dependence is possible (body on mind, or,
better, body and mind on consciousness) and why it is good.
One answer is sattvafication, the answer of the Yoga Sutra:
purification of the nature so that the self can know itself as it
really is, namely, separate from nature. This is the YS’s
theory.32 Nature is teleological, serving, as Patanjali says, the
purpose of the purusha.
A different answer connects consciousness with its body or
bodies and with nature outside itself. Here the point of yoga is
not separation but connection, and consciousness is not in
reality separate from everything else but connected, at least
potentially. Yoga practices integrate mind, life, body, and
whatever spiritual parts we have. Yogic self-monitoring
consciousness can be expansive, encompassing all our parts. If
this is right, Yoga philosophy should reveal the underpinnings
of yogic integration. Consonantly with such holistic phenomena,
Yoga philosophy should target connectedness and integration.
Thus is there “bottom-up” motivation for a holistic theory
showing the possibility of connectedness among parts of
ourselves.
There is also a rich inheritance of theory. I propose to
examine some of the ideative resources out of which our own
holistic Yoga may come. We shall have to be selective, since
among spiritual-holism-friendly philosophies are both
pantheisms of the West and a broad range of monistic Eastern
views, mainly Indian in origin but also Chinese, notably Daoism.
This necessary narrowness is unfortunate, for Yoga’s alliances
are strong. There is also Neoplatonism, Whiteheadean process
philosophy, and other views that, though allied in substance
with Yoga, cannot be paraded in full dress.33
There is good reason, however, to focus on holistic
Vedanta. Upanishadic theists can boast of having advocated
yoga practices for more than twenty-five centuries, and the
Upanishads are Yoga’s earliest texts. Holistic theists who hold
that the world is the body of God are also important interpreters
of the YS and other yoga manuals such as the Bhagavad Gita.
In comparison, a more diminutive holism is recommendable for
us, a spiritual holism that stresses large conscious units but
perhaps not so large as the Vedantic Brahman. In other words,
I plan, after reviewing the full-blown explanations of Vedantic
holists, who are theists, to recommend a pared-down version,
an open-ended spiritual holism, as our own Yoga philosophy.
Vedantic theism asserts self-determination to be the
fundamental relationship between consciousness and matter,
God’s maya (from the root ma, to measure or delimit, thus not
illusion, as with Advaita), Brahman’s making for itself a body in
the physical universe.34 The central theoretic constraint is the
antecedent nature of Brahman. This guarantees that everything
is interrelated in the self-determinations that create and
maintain the universe. Although we have freedom of choice,
God’s self-monitoring consciousness embraces us and the
entire universe. The view is a maximalist theism, which we
might for a moment contrast with the minimalist variety
endorsed by Nyaya.
Maximalist Vedantic theism is like Platonism in the hands of
early Western theists such as Philo and Augustine. In the
Indian version, yogic self-integration proceeds from the top,
from our big-brother self seeking out us the junior member, the
lower brought from above into union, or at least unison and
harmony, with a higher self. Nyaya, in contrast, would not
presume such a determinate reading, and would reject the idea
that such “union” is even possible. Nevertheless, for Nyaya the
true self of each of us is—though not God, the ishvara—much,
much greater than we ordinarily take ourselves to be, the mere
living body with a name (see chapters 4 and 5). Each of us is in
part a self that is eternal, capable of an unending series of
incarnations as well of moksha, liberation, which according to
much yogic testimony is the supreme personal good. This is
hardly a minimalist position. But let us focus on Nyaya’s
theology, which is clearly a lot more minimal than Vedanta’s.
Later Nyaya philosophers infer the existence of God by a
causal argument: God is the agent who has brought about
things like the earth. But just as Nyaya does not speculate on
what makes it possible for mental and physical events to stand
as causal factors one for the other, so the school refuses to
speculate on the connection between God and the things that,
directly or indirectly, God brings about. To be sure, in
consonance with the inference to God, Nyaya philosophers
attribute omniscience to God as a property needed to bring
about the effects whose explanation motivates the positing of
an ishvara. But the policy is not to specify the nature of a
postulated cause more than is required by the explanatory task.
Thus Nyaya spokesmen tend not to elaborate, not to speculate
on God’s nature, and leave it to faith to connect the God
required by philosophy to the richer conceptions of revealed
traditions.
Theistic Vedantins, in contrast, from Yamuna (c. 700)
through tantrics and neo-Vedantins such as Aurobindo (1872–
1950), begin with the assumption that the reality of Brahman
explains many important details within the worldly display
(prapancha). For example, emotions are forms of God’s delight,
ananda, flavors or rasa enjoyed by Brahman as well as by us,
worldly manifestations of an intrinsic nature that is beyond the
manifest universe. In this way, theistic Vedantins turn around
the materialists’ relation of explanans and explanandum: the
body is what is to be explained and the nature of
consciousness, or Brahman, does the explaining.
Holism is a distinctive feature of Vedantic theism, equivalent
to Brahman’s all-inclusiveness. How can Brahman become
matter? Well, Brahman can do whatever is possible, and what
is possible is fixed by what is compatible with Brahman’s
nature, which Brahman cannot surrender. This guarantees that
nothing can lie outside God, that everything is tied up with
everything else in being Brahman: sarvam idam brahma (“All
this is the Brahman”).35
Brahman’s being matter would explain, at the high end, how
it is possible that we who are material beings can know
ourselves immediately, self-illuminingly, as taught in Advaita
and Buddhism. At the low end, it would explain how there can
be sensory connections as well as physical transmissions of
mental traits. Though it is hard to say how the view would tie up
with biology and chemistry, perhaps the holism of Brahman
would help explain the emergence of integrated entities that are
distinct from aggregates. Biology may eschew final causes in
the Aristotelian sense, but the most conservative science
recognizes principles of unification that are, let us say, holism-
friendly. Water, for example, is a new thing, not anticipated in
hydrogen and oxygen atoms. The same is all the more true of
organisms. Parts are not pieces. In sum, since matter on this
view would be Brahman, material forms can be conscious as
well as vehicles of mental determinations and all the emergent
phenomena that make up our macro world.
A primary teaching of the YS is that through samyama,
control through conscious identification, instanced in the control
we have over our own body’s limbs, we can expand the sphere
of things subject to volition, as in pranayama. Such siddhis as
an athlete’s being in the zone or (to give just one of the many
examples listed in the YS) provoking friendship in one’s
environment through practice of ahimsa, nonharmfulness, all
seem to flow from samyama (friendliness is said to flow from
mastery of ahimsa at YS 2.35). “From samyama on X comes
siddhi Y” is the form of sutras throughout chapter 3. We might
also mention craftsmanship and linguistic ability, which are
developed through training, through conscious attention to what
the Vedantin sees as an extension of the self to mastery of
tools as well as of our own bodies and minds. (“Yoga is skill in
works,” says the Gita, yogah karmasu kaushalam, 2.50.)
Vedantic holism is not shy about the power of yoga, although
classically the view is that yoga has to give way to bhakti and to
receptivity to the action of a higher self.36
The problem with theism, whether Vedantic or a Western
variety, the conceptual difficulty that above all others has
exercised philosophers and motivated atheism, is evil. How,
given a loving Creator, can there be such suffering as we
witness? It is notoriously difficult to explain evil in all its varieties
on theistic premises. This holds true, it seems, even on those
views where God is both our highest self and material energy—
or perhaps especially on those premises. Personally, I do not
think a Vedantic theodicy, a theistic explanation of evil, is
beyond reach. A theodicy stressing karma and social justice is
broached in the Bhagavad Gita, and will be examined in
chapter 3. But for present purposes, I wish to take it for granted
that it is not easy to explain, e.g., a child’s suffering, on the
premise that God, or Brahman, is perfect. Appreciating the
difficulty helps to motivate a more modest holism and a Yoga
philosophy that presents less of a target.
A second motivation for a pared-down holism is Yoga
diversity, the plurality of views put forth traditionally to interpret
yoga practices and experiences. Minimalism identifies a
common core that can be asserted without dispute. The Jaina
way of handling diversity while remaining inclusivist will be
examined in connection with the ethical teaching of ahimsa,
nonharmfulness, in chapter 3. This is to adopt the
perspectivalism and spiritual relativism called nonabsolutism
(anekanta-vada). The Jaina view has much in common with a
minimalism about to be laid out, since it is a positive
perspectivalism that tries to find a grain of truth in every theory
—a kind of intellectual ahimsa disarming metaphysical
contentiousness.
Our nonsystematic or bottom-up version of spiritual holism
emphasizes, like theistic Vedanta, possibilities of integration
and self-determination not for God but for us. Or, if for God,
then that’s okay too, in consonance with, though exceeding, our
theory. The byword is integration. In yoga practice, we learn
that a little effort at breath control or mental silence produces a
feeling of harmony and by objective measures better health.
There seems to be a continuum related to the power of
consciousness to integrate something into itself, from intuition,
thought, desire, and the like at one extreme to the body at the
other. There are also the phenomena of surrendering to, in the
process of joining, a higher or deeper self. It is difficult to know
the limits of this, but the spirit of our bottom-up approach is not
to make absolutely fixed pronouncements but to sketch out
possibilities to help us believe in ourselves.
 Nevertheless, just about everywhere we look we find
encouraging analogies. Holism in linguistics stresses a series of
significant units whose significance depends upon interrelations
among components, the unity of letters in a word, of words in a
sentence, and of relevant combinations of sentences in an act
of speech. In environmental science, there is species
interdependence; in economics, convergence of standard of
living through open markets and free trade. Holism about the
self in Western philosophy (an example is Plato’s tripartite
theory37), like Yoga, stresses potential harmony among the
parts of the being, physical, emotional, and mental. Yoga would
add to the list (beyond Plato) the self’s spiritual side. But
whatever its precise metaphysical theses, Yoga is a philosophy
that encourages psychological harmony and transformation
directed to greater integration and harmony from the inside.
So I propose that Yoga entertain a position on the mind-
body relation similar to what is called neutral monism, in the
coinage used to capture the position of William James that the
single stuff there is is intrinsically capable of both mental and
physical properties.38 Beyond James, we would see at least in
certain units (if not in everything) the disposition further to unify
and form complexes with emergent properties that are not
explained solely by the constituent parts. This principle could be
held to apply even to God, who, like Krishna on some
Vaishnava accounts, would seek out souls as much as being
sought out by them in bhakti. In a less minimal version of
metaphysical holism, the view might try to connect with biology,
chemistry, and physics by proposing that consciousness
emerges from an integration of coarse and subtle elements,
from influences ranging from the biological and physical to the
cultural and spiritual (adhyatmika).
But whether or not we try to reframe science, individual life
forms are complex unities, and self-determining human beings
are capable of mental and emotional unifications that transcend
an individual life. These would be, for instance, unifications with
cultural traditions, political movements, and so on, including,
through yoga, as taught in the Upanishads, a self that survives
death and, normally, reincarnates. Let me dub this view
minimalist spiritual holism, or New Yoga for short. In this
approach, precisely how high in ascending levels of subjectivity
(seventeen, as taught in some forms of tantric Shaivism?)
integration might proceed need not be specified.
The strength of dualistic interactionism—upholding of mental
causation—is shared by New Yoga. But also it has no quarrel
with the thesis that physical events can be causal factors for
mental events—the misunderstood truth of materialism. Our
position would encourage both brain science and mind-body
research in the reverse direction.
The best evidence for all this is the human body and its
health. Yogic practices harmonize our parts, thoughts, desires,
emotions, breath, self-awareness, and bodily movements, and
the result is both a great sense of wellness and its reality. For
metaphysical holism, there are also ecology and species
interdependences and other considerations that, as suggested,
provide buttressing. Everything we do helps to create a new
self or person and reverberates throughout the environment.
Unlike materialism, even such minimalist holism as this is
not a value-free metaphysics eschewing every kind of final
cause. The purposes of human beings both pack causal power
and are unifying at a high end, and spiritual unifications in yoga
suggest ever greater marvels of complex unities of
consciousness. At the low end, our nonsystematic holism would
promote hypotheses like that—already suggested by
philosophers mindful of the weaknesses of materialism—of a
physical-(proto) conscious stuff poised to form unities in atoms,
molecules, and indeed organisms.39
 Everything may be tightly unified in the fashion of the
systematic self-determinationism of theistic Vedanta, but the
Yoga sketched here is compatible with nontheistic positions,
such as the Buddhist and the Jaina. I repeat that whether there
is an upper limit to unification need not be decided. We need
enough theory to encourage self-development but not so much
that we would be required to solve theism’s problem of evil or to
dictate to physics and biology. And there is at least a grain of
truth, it seems to me, in the mysterian view, both the Advaita
and materialist versions. The dualism of Nyaya may be all that
is defensible philosophically, with “over-beliefs” strictly a matter
of faith (but more about this below). At the heart of Yoga is
commitment to two-directional causation, possibilities of self-
development, and, I should like to add, ecological responsibility
(this flows from a right understanding of karma, I shall argue).
But beyond providing a useful framework for yogic practices,
Yoga need not take a position, at least not inflexibly, on the
question of God, Brahman, the Dao, and so on. Yoga
philosophy is not theology, and is not an end in itself but is
subservient to self-development.40
Finally, the difficult question of compatibility with richer
systems of religious and spiritual conviction. Just now I
mentioned “over-beliefs”—the coinage belongs to William
James, who addresses the issue in the great classic, The
Varieties of Religious Experience.41 The American pragmatist
distrusted what he characterized as the excessively theoretical,
grandiose statements of traditional theology and indeed
religious institutions. But he found in mysticism and the
religious life of individuals much to recommend. He identified a
tiny core of justifiable religious doctrine, and encouraged his
audience to enlarge upon it insofar as such “over-belief”
contributed to an individual’s unique inner life.42 James’s
philosophic insight is that one knows about one’s own over-
beliefs that they are not to be displayed in company, that they
are idiosyncratic and not publicly justified or justifiable. But
James also felt that with this self-consciousness a belief in
divine providence, for example, could be important and entirely
within a person’s rights epistemically.
Should something similar be our attitude to explanations of
mind-body relations? Well, no! There are levels of theory. Yogic
principles based on mind-body correlations are a middle level of
theory, and some are quite concrete and warranted. There is an
ideal governing the ways, for example, we work at Downward
Dog, adho-mukha shvanasana. But that can be interpreted in
accord with a range of metaphysical theories. This is the central
point. James, in contrast, is talking about the question of God,
Brahman, etc., about which Yoga makes no final statement.
Alternatively, there is, as mentioned, the Jaina spiritual
relativism, which may endorse statements about God,
Brahman, and so on, but in full realization that they are justified
only “from a perspective” (naya: see the end of the second
section of chapter 3), that they do not get the highest rating of
epistemic confidence.
Particular teachers of yoga—and, more broadly, of spiritual
discipline—have framed yogic correlations in widely different
terms. What is significant, however, for our purposes is the
agreement. Though theologically opposed, Hindus, Buddhists,
Jainas, Sikhs, Christians (witness the “prayer of quiet” of Saint
Teresa43), Muslims, and modern gurus of programs of holistic
health proclaim many of the same laws of self-development. My
view is that what’s really important is to know the psychological
rules, the principles governing the yogic bandhas, for example,
or the opening of chakras as well as the more common
practices of asana and breath control. The occult psychological
teachings do require a little Yoga metaphysics, but just a little.
To be sure, certain yoga practices have a belief component,
or practice intentionality, directed to God—to Shiva, the Divine
Mother, Ram, Tara, the Creator, Dao, the Supreme Self, etc. I
take it that bhakti yoga would not be possible without such
intentionality (vishayata in Sanskrit, objecthood), directionality
of consciousness toward a supreme being. Surely reports of the
sacred entering life through yoga are to be taken seriously. To
someone steeped in bhakti, to recommend a strategy of
Jamesean over-belief for the purpose of philosophic legitimacy
may seem glibly dismissive. To such sentiment I say that this
book is not dismissive by any means, although I do wish to put
off most of the discussion of bhakti until chapter 5 (but at the
end of chapter 3 a theodicy is presented). For the present, only
a single observation will have to do, which, though apparently
negative, is offered in a (yogic) spirit of intellectual self-
discipline.
If the goal of bhakti is intimate relation with an unknown
amorant, a “lover” in an occult but sensuous sense, then who
cares about the precise theory of the relationship? Rupa
Gosvami (c. 1550) and others in the Vaishnava bhakti
movement do provide some theory, as we shall see in the final
section of chapter 5 on the “spark soul.” But it seems to me that
all we need is a rough idea and a sense of connectedness to
something larger than ourselves whom we can trust to see us
through life and death.
Here we find motivation to explore Yogic occult physiology,
as we shall in chapters 4 and 5. But here we also find a side of
the widespread Hindu doctrine of the ishta devata, preferred
divinity, that encourages one to worship the god or goddess of
her choice. The exaggerated epithets in hymns and poetry can
be just that, to wit, appropriate to the medium, and need not be
transplanted to philosophy. That the Advaitin Shankara wrote
moving bhakti poetry makes the case. God belongs to the world
of maya (illusion), according to the same author when wearing
his philosopher’s dhoti.44
Does, then, bhakti require that we compromise our best
awareness in metaphysics? Clearly not. Buddhists have long
differentiated the mindset of disputational philosophy from that
of devotion and worship, endorsing both as kinds of yoga.45 It
may well be that it is a better use of time to dance and sing than
to argue. Philosophy is notoriously dry, sans rasa. But this is
then all the more reason not to insist disputationally that others
see one’s own preferred divinity, ishta devata, as the Creator or
the one savior.
In bhakti something special is known, and the gopis
(cowgirls beloved of Krishna), like everyone else in their
sandals, are proud of being loved by the Lord. It is interesting
that in the Bhagavata Purana, when out of pride they become
boastful and boistrous, Krishna departs.46 In both West and
East, there are respectable traditions of fideism, operating on
the assumption that faith and philosophy are different. In the
second section of chapter 5, I shall develop the idea of the
indirect spiritual link as key to the thesis that a general idea of
God supporting bhakti requires only the notion of a mediated
relationship. That which stands at the far end of the bhakti
attitude may remain open-ended conceptually, though at the
near end we have intimacy.
The bottom line for us, then, is a dualism in the
Nyaya/Humean fashion and the irreducibility of self and
consciousness as follows from the truth of the self-
determination thesis, and, a little beyond that, minimalist
spiritual holism as sketched. Such is the siddhanta of New
Yoga. Further, given the main lines of previous Yoga
philosophy, I feel we should practice thinking about the
connections of mind and matter in a more expansive, spiritually
monist fashion—all is Brahman, Dao, empty, interdependent.
Such an exercise informs but need not determine the position
we take. As a Yoga philosopher, I will settle for, in addition to
dualist theses about the nonmaterial reality of self and
consciousness, a minimal version of spiritual holism. The self
can integrate instruments into itself, and there is a continuum in
the degree of responsiveness and assimilability among
subjectivities, perhaps (syat) all the way up to the Absolute.
Alternatively, let us embrace a philosophy of the One but in full
realization that it is “from a perspective” and not to any high
degree objectively warranted.
Such a position may not be inspirational, especially in the
couched terms in which it is expressed, but Yoga philosophy
need not be carried by rapturous speculation. The practices of
yoga promote mental quiet and control, and it seems noisy to
insist on the One becoming the Many. In yoga, we want
harmony and integration into the highest consciousness to
which we have access. Whether that be God, Brahman,
emptiness, Dao, or only some larger, more conscious self or
continuum—our secret soul, perhaps, that which survives death
and reincarnates—need not be decided right now. Though
holists in spirit, we are also inclusivists and therefore
minimalists (spiritual relativism, as in Jainism, is another option
for inclusivists). Such minimalism does not mean that we
cannot follow metaphysical flights of imagination
sympathetically, as the Jainas teach. Above all, it means that
we do not have prejudice against finding chakras in ourselves
or other phenomena or pathways relating us to nonphysical
beings or forces, especially, we may note, the grace of the
theists. Indeed, according to all Yoga philosophy the point is to
be open from the bottom up, psychologically or yogically and, I
should say, also intellectually as thinkers. So, beyond
resistance to reductive materialism and insistence on baseline
value for the powers of consciousness, it seems right to have
the attitude of the explorer and not the advocate when it comes
to the so-called ultimate questions. New Yoga is practice-
oriented and faith-neutral.
 3

Karma
Dispositions

Despite a widespread interpretation of “karma” as a kind of

fatalism, just the opposite is at the heart of the notion:
conscious shaping of natural desire, moral responsibility, and
freedom. Karma (karman in Sanskrit) is a rich concept, having
ramifications for ethics, epistemology, and philosophical
psychology as well as metaphysics, according to practically all
the schools of classical India. Through Buddhism, karma theory
is also developed in Tibetan and Chinese philosophy. For our
contemporary Yoga, the sense of “karma” in “karma yoga,” the
yoga of action, is particularly important, since it is central to the
Gita and other early yogic texts. Karma yoga is the topic of the
third section of this chapter. First, I shall pursue the idea’s
causal and cognitive sides in the broad terms of philosophic
psychology. The Yoga Sutra, for one, shows less concern for
the ethics of karma than for the psychological underpinnings of
karma in dispositions, samskara.
In the second section, I turn to karma’s ethical dimension,
looking at karma theory within the context of what philosophers
call virtue ethics and the problem of self-development—
including yoga practice—which is only one of several duties.
Separate duties may possibly conflict. However, in the classical
karma teaching, ethical push (What’s in it for me to be moral?)
is said to converge with ethical pull (What is it about others that
makes them worthy of moral treatment?), in that one has
special responsibility for and to one’s future self. This is
perhaps the most important dimension of the karma concept.
The best possibility, it is said, is to become an ahimsika, one
who practices ahimsa, nonharmfulness. This is viewed as the
highest virtue/duty on some Yoga theories, or as presupposed
in what is best and central, as in the Buddhist extolling of
compassion and friendliness (karuna and maitri).
The third section takes up the karma yoga teaching of the
Gita and its call to disinterested action, and begins to look more
closely at the social dimension of karma teaching. In the fourth
and final section, karma and rebirth are reviewed as doctrines
of moral justice, along with the theistic view that uses them to
defend the notion of God’s benevolence in the face of evil.
All four sections of the chapter are concerned with the best
presentations of karma theory among Yoga philosophers—and
indeed try to improve upon them—not with comic-book ideas
prevalent in popular culture.1
The word karman in Sanskrit has multiple meanings. The
most basic is action, anything that we do. Ritual action or
sacrifice is a second, narrower usage that is picked up in the
Gita’s karma yoga teaching, as will be explained. For the
moment, let us ignore the Gita’s sense to focus on the third,
habit, broadly understood, probably the most important
meaning for Yoga.
Everything we do creates habits. Our karma is comprised of
the habits we have acquired. Habits condition desires. We act
in certain ways with expectations of the normal fruits. Now
desires may be by nature, occurring willy-nilly (though
Buddhists, for one, tend to deny that anything is willy-nilly).
Habits, however, clearly are our own responsibility, or our
culture’s,2 which we assimilate, or not, as individuals. Though
habits shape future action, we create them in part through
current choice and enactment. We endorse desires and their
expressions through choice, making or reaffirming habitual
patterns. Karma in the sense of the habits we have acquired
determines what we are prone to do. We can make new karma,
or new bits of karma, in changing what we are prone to do.
 Nevertheless, as used in Yogic texts, Sanskrit karman is not
the equivalent of “habit” as used in English. Karman is, at least
in some usages, a collective noun, like “water” in English. We
can say that there is a sum total around a single soul or person
of bits of karma, and speak of someone’s karma as a whole.
Unfortunately for translators, we cannot say the same of a
person’s habits. (The sum of a person’s habits could be called
her character.) The words “habits” and “karma” are therefore
not synonyms. For habits necessarily individuate, like rivers or
ruts.
I propose, then, to use “karma” as an English word. Indeed,
“karma” is an English word, long ago anglicized. In our usage,
karma can be spoken of as a generalized line of action
(“Murder is bad karma”), but, as mentioned, it can also be
summed up. The moral worth of karma both aggregates like
buckets of water poured into a tub and individuates with respect
to certain acts; for example, a single act of murder has its own
karmic repercussions, no matter how good the overall score.3
The “moral payback” dimension of the theory to be examined in
the third and fourth sections relies on both aspects. A particular
rebirth depends on the aggregate, according to the mainstream
theories, but there are also individual lines of karma, i.e., habits,
that are said to continue. It is held that some become so deeply
entrenched that they reemerge in the next birth as talents or
deep dispositions, as will be discussed. The soul is not a tabula
rasa, according to Yoga.
A person’s habits are maintained subconsciously—Yoga
theorists are largely in accord here—through things called
traces or dispositions, samskara, more literally, that which
makes fit, a being-preparedness. These are in part, though not
entirely, conditional formulas impressed on the mind or even
the brain—let us leave open for the moment their precise
location (in the body or bodies we inhabit simultaneously,
physical, pranic, mental, etc., according to Vedantic and tantric
psychology).
In the simple conception of the Yoga Sutra (YS), formulas
shape “mind-stuff,” chitta, which also has a vital side,4 to
constitute samskara. In other words, mental dispositions have
both a mental and a pranic or vital side—the latter an energy
vector or coloring characterized as “sattvic,” “rajasic,” and/or
“tamasic,” the modes or gunas of the psychology of the YS as
well as of the Gita and other texts. The three words represent
the traditional theory of natural “strands” of which mind-stuff is
composed: sattva, intelligence and clarity, rajas, passion and
energy, and tamas, obscurity and inertia. This is a universal
and natural inheritance. Specific formations are determined by
choice and practice.
Other schools build on these ideas. In Nyaya, for instance,
not all samskara are psychological. Something with elasticity or
impetus, for example, a falling rock, is said to possess
samskara as a physical property, something like potential
energy.5 Psychological samskara, like those that have only
physical effects, are not perceived, at least not normally
perceived, but rather posited to explain things perceived, like
the measles virus that was postulated to explain measles long
before it was microscopically identified. These mental
dispositions, sometimes called traces or impressions, constitute
the subconscious vehicles of karma and are considered causal
factors for a range of psychological phenomena, including
remembering and any activity guided by what we have learned.
Thus karma includes training, and samskara are the
dispositions we acquire by learning how to do all the things we
do, from speaking to asanas.
According to classical philosophers across schools, mental
dispositions are formed by perceptions and other cognitive
occurrences, including intentions and efforts to act along with
actions. Training involves repetition and a kind of circularity, a
disposition required to know what to do and the same
disposition reinforced by the doing. For example, writing your
name requires memory of the name, and the doing of the
writing reinforces the memory. The same goes for our ability to
recognize something that we have perceived previously (“This
is that Devadatta I saw yesterday” is the stock example in
classical texts). Thus samskara—a very broad idea in the
Sanskrit philosophical lexicon—function to maintain both
cognitive continuity and bodily skills.
Though samskara are theoretic entities, the theory is
nevertheless broadly empiricist, much like the empiricism of
David Hume’s “impressions.”6 A simple version with respect to
cognitive occurrences runs: a perception indicating a tree as as
a banyan produces a samskara that when aroused helps to
bring about a remembering, an effort, or another psychological
event with the same indication (a banyan tree). Perception is
the premier cognitive link with everything known, according to
almost all Yoga traditions; yogic perception is an extraordinary
knowledge source nonetheless reliable in connecting us to
inner realities (see the third section of chapter 4 on the
epistemology of yogic perception). Yoga philosophy is therefore
empiricist. But not everything we know is a matter of the
immediately given. To know objects around us, samskara—
mental dispositions—make inference and other modes of
knowledge, such as testimony, possible. As indicated, these
dispositions are themselves known indirectly (that is, by
ordinary folk—some yogins can directly perceive samskara,
according to the YS 3.18 and commentaries) by the knowledge
source called postulation (arthapatti), according to some.
According to others, they are known by inference. Again, they
are posited to explain memory, expectation, fulfillment,
frustration, and other cognitive continuities. Accordingly, there
are many types of mental samskara.
Beyond this simple theory—and especially concerning the
metaphysics of samskara—there is quite a lot of diversity of
opinion in classical texts. Buddhists conceive of samskara as
causal continua,7 whereas Vedic traditions tend to think of them
as marks or relational properties, stamps or impressions resting
in the self or soul, or in the chitta—in any case, in a substance.
But practically all contributors to Yoga philosophy—Patanjali
and company, Vedantins, Buddhists, Nyaya philosophers,
Jainas, tantrics, and others—theorize about subconscious
samskara. They form psychological bridgework. Whether it be
something in this lifetime or something in a previous lifetime
that is being remembered currently, we are not directly aware of
the vehicles of remembering, and we do not constantly hold
before our minds information acquired in the past. Yet the
information is retrievable, like patterns or programs in a
computer. Dispositions, samskara, comprise the storage bank.
Some samskara are stored in the physical body, but not all.
Otherwise, it would be impossible to remember incidents in
previous lifetimes or, indeed, have any kind of karmic continuity
from one life to the next.
Such mental dispositions are also considered by most of the
classical theorists to be vehicles of desire and impulses to act.
Our habits have an affective and motivational side. We are born
beings of hunger and thirst, sexual desire, who want to survive,
and so on. Often we endorse these basic drives when we act.
Yoga teaches that in principle will trumps desire, and Jaina
traditions in particular show that a person can commit suicide
(i.e., bodily suicide, not elimination of the self) by not eating.
The motivational and affective side of the theory is perhaps the
most interesting. But let us concentrate a little more first on the
cognitive side of samskara as presupposed in knowledge and
action. Here we may again turn to Nyaya.
 Veridical cognitions shape the mental vehicles that guide
unhesitating effort and action, action that we expect to be in
accord with our desires. A person can be lucky and get what
she wants guided by a false belief, but, generally speaking,
success requires knowledge and knowledge requires beliefs
formed by genuine knowledge sources.8 For example, a
perception of a pot forms a disposition to remember it, which,
when triggered in an actual remembering, would prompt—given
desire to drink—unhesitating effort and action, to fetch the
thing. Thus the notion of justified true belief so central to
millennia of Western epistemology has much in common with,
in classical Indian philosophy, that of samskara formed by
veridical cognitions that are the results of knowledge sources,
perception, and the rest.9 Our habits include our beliefs, which
are maintained by samskara.
Note, furthermore, the importance of samskara to explain
perceptual illusion (as well as other types of cognitive error),
what classical Yoga philosophers call pseudo-perception
(pseudo-testimony, etc.). For example, a person apparently
sees a snake when the thing in front of him is really a rope. We
can imagine that from the subject’s own perspective the object
seems alive. In other words, that the thing is a snake seems to
be given perceptually. But at work would be a samskara that
under normal conditions would prompt a remembering and in
the deviant conditions of perceptual error has fused into the
current pseudo-perception a snakehood bit of intentionality. (I
use here a philosophic term of art to translate the Sanskrit
vishayata, which is more literally objecthood.) The person’s
nonveridical cognition has misplaced intentionality (vishayata);
it presents something (the rope) not as what it is (a snake).10
This objecthood, this misplaced intentionality or content comes
from samskara.
Similarly, people perceive a piece of distant sandalwood as
fragrant, having actual sense data of the smell though the wood
is too far away for connection with the olfactory organ of the
body, located in the nose.11 Such phenomena show
dramatically that the mind can retrieve sensory information and
project it into current experience. The process is made possible
by samskara, which make acquired information available later.
Classical Yoga epistemology is dominated by a causal
picture, a view of processes that result in veridical cognition,
and samskaras are important causal factors. The gods and
goddesses perceived yogically, for example, in occult
experience are considered realities—Buddhism and Buddhist-
influenced texts such as the eleventh-century Yoga-vashishta
aside—and real contact with them viewed as responsible for
the experiences. Similarly, samskaras play a role in intentional
action, whether in the physical universe or other worlds.
Cognitions informed by samskaras guide action, and
conversely we make samskaras by what we do. This holds in
general. A common biological inheritance is individuated
through karma. According to Nyaya’s interactive dualism, we
carve out individual selves by choices and intentions to do,
including choices made in previous lives. We make our own
peculiar habits, which are both good and bad, and include,
potentially, dispositions—so Yogic texts emphasize—to practice
yoga and, indeed, to maintain the practice into the next lifetime
—in the famous soul-making conception of the Gita (6.40–45;
see appendix B)—if we do not reach the goal in this one.
Yoga theists and tantrics have a picture of self-
determination that begins with God’s emitting the Goddess
(devi, shri), who gives birth to and nurtures individual
determinations that are, to reverse the image, determinations
from the top, that is to say, not the result of karma created by
us but divine self-determinations. Shiva lets forth Shakti, who
manifests herself as us and all the things of the world. This
world picture makes karma less important than it is in—to pick
just one school—Mimamsa, Exegesis, the school most devoted
to interpretation of the Vedas and therefore to understanding
the fundamental principles of language. Mimamsakas see
karma as absolutely central to the constitution of the universe,
transcending the gods and the goddesses (there is no single
supreme person on this view).
But although dismissive of karma by Mimamsaka lights, the
tantric view of divine self-determination has plenty of room for
determinations we make. Here the creatrix seems a lot like the
logos or divine mind of Western theology, and karma fills in the
forms. Instead of everything coming up from below and a
conception of common karma of the human species and so
forth, on this competing conception, certain patterns—like
Plato’s Forms—would be imposed from the top.12
In the YS, Patanjali uses the idea of samskara to explain the
training whereby one becomes capable of sustaining the
deepest trance, which is, according to him, the ultimate goal of
yoga practice from a psychological perspective. Patanjali’s ideal
is of a person who does not lose consciousness while asleep
and indeed maintains yogic trance, samadhi, at all times. This
is only possible through the yogin’s having created samadhi
dispositions (samskara) from previous days (and indeed
previous lives). Then through the attraction of the dualist
metaphysics, Patanjali has these special meditational
dispositions not only block other samskara firings but also, so to
say, burn themselves up, self-destruct, leaving no seed (YS
1.51). In other passages, the YS says that we have to learn not
to trigger samskara firings as well as not to be distracted by
current firings triggered by whatever cause. This is an important
theme throughout the text.13
In everyday life, many triggers of projection and memory are
ordinarily not under our control. So it is easy to see the logic of
Patanjali’s teaching. In the YS, yoga practices are all about
acquiring control, the special concern being control of thought
and emotion, with the ability to hold quiet mental chatter. Before
moving on to the ethical dimensions of the karma conception,
let me fill out a bit further, with respect to samskara, the picture
in the YS of the yogin who has perfect control.
In consonance with his or her learning to hold still all
fluctuations of mentality (chitta-vritti-nirodha, YS 1.2), a yogin
learns to be able to check the firings of samskara. However, the
checking itself is a conscious act, creating or reinforcing a
samskara of silence. At some point, a last samskara firing fires
at itself and burns itself up, freeing the consciousness to attend
only to consciousness. Note that all the action occurs—in
consonance with the faulty metaphysics of dualism discussed in
the previous chapter—on the side of nature, prakriti. It has
nothing, ultimately, to do with what we are, with ourselves as
the authors of our acts, even our acts of concentration. The YS
identifies kaivalya, the aloneness of the individual
consciousness, with the psychological notion of “seedless
trance,” nirbija samadhi (YS 1.51 and 3.8), “trance without any
seed [of a samskara that would force one back to the waking
state].” Ultimately, conscious effort is not what carries one to
kaivalya. Only prakriti, in arising without distorting subliminal
“seeds,” has the ability to do this.
Different views are presented in Vedanta and still other
views in Buddhism. Briefly, on all Yoga philosophies, samskara
are talked about in connection with being able to sustain
concentration and achieve occult powers or siddhis. These in
turn connect with conceptions of the goal or goals of yoga,
including views about a supreme personal good. Every school’s
explanation of a summum bonum is peculiar to the particular
school, and thus samskara are thought of ultimately in
accordance with preconceived ideas about the fundamental
nature of reality.
Abhinava Gupta, for example, a famous tantric of the
Kashmiri Shaivite movement who lived around 950 (see the
introduction to appendix D), sees the self, the true or highest
self, atman, as potentially active and as originating samskara in
primordial creative acts. Divine samskara are, in this tantric
conception, instantiated in the mudra, the gestures, the
mantras, the words said, the facial expressions, the postures of
the yogin in identification with Shiva in mystic trance
(samadhi).14 Psychologically, the picture is of a tabula rasa
upon which Shiva himself writes, a tablet wiped clean of
obfuscating samskara by yoga, in which Shiva embeds a divine
samskara, a seal with magical power to bring those who imitate
it, repeat it, or otherwise align with it to taste themselves the
sweetness of the trance dance of Shiva’s pulsation, spanda.
Similarly, in the Gita Krishna teaches that Brahman, the
Absolute, is active, making dharma (patterns of right action)
without making karma in some sense, though there is no
explicit mention of samskara. Whole traditions of Vedantins
seem to think that samskara make up the body, the subtle
body, that is, the sukshma sharira, of the transmigrating soul,
even though the relation between self-consciousness, or
atman, and the reincarnating individual is conceived very
differently by Advaitins and by Vedantic theists (and the theists
themselves hardly agree).
Despite all the diversity of connecting theory, everyone
holds that your acts as well as your experiences make up a
large part of who you are and who you will be in future births,
even though some factors, such as self-awareness, are given
from above, being self-determinations, according to some
theorists. On all views, dispositions, samskara, provide crucial
connections in terms of information and tendencies to act.
Buddhists embrace largely these same views, though, as
mentioned, Buddhist philosophers see samskara as causal
continua, in contrast with Hindu or Vedic views (of Vedantins,
Nyaya philosophers, etc.) of samskara as properties of a self or
a substance. Buddhists for their part eschew all notions of
enduring substances and thus weave into their psychologies of
samskara commitments to doctrines of momentariness and “no-
self.” The question of what survives death will be taken up in
chapter 4. There too we shall survey the Buddhist–Nyaya
controversy about personal identity (What makes the present
person continuous with the person she was in the past?) And
we shall revisit translife identity in the very last section of
chapter 5.
Finally, a historical note on the ethical dimensions of karma
theory. The karma idea first appears in the Upanishads, where
the main point seems to be that virtue is its own reward. This
holds for this lifetime and our reincarnations. A passage from
the Brihadaranyaka (c. 800 B.C.E.), 3.2.10:

“Yajnavalkya,” said he [Jaratkarava], “when the voice of a dead man

goes into fire, his breath into wind, his eye into the sun, his mind into
the moon, his hearing into the quarters of earth, his body into the
earth, his soul (atman) into space, the hairs of his head into plants,
the hairs of his body into trees, and his blood and semen are placed
in water, what then becomes of this person (purusha)?”
“Artabhaga, my dear, take my hand. We two only will know of this.
This is not for us two to speak of in public.”
The two went away and deliberated. What they said was karma.
What they praised was karma. Verily, one becomes good by good
action, bad by bad action.15

Jaratkarava’s question targets personal survival, and the

answer seems to be that only karma survives. The word used
for “person” is purusha, which connotes the fully particular
individual, whereas the dead man’s atman (“self” would be a
better translation than “soul”) is said to merge into ether,
akasha, translated above as “space.” As in the later Katha
Upanishad (see appendix A), the question of survival concerns
the person as an individual, not as the cosmic self, atman.
Anticipating the Buddhist positions of no-self and karmic
continuity, the Upanishad identifies karma as key to a translife
personal identity. It is also the most important element in the
composite that makes up the living man or woman. Karma can
be good or bad, including, presumably, the karma that shapes a
subsequent birth: “Verily, one becomes good by good action,
bad by bad action.”
Thus samskara are conceived to underpin an appeal to self-
interest that is a foundation of morality. What’s wrong with
being a thief? Well, your choice to be a thief binds you to being
a thief, a karmic pattern that determines what you’ll be like
tomorrow and next month and next year and in a decade.16 But
the body ages and dies, and strategies to make life as pleasant
as possible might prudentially include thievery. Against this, the
Upanishadic idea is its rebirth teaching. Imagine determining
yourself unendingly, choosing to be a thief not only in this
lifetime but into another and endless incarnations. Contrast this
with one who acts now compassionately and begins to become
forever compassionate. Which would one want to be?
Then there is a second consideration: put crudely, payback,
future pain and suffering or future pleasure and happiness. In
the Buddhist conception, some karma leads to stable
experiences of happiness while other leads to pain, and, unlike
in the theistic view where God guarantees the justice of
payback, it happens as natural law. Mimamsa has a similar
theory. In endless rebirths, not only are you stuck with what you
are but also, if you are a legitimate target, watch out, for in
beginningless transmigration it’s guaranteed, in either this or
another body.
Ahimsa, Nonharmfulness

The Upanishadic claim that yoga leads to discovery of a

universal self, atman, is taken to have ethical implications, in
particular that we should practice ahimsa, nonharmfulness (also
translated “noninjury” and “nonviolence”17). Similarly, the
ubiquity of sentience in Jaina cosmology and the universal
accessibility of nirvana in Buddhism are said to necessitate an
ethics of ahimsa, according to both classical and modern
authorities. And the list of five “social restraints” (yama) in the
Yoga Sutra begins with nonharmfulness (YS 2.30: see
appendix C). No one can say that only her preferred
metaphysics entails ahimsa, but each of several positions
seems sufficient to justify, motivate, and explain the practice.
My own view is that the ethics of Yoga can be constructed
independently from Yoga metaphysics. (Buddhists too tend to
take this position about the relation between ethics and
metaphysics.) But it is instructive to review the ways previous
Yoga philosophies have found a relation between the deep
nature of ourselves and reality and prescriptions about what we
should and should not do. In practically all Yoga philosophies,
ethics begins with ahimsa.18
Yoga and practice of ahimsa are said to have, furthermore,
a converse side, fearlessness, namely, transcendence of life’s
evils. We also learn this first in the Upanishads. The Isha (c.
500 B.C.E.) makes the connection with yogic self-discovery in a
common theme: realization of a cosmic self (atman) brings
freedom from sorrow. Verse 7: “Those who see all beings as in
the self alone And the self in all beings, henceforth do not recoil
(from anything). For whom all beings are known as just self, For
him how can there be delusion? How can there be grief? For he
sees (everywhere) unity.”19 There is only the single self, the
knowledge of which banishes fear and grief.20 Conversely, we
practice ahimsa, trying to see others as ourself or having the
same self as we.
From the Gita (6.32): “Who sees through the lens of likeness
to self the same everywhere, Arjuna, whether pleasure and
happiness or pain and suffering, that yogin is deemed the very
best.” The commentary by Shankara (c. 700 C.E., the oldest and
most important classical interpreter) takes the words “pain and
suffering” to mean the pain and suffering of others, who dislike
it just as one dislikes one’s own pain and suffering. Similarly
with the favorable attitudes of all toward pleasure and
happiness. Shankara:

As to me pleasure is desired, so to all beings with breath pleasure is

agreeable.… And as what pain or suffering is mine is disagreeable,
disliked, in that way for all beings with breath pain and suffering are
disliked, disagreeable. So it is explained that one who, seeing the
same in all beings, sees through the lens of likeness to self pleasures
and pains as similarly regarded by all, well, such a person does not
do anything disagreeable to anyone, becoming an ahimsika, one who
desires no harm—this is the verse’s meaning. The one who is in this
way an ahimsika, firmly settled in a vision of equality, is deemed (i.e.,
considered) the very best yogin, preeminent among all.21

In line with Advaita Vedanta metaphysics, Shankara interprets

the self mentioned here and elsewhere in the Gita as identical
in everyone. The discipline to be practiced to realize it includes
seeing others as like oneself. Thus Shankara and hosts of later
Vedantic interpreters, including of rival subschools, tie the
practices of ahimsa to both a yogic goal and a conception of
commonality, or identity, of consciousness.
 Jainas, like Buddhists, reject Vedanta and the institutions of
Hinduism, but not of course yoga practices or ahimsa.
According to Jaina doctrine, everything is sentient. There is a
hierarchy of consciousness, some beings having only a single
sense faculty, two, three, and so on. Human beings have
eleven sense faculties: five external senses of knowledge and
five more of action, along with manas, the inner sense, and
buddhi, rational intelligence. There is a corresponding hierarchy
in the prescription of ahimsa. Since a goat or a cow has, like us,
eleven sense organs (counting manas but not buddhi), it is not
just monks and nuns who should try not to harm such a
creature. But, unlike the rest of us, a monk or nun makes effort
not to harm anyone in any fashion, for she or he aspires for
perfection, or the supreme good, immediately. A householder,
in contrast, is not expected to aspire for the supreme good in
this lifetime but only for the good karma that will ensure a
similarly situated reincarnation. Thus a householder need not
practice extreme ahimsa, while monks and nuns are enjoined to
radical restraint, e.g., wearing masks not to harm even insects.
Within Buddhism, ethical injunctions, although thought of as
standing on their own, are at least implicitly supported by a
metaphysics of interconnectedness. The doctrine is especially
prominent in northern Buddhism or Mahayana—the “Great
Vehicle” (“great” because it is to carry all sentient beings to
awakening and bliss)—which emerged in approximately the first
century B.C.E. and spread throughout northern Asia (Tibet,
China, Korea, Japan). In Sanskrit the position is, more
precisely, pratitya-samutpada, interdependent origination:
everything is born under the influence of everything else and
influences everything.22
Perhaps the most interesting argument for ahimsa draws on
the idea of likeness of self that we have seen in Shankara’s
interpretation of the Gita, where there is no explicit appeal to
self-interest. But prudential reasons are also given. Both types
of argument are found throughout the long and expansive
history of Indian thought. First the prudential reasoning, which
has two parts, a high road and a low road.
The high road is the view that by developing the virtue of
ahimsa one becomes fit for supreme felicity, the supreme
personal good, parama purushartha. Every classical view of a
summum bonum is continuous with every other, the goals
conceptualized as self-realization, liberation from rebirth,
enlightenment, immortal bliss, nirvana, and so on. Despite the
variety, practices of ahimsa were and are almost universally
considered to have instrumental value for the ultimate good.
One must practice ahimsa to achieve the best for oneself.
Nonharmfulness is yoga.
On the high road the prudential is argued not to be just a
matter of self-interest: in seeking the supreme good, concern
for self and concern for others coincide. Although the summum
bonum is personal, it has social value: the liberated
(enlightened) act for the benefit of everyone, “to hold together
the worlds,” in the phrase of the Gita. A buddha’s career after
enlightenment is to serve (seva).
The low road relies on the teaching that virtue is its own
reward—an Upanishadic thesis that all Yoga philosophies
accept, including, in a modified form, tantrics and Vedantic
theists. Each of us is responsible for making ourselves the
people we are and will become. This is one side of the truth of
karma. Now the best sort of person into which to make oneself,
both now and in lives to come, is a person who practices
ahimsa.
Karma also involves payback or justice. We get what we
deserve, whether in this or another incarnation. Thus we should
practice nonharmfulness in order to avoid suffering on our own
part. The cosmos, in its laws of reincarnation, embodies
principles of moral retribution, whether explained, as in
Mahayana Buddhism, as due to interconnectedness (pratitya-
samutpada) or, within Vedantic theism, as God’s justice or, in
other views, as simply an autonomous and impersonal cosmic
force (adrishta, the unseen force).
In support of these lines of prudential reasoning, an analogy
to expert testimony is drawn. As only an expert craftsperson
has the capacity to judge precisely what is good within the
domain of the craft, only a person who is himself or herself of
good character is an expert on character. Yogins and yoginis
practice ahimsa, sometimes in extreme forms. These people
are the experts, wise about the good. One makes oneself like
them by behaving as they do.
Then there is the content of the expert testimony, the words
of the yogins and their spokespersons, of Mahavira and the
Buddha and Krishna. Of course, as we have seen, a person
would not be regarded as an accomplished yogin (at least not
genuinely accomplished, a true yogin or yogini) if he or she
were not to practice ahimsa.23 Nevertheless, by analogy to any
expertise, the circularity is not vicious, so it stands that, as
taught by the moral experts, we should practice ahimsa.
In a second broad group of arguments, nonharmfulness is
defended by an idea of likeness of self, atman, as we have
seen with Shankara’s interpretation of the Gita. Jainas,
however, probably should be credited for innovating the line of
reasoning, which in an old version runs: everything that is
conscious hates injury, and the fact that others are like oneself
in being conscious and hating injury demands the practices of
ahimsa. From the Acharanga Sutra (c. 350 B.C.E.): “If you say
that suffering is pleasing to you, your answer is contradictory to
what is self-evident.… And just as suffering is painful to you, in
the same way it is painful to all animals, living beings,
organisms, and sentient beings. [Therefore, one should practice
ahimsa.]”24 Respect for others flows from seeing them as like
oneself. Other traditions repeat the reasoning more or less
explicitly, as in the quote above from Shankara.
The eloquent arguments of the Buddhist philosopher
Shantideva (c. 700 C.E.) target compassion, the central Buddhist
virtue, not ahimsa. Compassion is said to comprise ahimsa
within a larger concern to eliminate suffering, not just to avoid
bringing it about. But the considerations he advances also
promote ahimsa, and they center on likeness of self or person.
Indeed, since there is no nugget of self that endures and
suffers, but rather just sufferings—our identities are all fictions,
what’s important are psychological processes—he reasons that
we should be as concerned to eliminate the suffering of others
as we are to eliminate our own.25
The virtue of ahimsa tops the list in the Yoga Sutra of
(social) “restraints” (YS 2.30: nonharmfulness, truth-telling,
nonstealing, sexual restraint, and nonpossessiveness are the
yamas constituting the first limb of the eight-limbed ashtanga
yoga of Patanjali), and is central in living traditions of yoga
practice.26
Here is, in sum, profound convergence of moral constraint
and self-interest. We must appreciate that nonharmfulness is,
first of all, an attitude one is to take toward oneself. In the Yoga
Sutra, not to mention modern yoga studios, ahimsa is tied to
santosha, self-acceptance (YS 2.29–35, 2.42). The idea is not
to injure yourself in yoga practice, to “honor the body,” even as
in the short term the pain of the postures, breath control, or
meditation becomes intense. In the studio, ahimsa means
principally not hurting yourself. One listens and responds to
bodily feedback, and learns not to push too hard. The whole
advantage of asanas can be lost otherwise. Yoga is a
conscious process, learning the body’s kinks and patiently
straightening them out, or not, depending on bodily signals.
Consonantly, the theoretical foundation of a socially oriented
ahimsa—that since in reality we are one in self or spirit (atman),
or interconnected, etc., we should practice nonharmfulness—
presupposes that ahimsa toward oneself is both right and
natural.27
Nonharmfulness is a principle to apply to oneself, not just to
others.28 But this advice is not merely prudential, for the “pull” of
one’s future self, the self one is helping to make right now, is, it
may be argued, the weightiest of moral forces. There is no
person to whom one owes greater responsibility, since over
others, except in unusual circumstances, one has no
comparable power to make and shape what the person is.
Pregnant women and parents whose children are very young
are, perhaps, exceptions. (The pregnant seem to be the
“exception that proves the rule,” since a mother-to-be doing
yoga shapes for the better [at least] two future selves.)
Nevertheless, it is only over ourselves that we have decisive
influence, and thus there is a special duty to our own good
future self or person. Nonharmfulness applied to oneself
provides push to self-development, and, indeed, to yoga
practice, which is at minimum a special form of self-
development, a kind of prophylactic or immunization to harm.
Consonantly, we may note the contemporary movement in
medicine to recognize asanas as preventive practice and
essential to holistic health.
Interpreters of Yoga philosophy have been perplexed by a
corollary to doctrines about self-discipline, namely, that social
morality (dharma) can be superseded by exigencies of the
path.29 But, coming now to my main argument, it is a mistake to
view Yoga ethics so narrowly as to be derived from the notion
of a supreme good. In fact, the teaching about the path’s
potentially superseding customary moral dictates blocks
deductions of social norms from the conception of a yogic goal.
This is apparently hard for some to appreciate. The point is not
that there is a Yoga brand of ethics but that Yoga teaches goals
that sometimes compete with other-directed duties, like having
fun versus doing a chore.30 Yoga and the duty of self-
development carry moral weight, but I should not like to hold
that they are the only moral considerations.31
Moreover, a common supplement to Yoga self-development
teachings is the advice not to disturb the minds of those who
are not practitioners by revealing powers and encouraging them
prematurely to practice advanced forms of self-discipline. Other
consciousnesses are more or less ready for one or another
step along a spiritual path, and people vary in the obstacles
they face. So, by and large, one should leave others alone. You
cannot really do much of anything for them, but you can for
yourself.32
Interestingly, ahimsa was supported by metaphysicians in
classical India by argument not so much from a concrete
conception of the truly real (though the tactic was tried by
some) but from the premise (just now alluded to) that beings
are deluded in a variety of fashions and that each
consciousness has its own route to freedom.33 Nonharmfulness
means noninterference. Consonantly, in tantric traditions, which
view the summum bonum as perfection of the individual and not
just reabsorption in the One (or dissolution in nirvana, etc.),
paths of development—svadharma, a person’s own individual
dharma—are said to vary. True, the warning is repeated that no
one can create a successful à la carte spiritual practice. The
mind that is choosing what to include and what to exclude is an
obstructed, unenlightened mentality that will often reject
something necessary. But the particularity of obstructions and
progress explains why gurus give different instructions to
different disciples, and helps to uphold a certain pluralism
among yogic methods.
 It seems, then, that Yoga should encourage a libertarian
social ethic, and indeed embrace a value pluralism. (Compare
the oft-cited list of four distinct values in Hinduism
corresponding to different life stages [ashrama] or
circumstances: kama, pleasure, especially sexual pleasure;
artha, wealth; dharma, familial and community duty; and
moksha, liberation, the transcendent goal of yoga.) We leave
people alone to pursue their own ends, to make their own
selves or persons. Self-determination, in the individualist sense,
is to be respected. I make me and you you.
This reading is right as far as it goes, but it leaves out the
convergence of moral push and pull in karma theory and yogic
self-development. Practicing nonharmfulness is good karma,
making us better people morally. Not to smoke is a practice
required by respect for a future self, the self to whose lung
cancer or other illness I may well contribute were I to develop
the habit. Looked at this way, not smoking is a duty to self on
par with duties not to subject others to harm. A distinction
between self-regarding and other-regarding action may be
fundamental for law and political philosophy, but in ethics it is
more fundamental to see others and self as comparable.34
Classical Jaina thinkers appear to practice nonharmfulness
even in the controversies of philosophy. The Jaina
metaphysical position—called anekanta-vada, the doctrine of
many-sidedness, the view that no one view (exclusively) is
correct, commonly rendered nonabsolutism—has at its
methodological heart effort to find a grain of truth in every
theory. Although difficult to accomplish, the promise seems in
good faith: Jainas enjoy the reputation of being the best
historians of ideas among the philosophic authors, at pains to
represent fairly a range of positions, whereas polemical
misrepresentation is common elsewhere. Furthermore, Jaina
metaphysicians do try to synthesize opposed positions. As
mentioned in the previous chapter, such relativism/pluralism is
an alternative to our New Yoga minimalism as a strategy for
maintaining an inclusivist outlook. Inclusivism, in the Jaina view,
is a requirement of the yoga of ahimsa.
Nonabsolutism, anekanta-vada—a positive pluralism of
perspectives—is the position that reality is so rich that it makes
true, with qualifications, every intellectual stance. Thus the
Jaina metaphysics, unlike Buddhist and Nietzschean
perspectivalism, is not a form of skepticism but rather a bold
promise of reconciliation of apparently opposed points of view.
Or, as a skepticism it targets only the exclusivism, or
absolutism, that partisans propose for their preferred positions,
blind to the truth in their opponents’ theories. In other words,
Jainas do not set out to challenge even the most general
positive claims about the nature of everything or an underlying
reality. The point is not to deny but to affirm, to affirm seemingly
incompatible perspectives. A special sevenfold logic—called
sapta bhangi, seven styles (seven combinations of three truth
values, truth, falsity, and indeterminacy), also called syad-vada,
“maybe-ism”—was developed to facilitate the disarming of
controversy. Here are the weapons of intellectual ahimsa.
There is a similar metaphilosophical position in Buddhism,
the avoiding of extremes, anta, advocated by Nagarjuna and
his “school of the Middle,” Madhyamika. What distinguishes the
Buddhist skeptic and the Jaina perspectivalist is that the former
rejects, while the latter accepts, the gist of an extreme position.
To take a simple example, Jainas argue that Buddhist
Yogachara doctrines of momentariness, etc., at the one end
and Vedantic doctrines of permanence, etc., on the other are
complementary and incomplete without each other, whereas
the Madhyamika would reject both as departing from the
middle.
The limits to Jaina inclusivism are only practical, but very
real nonetheless. Even nonabsolutism is viewed as
nonabsolute, subject to the logic of the “maybe,” despite
opponents’ allegations of self-refutation—nonabsolutism as
purportedly presenting itself as absolutely true, as the Vedantin
Shankara alleges. But there is no self-referential inconsistency
in application of perspectivalism to itself, although some
modern interpreters, apparently following Shankara, would also
label it absolutist.35 Only an omniscient being would be able to
comprehend all viewpoints. There are no true, false, or even
indeterminate propositions outside of a framework, a vada, a
theory or perspective of interlocking beliefs, that is to say, a
naya, standpoint. And a special logic governs standpoints.
The Jaina sapta bhangi, a septad of styles or manners of
valuation of truth, is comprised of all combinations of three truth
values, truth (+), falsity (−), and indeterminacy (0):36

+, −, 0, +−, +0, −0, +−0

Because of the three truth values, this has been

misinterpreted as a paraconsistent or multivalued logic invented
to resolve logical paradoxes and the problem, known to
Aristotle, of the indeterminate truth value of some statements
about the future, so-called future contingents. But the Jainas’ is
not a logic of truth-functional connectives. Rather, it is a
hermeneutical tool. All truths are truths only from a perspective,
but some are true to us and, so far as we know, to everyone.
Even if we are not aware of controversy concerning the claim
that something a is F, this is still only from a perspective, and
there may be a perspective in which a is not F or in which it
cannot be determined whether it is. We presume, without
contrary advice, that a is F (or that the proposition p is true), but
we do so fallibilistically—the syad in syad-vada means that a
claim is presumptively true, false, indeterminate, and so on
(“may well be _____” is a better translation). No claim is
immune from the possibility of error. Nevertheless, some
claims, or cognitions, are false, or nonveridical, from our own
point of view and every point of view that we know of, and some
are indeterminate, avaktavya, it is impossible to say. On the
classical Indian scene, Advaita Vedanta is the philosophy
famous for proposing a third truth value, the inexplicable,
anirvachaniya, which holds for statements about the
relationship of Brahman to the phenomenal display: we cannot
know as finite individual knowers what the world looks like from
Brahman’s viewpoint. Jainas use the category of the
indeterminate similarly to classify apparently unanswerable
questions.37
So what of the combinations of truth, falsity, and
indeterminacy, the final four of the septad? In recognizing that a
claim can be simultaneously true and false, or another
combination, the Jaina view again relativizes to naya,
standpoints. From some standpoints a claim is true while in
others it is false. From our own standpoint, it is true in some
standpoints and false in others, and so on. Our own standpoint
conditionalizes other standpoints. Thus the Jaina theoreticians
would make clear to themselves the tasks before them. For
they see reality as making a claim true in the one standpoint
and false in the other. Reality is so incredibly rich that it can
underlie and give rise to opposed pictures. However,
understanding the details in particular cases of controversy is
not easy, as shown by the struggles of Haribhadra (c. 750),
Hemachandra (c. 1150), and company to actually reconcile
contrary views. The sevenfold schema is nevertheless a tool for
work in metaphysics, allowing clear categorizing of problems.
Finally, it is worth repeating that the Jaina position is not
self-refutational. It may have other weaknesses, but not this,
though the point is subtle. A common misinterpretation of the
sapta bhangi sees it as generating unconditional claims. For
example, J. N. Mohanty: “the Jaina developed a method known
as syad-vada, by which the truths of opposing predications may
be synthesized, their one-sided truth claims rejected, and a
perfect knowledge of the totality of reality arrived at. Each such
predication is conditional, relative to a standpoint, but if that
condition is included in the predication, the judgment becomes
unconditionally true.”38 This would be like practicing ahimsa
toward everyone except oneself, a failure that has also been
unfairly laid at the feet of Jaina theorists. Jainas do leave open
the possibility of omniscience, but to use the seven truth values
to try to disarm metaphysical disputes is not to impute to
oneself an absolute point of view. Nonharmfulness requires
humility.
Philosophy and other forms of intellectual engagement need
not be practiced with an intent to produce a “knock-down”
argument, giving the lie to the opponent’s position and indulging
in fallacies of derision. The ethic of the Jainas is to show
compassion even to positions really regarded as false. Thus
maybe (syat) the Socratic method (of trying to show a
contradiction in the views of an interlocutor) is not,
pedagogically, the best way to train young thinkers. To be sure,
Yoga philosophy has not in general followed the Jaina model,
but has been insistent upon one or another position as right and
others as wrong. Truth treads a narrow path. However, we may
regard the minimalism in metaphysics championed in chapter 2
and the alternatives of dualist interactionism and holism
explored there as embodying the Jaina spirit. Relativism
(positive perspectivalism) and minimalism are brothers and
sisters. Again, the main point of Yoga philosophy is to defend
possibilities of yoga practice and experience, not a single,
absolutely correct theory, the final word. As Nyaya proposes,
philosophy is itself a kind of yoga, and like all yoga should be
practiced in the spirit of ahimsa.
Karma Yoga

Yoga morality begins with nonharmfulness, but it doesn’t end

there. First, as early as the earliest lists of virtues required of
the yogin, exceptions to ahimsa have been claimed. Second,
service, seva, a giving of oneself and what one values to
others, becomes crucial to the world-oriented practice called
karma yoga.
At the very end of the long prose Chandogya Upanishad (c.
800 B.C.E.), we learn that animal sacrifice “at holy places” is
excluded from the injunction to practice ahimsa. Thus, in a
dramatic statement: “he who is harmless (ahimsant) toward all
beings except at holy places (tirtha), he, indeed, who lives thus
throughout his length of life, reaches the Brahman world and
does not return hither again—yea, he does not return hither
again!”39 Nonharmfulness is not the only value, then, even for
the yogin. It can be trumped according to circumstance. (Jainas
would disagree by and large, I take it, though they too find other
virtues and values—for example, charity—that are possibly in
conflict with ahimsa.) The question is: What is more important
than not harming?
The answer appears to be cosmic harmony, here in the
Chandogya from the late Vedic age as also practically
throughout Yoga literature, a standard answer much
elaborated. There are exceptions, significant exceptions
perhaps, Samkhya philosophy as well as some lines of Advaita,
of Buddhism, etc., that do not deify harmony.40 But the
enormously popular Gita has the harmony vision, as do tantrics
generally and the yoga teachings of all theistic sects.
From the earliest times, concern for balance among life
worlds, mortal and immortal, and prosperity, which depends
upon favorable natural forces, appear to have motivated animal
sacrifice. Scholar Laurie Patton: “as many Vedic texts and later
ritual texts… indicate, sacrifice of an animal into the [sacred]
fire was part of the ecological balance in the ancient Vedic
world; the killing and distribution of the animal was part of a
larger understanding of human harmony with natural forces.…
The gods are given food and return it through their natural
bounty; thus, the ecology of sacrificial food production and
consumption is the central, guiding metaphor for the survival of
earthly and celestial worlds.”41 Over the centuries, animals were
used less and less in the rituals of Hinduism, but an ethics of
cosmological balance remained in force. That one should strive
to perform inner sacrifice, offerings of action to harmony, in
order personally to gain equanimity and prosper spiritually was
an idea that progressively came to dominate Hindu sensibilities.
The trumping power of justice in the political and social spheres
can be understood as further manifestations of the harmony
motif. Promotion of ahimsa in the Mahabharata, the epic poem
containing the Bhagavad Gita, and throughout the Puranas and
elsewhere is mitigated by a larger concern for harmony.
The axiological concept is made sharper by taking it as the
thesis that worth tracks degree of complex unity.42 Organic unity
is highly complex, and the unity of consciousness evident in
human memory, self-consciousness, etc., makes humans more
valuable than animals, even those closest to us genetically
(compare the Jaina hierarchy of sentience discussed above).
Furthermore, the purposes of human beings not only pack
causal power but also are potentially unifying beyond the
interests of the individual, as we find in the concept of the noble
cause or of giving of self for something greater, something
extending beyond one’s death: family, humanity, works of art.
The concept of harmony is not made philosophically sharp in
our Yoga inheritance, but this perhaps is an area where we
should expect not sharpness but rather a lot of gray. Harmony
in any case remains key to understanding the Gita and all the
more tantric world-affirmativism, as we shall see.
Nowhere is outright tension between yogic ahimsa and a
larger duty more evident than in the Yoga teachings of the
Bhagavad Gita (c. 200 B.C.E.). Not only is nonharmfulness
preached by Krishna on (of all places) a battlefield, the dialogue
between the divine guru and his warrior interlocutor Arjuna is
precipitated by the latter taking a step toward an ahimsa
attitude. Arjuna refuses to go into combat against those he
loves. Krishna, the divine teacher, insists he fight. Arjuna
declares at the very beginning—in the first chapter (out of
eighteen) and the beginning of the second—a sense of sin in
killing, even in the name of right rule. Details of plot and some
salient passages show Krishna melding ahimsa into a theology
of cosmic harmony. (See appendix B, the introduction, for the
setting and an introduction to the yoga teaching as a whole.)
The attitude Krishna tells Arjuna to take in action, called
karma yoga, is the Gita’s most striking and original theme,
although similar ideas are found in the middle Upanishads (the
Katha in particular) and in precepts for monks and nuns in both
Buddhism and Jainism.43 The yoga of action (karma yoga) is a
discipline of acting in a spirit of sacrifice, says Krishna, giving to
another without regard for personal benefit.
Apparently any action in principle can be a gift, so long as it
is offered with the right feeling and attitude. Specifically, one is
to give without concern for oneself. However, the sacrificer is to
be confident there is karmic benefit (burning up bad karma
and/or making good karma) or transcendence of karmic
consequences altogether (nonkarma-making action). Normally,
the psychological dispositions one makes through action not
only bind but also invite payback into future lifetimes. Only
action done as karma yoga, Krishna teaches, avoids moral
retribution. Verse 3.9: “Without personal attachment undertake
action, Arjuna, for just one purpose, for the purpose of sacrifice.
From work undertaken for purposes other than sacrifice, this
world is bound to the laws of karma.” (See also, in particular,
Gita 4.21 and 4.22, appendix B.)
Our discussion so far would suggest that at least some
forms of yoga are self-directed only. We can even imagine an
ardent yogini prone to ignore truly moral duties, who neglects
family or profession to master Scorpion Pose. Truly moral
duties, an objector might contend, are duties to others, not to
one’s future self. Should we not aim to develop a more social
self and person? As outlined so far, yoga need not be
particularly social. Indeed, this seems correct for many
practices.
In contrast, the karma yoga teaching of the Gita is famously
social. The whole point of karma yoga is to forget self-interest
through action directed to others’ benefit. Furthermore,
practically any action or course of action, such as a profession
or family activities, would seem to be an avenue for karma yoga
practice. After all, Krishna enjoins Arjuna to practice karma
yoga in a war, in apparent violation—in an ingenious
emplotment—of the yogic principle of ahimsa. Arjuna is to kill
the opposing warriors and to win the battle, all the while taking
a yogic attitude that involves ahimsa (Gita 10.5, 13.8, 16.2, and
17.14). Yoga can be done in any situation. Yoga is a matter of
taking the right attitude in action.
Four senses of the Sanskrit word karman are involved in the
Gita’s conception, two of which we have already reviewed:
voluntary action and samskara as underlying skills (“Yoga is
skill in works,” Gita 2.50, yogah karmasu kaushalam). A third
sense, unseen moral force, adrishta, will be taken up in the next
section on karmic justice. A fourth sense currently in view is
sacrifice, yajna. The karma yoga teaching of the Gita picks up
the Upanishadic theme of “cosmicization of the sacrifice.”44
Sacrifice means giving, giving to the gods that are indwelling
in people and things, or to Brahman, the Absolute and origin of
the universe who enlivens the gods and is present in every self.
What one gives is not necessarily ghee or any other thing into
physical fire, but karma, action, presented by a flame of, let us
say, self-idealization. One offers the gift into the flame of one’s
aspiration to be like or with the adored, the beloved, which
would be Krishna himself, according to Vaishnavas, whatever
be the particular form (god, etc.) of that to which action is
offered (Gita 9.23–24). The external puja or ceremony of
offering is taken to symbolize psychological gestures made
from the lower to the higher within ourselves—a key idea in
tantra (see the “Hymn to the Wheel of Divinities Seated in the
Body” by Abhinava Gupta, translated in appendix D) and
connected to that of psychic transformation (the subject of the
last section of chapter 5).
Thus outlined, yoga can be done in the world, in all kinds of
action done for the sake of sacrifice. Yoga becomes seva,
service. Service promotes cosmic harmony. Thus there would
be no incompatibility between ahimsa and violence called for in
the interest of “holding together the worlds” (Gita 3.20),
consonant with the Upanishadic exception of animal sacrifice,
or, in the immediate case, holding together Arjuna’s society.
Arjuna is not to intend harm, as part of a yogic attitude, as he
works to destroy the opposing warriors, including his own
teachers and family, and win the battle. As said by Krishna time
and again and confirmed by the circumstances of the conflict, in
entering combat Arjuna follows dharma, the right path of action,
the only action suitable for offering in karma yoga. Service
entails an idea of action done for the good of the whole. Karma
yoga as perfectly practiced would make all action a beautiful
ritual.
The change of consciousness, or attitude, that karma yoga
practice involves is supposed to enable an ethical intuition that
can transform ordinary action into dharma, the right way to live,
a kind of divine life. Thus is inaugurated—indulge the
conjecture—the “tantric turn” that would marry yoga and the
world. The movement is not merely Hindu, although it seems to
be launched here in the karma yoga teaching of the Gita.
Chapter 5 will take up the tantric reconception of the goal or
goals of yoga.
To be sure, the Gita also embraces the Samkhya theme of
disidentification and the elusive “I” (introduced in the
Upanishads; see appendix A), which is central in Buddhism.
We mistakenly identify ourselves with our personas and
psychological processes, which are really constructs of nature
having nothing to do with our primordial consciousnesses. Self-
monitoring consciousness is somehow mistaken in what it takes
to be self. What you are is elusive, changing with your essential
ability to identify with instruments such as the body and sense
faculties and indeed the mind (the chitta of the Yoga Sutra). But
none of these is really you, nor is it valuable. This is not quite
the picture of the Gita, however. In karma yoga, you try to
disidentify, downplaying your own role, in humility offering your
acts as intellectually you know them really to be, namely, not
the products of your little self but rather of forces of nature,
natural desires in interaction with forces of the mental, vital, and
physical universes. The Samkhya of the Gita does not find
natural objects to be products of delusion or worthless but
rather targets false identity.
Furthermore, the Gita’s use of the Samkhya theme is
incorporated into a larger metaphysical and spiritual vision, a
monism, not a dualism like the classical Samkhya of the
Samkhya-karika. World-changing action is the vehicle of the
Gita’s karma yoga. Only dharmic action is a suitable offering.
On this point I disagree with the commentators who say that
any action can be done as karma yoga. As a gift to a boyfriend
or girlfriend, you do not present something ugly. Here the Gita’s
karma yoga teaching embraces bhakti (an idea developed in
chapter 5).
So, we can say that the disidentification theme is present in
the Gita’s karma yoga teaching but that there is also more to it.
Furthermore, it is continuous with tantric ideals of
transformation, as I shall show in chapter 5. Some tension
between the philosophies of world denial and those of world
affirmation is to be expected if the Gita is, as I see it, a pivotal
and transitional work. Despite the presence of the Samkhya
theme, the Gita has Brahman, the Absolute, as active, making
dharma, patterns of right action, including social justice, out
there in the world, without making karma. The karma yogin is
thought of as a person who can identify with that perspective
and thus act without the normal karmic consequences.
Through practice of karma yoga, one self-consciously
connects with horizontal and vertical flows of Brahman’s own
creative energies. The vertical flow is the transcendent sacrifice
(see, e.g., Gita 4.6 and 4.13). The horizontal comprises the
interactions belonging to the separate universes of the separate
“sheaths,” kosha: food and the “food sheath” and the worlds of
feelings and thoughts along with one’s particular feelings and
thoughts, the emotional and mental sheaths (see figure 4A). In
different terminology, by karma yoga one opens to a universal
prana leading to extraordinary powers or siddhis, becoming, in
Vedantic language, the Vaishvanara, the “univerally human,”
which is considered a stage in yogic transformation of
consciousness. The tantric turn is all about the formation of a
more complex harmony of the divine and the individual.
One of the most striking of the Gita’s many striking
conceptions concerns reincarnation. If you think the goal of
yoga too distant, don’t worry, one continues yogic practice into
the next lifetime. Arjuna, at Gita 6.37, voices this along with the
further complaint that if he practices yoga he will be lost to the
world, not a success in worldly terms as well as a yogic failure.
Krishna replies (Gita 6.41–44), “someone [like you describe]
fallen from yoga would be born in a household of pure and
beautiful people. Or, he would be born just into a family of
yogins and yoginis, people of wisdom.… There he would
recover the purposefulness of his previous life, and would
strive, O joy of the Kurus, from that point on toward perfection.
For even without trying he would be carried just by the practice
in his former birth.” This is the yogic soul-making conception of
the Gita.
The tantric and neo-Vedantin philosopher Aurobindo uses
soul making as the lynchpin of his theory of the relation
between Brahman and the world.45 Brahman is in the process of
creating materially embodied spiritual individuals who are in
part responsible for making themselves across lifetimes. Thus
there would be in the material world as a whole a teleological
cause, an “attraction of the future,” that would be expressed in
us in terms of right desire and right effort, i.e., in yoga practices
and all their wondrous results. We shall return to this yogic
soul-making theory both in the next section and in chapter 4
and 5.
Karmic Justice

Fear of karmic consequence and joy in karmic confidence

constitute a second variety of both moral and yogic incentive on
most Yoga views.46 The universe is so arranged that an
individual will get her due, if not in this life then in a future one.
Karmic justice is a distinct variety of incentive, according to
Yoga. The idea is similar to Western religious teachings about
heaven and hell as doctrines of moral reward. In this section, I
shall examine the slippery concept of adrishta, unseen force,
which is the name given to the influence of a person’s (or a
group’s) karma on events in the sense of moral retribution,
including, most importantly, one’s next birth. For obvious
reasons, some lines of investigation cannot be closed until I
take up theories of rebirth in chapter 4. Here I shall concentrate
on matters of ethics, and also, at the end, the theistic problem
of evil, against which ideas of karma and rebirth are used to
defend the thesis that God is good. The fine points of Yoga
views of survival and issues about personal identity will be the
focus in chapter 4.
The most widely held picture is that an individual has both a
sum of karmic worth and individual lines of karma that attract,
like magnets, situations for discharge, karmic cathexis in
worldly events causing pleasure and pain in various
combinations and flavors. The aggregation depends on moral
coefficients added to a total in the case of good karma and
subtracted in the case of bad, although the moral worth of some
acts stands alone and invites reward or payback independently
of the moral worth of the aggregate. The power of karmic
vectors to affect events, especially outcomes of enterprises, is
considered to be outside or beyond ordinary sensibilities, as is
implied in the very word—unseen force, adrishta—used in all
schools to refer to the causal power of karma’s side of justice.
This is a fate that can work apurvaka, without intermediaries.
That is to say, it may bring about a consequence, a bit of bad
luck, for instance, in a subsequent birth remotely, without an
immediately preceding cause. The classical Indian school of
Mimamsa propagated the view that every experience is to
some degree, however slight (or overwhelming), influenced by
adrishta.47
The force of adrishta is tied to a balance of pleaure and
pain, suffering and happiness. That is to say, negative karma is
considered paid off, and good karma exhausted, by certain
kinds of pain or pleasure. Certain enjoyments and sufferings
are, to be sure, deemed themselves sources of good or bad
karma. The joke in yoga class is that loosening tight hip joints—
a well-known source of torment—pays off bad karma but only if
endured with grace. The philosophic point is that the currency
of the moral exchange is not merely the moral worth of acts.
The workings of karma are complex, and include whole “life
lessons,” as are captured in the Jataka tales of the Buddha-to-
be’s previous births (recall the story of Sumedha in the
introduction).48
Furthermore, on certain Vedantic and tantric and indeed
some Buddhist views of an underlying bliss of a true self or no-
self state of consciousness, happiness is supposed to be closer
to the natural state than pain or suffering, which are deviations.
The renunciants’ warning that “All is suffering” is not the final
word, existence or nonexistence not being so niggardly in
happiness and bliss as one might think. Pain and suffering are
instrumental—and thus of positive overall value—in leading us
to somehow better bliss or to find the bliss at our core. We shall
return to this instrumentality thesis in connection with Yogic
theism. For the present, the main point is that the workings of
karma are typically only part of the picture when it comes to the
hedonically positive and negative sides of experience.
Yoga philosophers have also recognized that getting what
we want and avoiding what we want to avoid are wellsprings for
all our acts. It is all the more true, then, that the precise
relations among karma, destiny, and happiness, though
presumably lawlike, are not discerned easily. Buddhists in
particular are well known for the simplification that with respect
to one’s own actions one can be sure that cruelty and other evil
acts will be avenged (without an agent, an avenger, a judge of
the dead), and one will secure good results for oneself by good
deeds. The processes remain unknown or even unknowable
(except to buddhas, according to Buddhists), but that hardly
matters given what we know firsthand about suffering.
Nevertheless, even without its lines very precisely drawn,
this picture of moral worth is potentially in tension with the
causal picture of samskara continuity. Individual patterns of
karma—habits and skills—are said to survive and shape the
character of the person in his or her next lifetime. The thesis
seems crucial to the theory of yogic soul making and is veritably
common Yoga opinion, namely, that some habits, values,
intentions—karma, in a word—are so deeply entrenched that
they reemerge in the next birth as talents or deep dispositions
of mental or emotional character.
The problem is that continuity of samskara works from
moment to moment, without a break, unlike the remote
workings of adrishta. That the two ideas of karmic force are
potentially in conflict can be seen in the notion of Hitler reborn
in a nonhuman form subject to constant fear and torture. This
may be a righteous image, but since the soul is not a tabula
rasa according to Yoga, even tremendously positive or negative
moral value of the karmic aggregate could not determine a
dramatic species crossing, Hitler being reborn as a bat, for
instance, or Stalin as a mosquito. What could be continuous
between Stalin and an insect? Only a future human being could
be shaped by the mental dispositions that are the most
important to a human being, I should dare to speculate.
However, it is not just a matter of popular opinion among
Hindus, Buddhists, Jainas, etc.; philosophers too hold that there
is no guarantee that you cannot take a lower rebirth. Appeals to
mental complexity are countered by the consideration that a
complex mind can dream or experience itself under simpler
forms.49
The overall lesson remains the intricacy of karmic laws. The
tension between the two ideas of karmic influence leads me to
think that by and large, humans are restricted to future human
reincarnations. The argument against reincarnation that human
population growth has turned up sharply in the last couple of
centuries and so there would not be enough human souls to
meet the bodily demand can be answered quickly: more souls
of higher animals, such as horses and dogs, have perhaps
ascended to the human level in recent years than was the rate
previously (or maybe heaven or hell are emptying!). In line with
our minimalism, all we need say is that an individual who
achieves the human level is unlikely to return to an animal
incarnation for the very reason that the mental life typical of a
human being cannot be continued in the body of a different
species. Therefore, it seems reasonable to speculate that the
determinant power of the moral worth of karma has to be
restricted to birthings by potential mothers within the human
species, and of course fathers and others important to an
upcoming childhood. Perhaps a karmic sum determines a
range of candidate wombs to which are attached likelihoods of
future suffering and happiness.
Such speculation is of course pretty airy, since isolating the
influence of karma is practically impossible. According to Yoga
psychology, we live simultaneously in different bodies or
personalities, physical, vital, emotional, mental, and spiritual
(see figures 4A, 4B, and 4C). A bad habit for the body, coffee in
the morning, for example, may be part of a good mental
practice, writing a book, for instance. And not only are there
complications concerning types and ranges of pleasures and
pains along with the complexity of human action (think of the
difference, e.g., between a quick response and a long project),
there are further complexities concerning karma itself.
First, it is commonly held that there are interpersonal
relations to karma, souls reincarnating in groups, friends and
families hanging together through lifetimes—called a “karasse”
by novelist Kurt Vonnegut—a group karmically bonded, “soul
mates.”50 It’s as though the magnetic effect of karma includes
drawing together people who have been associated in previous
lives. Is there, then, a second type of coefficient qualifying
samskara? Or is a personal affinity vector somehow contained
within adrishta? Or are, for example, such ideas as the soul
mate or karasse merely wishful thinking, maintained by desire
for close affinities to endure beyond death? The evidence for
reincarnation is not strong enough to support a very
determinate theory and certainly not to support all the popular
images.51
Second, it is commonly claimed that karma “ripens”
according to law; in other words, that adrishta, though its
consequences are remote, works just at certain times.
Temporal factors do seem to be evident in those (evidentially
key) instances of people reporting memory of events in
previous births. As documented by Ian Stevenson, children of
five tend to remember incidents in the life of a previous person
when he or she was five, and the same for children of seven,
ten, twelve, and so on, years of age, to include, one would
suppose, adult rememberings.52 The law here might be that an
act of type A in circumstances C is made probable by karma of
type A created in the past, and some sets of circumstances are
more probable at certain ages.
The ripening idea also connects with the widely held Yogic
theory that one is presented opportunities to change course in
life (and to practice yoga) only at specific times. Popularly the
idea is expressed in such stories as that in every incarnation, at
the age of thirty Devadatta has to overcome a temptation to
murder or at age forty meets his guru. Similarly, Siddhartha of
our age, says the Pali canon, throws his begging bowl out into
the current of the river, where it clinks against the side of the
begging bowl thrown by the buddha of the previous epoch,
which in turn clinks, gently, the side of a still previous buddha’s
bowl resting on the bottom.53 But some popular lore also has it
that karmic payback works more rapidly the more developed
the individual. We are lucky if we suffer for our sins in the near
term, so the idea goes. The image is of bad karma as like a
festering sore.
Third, a certain kind of action is said to block, or at least
blunt, the retributive force of karma, including acts of atonement
(prayash-chitta) and auspiciousness (mangala, such as
chanting om).54 On the Gita’s version of the thesis, action in
tune with the dharmic (righteous) forces of the universe—or
with the action of Brahman itself in the grand sacrifice that
maintains the universe—transcends the moral/amoral
distinction (“Though acting, the person who sees himself in all
beings is not stained [by karma],” Gita 5.7, and “He who,
depositing actions in [the fire of] Brahman, giving up
attachment, acts [in the world], sin does not cling to, like water
on a lotus leaf,” Gita 5.10). Such action creates no adrishta, or
even wipes out karmic influence altogether. In the Yoga Sutra’s
conception, a certain kind of meditation creates samskara that
self-destruct, leaving no karmic residue (YS 1.50, 3.9–10). The
Buddhist view is that karma operates within samsaric
consciousness. Once nirvana is attained and one becomes a
high-level bodhisattva, one is incapable of acting in a karma-
generating way that would lead back into the unenlightened
state. Moreover, claims about certain actions lying outside
karmic law occur throughout the perfectionist tradition that
emphasizes self-development and the attainment of siddhis.
Finally, in tantra broadly the yogic soul-making idea is tempered
with an inevitable “attraction of the future,” to wit, further
“manifestation,” the ongoing creation of Shakti or Shri.55 Thus
would we be destined to become greater beings than we are
now. Therefore, we have to be able to be creative, to make new
patterns not bound by karma.
In all these different views, individual will, though itself
creating adrishta normally, can somehow by force of right effort
(or by God’s grace provoked by right effort) overcome the
influence of adrishta, past and present and therefore future.
Yoga philosophy is not determinist. In chapter 1, we saw that
Yoga denies causal closure in the physical realm. In my
judgment, almost all previous Yoga philosophy has it that
consciousness and its powers also transcend karma, or can.
Fortunately, in the concept of the bundle of causal
conditions sufficient for an effect, samagri, classical theorists
found a notion well suited to the complexity of karmic
consequence. That an event shows karmic justice amounts to
the claim that unseen moral force, adrishta, counts as a single
causal factor bundled into a samagri, that is to say, a single
factor among many, the bundle being technically what brings
about whatever happens.56 Karmic influence on any particular
event may or may not be very great. Yoga has traditionally
tended to the view that except in the special circumstances of
yogic practice, karmic justice always has at least some small
influence.
There are several different psychological versions of karmic
justice among classical theorists. Buddhists tend to view karmic
justice as tied to the type of contamination of one’s perspective
that blocks enlightenment. Thus is avoided the need for a divine
arbiter of a soul’s fate, a referee who determines which souls
get the better births the next go-round and which will be born in
squalor. Such a naturalistic theory is present in Samkhya and
the Yoga Sutra and even in some theistic Vedanta, although
there is also non-naturalism in some Buddhist schools as well
as in more mainstream theistic Vedanta.57 The differences need
not further detain us.
Finally, let us turn to theistic treatments and in particular to
ideas explaining how God is not the author of evil. The Brahma
Sutra of Vedanta has a long section on the problem of theodicy,
and the elaboration by the oldest commentator, Shankara,
makes plain a mainstream position.58 Although Shankara is an
Advaitin, he takes seriously the theistic teachings of the
Upanishads and the Gita as meditational aids. Scripture says
that Brahman is the source of the world, so since Brahman is
unsullied value and bliss, whence evil? How could evil have its
source in what is inherently its opposite?
Shankara’s explanation is complex, and only the second
part is taken over by the more genuine theists. That part,
however, remains the centralmost plank on God and evil within
the long history of theistic Vedanta. The first part relies on the
distinction between Brahman as “without” and “with” “qualities”
(or “attributes”), nirguna contrasting with saguna brahman.
According to Shankara, Brahman without qualities is supremely
real. Brahman with qualities is talked about in scripture as an
aid to meditation. Scripture is like a patient teacher (guru), and
it is difficult to appreciate that Brahman as supremely real has
no qualities. Scripture talks about God, i.e., Brahman with
qualities, as preparation to the austere truth—which is that
nothing but Brahman without qualities is really real. God too is
part of a cosmic illusion due to spiritual ignorance.
Brahman with qualities is God, the Lord and Creator. How
then could the Lord, who is perfect—much as in the Western
conception—allow evil in the world? Shankara asks this
question and moves to the second part of his theodicy, the part
that is shared. Here karma as affecting rebirth is the absolutely
hinge notion, and the theodicy is a samskara version—the
Eastern version, we may say, a direct parallel—of the free-will
theodicy prominent in Christian philosophy. For not only are we
responsible for our karma in making our future births; the Lord
is just in arranging the universe so that it embodies principles of
karmic justice. Rebirth is fair.
The work of the first part of Shankara’s two-part defense is
done, in the theistic views, mainly by a sense of gratefulness, it
seems to me. God creates many worlds much better than this.
But in those worlds I do not exist. Our world is definitely not the
best of all possible worlds, but it is a world where I exist. So I
am grateful that God in her infinity suffers it.
Alternatively, there is the supposition, which is quite
widespread (appearing in Buddhism as well as Shankara’s
Vedanta), that there is no first creation, that the transmigratory
round or universe is beginningless (anadi-samsara). Shankara
in responding to the objection that at the beginning of the
universe there was no good or bad karma denies explicitly that
nescience (avidya) has a beginning.59
Habits, which we have ourselves made and for which we are
responsible, the fundamental dispositions of the soul, carry over
into and determine the course of a soul’s next incarnation. The
Lord guides the workings of adrishta; unseen force is not blind,
according to the theists.60
 If in this way beyond virtue and vice being their own reward,
there is justly payback for bad acts—i.e., beyond the badness
of bad habits—and pleasure and happiness for good karma,
then God’s universe could well be just, at least in the sense
required to defend the thesis that God is good and worthy of
worship. Thus some of what we see as natural evil would be
payback, for which, then, the Lord should not be blamed.61 And
of course some evil, such as pain, has a biological or other
instrumental function, without which our world would not be
possible. And so the Eastern version of free-will theodicy,
coupled with instrumentality considerations, is quite compelling,
it seems to me.
In the view of the bhakti yoga practitioner, suffering is an
opportunity to pay off bad karma. We should be grateful and not
generate further bad karma by whining and complaining. Far
from disproving the existence of God, suffering is a
manifestation of God’s love and concern for our welfare. Better
to pay off bad karma now than to let it fester, let it blindside us
later or in another life. Who cares about it really anyway, since
essentially life is delight?
With Shankara the deep question is: Why is there
nescience, avidya, spiritual ignorance? If Brahman is the
supreme reality, our own true self, why is it we are
unenlightened? Advaita has no answer to this, it seems.
Theistic views struggle with a similar problem: Why, given the
possibility of living enlightenment such as Krishna’s, are we not
all enlightened? The answer, again, is karma. We somehow
deserve not to be enlightened. But why does God let us get into
such straits? The best answer seems to be that otherwise we
would not be who we are and there would not be the
opportunities we have for development. Like everything finite,
from the gods and goddesses down to a pebble, we have our
day in the sun. Gratefulness is the appropriate attitude.
 4

Rebirth
Personal Identity

Before the materialist wave broke in the universities, the topic

of reincarnation was of considerable interest to philosophy
professionals. Pro-arguments by the great nineteenth-century
British idealist, J.M.E. McTaggart, were widely discussed. C. J.
Ducasse, President of the American Philosophical Association
in the 1950s, defended the possibility in a well-crafted work of
metaphysics.1
Ducasse’s theory goes as follows. A human being consists
of personality and individuality (a psychic element). Only the
latter could survive, Ducasse argues, since there is a physical
and bodily component to personality. Individuality, however, is
entirely psychological, consisting of “instincts, dispositions, and
tendencies” formed by choices and actions in this and previous
lives. The American philosopher supposes that psychological
processes are developed, or instantiated, across lives, for the
sake of proving the possibility of rebirth, he emphasizes, not as
an outright assertion as fact. But his sympathies are clear.
Ducasse maintains that if rebirth is to be a real possibility,
there must be an interval between death and birth where
recollection of past lives is normal. Memory, according to him,
underpins the identity of an individual across lives, though
(fortunately for the theory) previous lives need not be
accessible except in the death-birth interval. Analytic
philosophers subsequent to Ducasse have shown through
various consciousness fusion and fission thought experiments
that memory is insufficient for personal identity.2 But this is, all
told, a minor matter, since there can be no personal identity
across lives, as I should like to argue in agreement with
Ducasse (and many others who have thought about this). When
John Doe dies, the person is gone, only some part of him
surviving. Then to avoid what may be called the Leibnizian
objection, Ducasse reasons that individuality must help shape
personality. Otherwise, as Leibniz writes (quoted by Ducasse),
“you might as well say that John died and another, the King of
China, was born.”3 So, according to Ducasse, the living person
is composed of both a personality, which is contingent upon the
circumstances of a particular life, and an individuality, which is
more constant across lifetimes.
Let us pause to appreciate Ducasse’s method, which is to
show the mileage to be got from the requirement that
reincarnation make sense. Not only must there be a potentially
disembodied individual capable of awareness of previous lives,
at least some deep dispositions comprising individuality must
influence or determine the personality at certain points in a
given lifetime. We can eliminate a lot of nonsense if the
reincarnation thesis is to be, in Ducasse’s words, a live
possibility.
So far, all Yoga philosophies would pretty much agree, since
so much is left wide open. The problem with such a general
approach is that if we are mindful of our Yoga inheritance, we
face unavoidable options and questions Ducasse fails to
answer. There are rather concrete Yoga teachings about rebirth
that purport to address the facts of the matter, not just
possibility. Indeed, taking our cues from Yoga theories, maybe
not everything Ducasse alleges really follows from an analysis
of the concept of reincarnation on the assumption that it could
be real. For example, according to him, individuality would be
itself developed, though much more slowly than personality.4
Now this accords with some yoga traditions such as the
conscious reincarnation practices of Tibetan Buddhists as well
as the Gita’s soul-making theory, broached in the last chapter.
We make ourselves with choices over numerous lifetimes. But
Ducasse’s analysis does not accord very well with two other
theories prominent in classical Yoga literature.
A second theory used to maintain translife continuity is
Nyaya’s view of an individual self—which is the same view,
discounting details, as in Samkhya and in the Yoga of the Yoga
Sutra. Nyaya’s essentially disembodied self has nonetheless
the practical function of being the locus of psychological
properties, including mental-physical dispositions. The self does
not develop, on this view, and connections between one life
and the next are mainly through the identity of the individual
who takes one birth after another according to laws of karma.
There are, however, some samskara connections that are
translife. A child’s first voluntary act—to reach for the mother’s
breast, in the stock example—proves reincarnation, Nyaya
philosophers argue. All voluntary action is guided by samskara-
fed cognition, and the child, ex hypothesi, has not formed the
samskara in the current lifetime.5 But these samskara might be
generic and nonindividuating for human beings, and Nyaya
philosophers do not elaborate.
I propose to give a full airing to the Nyaya view of the self
and personal identity in the context of a famous controversy
with Buddhist no-self theory. But let me say from the outset that
in the Yoga context the Nyaya picture is, like Ducasse’s, not
sufficiently rich. In Nyaya we find no talk of a subtle body, a
pranic body, the Upanishadic sheaths, and so on, none of the
conceptual props of yoga practice that Yoga theorists use to
develop views of rebirth. Although there is much metaphysical
argument about the self, the school has no occult psychology.
About details of translife continuity, Nyaya’s minimalism is too
extreme (approaching silence!). We are particularly interested
in Yoga views that connect practices with ideas about survival,
so we need to hear the voices not so much of rational inquiry,
as with Nyaya, but of yogic testimony.6 The Yoga Sutra, then,
becomes of interest again, not because of the metaphysics of a
purusha or self but because of its intricate theory of karma and
life-spanning samskara. None of this is found in Nyaya
literature, but the overall metaphysical stances are similar. Both
stances seem compatible with soul making, but only in the YS
is it fleshed out in terms of samskara, et cetera.
There is, however, another metaphysical view that is a
veritable competitor with soul making. Again, soul making is the
idea that continuity is developmental, on analogy to the growth
and development in a single lifetime from untrained toddler to
accomplished adult. Using Ducasse’s terms, according to soul
making, personality etches individuality as well as the other way
around, with our previous lives shaping what we are now. The
competing view is that the psychic individual who survives
death is capable of multiple personalities, which are not
necessarily continuous with one another, except, perhaps, in
the way that an actor has a repertoire and history of roles. The
modern medical phenomenon called multiple-personality
syndrome is in accord with this way of looking at reincarnation.
Some recorded cases are dramatic in the contrasts of
personality the living body assumes.7 In yogic lore, the idea is
brought to life in stories of yogis possessing multiple human or
animal bodies simultaneously.8
In tantric conceptions, individuality emerges in creative self-
determination higher in the scale of principles, tattva, than the
material world and these bodies of ours. The individual is,
contra Nyaya, not an absolute: the “I” used by a speaker is
elusive (here tantra is indebted to Samkhya), possibly meaning
Shiva himself, the ultimate consciousness or self, as well as
formations on many lower levels higher than our ordinary
consciousness. And, again unlike Nyaya, there are a series of
bodily self-determinations (mental, pranic) created by God or
the Goddess or the Goddess in league with individuals. The
levels of Shiva/Shakti’s self-manifestion have our individuality—
us souls of humans—linked in complex relationships with a
series of bodies up to a deep individual self capable of diverse
lifetimes (though itself dependent on the creative action of still
higher or deeper levels of consciousness power). Instead of
growth, the model is of an unfolding from the top down (again, a
Samkhya theme).
There is also a fourth metaphysical position in Yoga on self
and personal identity, Buddhist momentariness and no-self
theory, which is a stream theory denying that there is an
unchanging individual who either develops or self-manifests. I
propose in the next section to tie up the metaphysical
exploration of this section with psychological models used in
yoga practice. First, let us look at a few metaphysical
arguments about personal identity with an eye toward the
survival possibility.
Indeed, what philosophers both East and West have had to
say about personal identity, although typically restricted to this
life, has rather obvious relevance for the reincarnation thesis.
Are we what survives? Clearly, the ashes of the funeral pyre,
the Eastern equivalent of Shakespeare’s “food for worms,” do
not matter. What does matter?
The following list is instructive. Cut down considerably from
the eighty-nine items on the original, which is from the Pali
tradition of southern Buddhism and the philosopher
Buddhaghosha (c. 400 C.E.), it still serves to show the
complexity of personal identity. These are, according to the
Buddhist, psychological factors falsely identified with, helping to
create an unreal “I” that we have to transcend. There is great
utility in being able to recognize the types of phenomena you
can mistakenly identify with. But at least some of them are also,
according to Buddhist reincarnation theory, features or lines of
continuity that can survive: “volition, applied-thought, sustained-
thought, happiness, interest, energy, life, concentration, faith,
mindfulness, conscience, …tranquillity of the mental body,
tranquillity of consciousness, …zeal, resolution, attention,” and
so on.9
Analytic philosophers have brought out what many consider
most important to their identities by a variety of thought
experiments. Clearly, the mind seems more important than the
body, at least any particular body part. We can imagine my
brain being replaced by a mechanical brain while I live on, just
as with a heart transplant.10 In a stock example from Nyaya, you
need your left big toe to feel a thorn prick in the digit, but you do
not need it to remember the incident (including the pain as in
that toe). What matters most are lines of psychological
continuity. So, within the realm of psychological continuities, the
Buddhist list may be considered to present candidate features,
although none is essential to our identity, according to Buddhist
analysis.
What explains why we should care about our future selves?
According to Buddhists, the answer is self-grasping ignorance.
Why we should care is explained by causal relationships. In
Buddhist analyses, it is false that we are the same person now
as previously. Our sense of identity over time is misleading
(and worse). Nevertheless, great lamas plot their rebirths, and
though caring about what will happen to yourself is for most of
us due to ignorance, it is not just common sense but also
rational wisdom, given our privileged relationship to our own
futures, that we should care about ourselves especially,
according to Buddhist and indeed practically all Yoga theories.11
You can dedicate your yoga practice to another, but the
practice shapes yourself, at least foremost and most
immediately. Consonantly, theistic Vedanta and Nyaya posit as
agents eternal individuals who reincarnate, much like the souls
of Platonic and Christian conception in the West.
Eternality of individuals seems, however, a rather maximalist
claim. The Buddhist’s embracing the Samkhya theme of the
elusive “I,” of our ability to identify and to disidentify with
formations of personality, emotions, thoughts, and so on, has at
least a grain of wisdom in it, it seems to me. Nevertheless, the
Buddhist stream theory is vigorously and, in the classical
context, rather successfully disputed by Nyaya, in particular by
Udayana (c. 1000). Note that Abhinava Gupta’s tantric view
shares features of both, agreeing with the Buddhist about the
elusive “I” but also with Nyaya that there is an enduring
individual. And in modern philosophy, body and brain theories
along with psychological theories look much more like the
Buddhist view than like Nyaya.
In a broader context, a soul or consciousness nugget
concept as an answer to the personal identity question has
been widely jettisoned in modern philosophy. Recently, a
reductionist view in many respects similar to the Buddhist no-
soul continuum idea, elaborated and defended by Derek Parfit
in particular, has had wide play, eliciting a large secondary
literature.12
Classically in India, the dispute over personal identity
focuses on the gaps, such as deep sleep, as well as
psychological continuities, such as remembering. Within Nyaya
literature, a specific type of knowledge called recognition is
generally taken to be the consideration that carries the day, a
kind of knowledge combining perception and memory. The
argument is that it would not be possible without an enduring
subjectivity.13 Only the person who experienced Devadatta
yesterday could be the person who recognizes him today, since
one person does not have another’s memories. There is also
put forth a cross-modality argument to the effect that only a self
can synthesize sensory information received about a single
object, a yellow piece of cloth, for instance, from two separate
sensory faculties, yellow from the visual faculty and the soft
touch of the cloth from the tactile.14
On Nyaya’s side, a key supporting thesis is that properties
have property bearers, also thought of as their locations. Selves
and physical things have in common being the bearers of
properties, some cross-type, such as dispositional properties,
and some type-specific, such as cognition and color.
Dispositional properties are inferred, for example a self’s
capacities of memory and a physical thing’s elasticity. In the
case of a blue lotus, we perceive both the blue and the flower.
We also perceive the color as “nested in” the lotus, so to speak.
However, we infer that dispositional properties have
possessors.
Much of our everyday speech, vyavahara, reflects such a
layeredness ontology of properties and property bearers
(dharma and dharmin) through the relations of adjective and
noun. And, like David Hume’s maxim, “Save the appearances,”
the principle that vyavahara are not to be rejected without good
reason is the school’s operative rule. Consonantly, perceptions
and cognitions of certain other types have as their objects
property bearers, or qualificanda, as qualified by properties, or
qualifiers, and should be assumed veridical unless shown false.
Our cognitive links to objects must be assumed in general true
and reliable. Otherwise, the distinction between illusion and
veridical experience would make no sense and our efforts
would be unsuccessful. Our talk about ourselves shows a
layeredness relation between the self and its properties,
cognitions, pleasures and pains, emotions, and so on.
Thus, that a self, a pot, and numerous other items endure
through change is backed up by our common talk and
experience to the effect that we say, for example, that it is the
same pot, red now after baking, that formerly was black and
this Devadatta we see is that person whom we also saw
yesterday, as well as that we ourselves are the same. Then in
addition to this presupposition in everyday discourse of our own
sameness through change, an analysis of recognition as well
as of cross-modality cognition establishes an unchanging self
qualified by cognitions as properties.
The Buddhists for their part put forth a stream theory.
Causality plays the role of a binder, not a property-bearing self.
Everything is in flux, everything is momentary. There are no
substances with properties. But so-called properties (dharma)—
which are really tropes, unique and nonrepeating (similarities
are “universals” constructed by our minds for practical
purposes)—are strung together causally. The current
momentary item causes a similar item in the next moment,
assuming no drastic change in the surrounding auxiliary causes
or circumstances. A seed moment in the granary gives rise to
another seed moment that is practically its duplicate, but a seed
moment put in the ground with water and warmth gives rise to a
sprout moment. Personal identity over time, like thing identity, is
to be accounted for by particular lines of causal connection, not
by enduring substances.
The chief argument for this ontology—an argument refined
by Buddhist philosophers over many centuries—assumes that
one thing is identical to another if and only if it has (or can be
reduced to) exactly the same powers or properties. Further, to
exist is to be causally efficient. So, if a seed has the power of
sprout producing, then it is ipso facto different from a seed that
is not sprout producing. It is not the same seed in the ground as
it seems to have been in the granary. Previous moments in a
seed stream, so to say, do not have the property of producing
the sprout had by the seed moment that actually does the
producing. Nothing endures, including us. Everything is always
changing. Causality is our word for the regularities.
 Nyaya philosophers argue that recognition and cognition
across sensory modalities show the inadequacy of the Buddhist
stream theory, which is a reductionism departing from everyday
vyavahara and thus bearing, to begin with, the burden of proof.
But the Buddhists claim to have a proof. So let us look a little
closer at the first argument and a complaint voiced by the
Nyaya philosopher Udayana.15 If, as the Buddhist proposes, self
and personal identity reduce to a series of psychological events
held together and ordered causally, the temporal gap between
the original experience of Devadatta and the recognition of him
now cannot be explained. What happens to the information
during the period when there is no awareness of it?
A striking example of the problem is deep sleep, which the
Buddhist is forced to view not as an absence of consciousness
but rather as a period when the consciousness stream is
composed of moments of self-consciousness without object-
consciousness.16 It is the lack of object consciousness that is
supposed to account for our inability to remember the nightly
occurrence. But Udayana brings out that all remembering
presupposes a psychological gap, a period when the
information gathered by the original experience is absent from
consciousness. On the Nyaya view, it lies latent in the self as
the content of a mental disposition. Udayana criticizes the
Buddhist on the grounds that such dispositions are excluded by
his theory.
Of course, not such discontinuity but rather psychological
continuity, as presupposed in the recognition, “This is that
Devadatta I saw yesterday,” is Nyaya’s (and Udayana’s) main
argument for a selfsame psychological locus, a self. There is
also self-perception, as verbalized in such statements as “I am
aware of myself looking at the picture” (walking, talking, etc.).
But self-perception, in an introspective act, is, like all
perceptions, a momentary psychological occurrence and thus
incapable of revealing the self’s endurance over time, in the
Nyaya understanding. But recognition, Nyaya insists, does
indeed show, against the Buddhist or anyone, the self’s
continuity. Devadatta, or anything else that endures, would not
be recognized as the object encountered yesterday had the
subject who does the recognizing not been the same. The
sameness or difference of Devadatta from the one time to the
next is not the point. This the stock example is perhaps
confusing since with respect to Devadatta the recognition is
evidence that he too has endured, like a pot through a change
of color. The point is that if I were not the same, I would not
recognize Devadatta. If it were not I but some other who had
experienced Devadatta—to imagine a change of subject—then
only that other and not I would remember him now, that is,
genuinely remember. Similarly, genuine recognition of
Devadatta presupposes that the recognizer is the same person
who had the previous memory-forming Devadatta experience.
Surely this would hold too for Ducasse’s death-birth interval.
That is to say, if there were recognition of things and events
(not only of ourselves, though that would also count) from
memories formed in previous lives, then reincarnation would be
a warranted assumption. But, to move very fast, interpreting the
enduring subjectivity as ourselves, do we have to see it as
Nyaya’s self? Against Nyaya, I would say no.
Nyaya’s Buddhist opponent redirects the force of the
recognition argument. So-called recognitive cognition does not
show endurance but rather, so the Buddhist claims, only
psychological continuity between the earlier and later moments.
One moment of I-consciousness is the principal cause of the
next; psychological continuity is to be explained causally
without Nyaya’s cumbersome and misleading posit of self.
Every cognition has a subjective and an objective aspect. A
moment of Devadatta (as object) experience is followed
appropriately in your self-consciousness stream by a moment
of Devadatta remembering. The information in both is fused in a
moment of recognition. Mental dispositions, like everything
else, are momentary, though one moment imparts its selfsame
information to the next. The moment is samskara impregnated,
so to say, and the information stored travels through a
samskara chain or stream. Thus the subconscious vehicles of
remembering are used by the Buddhist in pretty much the same
way as they are by the Nyaya philosopher and, by the way,
practically all disputants on the classical scene.
But Udayana’s counterargument is that the Buddhist’s
problem is that samskara are subconscious, not cognitive. They
are not conscious moments within the stream that comprises a
person. If they were, then, like all cognition on the Buddhist
view, they would themselves be immediately grasped, not
needing to be inferred to be known. Cognition is, Buddhists say
(in agreement with Advaita Vedanta), self-luminous, self-
manifesting. All knowledge is itself known. If instead the
Buddhist views samskara as objects belonging to another
stream and not part of that which comprises a person’s identity,
then remembering itself, as well as the psychological events
that depend on remembering, would not belong to the
consciousness stream. For how would they enter?
Remembering is not perceiving. But something has to carry the
information about the object, besides the object itself, in the
period from yesterday’s experience and today’s remembering.
This is not another psychological stream, since one person
does not have another’s memories. We remember only what
we have experienced ourselves. Therefore, the resource of the
psychologically dispositional property, the samskara, is
unavailable to the Buddhist theorist.17
Whatever the Buddhist philosopher might say in reply,
Udayana has homed in on a key feature of the Buddhist view,
namely, that it is self-consciousness that matters most.18 Karma
and dispositional properties may shape a future personality, but
the consciousness stream is taken to be what really matters. At
each moment there is self-consciousness in that consciousness
is aware of itself as consciousness. This dharma is privileged in
the psychological continuum that not only is the person in this
lifetime but also goes on past death (see below, figure 4B).
Thus in the end—and in wide overview, with an eye toward
reincarnation—there seems little difference here from Nyaya,
little difference between these staunchest of classical
opponents, since consciousness, according to the Buddhist,
survives death, as do many lines of karma. Nyaya’s idea of a
self who is not necessarily but can be self-aware, whose
presence underlying a stream of psychological properties
secures identity, does not seem all that different, in cross-life
perspective, from a consciousness stream around which
accrues karmic dispositions and memories. Both are supposed
capable of translife memories, as Ducasse would require
(though only the Buddhists, and not the Nyaya philosophers,
ever talk about this). Indeed, on the Buddhist theory, which is
the one interpreted as reductionist, self-consciousness is more
important than it is with Nyaya. The consciousness stream
secures personal identity for the Buddhist in the current lifetime
and beyond, whereas the Nyaya philosopher says we are often
distracted and not conscious of ourselves, not only now but
also after death. Perhaps we should say that it is on the Nyaya
view that the “I” is elusive! The tantric Abhinava sides with the
Buddhist about self-consciousness, and the individual he posits
is not an eternal and independent entity, though it remains the
same through multiple earthly incarnations. The Mahayana
Buddhist, for her part, finds the bodhisattva to develop
perfections over lifetimes, perfections understood as dharma
streams accruing to a particular santana or psychological
continuum of (self-)consciousness. And there is the
Upanishadic conception of a spark soul or Hamsa, the great
bird who flies over the highest mountains of life and death—
ideas to which we shall return in chapter 5.
Translife Consciousness

We as “persons” do not survive death.19 Personal identity is

constituted in part by the physical body as well as by
psychological continuity. Philosophers have shown that we use
mixed criteria, physical and psychological, to make judgments
about whether a person at time t2 is the same as the person
earlier at t1.20 Even the conservative Indian schools of Nyaya,
Mimamsa, and others agree that what they call the self is not
the person; the person is confined to the length of a particular
life, whereas the self survives the death of the body.
Yoga philosophers disagree, however, about precisely what
survives. Vedantins have somewhat different views from Nyaya
(and Mimamsa, etc.) not only about translife continuity but also
about the individual (jivatman) and the ontological
underpinnings of self-consciousness, as do of course
Buddhists: this is the “elusive I” one level up! So let us take a
few steps down from the controversy about what’s real to look
at the psychological sides of the Yoga theories and what is said
more concretely about processes and formations that form the
bridgework between lifetimes.
We enter now the realm of the occult and nonmaterial and
therefore of high speculation, where yogic and other mystical
testimony is crucial as a launching pad. Nevertheless, we can
also identify in ordinary experience the psychic sheaths,
physical, pranic, and so on, central to one model of translife
consciousness. Yogic testimony gets preeminent weight, but
there are theoretical connections with everyday life on all the
models, as we shall see.21
All Yoga psychology assumes a subtle body or nonmaterial
psychological continua, whether simple or, more normally,
complex consisting of multiple strands. Two models are
dominant, a sheath conception, which corresponds to, roughly,
a band or aggregate conception, and a chakric conception.
Many tantrics use both the sheath/band model and the chakric,
and some theorize on how the two relate. There are also
complications about temporal limitations and the question of
soul development mentioned at the beginning of the chapter.
Let us try to disentangle Yogic thought about reincarnation by
looking first at the psychological model of concentric or
suffusing sheaths, kosha (figure 4A) along with its Buddhist
stream or aggregate counterpart (figure 4B), then the chakric
theory (figure 4C). Afterward, we shall return to the idea of soul
development.
First, a little more about history. The Buddhist skandha
model of our consciousness—skandhas are aggregates of
currents of different phenenoma or entities, literally “parts” or
“shoulders,” of a translife complex or continuum (figure 4B)—is
causal and antisubstantivalist, unlike the substantivalist kosha
conception of the Upanishads, which is slightly earlier.22
Nevertheless, there is at least a rough match with the sheath
model, the kosha and the theory of the cosmic self, atman. The
rupa skandha—anglicizing the Sanskrit, which in Pali is
khandha—is sense data, form, matter corresponding to the
food (annamaya) sheath; vedana is sensation, feeling
corresponding to the pranic (pranamaya) sheath; samjna is
cognition, thought corresponding to the lower-mind
(manomaya) sheath; samskara (also vasana) is disposition
corresponding to the higher-mind (vijnanamaya) sheath; and
finally vijnana is consciousness corresponding to the bliss
(anandamaya) sheath and the central self. Further convergence
of traditions occurs in broad views of the relationship of karma
and rebirth, as shown in both Buddhist and Hindu
“mythological” stories of multiple worlds of after-death
experience as well as in teachings of moral lessons to be
learned from rebirth. But let us focus, if arbitrarily, on the
substantivalist conception of the sheath, while keeping in mind
that similar ideas are present in Buddhism. Shortly, we shall
see that the sheath schema is consistent with the view of the
afterlife in the Tibetan Book of the Dead, among other non-
Vedantic ideas and texts.
According to the kosha or sheath model (figure 4A),
consciousness has five spheres of embodiment: physical; vital
—or “breath-made,” pranic; lower-mind—the sensuous
intelligence we share with animals; higher-mind—more
profoundly connective intelligence; and blissful. The Taittiriya
Upanishad, the earliest source, seems to have these bodies
concentrically ordered, each interior (antara) to its predecessor,
beginning with the most exterior, the physical body, the food
(annamaya) sheath. However, the meaning of the word
“interior” does not, in this context, concern relative location but
rather relative essentiality and nearness to the immortal self.
Some interpret “interior” as coincident. The ideas of essentiality
and distance from the self are realized with respect to relative
endurance, among other factors. The physical sheath perishes
at the most rapid rate. Each sheath connects with a world or
environment consonant with its constituents. The food sheath
has as its external or universal counterpart the physical world,
the pranic sheath has the life universe (or universes), the lower-
mind and higher-mind sheaths connect with mental universes,
and then bliss and spirit contain or suffuse all universes. The
inner sheaths enliven the outer, and the outer can die or fall
away while the inner continue on. The material world is
suffused with prana, prana with mind energy, and so on. In
other words, there is at least enough independence of the inner
from the outer that the individual in her pranic body can and
does survive the death and dissolution of the material sheath.
The individual self, jivatman—or is it the universal self,
atman?—chisels personality formations through its karma-
making choices in the pranic and mental bodies as well as the
physical. So not only do the non-physical bodies—and the self’s
bliss (usually treated as intrinsic, if hidden from our waking
consciousness)—survive, at least for a time, the dissolution of
the physical sheath, but so do dispositions that mold the
different substances into personality. Our strong talents and
likes and dislikes and the whole range of emotional, mental,
and intuitive resources that make up much of what we are right
now will, so goes the core theory, continue on in a pranic or
another world, enveloping this one, and shape our
reincarnations.
Phenomenologically, our patterns of thought, our cast of
mind, I should like to point out, do have unity comparable to
that of the physical body. Each of us has a mental personality
that is comparable to our physical “look,” and our emotional or
affective personality also has comparable unity. Thus it is not a
stretch to imagine vital and mental bodies for an individual. The
sheath model is of course metaphor, and beyond denial of
causal closure, as discussed in chapter 2, the relationships
among the parts of our being are not known. The tantric view of
chakras has them connected by canals, nadi, which are
sometimes viewed as strings of spiritual light also connecting
the sheaths.23
In the tantric conception, nonmaterial substance or energy
exists. The chakras are not material. From the epistemic point
of view of our Yoga minimalism, this is the crucial part.
Concerning details, my best guess is that like early physical
theories, much of this occult physiology will be revised and
changed, perhaps significantly. Nevertheless, the main point is
that the emotional and thinking beings we are can and do
survive death.
Now in due course there may well be, as some teach,
dissolution of the pranic and mental bodies in turn. Not only do
opinions diverge about the precise components of the “subtle
body,” sukshma sharira, that survives death and reincarnates,
there is little consensus about the after-death adventure.
Disputed in particular is what “exhausts itself” in experience in
other worlds and what continues on to be reincarnated here, or
whether, as in Tibetan Buddhism, by resisting the pull to
reincarnation at various pivotal points one continues to
progress toward enlightenment. Nevertheless, everyone agrees
that formations in all four interior sheaths (or, in Buddhism, in all
the skandhas, or at least bundled components from every
skandha), are said to survive the dissolution of the physical.
The sheath model employs a substance metaphor that
connects with the idea of worlds. Each sheath is made of a
substance or energy that is a subkind of universal stuff, ordered
asymmetrically in terms of successive containments such that
the more interior formations are to endure the dissolution of the
less. However, all are supposed to be interconnected,
according to not only (rival) Buddhism as a fundamental
principle of the universe but also Hinduism (for the most part),
through the being of the Absolute Brahman (who is necessarily
omnipresent).
In the mainstream Vedantic conception—which is absorbed
into both Buddhist and Hindu tantra—the metaphysical
correlate to the range of sheaths is the idea of the physical
universe as one organized range of a continuum of manifested
being, sat. The material universe is presumed to be a sector so
distinctly organized that it appears to be separate from other
universes, which are similarly distinctly organized and appear
separate although none is in fact. All are sustained by the being
of the Absolute, according to Vedanta, or are maintained by the
cosmically constituent energy or shakti (or Shri), in tantric
views. There are, strictly speaking, no “parallel universes” in
Vedanta, tantra, etc., although we are encouraged to think like
that by talk of various “worlds” in the Upanishads and
elsewhere (loka, etymologically, field of vision), and indeed of
separate sheaths.24 But everything is interconnected; as pointed
out, the “higher” are said to pervade and suffuse the “lower,” for
example, prana, enlivening the physical body and the mental
suffusing prana.
According to Vedantic theism as well as the creationism of
Abhinava and other tantrics, God is prolific. God self-
determines its intrinsic aspect of energy/stuff to emanate a
series of interconnected worlds or levels of being, ranging from
the heavens of gods and goddesses through life worlds of typal
beings down to our material level or, according to some, lower
levels of hell.25 The degree and type of power enjoyed by the
individuals within a world as well as the character of the
energy/stuff constituting a common nature and intersubjective
objects distinguish heavens from hells and lower life worlds, as
well as from our physical universe. Our physical world is
apparently peculiar in manifesting properties typical of life and
mind worlds, and as physical beings we live simultaneously in
the physical extensions, so to say, of other universes.
At death, the subtle body (sukshma sharira) or astral body
or, as is sometimes said, pranic body—which then would
consist of not only the vital or pranic sheath but also the three
sheaths interior along with the interiormost consciousness or
self (variously interpreted, the metaelusive “I”)—somehow
“travels” to one or another life world, in the normal course of
events. This would be, as explained, a universe largely
separate from the physical world. However, there is much
continuity, since, for example, the surviving being still thinks
and has dreamlike experience continuous with her or his earthly
embodiment. As suggested, opinions diverge about whether
reincarnation is launched from this next world or whether there
are a series of sheddings of bodies and travel through a series
of worlds. Even Vedantins hardly speak in unison. The Tibetan
Book of the Dead presents a complex series of realms into
which the consciousness of the deceased can enter. Possibly
there is no general rule.
Metaphysically, however, the ideas are clearer. The world of
the physical sheath is at the boundaries of creation, viewed
from the perspective of the essential consciousness. The soul
sojourns here to practice yoga for spiritual development, say
some tantrics. Mahayanins say that we should want to return to
help others, progressively developing the necessary abilities.
Embodied physically, we are also embodied pranically and
mentally, living simultaneously in all the sheaths. The mental
and vital sheaths help to determine what happens physically
during a lifetime. Conversely, earthly choices and events and
reactions shape the subtle body that survives.
Mental dispositions, including dispositions to desire and
emotion, need not rest in the self, as says Nyaya, but in the
pranic and mental bodies, as say Vedantins (of all stripes).
Surely this is right. Some samskara (mental dispositions)
obviously rest in the brain. Formation of samskara percolate in,
so to say, resonating through multiple levels, our actions
etching patterns in nonmaterial energy/stuff as well as in the
brain and physical body. Thus there would be, continuous with
our earthly persons, aspects of ourselves that survive and act
as individuals on other stages, like dream personas.
FIGURE 4A. Koshas

1. Vijnana, consciousness, self-consciousness

2. Vedana, sensation, feeling
3. Samjna, cognition, representational thought
 4. Samskara, or vasana, disposition, connective thought
5. Rupa, sense-data, form, matter

FIGURE 4B. Skandhas

After appropriate adventures and rest in whatever worlds,

the subtle body embodying the individual that died reincarnates
along with the essential individual. Our Yoga minimalism
prevents much further specification of the nature of the
individual who dies and takes rebirth, but I shall close chapter 5
with a few remarks that are directed to practice. There is too
much disagreement about the reality or unreality of the
individual (jivatman) in broadest perspective, though there are
convergences in practice. Advaitins would join Buddhists in
saying that any individuality is ultimately illusory. For Advaita,
Brahman is in the end the “I,” and Brahman does not really
reincarnate. Theistic Vedantins disagree sharply, Ramanuja, for
instance, seeing the reincarnating jivatman as an eternal
individual, as in Nyaya. There are other metaphysical
variations, and the nature of the worlds we enter—there are so
many possibilities to keep track of—is not clearly and uniformly
conceptualized in classical literature or even in (Hindu) tantric
texts specifically (I say this aware that I may be speaking in
haste—this is a vast ocean of texts). Much seems to be left
purposely vague, as though itself in honor of the minimalist
attitude!
The Tibetan Book of the Dead, or Bardol Thotrol, is, in
contrast, rich in details about an afterlife drama and
opportunities for enlightenment.26 Buddhist and
antisubstantivalist, the text sets the adventure in phases or
bardos (transitions) where a common pattern of events occur,
not as travel to other worlds. But the other-worlds schema of
Vedanta and Hindu tantra translates pretty easily into the event-
organized picture, although the conceptions of the three bodies
of the Buddha and the five skandha or strands within the
personality stream are, to be sure, peculiarly Buddhist. The
overall plot structure as well as the forces and personalities
encountered (hungry gods, bodhisattvas, wrathful deities, etc.)
could be reconceived in substantivalist terms. Conversely, the
other worlds of Hinduism and the Vedantic conception of
sheaths could be accommodated to the Buddhist fantasia. The
Tibetan tradition understands afterlife events as typal and
invariable for everyone, although there are options (divergent
routes) depending on choice or recognition and the karma of
the deceased. New Yoga can accept this common
denominator, the lines of emotional and intellectual continuity
sketched, whatever the metaphysical truth about an underlying
Self or self.
The Bardol Thotrol is most of all about enlightenment, about
opportunities afforded the consciousness surviving a human
death to become something other than someone destined for
rebirth, realizing her true nature and merging with the dharma
kaya, the “Dharma body,” of the Buddha. Although treated as
an individual unit in the directions given, i.e., as the addressee,
the deceased is, in Buddhist conception, not really
differentiated as an individual. Opportunities for enlightenment
are sometimes talked about as though one’s wave of light
rejoined a larger and surer luminosity. The compassion of a
bodhisattva is figured as a “lightray hook.” But note also the
usage of the term kaya, body, in the compound dharma kaya,
which in several places designates the supreme opportunity.27
Furthermore, the deceased’s “thought body” is mentioned
expressly, and certain experiences and opportunities
presuppose it.28
No chakric system of either a Buddhist or a Hindu variety is
used very much in the Bardol Thotrol. Pranic energy is said to
flow through a central channel (avadhuti = sushumna), but
there is no express mention of energy centers. However, in
other Buddhist texts—including, to be sure, Tibetan Buddhist—
a chakric system is used to flesh out, so to say, a subtle body
that survives and reincarnates.29 We come now to our second
prominent model of occult physiology, the chakric (figure 4C),
which is also utilized to specify the continuity presupposed in
the idea of reincarnation. As explained, I shall use Yogic and
Vedantic terminology, not Buddhist, though the latter could
serve as well. I shall also use what has become now in the
twenty-first century a rather mainstream conception of global
sway. But we should keep in mind that there is quite a diversity
in details in the early texts, so scholars tell us.30
A series of chakras or occult centers of consciousness is
depicted as joined, for an individual, by a central channel called
sushumna. Pranic or life energy can be redirected from its
regular channels throughout the pranic body, which suffuses
and enlivens the physical frame, i.e., in the nadis or ducts that
constitute the main lines of flow of pranic energy. Thus it can be
made to flow and “cleanse” the central channel, which joins the
lowest realms of being with the spiritual. In the Hatha Yoga
Pradipika, the central channel is talked about as itself divine,
e.g., as Shambhavi (the “Kind Mother”) (see appendix E, verse
3.4).
Other than the sushumna, the two most important nadis are
the ida and the pingala, which interweave from the nasal
apertures through (or near) the chakric centers like the
intertwining snakes around the caduceus of Greek mythology.
Pranic energy can be redirected from these (by breath control
as well as bandha engagement; see the discussion in the
introduction as well as appendix E) to flow into the central
channel, the divine axis said to correspond to the spinal
column. This directly connects the principal chakras, which are
seven (sometimes four, six, eight, nine, or ten). The chakras,
like the sheaths, are thought to have cosmological dimensions,
each connecting with a specific range of energies or substance
or vibrational frequencies, depending on the other-worlds
conception.
The seven principal chakras are, beginning with the lowest
or “root” chakra (see figure 4C):

1) muladhara, the “root-support,” which is said to feel as though

located at the base of the spine and to connect the pranic with the
physical, as well as to be the locus of the sleeping serpent energy,
kundalini (more about which just below—some put kundalini in the
second or third chakras instead);
2) svadhishthana, the “self-established,” connecting with sexual
energies (and so located);
3) manipura, the navel center, the “city of jewels,” another life-world
center and the beginning of the central channel in some Buddhist
systems;
4) anahata, the heart center where the “unstruck” sound is heard,
where bhakti is felt;
5) vishuddhi, the throat center, the “pure,” connecting with voice and
artistic expression;
6) the third eye, ajna, corresponding to the middle of the forehead, the
“command center,” the center of highest mind; and
7) sahasrara, the “thousand-spoked [wheel],” also sahasra-dala, the
“thousand-petaled [lotus],” the divine center, the center of
enlightenment, which is said to be located just above the crown of
the head and connected occultly with the brahma randhra, the
cranial cleft through which runs the central channel, sushumna.

A second kind of current or energy is said to flow in the

central channel, shakti, also kundalini, the serpent power, a
divine or more divine energy in contrast with prana, the energy
of life and breath. Some tantric texts say summarily that the
point of yoga is to replace prana with shakti in the central
channel. “Kundalini yoga” is now an English expression
referring to yoga practices focused on awakening kundalini so
that we become aware of our diviner selves, considered to be
more essentially embodied in our system of chakric centers,
through which the divine energy flows unchecked by the
ordinary limitations of being human.
1. Sahasrara, “thousand-spoked wheel” of enlightenment
2. Ajna, “command” center, third eye
3. Vishuddhi, the “pure” center of inspiration
4. Anahata, life and heart center, center of the “unstruck” sound
5. Manipura, city of “jewels”, life center
6. Svadhishthana, the “self-willed”, life center
7. Muladhara, “root” center, where Kundalini sleeps
8. Sushumna, divine road
9. Kundalini, serpent energy
10. Pingóla, pranic channel, “Sun”
11. Ida, pranic channel, “Earth”
12. Brahma-randhra, cleft of Brahman

FIGURE 4C. Chakras

There are also top-down Yoga teachings, shakti pata,

descent of shakti (see the quote from the Kularnava Tantra in
note 19 to appendix D). Divine energy is supposed to flow down
from the thousand-petaled lotus above the body enlivening the
central channel and the lower centers of consciousness, in the
end awakening the kundalini energy—a reunion of lover and
beloved throughout the manifestation of Brahman as the perfect
individual (the bodhisattva).31
In the tantric Shaivism of Abhinava Gupta (see appendix D),
the chakric model is employed in a top-down conception of
creation including, in another Samkhya theme, very real
individual conscious beings, a plurality of distinct purushas.
Abhinava posits a status for the individual beyond embodiment
and embodiments, as in large part a manifestation, not just a
development along lines continuous with previous births.
Although Abhinava is a tantric monist, he finds a real, translife-
constant, progressively manifesting individual. It’s as though
there are bare spiritual particulars, all exemplars of the chakric
form, which is like a mold into which Shiva breathes—blows
into full actuality like a glassmaker—life, the personalities
assumed. The main thesis of the Spanda-karika, which is one
of Abhinava’s sources, is that the world is a tremor, vibration,
spanda of the divine, an out-breath followed by an in-breath of
enlightenment. The in-breath does not destroy but enlightens.
The world is progressive manifestation, arranged from above,
not below. In this complex of ideas, there is a clear step toward
the antisubstantivalism of the Buddhist, since it is vertical
integration in a moment of time that is important, not so much
soul development, each instant a moment of unique beauty in a
cosmic dance.
Inspiring visions employ the chakric system. But there is, in
addition to the occult literature on chakras as matters of
advanced yogic experience, rather mundane theorizing, some
very crude, about chakric and occult determinations of events in
everyday life. Please, yoga enthusiasts, don’t expect me to
champion everything. In order to be open to yogic teachings
about chakras as they relate to our practices, we need not have
too concrete a notion, I think, of occult flows of prana and shakti
nor, especially, about the ties to everyday experience. Direct
chakric openings in the course of asana work are not
uncommon (especially in Corpse Pose, shavasana).32 We don’t
have to have brittle beliefs in order to be ready for chakric
experience.
Similarly, we have every right to be confident that at least
something of our emotional and thinking beings survives—
along with our best parts, our self-consciousness (in the
Buddhist view) or our spiritual being. We shall look further at
the concept of the spiritual individual in chapter 5.
Arguments For and Against

The case for reincarnation is cumulative. No premise is the one

and only hinge upon which all depends. Nevertheless, the
reports of yogins and other mystics get special weight, and I
shall devote the greater part of this section to the epistemology
of yogic perception and mystic testimony. Then, in addition to
several nonyogic considerations and evidence that provide
further support for the reincarnation thesis, there are
metaphysical considerations that help—for example, an
argument put forth by Aurobindo that ties rebirth to the overall
meaning of life. I shall look at all of these as well as, at the end,
attacks by a famous atheist and psychic debunker, Paul
Edwards. Thus, we shall take up yogic arguments, claims
deriving from the results of yoga practice transmitted by
testimony; nonyogic empirical considerations, such as
xenoglossy, a child’s ability to speak a language she has not
learned; one metaphysical argument, which, though containing
empirical premises, hinges on a nonempirical reason, namely,
life having meaning; and arguments to the contrary.
Superstition finds fecund soil in the idea of rebirth. I have
proposed that Yoga requires only a minimalist view of afterlife
possibilities. But a kind of maximalist commitment, or
dedication, to practices is required to make the discoveries the
experts say connect best with survival. Such commitment,
however, is not the same as belief. Indeed, mere belief is too
bare-bones to inspire practice. It has to be surrounded by
emotional attitudes as well as, when called for, assessment of
degree of trust. I recommend as the Yogic attitude toward
rebirth something like quiet interest and confidence in an
adventure whose details are unknown but for which there is no
better preparation than yoga practice. The epistemic or
justificational component of such confidence is the subject of
this section.
Yogic arguments trade on a parallelism thesis, an epistemic
parallelism between yogic and sense experience implicit in the
notion, common to all Yoga schools (with qualifications), of
yogic perception, yaugika pratyaksha.33 The move presupposes
that ordinary sense perception has epistemic value (for the
uncorrupted nonphilosopher, hardly a stretch), i.e., that in its
normal operations it reveals facts and features of things around
us; in other words, that it is a knowledge source, pramana—as
say almost all the classical Yoga theorists. Yogic perception is
a knowledge source for spiritual discoveries just as vision
informs us of the lay of the land with respect to our physical
environment.
The classical picture of the causal working of knowledge
sources—perception, inference, testimony, a few other
candidates—was sketched in chapter 3 in connection with the
idea of samskara. Here we take a more purely epistemological
or evaluative perspective. Yogic arguments have premises that
are derived from yogic experience, such that at least one such
premise—let us call it a yogic proposition, which is a lot like a
claim made on the basis of sense perception—will figure
crucially. Yogic propositions are warranted or justified by yogic
perception, and the warrant carries over to conceptions and
arguments developed from yogic propositions. The simple story
ends here.
In both East and West, there have been many much more
complicated stories just about the epistemic worth of sense
perception, which is the launching pad for our parallelism
thesis. The question of which sorts of claim sense perception
makes certain has been a bugbear to theorists practically
everywhere. To move quickly, I say, in line with Nyaya in
classical India and successful criticism of Cartesian
foundationalism in the West, that we should take for granted a
certain fallibilism:34 any claim made on the basis of sense
perception is defeasible, that is to say, is possibly wrong, is
correctable. So too, then I say, with yogic perception as a
knowledge source. In both cases, we need a theory with a
defeasibility condition. Normally our senses do generate
knowledge, but sometimes appearances are misleading
(astigmatic, I see two moons). Similarly, yogic experience of
consciousness independent of the body (and death) is
trustworthy by default, but this yogic proposition could be
defeated by other evidence or arguments.
So far our discussion has proceeded from what is called an
externalist point of view in epistemology, which has as byword,
“innocent until proven guilty.” As with sense perception in
ordinary circumstances—and testimony based on firsthand
experience—we do not question yogic perception’s veridicality,
or the truth of what we are told by the testifier (guru) who
knows, unless specific reasons arise. Conscious certification is
called for only when there are grounds for reasonable doubt.
This externalist attitude is best defended in Yoga classically by
the school of Nyaya.
But let us also put our parallelism thesis to the test of a
different approach to knowledge, the internalist, which finds
self-conscious justification to be required for a belief to count as
knowledge. Yogic epistemic parallelism holds here too.
Following Roderick Chisholm and William Alston, I find a
“Theory of Appearance” to capture the defeasibility of sense
perception without denying its epistemic value from an
internalist perspective.35 This is an internalist view in that the
subject knows that she is confronted with indications that might
be misleading but is nevertheless sure about what she takes to
be revealed. But note that the overall parallelism thesis does
not hinge on Chisholm’s or Alston’s (or my or anyone’s) version
of perceptual warrant. Nevertheless, Alston’s theory in
particular does capture at least my intuitions about the role of
sense perception in generating knowledge from an internalist
point of view.

A subject S who takes herself to be appeared to by object a F-ly (that

is to say, who takes herself to perceive a as F) is prima facie justified
in believing that a is F.

For example, S, looking at a banyan tree, takes herself to be

appeared to banyanly (that is to say, takes herself to perceive
the tree as a banyan), and is thereby prima facie justified in
believing that the tree is a banyan. It may turn out to be a
Hollywood movie prop or the like; the belief is justified prima
facie only. Thus according to the yogic parallelism thesis, the
belief “a is F” would be a yogic proposition, a basic yogic claim,
insofar as a yogin or yogini self-consciously takes herself in her
inner yogic experience to be appeared to appropriately. I
daresay that the great teachers of yoga have been quite self-
conscious about what they take themselves to perceive or
experience. They articulate it in yogic propositions. Yogic
arguments for rebirth have as a premise at least one yogic
proposition, whose warrant derives from yogic perception.
For the externalist, the burden of proof is on the side of
opponents of the parallelism thesis, since knowledge does not
have to be justified. But this is also true for the internalist. For
clearly yogins and yoginis self-consciously take their yogic
experiences to be informative, as much as does anyone her
sense experience. Thus, without countervailing evidence, they
have a right to believe that Fa (that, e.g., their consciousness is
independent of the body), a right that passes on to us, their
students, by their testimony. Furthermore, one level up, they
themselves—or at least almost all the classical Yoga
philosophies that defend and encourage yoga—assert the
parallelism. Let me repeat that this is implicit in the very
concept of yaugika pratyaksha, yogic perception, which in effect
all the schools accept: yogic perception is a knowledge source,
pramana, like sense perception.
Of course, for certain topics only a few people count as
having the authority to make a yogic claim. Nonyogins and all
levels of student depend on the testimony of those in the know.
As argued in chapter 1, our guiding principle should be to give
the benefit of the doubt. This is in fact the attitude we take in
action in everyday life. Otherwise, we could not get along in the
world. For example, by and large we have not personally
experienced being named the names we carry. Even if as
babies we were present, we cannot remember the ceremony. I
take it on the testimony of (especially) my parents that the
name I have is indeed mine. How crazy would it be to doubt
such testimony, although we can easily imagine its falsity! The
epistemic default is trust.
Let me once more emphasize that the parallelism thesis and
what we may call the charity view of testimony do not entail the
truth of yogic claims. All claims are corrigible. The faith to
sustain practice does not depend on absolutely precise content
of beliefs or on certainty. There may well emerge
considerations that override the guru’s teaching, as with an
apparent perception of two moons. Nevertheless, we are to
assume that meditation and other yogic experience has a
noetic or cognitive quality, being both taken as informative
about some pretty important matters, such as the death-
spanning nature of our consciousness, and informative in fact.
There is no general reason we should not trust our teachers’
testimony. Of course, if materialism were true, testimony about
the nonmaterial nature of the subtle or pranic body that survives
would be mistaken. But here (in chapter 2) we have
successfully resisted the offending thesis of materialism, to wit,
causal closure, and there is no other general consideration I am
aware of that would undercut the healthy and open-minded
attitude of accepting (provisionally, as with any testimony) what
our teachers say. The Nyaya definition of testimony as a
knowledge source (going all the way back to the Nyaya Sutra,
sutra 1.1.7) is that it is the conveyance of information by an
expert, i.e., by one knowing the truth, who wants to
communicate with no intention to lie or deceive.
Opponents of the parallelism thesis purport to find a problem
in the partial intersubjectivity of the (yogic, mystical) experience
deemed to be, like sense perception, informative. Buddhists
make different yogic propositions than do Hindus, objectors
would allege using our terminology. The hasty (and illogical)
conclusion is that disagreement cancels all views out, since the
truth should be universally accessible and known. Religious
pluralism is best explained as varieties of error, in this view.
Yogic claims are undermined by the circumstances of their
origin, peculiar histories leading to peculiar and diverse claims.
I called this the historicist worry in chapter 1.
There are four main lines of response to the challenge,
which through Yoga eyes looks like the problem of diverse
lineages—the pluralism of views and traditions, some in sharp
disagreement on certain issues—all of which promote yoga. So,
in brief, the first line of answer is that, like Jaina positive
perspectivalism and syad-vada, our Yoga minimalism includes
the policy of relative and provisional acceptance, which does
not mean that some claims might not on scrutiny be thrown out.
The second line, complementing the first, is that we are
interested in convergences and divergences. We want to know
why there are divergences. The convergences, such as
between Buddhists and Hindus on the chakra system or even
the kosha and skandha schemas, when appreciated, give us a
better grip on truths of our psychology.
The third line is that partial intersubjectivity is well known to
be objective within special activities that take sense perception
to be informative, e.g., wine tasting, reading (knowing how the
letters are sounded), jewel assessment, and so on (only the
experts have the right to pronounce on the wine, the letters, the
jewel, and so on). Yoga practice has physical, vital/emotional,
intellectual, and spiritual dimensions, and there are high bars to
cross in each sphere. Anyone in principle has the right to make
a statement about, let us say, rebirth, that would count as
initially acceptable, but only if he or she has passed all the
disciplinary prerequisites should that person’s testimony be
accorded the status of a yogic proposition based on yogic
perception. Not everyone counts as an expert.
Fourth and finally, with such overwhelming testimony as we
have about survival, contrary testimony, for example, that water
is fiery, appears to be defeated in advance, badhita, blocked,
as a Nyaya philosopher would say. No belief is immune from
revision and falsification, but some beliefs are well entrenched
and unlikely to be dislodged.
A second group of arguments develop from nonyogic
phenomena that indicate reincarnation in the absence of better
explanations. Dean of rebirth research over the past fifty years,
Ian Stevenson has published books and papers devoted to
children’s rememberings along with other abilities and bodily
features that cannot be accounted for by genetics, experience,
or the environment in the current lifetime.36 The data range from
the highly generic down to specifics, i.e., privileged knowledge
to which it seems that only a very few particular people could
have access.
Xenoglossy constitutes especially impressive evidence. But
it is only one arrow in Stevenson’s quiver. His research ranges
wide, including birth marks corresponding to wounds that the
child’s predecessor sustained along with birth defects, postures
and gestures, and general countenance as helping to confirm a
child’s memories. Children, Stevenson explains, tend to be the
only people who remember previous lives because they are
not, like adults, so preoccupied with the affairs of this one. His
cases are taken mainly from cultures where rebirth is a
common belief. He argues that in the United States and other
Western cultures there is built-in discouragement of any talk
that could lead to identification of the child’s predecessor.
“Don’t say things like that, Martha. You’re just daydreaming.” Or
it may be that simply a lack of encouragement results in such
memories fading like dreams upon the child’s immersion into
worldly activity.
Overall, Stevenson makes an impressive showing. Surely
he deserves a wider hearing among philosophers.37 For Yoga
philosophy, it is obvious that his evidence is not just compatible
with our (minimalist) conceptions but also provides support.38
However, the material is massive, and there is no point in
reviewing cases. The main debunker I know of is Paul
Edwards, and his mockery and ridicule and no-holds-barred
assaults on the character of the testifiers means that details
would have to be patiently reexamined to answer, for example,
charges of lying. Suffice it to say that New Yoga has an ally in
Professor Stevenson and other rebirth researchers.39
The standard argument in classical Indian philosophy
focuses on voluntary action directed to a goal that has not been
previously cognized by an infant or child in the current lifetime.40
Goal-directed activity requires mental dispositions (samskara)
formed by previous experience, and a child’s first-time reaching
for the mother’s breast, or whatever the first action, is goal-
directed, pushed by desire and informed by awareness of the
breast as satisfying desire. Ex hypothesi, no such desire
fulfillment has been had in the current life, and therefore must
have occurred in a previous lifetime.
This proves rebirth, however, only of a generic
consciousness, a generic human or animal soul that wants food
and knows where to look. It does not prove that the hungry
infant reincarnates particular lines of psychological continuity
embodied previously in Mr. Smith.
Xenoglossy is similarly restricted as evidence; it holds that
the child has inherited dispositions from prior generations of the
speakers of the particular language. These samskara could be
without content that is restricted to a particular life and person.
Still, here we have strong evidence for some kind of
reincarnation. Perhaps part of xenoglossy could be accounted
for by the thesis of a universal grammar. Vocabulary, however,
is entirely learned and conventional. Its proper use implies
training. It is not inherited genetically. Nevertheless, being able
to speak a particular language belongs to large communities
(usually) and is a characteristic that does not differentiate
individuals within large groups. At the other extreme, there are
cases of rather privileged knowledge or recognitive abilities that
indicates a specific line of continuity to one very particular
person, Mr. Jones, from another, Mr. Smith.
Genetics is commonly cited as accounting for traits of
personality, emotions, and even consciousness. But genetics
provides only necessary, never sufficient conditions for
psychological properties or states. Furthermore, acquired
characteristics are not, according to current theory, inherited.
Thus Mr. Jones’s memories formed by Mr. Smith provide
evidence for reincarnation.
Personally, I think the memory cases recorded by
Stevenson and others should not be accorded too much weight
in shaping our overall theory since the rule is that we do not
remember past lives. Past-life memories are the exception.
Nevertheless, memory, as mentioned to open the chapter
following Ducasse, is crucial in the soul space between
incarnations, since without it the view would fall to the “Liebniz
objection” that one person, Mr. Smith, died, and another, Mr.
Jones, was born.
Finally, at the risk of running together arguments from
categories one and two, the yogic proposition that there is
available through yoga practice the power, siddhi, to remember
past lives is common lore. The siddhi is expressly mentioned in
the Yoga Sutra, among other places.41
A third group of arguments finds the rebirth idea intrinsic to a
whole world vision. Here we may place a bit of abstract
reasoning by the modern guru and philosopher Aurobindo.42 He
argues that since individuality is central to our lives as human
beings, to our cultures, and indeed to our yoga practice—
practice that can lead to spiritual enlightenment—it cannot be
entirely illusory or so transitory as to end with death. Egoism is
illusory and worse, but individuality itself is not all false. Now
this is, to be sure, taking for granted a certain background
metaphysics, namely, a variety of Vedantic and tantric monistic
theism. Brahman, or God, working through divine shakti,
suffuses the universe as “Sachchidananda,” Being-
Consciousness=Force-Bliss. Brahman “self-manifests” this
nature for the purpose of delight and self-discovery. Life would
not have meaning if the individual did not in some way survive,
and such meaninglessness in the self-manifestation of
Brahman would be metaphysically discordant. Rebirth is the
necessary “machinery” for the persistence.43
The argument can be reconstructed as follows.

A) If God is X (Sachchidananda, loving, omnibenevolent), then life

has to be meaningful.
 B) Life would not be meaningful without persistent individuality.
C) Persistent individuality in our world demands rebirth as machinery.
D) God is indeed X (Sachchidananda, etc.).

Therefore,

E) Rebirth is real.

Let me say a few words first about the third premise (C) and
then address the argument as a whole.
Aurobindo shares with Vedantins and tantrics in particular a
vision of worlds other than the physical universe where there
are, to be sure, persistent individuals who are not reborn, not
being subject to birth and death in the first place. Our world is a
field of death and birth, and all individuals here have mortal
bodies. If persistance as an individual is to include a material
dimension—which means participation in ongoing life on Earth
—then rebirth is called for.
This presupposes that a string of earthly identities is
somehow more valuable or significant than a string of cross-
world identities. The idea of Western religion that a life here is
followed by life in heaven or hell or purgatory without a return is
precluded, Aurobindo argues, by the value of human and
cultural solidarities and other lines of continuity unavailable to a
merely heaven-bound individual.44 In sum, premise C could be
replaced with C′: The best sort of persistent individuality for us
demands rebirth as machinery.
This is in accord with Aurobindo’s supposition that lines of
earthly persistence are intrinsically valuable. As mentioned, it is
also presupposed that there are individuals in other worlds who
persist without rebirth. The idea is that we perfect specifically
human virtues and contribute again and again to a communal
life and history.
The most controversial premise may seem to be hidden in
D, the reality of God or Brahman. But here the support is yogic
perception and yogic propositions, as discussed above. Yogic
testimony on this score is overwhelming, although there are
differences about God’s nature. It is crucial to Aurobindo’s
argument that God be Sachchidananda,45 so D is controversial
within Yoga.
However, a less elaborate description may be all that is
required—for example, to borrow a favorite from Western
theology, God’s lovingness: (A′) If God is loving, then life has to
be meaningful. Then the argument looks good, clear and
cogent, given D. From another perspective, we might say that
premise A is Aurobindo’s development of classical Indian
theodicy, using rebirth to defend God’s goodness (see the end
of chapter 3).
Finally, insuperable difficulties are alleged to face the rebirth
conception, some of which have been collected recently in a
book by philosopher Paul Edwards.46 The book is badly
organized, and employs rhetoric unbecoming of a philosophy
professional (“On examination the theory turns out to be just as
hopelessly absurd as it seems at first sight to all sane people” is
typical). Nevertheless, a few comments suit our purposes.
Edwards’s contentions may be grouped into three
categories. First, there is his presupposition of the truth of
materialism, of mind-body identity. “The weightiest argument
against reincarnation… is based on the dependence of
consciousness on the body and more particularly on the
brain.”47 This, of course, has already been answered by us, in
chapter 2. Please, Mr. Edwards, how can you prove causal
closure? Unfortunately, this his main argument begs the
question, but is employed time and again, particularly just when
it looks, even in Edwards’s hands, as though the evidence is
favorable. Second, there is disparagement and ridicule of
various translife conceptions, all of which, from our Yoga
perspective, look like the fallacy “straw man.” This is the
(unfair!) presenting of a caricature or diminished version of a
position to be attacked—in Edwards’s case, infantile versions of
the “astral body” and other theories, in a word, a straw
opponent whom it is easy to beat up and bully. Not so,
however, our small but muscular minimalist theories, which are
unharmed by the alleged difficulties. Third, there are long-
winded character assassinations of testifiers and tarring with a
broad brush. I cannot find any other argument.
Just a word more about the straw men that Edwards
advances. An alleged difficulty of population increase for rebirth
theory is a good example. Where do the extra souls come
from? Our answer is that the other world or worlds or, as in
Vedanta, planes of being, in which we live, have the resources,
and we do not presume to know the details. All Yoga theories of
reincarnation assert an other-worlds hypothesis, and we have
no extraterrestrial population counts. Edwards has an entire
chapter on this pseudo-problem, presenting the theories of
pseudo-science as though they were the final and best word on
the subject. With the sensibilities of neither a researcher nor an
interpreter, he consistently fails to look for the “grain of truth” in
rebirth testimony and theories—unlike Jainas, we may
emphasize, who try as hard as possible never to commit the
straw man fallacy, seeing others as like themselves, fallible but
trying to say what is warranted and true.
 5

Powers
Holistic Health

This chapter addresses the goal, or goals, of yoga, particularly

the tantric turn to harmony, integration, and transformation as
yogic goal. The tantric ideal contrasts with but also is supposed
to include spiritual transcendence. My aim is to connect Yogic
ideas about this and other results of yoga practice—especially
psychic powers, siddhis—with contemporary ideas about health
and well-being. Yoga need not be one-sided, should not be
one-sided, I shall argue while exploring first siddhi teachings in
connection with the idea of enlightenment (samadhi), then
views about emotional well-being through bhakti and the yoga
of art, and finally the holistic ideal of psychic transformation.
This last idea is tantric. It is symbolized in Buddhism by the
bodhisattva, the perfect individual. In the Upanishads as well as
tantric psychology, it is the ideal of living in the the soul, a
translife consciousness “thumb size, forever dwelling in the
heart of creatures” (Katha 6.17). A divine flame is depicted at
the core of the individual, “behind” or otherwise related to the
heart chakra (see figure 4C). The ideal of psychic
transformation includes ethical and social well-being as well as
mental, emotional, and physical well-being. And it connects with
the siddhi theme of the Yoga Sutra (YS).
The YS’s fourth and final chapter is devoted to metaphysical
conceptions. There is little instruction about practice. Despite
the dualistic metaphysics that has already been drawn, there
are arguments for a peculiar nature of chitta—thought and
emotion or mind—distinguishing it from all other forms taken by
prakriti, nature. The YS’s metaphysics may for this reason be
described as a triple-ism, not a dualism. But be that as it may,
the chitta’s being won over to the side of consciousness, away
from the side of mechanical nature, is in general the way
siddhis, the powers of consciousness, are acquired.
Traditionally taken to be results of yoga, if not invariably a
laudable goal, siddhis are integrated into the larger theory in YS
chapter 4 differently than is usually thought. The standard
interpretation focuses on YS 3.37, which says that siddhis are
obstacles to the ultimate goal of samadhi, enlightenment or
yogic trance (“These powers or wonders according to the
ordinary human consciousness are obstacles to samadhi”).
Against that single sutra we have in chapter 4, however, the
claim that siddhis follow upon thought and emotion coming
under the control of the conscious being, the purusha. This is
voluntarism par excellence. The admonishment of YS 3.37 is
the sore thumb. In chapter 4, acquisition of powers turns out to
be something that cannot be renounced. Let me explain.
The entire third chapter of the YS—except 3.37 and a few
sutras at the beginning—lists siddhis along with practices that
bring them about. Then at the beginning of the fourth chapter is
a wonderful overview of that whole long stretch of text, along
with explanation of the possibility of siddhis. This puts them—
strangely, given the YS’s dualism as well as 3.37—as native
capacities of consciousness.
Sutra 4.1 summarizes the practice themes introduced in
chapter 3: “Powers (siddhi) come by birth, from herbs, mantras,
asceticism, and samadhi.” Note that even this last item,
samadhi, is given a voluntarist spin: samadhi is here not just
goal but also instrument. In my reading, “yogic trance” or
“enstacy” is itself a power of consciousness.1 It is a part of
samyama, we learn at YS 3.3–4, the pair of sutras that
introduces the long list of powers. Most of these are said to
come about through samyama, a conscious identification and
control, and thus samadhi would be part of the means to
powers, not blocked by them.2 It would also not be the final
goal, since it leads to something else. Let us dig a little deeper
into the samadhi concept.
At YS 1.17–18, samadhi is said to have two forms, the
second of which “is preceded by effort to hold steady ideas
intent on contentment.” As remarked in chapter 2, these create
or reinforce samadhi-prone dispositions such that some people,
on the basis of effort in previous lifetimes, are compelled into
the yogic experience without much effort on their part in the
current life. Sutra 4.1 repeats the idea with respect to siddhis,
among which it seems we should count the ability to enter
samadhi.
Powers come from accomplishments in previous lifetimes,
“by birth.” People born with metanormal abilities presumably
have practiced yoga in a former life and vasana (translife
samskara) are continuous from death to birth. They come “from
herbs,” as is taught in Ayurveda, traditional medical science.
They come from “mantras,” the practice of japa, which is the
repetition of sacred syllables such as om. And they come from
yogic austerities such as fasting (asceticism, tapas), and from
samadhi. Note that, as I argued above (in the second section of
chapter 2), if powers flow from samadhi, then samadhi cannot
involve an entire separation of consciousness from its
embodiments. And, as pointed out, samadhi is said to form part
of samyama, the general power of conscious identification and
control.
Sutra 4.2: “Transformation into a different type of being (or,
into another birth) comes about from a superabundance of
natural potentiality.” The classical commentators emphasize
that especially at death one has the opportunity to change into
another type of being, not only through the loss of a particular
persona but also by a core individuality becoming manifest in
ways that were hitherto hidden. Vyasa insinuates that humans
sometimes become gods.
More abstractly, the sutra itself suggests that practicing
yoga does not change one’s core nature but rather triggers
wonders latent and intrinsic to consciousness. This reading is
borne out by sutra 2.43 as well as the next sutra, 4.3. Sutra
2.43: “Powers of the organs of action (speech, hands, feet,
evacuation, and sex) result from asceticism (tapas), which
destroys imperfections.” And sutra 4.3: “Practicing yoga does
not impel transformations of nature. Rather, like a farmer
(irrigating, weeding, etc., to help plants grow), yogic practices
break up coverings or obstacles (so that one’s true nature can
become manifest).”
One’s nature is not transformed from the outside, like a
potter shaping a vessel of clay, but rather from the inside, like a
caterpillar into a butterfly. Yoga practice removes obstacles to a
self-manifestation that, once set off, unfolds on its own. That is,
once obstacles are destroyed, the wonders of samadhi, etc.,
occur naturally.3 The tantric ideal of perfect balance of body,
life, mind, and self—psychic transformation—is thus precursed,
and the Upanishadic idea of yoga as self-purification, which is
reaffirmed in the Gita (e.g., in 6.12), is echoed. Self-perfection
may have to be protected and tweaked, but in its essentials it is
not created; it is rather the natural state or the natural state in
expansion as the soul integrates its instruments into itself.
(Compare, in appendix A, Shvetashvatara Upanishad 2.14:
“With a knife smear a mirror with clay and just as when
cleansed it shines again brilliantly, / So the embodied who
knows the reality of the self (atman) becomes integrated,
purposes fulfilled, parted from grief.”) However, without
prerequisites passed—including, most importantly, the YS’s
“mental stillness” (chitta-vritti-nirodha), the cleansing of the
mirror in the image of the Upanishad—the goal would remain
elusive. This seems to be the idea. (Compare, in appendix D,
Kularnava Tantra 2.33ff.)
This reading of the YS would show that the idea of the
purpose of yoga as the particular power of samadhi is not all
that the text holds forth. By putting aside only a few of the more
metaphysical statements, we can see throughout the text the
larger goal of powers taken more broadly and integrally,
including balance and harmony among all the parts of our
being. Let us look at one more sutra from chapter 4, in fact the
very next, to seal this interpretation.
YS 4.4: “Thought and emotion (chitta) are shaped solely
from egoity.” By “egoity,” asmita, the Samkhya principle of
individuation might be meant, one of the twenty-four primary
divisions or tattva of nature. According to the Samkhya-karika,
the principle is responsible, in the unrolling of primordial stuff,
for differentiations of individuals within a type, that is, on the
side of nature, prakriti.4 The purusha, the yogin himself, the one
capable of shaping chitta, is intrinsically an individual.
However, assimilation to Samkhya is not even the route
taken by the classical commentators here. The accomplished
yogin capable of mental silence has the ability to individuate,
i.e., create, new mind, chitta, new mental patterns, for himself
by himself, or herself, as opposed to having one created for her
by universal nature (to include karma from previous lives). In
other words, normally a self or person is not very responsible, it
is implied, for the cast of his or her mind. The current persona,
the self in its current embodiment, would have chitta, mental
and emotional patterns, determined by a combination of karma
and the body and the environment. But the yogin has the ability
to create new patterns.5
The interpretation of the classical commentators supports
the power theme of Yoga philosophy: the yogin has
metanormal capabilities, whereas ordinarily the mind is
determined mainly by impersonal forces. Self-determination is
at the core of all Yoga teaching, philosophic or practical,
Patanjali’s or another’s, ancient or modern, defined by a
commitment to yoga practices. A practice-oriented reading is
put forth here by Vyasa and company: given that our minds are
shaped to a large degree by our culture and social
relationships, this sutra asks us to view the yogin as the artist
and critic, the innovator capable of new chitta. At a minimum,
he or she would not be as bound to convention as the
nonyogin. In this way, the sutra seals the siddhi theme of
chapter 3. Insofar as yoga is focused on transformation or
creation of chitta, there need be no world denial. Aloneness,
kaivalya, is not the only goal.
We have already dismissed the reading that would cram the
meaning of all the sutras into the box of a dualistic
metaphysics. But let me beat the dead horse (an exception to
the rule of ahimsa). How could a disconnected individual shape
chitta? Would the shaping of a mind be from the outside or from
within? We are supposed to believe that in reality there is no
relation between purusha and prakriti, but let us imagine, in line
with the immediately preceding sutra, YS 4.3, that the the
shaping is to be from within. Then we would have a nugget soul
or purusha enveloped by nature, prakriti, somehow shaping and
controlling her. The purusha would have no way out, though
prakriti would be, thankfully, malleable and responsive.
However, she would also be not conscious. The untenability of
this picture is an argument for holism, for the deep unity, at
some level, of matter and consciousness, as discussed at the
end of chapter 2. It is not hard to discern holistic principles
implicit in the sutras.
The YS in fact assumes about as much intrinsic power for
consciousness as Vedantic theism assumes for God in its
maximal version of self-determination. Sutra 4.23 asserts a kind
of maximal capacity for knowledge: “The mind (chitta) that is
conditioned both by awareness of the seer [i.e., the purusha]
and that to be seen [i.e., prakriti] can cognize anything.” Other
kinds of mastery include the ethical (others’ friendliness is said
to flow from perfection of ahimsa at YS 2.35), as well as occult
abilities and metanormal bodily capacities that have been better
popularized (YS 3.46: “Perfection of the body means beauty,
grace, strength, and adamantine hardness”—echoing an idea
found in the Shvetashvatara Upanishad [2.11; see appendix A]
of a body “made of the fire of yoga”).
To be sure, the YS contains themes of world negation,
joining with other early Indic mystical movements. In early
Buddhist metaphysics and cosmology as well as in the early
Jaina and several Upanishads, the reigning assumption seems
to be that all embodiment is by nature suffering: sarvam
duhkham, “All is suffering,” is Buddhism’s First Noble Truth.
Pain and suffering arrive in practically infinite forms and
degrees. The best one can do is to be calm and inactive, not
creating disturbances in the cosmic web. This is the view prior
to—or, less controversially, simply opposed to—tantrism and
the tantric turn.
In a different interpretation of the truth of suffering, our
experience is viewed as unfortunate in comparison with the
Buddha’s. “All is suffering” is matched by the third of the Four
Noble Truths, the Truth of Nirvana. This is something positive, a
void or emptiness (shunyata) vibrant with compassion and bliss
that are the true self, or nonself, anatman, of everyone—much
like the atman of the Upanishads. Thus regard for one’s own
self and consciousness, or future self, requires one to try to see
life’s pleasures as well as its pains as all in fact suffering, that
is, in the light of the bliss that would be ours were we to
awaken. In this Mahayana and tantric version of Buddhism, the
void spills over into life in the perfection of the individual, the
bodhisattva.6
 Patanjali seems to side with the quietists at YS 2.15: “And
because of conflicting fluctuations of qualities, there is suffering
in change, in anxious, feverish states of mind, and in mental
dispositions (samskara). Thus the person of discriminating
judgment sees all as suffering” (my emphasis). This of course
echoes Buddhism’s First Noble Truth. But given the
surrounding text (see appendix C), the judgment expressed
seems based not on everyday experience alone—where of
course we take ourselves to experience pleasure sometimes—
but on a comparison with true self-experience. Furthermore, the
tantric could agree with the sutra that there is suffering in
conflicting fluctuations (virodha), while holding that there is the
possibility of harmony and divine life. Abhinava Gupta holds
that self-realization manifests in life as a spiritual tranquility
(shanti) compatible with artistic expression, life as Shiva’s
dance.
But however we read the YS, a turn to world affirmation
occurs in the philosophy and practices of tantra. North, south,
east, and west in yogic traditions in India, in Vedanta, Shaivism,
Vaishnavism, Buddhism, Jainism, and in new traditions too,
there is the tantric turn. The old concern with discovery of a
hidden or deeper self or consciousness remains, but is
incorporated into a wider vision upholding enjoyment (bhoga) of
all the flavors (rasa) of divine manifestation.7 Celebration of the
divine in life comes to be integrated into a world-oriented view
of the person and self and the goals of life. Some early tantric
texts (such as the Kularnava Tantra; see sppendix D) do keep
to the idea that the highest good entails liberation from rebirth.
But the ideal is shifting, coming to encompass development
(through rebirth, partly) of a spiritual individual—the
accomplished (siddha) yogin or in Buddhism, the bodhisattva.
Swami Vivekananda (1863–1902), famous for bringing Vedanta
to the West, proclaims that he no longer wishes to be free from
rebirth, to renounce the world for the self, atman, but rather to
be reborn again and again to worship God indwelling diversely
in the material universe.8 Self is not conceived as only the
impersonal and cosmic atman but as the individual jiva, the
living being, who is destined to become perfect in the terms of
this mystically material universe.
The origins of tantra are obscure, but there are precursors in
the Upanishads and especially in the Gita’s notion of karma
yoga. Ethnographers have also pointed to “autochthonous”
practices of people speaking Dravidian and other non-Indo-
European languages. The worship of female “Earth” divinities
seems especially important, permitting “homologies” and
acculturation, to use the terms of academic specialists. Of
course, much could be said about the material dimensions of
tantric culture, but here we shall keep our eyes on the Yoga in
tantra, i.e., Yoga philosophy.
The guiding idea of tantric outlooks is spiritual
transformation. Everything may be one, or interdependent, but
the processes of self-and world-development are real and
meaningful. Yoga is the secret of self and nature, as the lower
self and the body are transformed. On analogy to the
transformation of desire into the higher emotions or aesthetic
delight, spiritual transformation is said to occur in the purified
“vessel” by the action of spiritual energy, or shakti. The flows of
breath, prana, the vital energies of the body, are transmuted.
The yogin or yogini is the remade person, a mage, with occult
powers, siddhis.
More broadly, pleasure and sexual fulfillment are viewed as
intrinsically valuable throughout the highbrow literature of later
classical Indian culture. The Kama Sutra, a textbook on
lovemaking and sexual fulfillment that may be as early as the
fourth century C.E., presupposes a theory of erotic dispositions
as inherently good. Sexual desire is worthy of fulfillment so long
as other values and duties are not neglected. “Let life be
prosperous and full” is the attitude, not “Let us away from these
things that are transitory.”9 A literature of philosophic aesthetics
comes to accompany an increasingly refined poetry and drama,
and the idea of the connoisseur, literally the “like-hearted”
(sahridaya), who is capable of both universal empathy and
uniquely aesthetic emotions prompted by art, is championed.
The tantric philosopher Abhinava Gupta (see appendix D)
draws on aesthetics to articulate a yoga of beauty and art—the
topic of the next section.
To close this one, let us look at the unificational themes of
tantra, the idea of unity in the notion of harmony, asanas
requiring right alignment, and the holism of holistic health.
Those who practice asanas know that some of the most difficult
poses challenge balance. One cannot simply will balance,
although one-pointed concentration helps. One has to be
particularly responsive to feedback, as one limb or another
normally in play is taken out of play. Balance poses reveal
dependencies that are not absolute—they are really imbalance
poses, teaching balance by imbalances that require
compensation in effort or, more profoundly, alignment with
other limbs.
All this is a metaphor or model for what yoga has to
contribute to holistic health, as we get a better sense for the
parts of our psychological makeup. If there is a teleology
implicit in the practices of yoga prominent today, it is holistic
health. This is wellness that is dynamic and expansive,
including strength and flexibility for the body but also delight in
the emotions, insight in the mind, and spiritual growth. There is
movement toward integration of all the parts of the being
(compare Shvetashvatara Upanishad 2.14, appendix A).
Better to grasp the concept of holistic health and tantric
perfectionism, let us look back at the Platonic theory of a
tripartite self.10 Tantra would add a spiritual element to Plato’s
mix of, one, the appetitive, two, the enthusiastic or emotional,
and, three, the rational. Thus, counting the body, four, we would
have with the spiritual, five, a conception of the main parts of
personality that is not too far from the kosha theory of the
Upanishads (see figure 4A). However, there is unfortunately in
the Western theory nothing spiritual. In Plato’s view, the rational
is to control and harmonize the activities of the appetitive and
emotional parts. The vision of a society governed by a
philosopher-king who alone comprehends the idea or form of
the good corresponds with the psychological picture. The
inadequacy of the political ideal thus helps to show the
inadequacy of the tripartite view of the self. In Plato’s closed
society, poetry is banned as obscuring the rational message,
and harmony is secured only at the expense of sensual
gratification. Plato’s would be a totalitarian state, where police
keep us from unruliness. The problem lies in what does the
harmonizing, the rational mind, which is clearly not up to the
task—both socially and psychologically. Yoga proposes a role
for the mind limited to its proper province, along with life-
encouraging alliances and mergers with our other parts, all
under the management of a psychic or spiritual element.
In the Symposium, which is perhaps Plato’s greatest literary
creation as opposed to work of philosophy, a view of harmony
is presented that is much closer to the tantric conception. Here
the form of the good is identical with ideal beauty. Through
contemplation of the worthiness of the object of desire, a
philosopher climbs the ladder of love, reaching the supreme
(beauty = truth = goodness). In the process, feeling is
transformed from desire into something very lofty, in what is
more a mystical than a rational contemplation. And the result is
not in the Symposium a set of rules for society but something
rather more subtle, a bringing of beauty into life, something like
Abhinava’s yoga of art. The philosopher who has beheld the
form of the beautiful turns back to the world to create works of
delight—as does God in the harmony manifest in the great
moments and rhythms of the natural universe. According to
Plato, the philosopher also brings about harmony in the social
universe, but here psychologically the integration does not, as
in the Republic, have the rational part as the ruler, it seems to
me. Clearly, it is not in tantra, although like other instruments
the mind is a valuable tool and, indeed, according to Abhinava,
its best and correct use the most important limb (anga) of yoga.
Holistic health in tantric yoga implies not just absence of
illness and injury—which is a negative concept of wellness with
perhaps too much play in contemporary medicine—but
fulfillment of our capacities. Even disease and injury are
afforded instrumental value in helping us achieve a complex
balance and integration of all the parts of our being, including
the highest but not restricted to it. As the Kularnava Tantra says
(2.25; see appendix D), “Enjoyment becomes yoga practice;
misbehavior becomes art (and the good deed); transmigratory
existence (samsara) becomes liberation (spiritual
transcendence).” This idea reverberates throughout tantra and
yoga literature. Even the Hatha Yoga Pradipika, which is quite
ascetic overall, advocates sexual practices bringing enjoyment
(bhoga) as well as spiritual enlightenment (HYP 3.103), though
its ideas of yogic perfection are much narrower than in more
mainstream tantra. The broad ideal may be articulated best in
Mahayana Buddhism’s notion of the bodhisattva, which we
shall continue to explore in the next section, along with
Aurobindo’s notion of psychic transformation, the topic with
which we close.
Extraordinary Emotion: Bhakti (Devotional Love), Rasa (Relish),
and Ananda (Bliss)

The discipline of devotional yoga, bhakti yoga, the “yoga of

love” has been most famously articulated in the Bhagavad Gita,
but also permeates tantra and almost all late Hindu religion.
(The bhakti teaching of the Gita is expressed in its later
chapters in particular; see appendix B.) To be sure, there are
late-classical handbooks of yoga, such as the Hatha Yoga
Pradipika (see appendix E), where bhakti is not in focus. But
even there the “grace of the guru” figures prominently. Clearly,
bhakti is predominant in, for example, the Kashmiri Shaivism of
Abhinava Gupta (appendix D) as well as movements all over
the subcontinent. It’s not at all a stretch to say that in Vedanta
and Vaishnavism more generally as well, bhakti reigns as the
most important form of yoga in contemporary India. A more
qualified statement would be needed to take in tantric
Buddhism, but there too bhakti is conspicuous.
In the idea of God or the Divine or the Buddha that is crucial,
there is both a general and a personal element. The general
element connects with Western philosophy’s “teleological
argument,” that is to say, with the kinds of consideration that
Western philosophers have taken up—the beauty and order of
the workings of nature and the miracle of our own being and
faculties—to prove the existence of God on the basis of
analogy to human arts and crafts (design requiring a designer).
The practitioner of bhakti goes beyond the inference to perceive
the beautiful body of the Beloved everywhere, in the great
sights and sounds of Earth, the Mother, but also in every
contact, in every sensation, both externally and internally in
thought and emotion. The things and events of nature demand
not only belief—the bhakti yogini would insist, implicitly granting
the argument (of which there is an Eastern version much
debated in Nyaya11)—but principally delight in the whomever or
whatever is their origin.12
The particular element in bhakti is a matter of personal
relationship that extends, however indirectly or in however long
a line, to this origin. That is, to use the first-person language of
yoga, that whoever or whatever is the stuff of the stars and the
Earth and the waters of life is somehow responsible for them
too, through self-transformation. The idea that that divine X
could be aware of and indeed somehow care for, if not me, at
least something that does relate directly to me is the crucial
propositional content of bhakti, in my opinion. There is my
personal divinity, the spark soul in my heart, my higher self, my
guru, who is intimate and responsive and moves my feelings by
my sense of his or her connectedness, which makes me
connected too. Bhakti yoga is all about training the emotions,
and the emotions relate to the concrete, the divine or the divine
representative in the here and now. The feeling is extended, as
best one can, to transform all our everyday attitudes. In this
way, bhakti would come to infuse all that we become and do.
Our lives would be different.
Thus the sense of connectedness goes all the way back,
grounded in the origin, the ishvara or devi or equivalent—about
which it is necessary, then, to have some conception. I repeat,
the particular element is more important in practicing bhakti, the
devotional feeling rhapsodized in songs and literature. At the far
end of the bhakti attitude is simply something or someone who
need be conceived only vaguely. Nevertheless, the idea of total
connection has to be there. Intimacy at the near end is divinely
grounded. Thus the general is definitely intended.
Note that with the general and the particular put together,
the whole universe stands as intermediary. For the Creator
(mother, sustainer, etc., even emptiness) is the Creator
(mother, sustainer, emptiness) of everything, the same with
respect to the entire universe. Our existences conform to
universal laws, exceptionless processes. The Creator has the
whole to worry about, the workings of everything, and cannot
be faulted for not weighting my preferences the way I do.
Indeed, yogic preliminaries, such as nonharmfulness (ahimsa)
and the other yamas and niyamas of the YS, are rules to which
I have to conform to enter into the right relations that are the
very essence of yoga. Thus a Yoga philosophy of bhakti turns
to the intermediaries, the connectives joining the high and the
low, which become manifest in practice.
Yoga is a matter of right relation, right alignment and
connection among all the parts of ourselves. For whatever
higher or deeper part there is—by definition, something of
which I am currently unaware or aware only imperfectly—I need
most of all a teacher, someone who knows the principles of
yoga. I need a spiritual intermediary, a divine or human guru,
who can show me right alignment. However found, the teacher
naturally provokes a form of bhakti, gratitude mixed with
devotion and happiness entailing confidence about our own
destiny.13 The universe, i.e., the sequence of events in a lifetime
and its collective lessons or its sheer beauty, along with the
conspiracies necessary to make us see it, can play the guru’s
role. So too can a tradition. The position is not filled only by a
human representative or a god or goddess anthropomorphically
conceived. But a book from a guru of the past as well as
personal divinities and avataras can serve, as can a living guru.
Some teachers are charismatic, some not so charismatic. The
essential prerequisite is having at least better connection with
the divine than we have, and knowing how to bring us to know
or realize it.
Classical Yoga philosophy in the Gita and elsewhere
provides rich resources for theory of the teacher. At the high
end is the notion of the avatara, the special divine “descent,”
put forth in the Gita’s fourth chapter. There is a special “divine
descent” into finite form to uphold a moral order and direct the
world in the right ways. Gita 4.6–8, Krishna speaking:

Although I exist as the unborn, the imperishable self and am the Lord
of beings, by resorting to and controlling my own nature I come into
phenomenal being through my own magical power of delimitation
(maya).14 / Whenever there is a crisis concerning the right way
(dharma), Arjuna, and a rising up of evil, then I loose myself forth
(taking birth). For protection of good people and for destruction of
evildoers, for establishment of the right way, I take birth age after
age.15

Krishna as avatara is a person who is aware of himself as a

manifestation of God, a person who shares somehow in God’s
awareness, power, and native delight.16 In the Mahabharata as
a whole, I admit, Krishna does more than teach yoga (see the
introduction to appendix B). The “establishment of the right
way” mentioned in verse 4.8, quoted here, is not to be
understood as only a matter of yogic guidance. But in
accordance with the openness and inclusivism of our Yoga, let
us explore further the concept of divine descent and the guru.
The Gita as a yoga manual is in rather surprising agreement
here with the Yoga Sutra, as I intend to show.17
The Yoga Sutra has a conception of the Lord, ishvara, and a
version of devotional yoga. In chapter 1, a handful of distinct
methods to reach mental silence are laid out (mental silence
being the goal of yoga according to YS 1.2, chitta-vritti-nirodha,
stilling of fluctuations of thought and emotion, also called
calming illumination of the mind at YS 1.33). One of these
methods is bhakti.18 YS 1.23 sums it up: Mental silence can
result “from opening to (pranidhana, meditation on, surrender
to) the Lord (ishvara).” Vyasa, the first commentator, glosses
pranidhana as bhakti, which he says is an intense desire to be
like the Lord in certain yogic characteristics and abilities.
The idea of such pranidhana is not as controversial in the
Sanskrit commentaries as one might expect, knowing the
diversity of renderings among modern translators. Still, on the
idea of the Lord (ishvara) there is plenty of controversy among
the classical authors.19 The two-word expression recurs at YS
2.45, which connects the practice with samadhi. Interestingly,
the immediately preceding sutra, YS 2.44, says that the
practice of self-study (with respect to a yogic text), sva-
adhyaya, brings the power, siddhi, of achieving contact with
one’s preferred divinity, ishta devata.20 A person worships the
form of the One that it is easiest to worship, the form to which
she or he is personally drawn, who is their teacher or the
teacher of their teacher, the founder of the lineage that extends
to you. (See in appendix D, in the Kularnava Tantra, verse 1.2:
Devi tells her guru Shiva that he is “easy to love” as she
requests yoga teachings from him.) Others worship the forms
and divinities they are drawn to. Behind them all stands the
One.21 In the tantric understanding of all this, the form of
worship is puja, the ceremony of celebration of the divinity. The
connection is occult but nonetheless real, a particular puja
connecting with a particular divinity, the ceremony making, so
to say, the right psychic space for that particlar divinity to
manifest—this seems to be the tantric idea.
Skipping a couple of sutras that are systematic in character
(in that they relate, or try to relate, the ishvara idea to the
Samkhya system), we have at YS 1.26 what seems the
essential conception: “The Lord is the guru even of the ancient
teachers in not being limited by time.” One of the arguments for
the existence of God in classical Indian philosophy is what we
may call the Criteriological Argument, which goes like this.
Each craft, including speech, is by definition learned from a
teacher who has learned from a previous teacher, e.g.,
grammar that, since the world has a beginning (a crucial
premise that atheists such as Mimamsakas and Buddhists
reject), has to have an originator, a first guru, traditionally,
Shiva, the great god (maha deva), the founder of yoga. Shiva
sets conventions, endowing words with meaning and patterns
as grammatical rules, and fixing standards for excellence in all
occupations. We learn these standards from our immediate
teachers, who also learned them. Learning processes have to
begin somewhere. Therefore, we must suppose an Original
Teacher who knows the principles intrinsically without having
been taught or who originally set them. Humans are rather
obviously ruled out as incapable of these tasks (setting the
conventions of language, etc.), so we must conceive of a Diving
Being performing them, thus a “guru even of the ancient
teachers in not being limited by time.”22
That God is the original teacher of yoga converges with the
Gita’s notion of Brahman as the foundation of dharma as well
as the tantric idea of an individual’s enlightenment as working
for the benefit of everyone. It locks up with the Buddhist notion
of the bodhisattva (as expressly pointed out by Abhinava—see
appendix D: “Bodhisattvas, who are persons who know reality,
appear again even after (their enlightenment) in a body that is
perfectly appropriate for them in their intention, which is
dharmic (righteous) and born out of concern for others’ welfare,
whose only consequence would be others actually being
helped”). God is impartial. Similarly, the yogin “delights in the
welfare of everyone,” in the phrase of the Gita (sarva-hite
ratah). Yoga brings us into right alignment, making us better
sensitive to the general welfare. The principles of yoga have
social ramifications.
It is not hard to see how the positive Buddhist tantric
conception of the void’s spilling over into life is connected to the
idea of the perfect individual, the bodhisattva. Remarkably,
there is a similar nexus of ideas in the “yoga of art” teaching of
Abhinava Gupta (Abhinava’s overall philosophy and oeuvre are
introduced in appendix D). In brief, Abhinava uses the rasa
theory of classical criticism, the alamkara shastra, to fill out the
Gita’s teaching of karma yoga.23 This genre of Sanskrit literature
is rich and diverse, but throughout there is an amazingly
durable theory of human nature. In the oldest version, the
Natya Shastra, “The Science of Spectacle,” by Bharata (c. 200
B.C.E.), eight dominant natural emotional states are matched to
eight aesthetic flavors (rasas) that a poet or dramatist should
create his work to provoke in a (cultured) audience. Bharata
lists eight types of rasa, which correspond to eight abiding
natural emotions:

BHAVA (natural emotion) RASA (relishing)

rati (sexual feeling) sringara (the erotic)

hasa (laughter) hasya (the comic)
shoka (grief) karuna (the compassionate)
krodha (anger) raudra (the furious)
utsaha (energy, vitality) vira (the heroic)
bhaya (fear) bhayanika (the frightening)
jugupsa (repulsion) bibatsa (the disgusting)
vismaya (wonder) adbhuta (the astonishing)

According to Bharata, rasas arise out of “abiding emotional

states,” sthayi bhava, listed in the left column. Everyone is
subject to these basic feelings, and the dramatist capturing an
audience’s interest and writing a good play evokes them in
aesthetic versions, listed in the right column. This means that,
unlike with ordinary fear, for instance, the spectator need not
herself be afraid while savoring the bhayanika, the “frightening”
(the “delightfully frightening,” as is implied by its falling into the
aesthetic category). She knows what it is like to be afraid (she
has the appropriate mental dispositions, samskaras), and
enjoys the representation, knowing it is only a play. The rasa is
universal, however, and her individuality merges (ideally) with
that of every member of the audience (all of whom meet the
prerequisites for this type of experience) in relishing the
presentation.24 Thus the poet and dramatist work from
knowledge of human nature, and the feelings are evoked by
crafting situations in which the “abiding emotional states” occur.
Appendix D contains a bit of Abhinava’s commentary on
Bharata’s Natya Shastra, where the theory of the eight flavors
is in the immediate background (the argument is that there is a
ninth rasa of spiritual peace, shanta rasa). More broadly, this
tenth-century tantric critic and philosopher turns the older
theory of rasa on its head by taking a more essentialist view of
aesthetic response, a more internalist perspective. According to
him, the rasas are grounded not only in the corresponding
bhavas but also in the atman, the impersonal and universal self.
The delight intrinsic to all relishing derives from the atman, who
is universal. The specialness of the ninth rasa (the reason,
Abhinava says, Bharata did not himself mention it) is that it is
doubly grounded in the self.
Bharata has what we might call a foundationalist view, that
there are natural emotions that serve as material to be
aesthetically transformed. Abhinava, in contrast, sees aesthetic
experience as native to an interior realm closer to the self’s own
experience of bliss (ananda) than any natural feeling we are
born with. Aesthetic experience draws on the ananda (delight)
that is intrinsic to self-awareness. Relishing is not only
impersonal and independent of petty circumstances of life
experience but also preexistent. It is an inner sense or feeling
that is not caused by the body or by mental dispositions
(samskaras) created by experience storing memories. The
circumstances portrayed by art may be physical, but the rasas,
like the universal self, are not physically caused. They are
drawn out. In themselves, they belong to a separate domain of
self-experience.
In line with this internalist, noncausal position, rasas are
viewed as self-authenticating, sva-prakasha, like the self. In this
way, the perspective of the connoisseur is insider and
privileged, the trained sensibility of the sahridaya, in Abhinava’s
view, the person of “like heart and mind,” who is fit for aesthetic
experience. Similarly, the self-disciplined yogin is fit to
experience Shiva, the supreme self and reality. The analogy is
explicit and total. The training that makes possible (but does not
cause) our relishings undercuts their intersubjectivity no less
than the training necessary to taste the supreme delight
undercuts the reality of the One. Indeed, aesthetic training is a
kind of yoga. Each world (bhuvana) or domain of the self’s
manifestation has objects that are proper to it and to a
corresponding consciousness. The same is true of the aesthetic
experience (rasa) of the sahridaya.
At risk of digression, it seems to me interesting that there is
only one aesthetic state for which a radically different word and
concept is used than that for the corresponding natural state:
suffering or grief, shoka, which as a naturally occurring feeling
is said to be matched in the audience not with a form of shoka
but with something radically different, namely, karuna,
compassion. The thesis that links the two is that when we
contemplate suffering in the aesthetically interested but
personally disinterested fashion of a connoisseur (sahridaya,
“like-hearted” member of the audience), we taste the rasa of
compassion—which, we may add, in the spirit of Abhinava’s
aesthetic Yoga, is right and proper because that’s the true
response of the atman, our deep self or, as in Buddhism,
“nonself” essential consciousness.
Perhaps one side of the First Noble Truth—interpreting the
“All” to refer to things that concern others as well as ourselves
—is to acknowledge the selfness of others and to practice
ahimsa. Abhinava would say that in a yoga of art, by
empathizing with even an imaginary suffering we grow in our
dispositions to compassion. Indeed, in all aesthetic experience
we begin to enjoy the bliss of the true self, ananda, since rasas
as hedonic states are apparently closer to the self than are
natural states, our everyday pleasures and pains. Thus
aesthetic experience secures for us progress yogically toward
the supreme good, now conceived as a kind of individual
perfection. The supreme good includes developing an aesthetic
and moral self. It is not just self-realization in the narrow sense
in operation before or apart from the tantric turn.
In Buddhism, the change begins with the story of the
bodhisattva’s turning back from the personal annihilation of a
solitary nirvana to help the world out of suffering. No end of
embodiment for the buddha of unbounded compassion, not
until every sentient being is enlightened. The bodhisattva is in
every way beautiful and worthy of worship, worthy of bhakti,
which is incorporated into the Mahayana path.
The history of the idea goes way back. Sermons and stories
of the Pali canon, which are much earlier than the Mahayana
literature to which the bodhisattva idea is proper, extol a triad of
character traits as conducive to the sumum bonum: uprightness
(shila in Sanskrit, sila in Pali), yogic trance or concentration
(samadhi, sammadhi), and wisdom (prajna, panna). Practices
consonant with their development are laid out in the early
literature. In the hands of Mahayanins, the three are split to
become the six marks, the six perfections, paramita, of a
bodhisattva, and practice teachings are reorganized around the
sextad of charity, uprightness, energy, patience, concentration
(samadhi), and wisdom.25 These qualities, whether as perfected
through yoga practice over lifetimes or as natural traits of the
awakened (unobstructed now for the master yogin or yogini),
make a person efficient in helping others achieve
enlightenment.26 Thus like the supreme guru, Shiva, in Kashmiri
Shaivism and the Lord of the Yoga Sutra’s conception, the
bodhisattva is the ultimate teacher who inspires bhakti. The
beautiful body of the bodhisattva also inspires love and delight.
In Buddhist tantra, yoga is auxiliary to the way of the
bodhisattva. But assimilation is a two-way street. The Buddhist
ideal converges strikingly with the karma yogin idea of the Gita
we reviewed in chapter 3, although the intellectual foundations
are different.27 The Kaula goal and path as depicted in the
Kularnava Tantra and elsewhere are also similar. In
Vaishnavism we find just about everything we find elsewhere,
and perhaps the best examples. Krishna, whom we are to make
every effort to imitate and remake ourselves to be like, has
certain qualities or characteristics. Rupa Gosvamin’s sixteenth-
century list of sixty-four qualities of Krishna includes: “Strong,”
“Truthful,” “Eloquent,” “Learned,” “Witty,” “Artistic,” “Adroit,”
“Self-Controlled,” “Generous,” “Compassionate,” “Happy,”
“Captivated by Love,” “Beneficent to Everyone,” “Partial to the
Good,” “Ever Fresh and New,” and “Endowed with Spiritual
Powers,” among many more traits that are both yogic and
world-directed.28 One might add to this growing collection of
paths the practice (the “yoke”) of the imitation of Christ, in
Christianity, which whether historically connected or not surely
seems to have a bhakti element. Sufi-ism is drenched in bhakti.
These may appear remote disciplines, the trails of spiritual
mountain-climbers. But bhakti is available in the yoga studio
and anywhere else, to anyone, according to those who teach it.
Music is also a particularly efficacious conduit, it is no hazard to
say.
 Finally, the concept of shri, divine beauty. This word, shri, is
used in the Vaishnavism of South India in roughly the same
ways as shakti in the Shaivism of Abhinava and company. The
world is a manifestion of Shree (to use the phonetic spelling), of
beauty, the Great Goddess. She is evident in nature. She gives
meaning to life, both externally and internally. We are all her
vehicles, but yoga is particularly efficacious in attuning us to her
expressive energies.
Psychic Transformation

At the very end of the Katha or Story Upanishad (see appendix

A, Katha 6.17), is an image that recurs throughout subsequent
literature as a symbol of the individual soul: “thumb-size,”
seated in a “secret cave” (another Upanishadic symbol) located
in or behind the heart (chakra), there is a conscious being
(purusha) who survives death. “The inner self (atman) is a
conscious being (purusha), thumb-size, forever dwelling in the
heart of creatures. / It is to be extracted from the body patiently,
with diligence, like the cane shaft from the munja reed. / The
bright, the immortal, it should be known. The bright, the
immortal, it should be known.”29
From the spiritual autobiography of the Siddha yogin, Swami
Muktananda (1908–82): “I would have a new movement in the
heart, in which an egg-shaped ball of radiance would come into
view. This is the vision of the radiant, thumb-sized being, who is
described as follows in the Shvetasvatara Upanishad… ‘The
inner soul always dwells in the heart of all men as a thumb-
sized being.’” 30
There are other images, most notably the Hamsa (e.g.,
Katha 2.2.2), the symbol of the Sri Ramakrishna Math, the
Bihar School of Yoga, and other modern institutions, which,
despite being sometimes depicted as a swan, is the Siberian
crane—I hazard, following Kalidasa and other classical authors
—a bird that flies over the Himalayas each spring from India,
where it winters, to summer in Siberia.31 There is also the image
of the spark soul, the same in divine substance as the spark in
everyone else, transmigrating from death to birth.
All this has become part of the mainstream Tantric
psychological picture, in accordance with the Shat-chakra-
nirupana (Description of the Six Chakras) of Purananda
(sixteenth century).32 In Kundalini Yoga, Swami Satyananda
writes about the heart chakra (anahata), “In the center of the
pericarp of the lotus is an inverted triangle, within which burns
the akhanda jyotir, unflickering eternal flame, representing the
jivatman or individual soul.”33 As we saw in chapter 4, there is
wide diversity of opinion about the jivatman, the individual
consciousness, especially in its relationship to Brahman or
God. But there is interesting commonality too. All Yoga
traditions teach that the intention to practice yoga is a wedge of
light coming up from our truest self or consciousness, turning
us toward other right attitudes in life as well as to our longer-
term self-interest, that is to say, our self-interest considering
survival and reincarnation.
Thus amid great diversity of opinion about an individual soul,
I wish to strike the common theme of yoga as tool of—let us
say, following the coinage of Aurobindo—psychic
transformation.34 Our minimalist commitment is only to the value
of yoga for this life and an indefinite future. But just to consider
asanas, there are some it would take, for most of us, at least
another lifetime to master! There is also the ability to turn one’s
thought and emotion to the sattvic, that is, to the healthy and
good and beautiful. One way to think about all this is that we
are being influenced by the purusha or soul, the psychic spark
in the heart that survives death, the jivatman, a part of
ourselves deeper than thought that has leverage over it,
capable of changing it and all our instruments for the better. In
the terms of the kosha system (figure 4A), it’s as though the
innermost sheath of bliss (the anandamaya kosha) expands to
suffuse the other sheaths, the mental, pranic, and physical, so
that—to use the aesthetic terminology of Abhinava—
everywhere there is rasa. To paraphrase the line from the
Kularnava Tantra, all life becomes yoga and even our flaws and
failures the stuff of art.
Aurobindo weaves a theory of psychic transformation into an
overall Vedantic philosophy, and has much to say about an
occult individual in the heart, which he calls the psychic entity.35
The psychic entity develops psychic personality, which he calls
the psychic being and the true person, over the course of
lifetimes of embodiment, incorporating transformed mental and
pranic energies and dispositions into an enduring individual
complex that survives the death of the body.

The true secret soul in us—subliminal, we have said, but this word is
misleading, for this presence is not situated below the threshold of
waking mind, but rather burns in the temple of the inmost heart behind
the thick screen of an ignorant mind, life and body, not subliminal but
behind the veil—this veiled psychic entity is the flame of the Godhead
always alight within us, inextinguishable even by that dense
unconsciousness of any spiritual self within which obscures our
physical nature. It is a flame born out of the Divine and… the inner
light or inner voice of the mystic. It is that which endures and is
imperishable in us from birth to birth, untouched by death, decay, or
corruption, an indestructible spark of the Divine.36

In a poem by Abhinava translated in appendix E, the

divinities of the directions offer all our efforts to the divine core
represented by Bhairava/Bhairavi and the central channel
descending from the thousand-petaled lotus above the head
down into the heart chakra. Here Aurobindo’s conception is a
little different. The soul in a secret temple behind (but
immediately connected to) the heart center—our spark soul—is
constantly doing puja, offering everything to the divine in joy
and adoration, all the while luring, not coercing, our parts—
body, life, and mind—to the side of its quiet spirituality. This is
the interpretation Aurobindo gives to the “Nachiketas fire” of the
Katha Upanishad (see appendix A, the introduction to the
Katha), “the immortal in the world of mortals.”
Our minimalist attitude responds, like the Jaina logic, with a
syat, “maybe,” maybe this is true. There surely are other views
about a jivatman. Personally, my response is that it would be
wonderful if such a theory were even roughly right. Here is not
only survival but also meaning and purpose to an individual life;
life has meaning as, we might say, psychic expansion, involving
increased psychic incorporation of mind, life, and body. The
tantric turn is from an idea of withdrawal from the outer to the
inner and a turn to an idea of transformation of the outer by the
inner. Such a reversal is expressly championed by Aurobindo.
It’s the kosha theory inside out, or the flowering of the inner in
the outer, to change metaphors. Translife continuity is crucial,
partly because our lives are short. It takes more than a single
lifetime for a soul to perfect its instruments.
Like other tantric endeavors, Aurobindo’s is a rather
maximalist spiritual philosophy that departs from the traditional
Vedantic emphasis on transcendence to include affirmation of
spirit in life. It is a world-affirming theism in which psychic
transformation is key. The soul or psychic entity emerges from
behind its veil into what Aurobindo calls the surface
consciousness, urging us to practice yoga with all our
instruments, body, life, and mind, and inspiring works—of
wisdom or saintliness or beauty or at least comparatively
greater wisdom, et cetera. The soul oversees and, in this view,
progressively becomes the perfection of the body, life, and
mind. Thus, as in the tantric turn more generally, the supreme
good is not simply discovery of Brahman, as classical
Vedantins claim, but just as importantly a kind of occult self-
making, the making of a spiritual but also world-oriented
individual.37
This is a process for which the divine and the embodied
psychic being are said to share responsibility. As we saw in
connection with Aurobindo’s reincarnation argument, psychic
development—alternatively, manifestation—through a series of
lives is the linchpin of his, and in general the tantric, view of self
and indeed the world and God. In particular, Aurobindo’s stress
on individuality echoes Abhinava’s concept of svatantrya, the
freedom of self-determination that belongs to Shiva, who is
ourselves. Actually, here Aurobindo’s theory diverges a little
from the Kaula philosophy of Abhinava, since Aurobindo puts
much more emphasis on the theory of soul development
(deriving from the Gita) than does Abhinava, who views the
individual as manifesting from the top down (an idea inherited
from Samkhya), although of course he accepts karmic
continuities. But both tantric theists have a common
denominator with modern existentialism, since God is not
external to us but rather the source of our spontaneous acts.
With both Aurobindo and Abhinava, reality is enriched by our
personal delimitations of the universal creativity. The point of
life is not just to recover or recognize the self as source but
also, according to our own appropriations, individual natures,
and styles, to manifest the divine energy and to relish beauty.
Rupa Gosvami (c. 1525), in a shocking use of a worldly
metaphor, says that the prerequisite (adhikara) for the most
advanced type of bhakti is simply longing (lobha), intense
longing, veritable greed for amorous contact with Krishna. This
contrasts with scriptural injunctions that he specifies must be
followed as a prerequisite for less perfect forms of bhakti. But
here, in what seems like Aurobindo’s “soul emergence,” both
logic and scripture are swept aside as the desire for the divine
takes over, assuredly bringing the rasa and delight of divine
contact and love play in all the events of life.38 The seeker’s
prana and thought are transformed as a spiritual identity is
forged in erotic rendezvous of the divine with the individual
soul.39 This is the tantric turn with a vengeance, spirit coming
into life and psychic transformation.
To round off this book, I want to bring out a virtue of Yoga in
the context of political philosophy, that is, to draw out the most
important political ramifications of rebirth and the yogic goals
we have surveyed. What sorts of institutions would we want,
were we confident of rebirth along the lines of individual and
karmic continuity and justice, unseen force (adrishta; see the
final section of chapter 3; alternatively, God’s grace), affirmed
throughout Yoga philosophies? The question presupposes
continuity of some mental dispositions (samskara) as well as
individual translife identity. It also presupposes some sense of
the workings of unseen force.
The answer to the question is, fortunately, pretty clear, at
least in broad outline. We would want the world into which we
will be born to be one where our talents can flourish.40 The
political philosopher John Rawls famously imagines an “original
position” where all parties to a fundamental social contract—
namely everyone—would choose the first principles of
government without knowledge of their particular place in
society, parents, sexual identity, likes and dislikes, and so
forth.41 All one would know is that one is a human being in a
society governed by law, along with, to be sure, science,
including principles of bureaucracy and administration. Such a
perspective is strikingly similar to that which we take when we
contemplate our next birth according to Yoga, albeit one may
be aware of a certain karmic carryover in translife
consciousness.
According to the most prominent rebirth theory, which we
are calling soul making, each of us will be reborn as a human
being, in all likelihood. Otherwise, there could be little karmic
continuity. Musical talent and a person’s developing it, or not,
throughout a lifetime seems a good example. Surely Paul
McCartney, who cannot read music, has been a musician
previously. And, like a musical ear, so on through a range of
inherited and acquired characteristics that help to secure
continuity from one life to the next. According to this Yoga
theory, each of us is or is making a translife personality through
making karma and individualized realizations of human
capacities.
Thus as beings with multiple human futures, we have
tremendous interest in worldly institutions. When we die we are
not going away; for us there is no final heaven or hell beyond
the planet, and we are not just “food for worms.”42 Thinking,
then, with Rawls, about the institutions that we would like to be
in place for our future births, we have, I should like first to point
out, tremendous incentive for those institutions to be fair.
Contemplating future births according to the principles of
samskara continuity and karmic justice, we have added reason
to want what Rawls calls the Liberty Principle (“maximal liberty
compatible with a like liberty for another”). We would also
accept something like his Equality Principle, which has two
parts, Equal Opportunity and the Difference Principle. Yoga, as
I will explain, might want to quarrel with the Difference Principle.
Rawls thinks that the two principles would be unanimously
adopted in the original position. Yoga’s theory of rebirth and
karmic justice would mainly reinforce his conclusions. Yet there
is one departure that stands out.
Distribution of wealth looks a little different to Yoga than it
does to Rawls. The philosopher abstracts from positions of
people in society, considering a unit to be a single life. If a
person knows, however, that her current birth is only the most
immediate of a long series, then it seems she would be a little
more willing to gamble with unequal distributions than is Rawls,
who argues that institutionalized inequalities should work out to
the advantage of the least well-off. Karmically, a super-rich birth
is not necessarily desirable, since with great wealth comes
great responsibility for beneficence. The danger of forming
negative unseen force is particularly great, and a modest
patrimony may be a godsend.
Furthermore, what we really want are institutions that allow
us to develop our talents, no matter to what class or caste we
are born.43 So long as we have schools aplenty for everyone
and yoga studios, we would not mind that a few have especially
great wealth. We ourselves may have such a birth in the future,
or had one in the past, and we have a healthy respect for the
addictive qualities of the pleasures that wealth makes possible.
In any case, we should like to be secure in having yoga
instruction available, and if this requires wealthy patronage
other than the State’s, then we might differ from Rawls. In
contrast, a case can be made for yoga instruction in State-
sponsored schools, an easy case, since yogic skills are
transferable to all occupations, mental and physical.
Furthermore, yogic instruction need not be sectarian, although
it cannot help but make a person more self-conscious in the
good sense. The poor should not have to depend on charity to
get yoga instruction. Furthermore, as parties to an original
contract, à la Rawls (and earlier social contract theorists), we
might be especially mindful of the least fortunate out of a sense,
like Rawls’s, of longer-term self-interest.44 May everyone be
prosperous and find the opportunity to practice.
Finally, let me share some mantras and further ideas about
setting an intention (samkalpa; see the introduction), especially
as such a practice is relevant to a yoga class. First, a Vedic
mantra (taught to me by Shri Jagan natha Vedalankara, whose
interpretation I follow) that seems appropriate for the beginning
of a yoga class. In English it goes as follows: “I call the fire,
ancient priest of the sacrifice, the divine who summons (the
divinities), bringing here jewels.”45 The mantra is particularly
significant because it is the first verse of the Veda, of the Rig
Veda, to be precise, verse 1.1.1, part of a short hymn to fire
(agni). I interpret this fire (following Jagannatha) not as earthly
or heavenly but rather as psychic fire, the Hamsa, the spark
soul.46 In the verse, such fire bridges the worlds—it is able to
bring here the sacred and its enrichment. The fire is the ancient
priest of the inner or yogic sacrifice, and appropriately invoked
at the beginning of a class of asanas. The idea is that we
enliven the soul’s intention when we call the psychic flame. In
other words, we call the fire, the Hamsa, the “thumb-size”
consciousness in or behind the heart, dwelling in a cave or
inner sanctum of the body as temple.47
 APPENDIX A

Select Yogic Passages in the Upanishads

The historical setting of the Upanishads is outlined at the beginning of the

third section of chapter 1. There are two translations that I recommend:
Roebuck (2000), which is the more accurate, and Easwaran (1987),
which is the more poetic. Here I translate and discuss only those
passages in the very earliest Upanishads where the word yoga is used in
the sense of self-discipline1 (see the list of early Upanishads in figure 1A
in chapter 1). My style is occasionally to include a short explanation in
parentheses within the translation. In other words, expressions in
parentheses are not on the surface of the Sanskrit text. But as glosses
they are practically synonyms with the words glossed, and so are visible
just below it. It is also my practice throughout these five appendices to
restore ellipsis and sometimes to substitute for pronouns their referents.
Every Upanishad is a text that, like the Yoga Sutra, relates to yoga
practices philosophically. So practically any selection is arbitrary, from
the perspective of Yoga. No thematic criterion is available for homing in
on the most important passages. Even only the Upanishads that the
earliest commentators knew—which indologists consider the oldest,
numbering 13 or 14 out of 108 counted traditionally, or more than 200 by
the largest count2—present more than one theory about a spiritual reality.
Classical Vedanta assumes, erroneously, that there is a single
metaphysical view. Unfortunately, this assumption defines the school,
which from the Brahma Sutra (c. 200 B.C.E.) on takes its task to be
extraction of the single philosophy of the Upanishads. However,
Upanishadic unity lies elsewhere than in a Vedantic system spun around
the conception of Brahman or God. In fact, some Upanishads are theistic;
some are not. Some have one view of the relation of Brahman to the
individual; some another. Upanishadic unity comes from other quarters—
from yoga advocacy and occult discoveries through yoga.
Not all Upanishadic passages are explicitly Yogic or yogic, however,
in that there are puns, jokes, and stories with morals for everyone, not
only for yogins and yoginis, at least now that the Upanishads have been
brought out from their secret lineages. Nevertheless, Upanishadic
psychological claims and doctrines of self and self-consciousness, as
well as the metaphysics of Brahman, all presuppose yoga practice. This
is not just an epistemological point (the third section of chapter 4
addresses the epistemology of yogic experience) but also pedagogical,
according to Vedantic as well as Yogic traditions: only by yoga practice
does one become capable of understanding the Upanishads, the “secret
doctrines.”3
The twelve or thirteen or fourteen earliest and principal Upanishads
are old texts, some very old, whose abstract metaphysical claims are
susceptible to multiple interpretations, as is shown by the very existence
of Vedanta subschools. There is less possibility of controversy with
passages about methods of yoga, so less commentary is required,
although all Upanishadic readings need a little contextualization and
commentary. The passages rendered here pertain to yoga practice and
psychology in the first place and speculative philosophy in the second
place.4
The translations here are not of the very most famous Upanishadic
passages. Through the eyes of Yoga philosophy, they (or any other
passage from the early Upanishads, for that matter) carry significance
other than what classical Vedantic commentators find. Views about
Brahman, the Absolute, and the relationship to the self or Self, atman,
and our psychology as individuals are the Vedantic stock-in-trade. From
a Yoga perspective, these doctrines are interesting. Vedanta is a
philosophy encouraging yoga practice. However, it is also exciting to find
practice teachings in the Upanishads typically ignored by Vedantins.5
To begin, there is a story about how different yogas are appropriate
for different psychologies that shows especially well several concerns of
ours, including the background of all Upanishadic teaching, though it is
only a minor part of the overall case for highlighting yoga.6 The passage
occurs in what scholars consider the oldest or one of the two or three
oldest Upanishads, the Brihadaranyaka (c. 800 B.C.E.), 5.2.1–3. Made
famous in the West by T. S. Eliot’s 1922 poem, The Waste Land, it
shows yoga eligibility conditions while setting out different “disciplines” for
different personality types or distinct parts of ourselves. It is also a
forerunner of the Gita’s teaching of karma yoga.
Prajapati, father of creatures, becomes the guru for three groups of
children: gods, humans, and demons. At the end of a period of service
and self-discipline—a first stage of a two-stage yoga—all three receive a
special mystic teaching and prescription called an upanishad—in each
case the single syllable da, but each group understands it differently. The
gods take da to mean that they should restrain themselves (damyata),
and Prajapati says, “Yes (om), you have understood.” The humans are
then also confirmed by him in their hearing that they should give (datta).
And the demons say it means they should be compassionate
(dayadhvam), with Prajapati again concurring. The thunder repeats the
message endlessly, da, da, da, and the passage closes with the refrain,
“Peace, peace, peace” (shantih shantih shantih). Shankara and other
classical commentators differentiate types of person and dispositions as
targets of Prajapati’s injunction: gods have desires, men are afflicted by
greed, and demons are prone to anger. But the unity of da’s message is
also emphasized: yoga, yoking or self-discipline, as appropriate
according to your nature, is a prerequisite for mystical knowledge of your
highest self, the Brahman.
Despite all the disagreements among Vedantins of the various
subschools, the message that through yoga we can have mystical
knowledge of the Absolute, the Brahman, can hardly be missed, in this or
in any other early Upanishad. Knowledge of Brahman, which is a single
self of everyone, atman, brings freedom from fear (see the beginning of
section 3.2). Cosmologically opinions differ, but insofar as any individual
consciousness remains, it is no longer subject to an otherwise inevitable
reincarnation or any other natural force or law. There is liberation,
moksha. Yoga makes this possible if it does not directly bring it about.
Katha 2.23 is interpreted by some to mean that the grace of the higher
self is the trigger, making itself known to the lower self, which has been
made ready by yoga. But yoga would still be necessary prep.
As mentioned in chapter 1, the word yoga derives from the verbal root
yuj, which comes to be used in the Upanishads in the sense of
restraining or yoking the mind (manas).7 The sense of yoga as union, as
in union with God or union with the higher self, which is a later usage,
seems to be introduced in the Maitri Upanishad, though the passage may
be an interpolation and, in any case, it is difficult to date that Upanishad
or know the linguistic history with much confidence.8 Despite that and
other stray occurrences of the meaning of (spiritual) union, self-discipline
is the sense common among Upanishads, the Bhagavad Gita, the Yoga
Sutra, and other classic texts.
Now the word itself in this precise sense is used in the early
Upanishads relatively rarely, compared with more than one hundred
occurrences in the Bhagavad Gita alone and hundreds more in later
sections of the Mahabharata. But yoga practices go by many names;
tapas, heat, the spiritual heat generated by asanas, etc., is a general
word that is practically a synonym as employed in many Upanishads (cf.
the later usage of tapasya, asceticism).9 Furthermore, often the focus is
on yogic experiences and realities revealed, not on the practices which
are presupposed.
One final remark before we turn to the texts. The Vedantin Shankara
identifies eighteen “great statements” (mahavakya) throughout ten or
eleven Upanishads, among which is a line from Brihadaranyaka 4.5.6
that has wide resonance within all the classical schools: “Verily the self is
to be learned about (from scripture), thought about, and made immediate
in meditation.”10 Practices of yoga are implied in the final prescription.
This is not, let me emphasize, an uncommon reading. Almost all of the
philosophers of the classical schools on record, including, notably, Nyaya
philosophers as well as Vedantins, read it this way.11 It’s as though the
three (only marginally) separate classical darshana (ways of viewing the
world)—Vedanta, Nyaya, and Yoga—are each sanctioned: Vedanta with
its emphasis on learning from scripture, Nyaya with its emphasis on
intellectual reflection, and Yoga with its emphasis on practice and
immediate meditational experience.12
From the Taittiriya Upanishad (2.4–5)13

In what may be its first recorded occurrence in the sense of self-

discipline, the word yoga is used in the midst of explanation of the kosha
(sheath) theory that we reviewed in chapter 4 (see figure 4A). This is the
teaching of five sheaths or bodies dwelt in simultaneously by the self or
soul: the physical or made-of-food sheath, the breath or pranic sheath,
the lower mind, the higher mind, and the bliss-made kosha. Specifically,
the word yoga is used in connection with description of the fourth sheath,
the higher mind, vijnanamaya, understood by Shankara as the
understanding, buddhi, as opposed to the synthesizing sense mentality,
manas (the stuff of the third sheath). The word for that of which the fourth
sheath is made, vijnana, is commonly translated “understanding.”
Shankara says that through it we understand truths. He also says that
such understanding guides action. The overall message of the
Upanishad is that by tapas—as noted, usually translated “austerity” but
definitely including practices we know as yogic, such as meditation—one
discovers that each of the sheaths is the Brahman, the Absolute,
progressively, beginning with the food sheath. But first we have to be
able to identity the sheath itself, and in the following passage we are told
about that which is made of knowledge or the higher mind.
The Taittiriya is an early prose Upanishad (see figure 1A) that has
come down to us through the Taittiriya lineage of the Yajur Veda. In fact,
all the passages that follow, except for those from the Mundaka, come
from that lineage, from that school of keepers, to be precise, of the
“Black,” Krishna Yajur Veda as opposed to the “White.” (The former has
explanatory prose intermixed with its poems, while the latter does not.)
There is much overlap in Vedic literature among lineages and repetitions
of the Rig Veda in particular, including other forms and derivations from
the root yuj occurring in the Brihadaranyaka and Upanishads from other
lineages. Thus nothing much should be made of the fact that all the early
and principal Upanishads (except the Mundaka; see below) in which the
word yoga is used in the sense of self-discipline belong to this Taittiriya
line. As mentioned, yoga practices are referred to as tapas and named in
a variety of manners. Perhaps with the noun yoga, however, it was in this
shakha, this branch or Vedic school, that the linguistic convention
originated.

There is, interior to and other than the body made of mind (manas), a
body made of knowledge (vijnana). By that this is filled. This too has
just the form of a person. According to that one’s personal form, this
one has personal form. Just trust (shraddha, faith) is its head. The
right way (rita = dharma) is its right side. Its left side is truth. Its body
(trunk) is yoga. The great unmanifest is its lower part, its base.

The point here concerning the assimilation of yoga to the fourth

sheath seems to be that yoga requires mental direction, a plan
intellectually understood. Cognition directs action. Yoga (tapas) is to be
carried out in the terms of the other sheaths too, the body, the breath,
and so on. But in all cases there are mentally discernible rules.
Furthermore, our knowing faculty, despite its confusions and the
difficulties it makes for other parts of our being, is also the Brahman—so
the Upanishad goes on to conclude.
From the Katha Upanishad (2.12, 2.23–24, and 6.7–18)

The Katha or Story Upanishad, unlike the Taittiriya, is written in verse. Its
poetry is nevertheless antique, complex, and ideatively dense and
imagistic in comparison with, for example, the Bhagavad Gita, which
often echoes it. The teacher or guru is Yama, God of Death, the
Controller. His pupil is Nachiketas, a young man in ancient India whose
father, in accordance with prevailing religious practice is, as the
Upanishad opens, sacrificing his possessions, offering all to the gods in
the hope of attaining heaven.
As the grand procession is led past, Nachiketas argues that his
father’s efforts are useless. “Giving away everything will get you
nowhere,” he tells him. When the father ignores the impertinence, the son
asks, “Then to whom will you give me?” The father doesn’t respond.
Nachiketas taunts him with the question a second and a third time. In
exasperation, the father shouts (“Go to hell”) “To Death, I give you to
Death.”
Nachiketas, being a serious and dutiful son, follows his father’s orders
and travels to the gates of the afterworld through a yogic trance. (The
notion of yogic prerequisites is thus built into the plot.) There he waits for
three days on the doorstep of Yama himself, Lord of Death. Now
Nachiketas is not only a guest but a Brahmin, of the priestly caste. Yama
violates a higher law, it seems, by ignoring him, particularly for so long a
time. To make amends, he grants Nachiketas three wishes or boons, one
for each day he had to wait. The boy’s first wish is that his father no
longer be angry with him. Yama readily grants the request. For the
second, Nachiketas asks about the meaning of the sacrificial ritual. Death
gives him an explanation in which fire is symbolic of a divine being
concealed in matter. Nachiketas’s inner fire of discontent or aspiration is
“the immortal in the world of mortals.” Whoever lights this sacrificial
flame, Yama says, crosses to the farther shore. When the boy seems to
grasp what his teacher is talking about, Death, pleased at finding so
receptive a pupil, names it the Nachiketas fire.
For his final boon, Nachiketas asks: “When a person dies, is he there
or not?” Death complains that not even the gods or the rishis can answer
the question. He begs him to choose some other boon: elephants and
gold, beautiful wives, sons and grandsons, a kingdom, long life.
Nachiketas dismisses these as transitory. He insists that only Yama can
reveal the mystery and that this is his single wish. Death, who cannot go
back on his word, instructs Nachiketas in a yoga of immortality.
Verse 2.23 is extremely important to Yoga theism, including tantric
readings of the Upanishads, for its apparent reference to God’s choice
and activity. If one takes the supreme self, atman, of the Upanishads to
be Brahman in the theistic sense of a Supreme Lord and Inner Controller,
antaryamin, who emanates all the worlds by voluntary choice, then yoga
is not in itself sufficient to attain the supreme good. God’s grace, the
self’s “choice,” is also necessary. Indeed, it is the trigger of
enlightenment. (The idea recurs in the Mundaka; see below.)
In all the following verses except the last, the speaker is Yama,
Death. The last verse closes the Upanishad by telling us in effect that
Nachiketas, by following the teaching, attained the supreme state of
consciousness called the Brahman, the Absolute. The first verse
rendered, 2.12, tells us that as a first step to this knowledge one knows
by yoga the immortal, indwelling self or soul (as discussed in the last
section of chapter 5).

2.12. That one that is difficult to know, hidden, immanent, set in the
cavern (of the heart), resting in the depths, / A wise man realizing it
through knowledge of yogic method with respect to the self leaves
behind joy and grief.…

2.23. Not through words is this the self (atman) to be got. Not by
being smart. Not from wide learning (in scripture). / Just by whom the
self chooses is the self obtainable. Only the one the self chooses gets
the self’s own form.

2.24. (Not by everyone) not by one who still behaves badly, not by
one who is not calm and peaceful (ashanta), not by one incapable of
samadhi (yogic concentration and trance), / Nor even by someone
wise and insightful if the mind is not calm and peaceful, would this
one (the self) be got.
6.7. Higher than the sense faculties is the manas, the mind (the organ
of inner sense). Essence (the sattva mode or guna embodied in
intelligence) is superior to the manas. / The great self is above
essence. Beyond the great (self) is the unmanifest.

6.8. But the (supreme) person is superior to the unmanifest, pervasive

and without distinguishing mark—/ By knowing whom a creature is
liberated and goes not again to the estate of death.

6.9. The form of that one (the supreme person) lies not within the
expanse of vision. No one sees that one with the eye. / Through the
heart and mind and intelligence is that one apprehended—by them
who by knowing that one have become immortal.

6.10. When the five (sense) cognitions are stilled along with the
sensual intelligence, / And the (higher) mind does not wander (in
thought), the highest state that is called.

6.11. This they consider (true) yoga, the firm control in concentration
of the organs and faculties. / Then one becomes vigilant; for yoga is
the origin and ending.

6.12. Never by speech, not by the sensual intelligence, not by vision

is that one got. / How is it to be known except by one proclaiming, “It
is (real)” (as a matter of immediate experience)?

6.13. “It is (real)” is just the way that it is to be known, and it is to be

known in its essential principles—both. / For the person who knows
indeed “It is (real),” the essential principles become clear.

6.14. When all the desires that dwell in the heart have been let go, /
Then the mortal becomes immortal. He enjoys here (in this life) the
Brahman (the Absolute).

6.15. When all the knots of the heart have been cut through here (in
 this life), / Then the mortal becomes immortal—this is the teaching.

6.16. A hundred and one are the channels (nadi) of the heart. One of
them issues at the crown of the head. / Through it departing, one
goes to immortality. The others lead out in all directions.

6.17. The inner self (atman) is a conscious being (purusha), thumb-

size, forever dwelling in the heart of creatures. / It is to be extracted
from the body patiently, with diligence, like the cane shaft from the
munja reed. / The bright, the immortal, it should be known. The bright,
the immortal, it should be known.

6.18. Nachiketas, having obtained this knowledge proclaimed by

Death (Yama) and all the principles of yoga (yoga-vidhim… kritsnam,
the entire method of yoga), / Attained the Brahman. He became free
from passion, free from death. Any other would do so too, who
likewise knows about the self.

The edition glossed by Shankara has one more line, a ritual closing.
The fact that verse 6.18, which is the last with real content, mentions
yoga, using our word, indicates that we are to understand the entire
teaching to be about that which is attainable through yoga. Rather
arbitrarily, we have begun at 6.7 the stretch that culminates in 6.18. But
in these dozen verses there are in summary form several key theses: the
Samkhya disidentification theme (also called the “elusive I”) in verses 6.7
and 6.8 (ideas that also occur at Katha 3.10–14); the practice of
pratyahara, sense withdrawal, which is the fifth limb of the Yoga Sutra’s
eight-limbed yoga, ashtanga, in verse 6.11; the mental silence idea in
6.10 and other verses; suggestions of the tantric occult psychological
system in verses 6.14–16; and the doctrine of the psychic individual in
verse 6.17.
From the Mundaka Upanishad (3.1.1–10 and 3.2.3–6)

The Mundaka—which has three main sections or chapters, each with two
subsections—is composed in elegant verses. It belongs to the Atharva
Veda, the “fourth” Veda, which is not mentioned in some Upanishadic
passages that mention the other three. Atharva hymns have impressed
scholars as distinctive, and are usually dated a few centuries later (c.
1000–800 B.C.E.) than other Vedic hymns. But there are repetitions and
echoes that unify Vedic literature—including the presence of the
subgenre of Upanishads.
Stylistically, the Mundaka seems separate from the oldest group of
Upanishads. Its concept of Brahman borders on paradox: see below,
3.1.7, which directly echoes the koanlike Isha. The Advaitin Shankara
lucidly glosses each verse, commenting on practically every word,
occasionally polemically (but only occasionally), seemingly letting his
Advaita commitment distort his reading (e.g., of 3.2.3, below).
The yoga or self-discipline recommended in this Upanishad seems
severe, extreme heat, tapas, built up through renunciation (samnyasa,
3.2.6) presumably of hunger, thirst, and desire for sex. But 3.1.8 seems
to recommend balance along with meditation, and 3.1.5 says that the
rishis, the mystic knowers of self, would be “ones whose desires have
been obtained” (apta-kamah). Also in 3.1.8, as in the Katha (above,
2.23), what Vedantic theists call Grace seems to be thought the trigger
for self-discovery, yogic prerequisites being in place.
At the beginning of this stretch of text, an image of two birds occurs,
one absorbed in eating, the other watching, and it recurs at
Shvetashvatara 4.6–7 and reverberates throughout Yoga and Vedantic
literature. Here we have an icon of self-monitoring consciousness.
Shankara glosses the word sayuja as sarvada yuktau, joined, or united
(yukta), all the time, a word thus fraught with overtones (our two selves
forever yoked in yoga). The yogin transcends both good and bad karma,
according to Mundaka 3.1.3, but nevertheless has flawlessly moral
character. The distinction between yogic immediate knowledge and
intellectual understanding seems implied in 3.1.4. The word yati, striver,
in 3.1.5 and 3.2.6, refers to the yoga practitioner. It derives from the root
yat, to strive after, to devote oneself to, and in the Gita is used
synonymously with yogin (e.g., Gita 5.26). Verse 3.1.10 anticipates the
siddhi theme of the Yoga Sutra.
The word yoga occurs in our sense in 3.2.6, within a context, it
seems, of a world-denying mysticism in that the yogin would enter
“Brahman worlds.” But the word in Sanskrit translated “world” is loka,
sometimes used in the sense of field of vision.14 The verse may be
interpreted as saying that whatever world the yogin finds himself in will be
a “Brahman world” in the sense that he or she sees everything as the
Brahman.

3.1.1. There are two birds (with beautiful wings) who are constant
companions (as though always together yoked), clutching the same
branch of a tree. / One of them eats the sweet berry; the other, not
eating, watches.

3.1.2. On a common branch, a person (a conscious being, purusha)

sits sunken in sorrow at his helplessness, deluded. / The other sits
contented. When the first person sees him to be (self-)lord,
magnificent, his grief departs.

3.1.3. When he becomes a seer, seeing the golden-hued doer, the

lord, the conscious being (purusha, person) born in the womb of
Brahman, / Then as the Knower shaking off good deeds and bad, of
flawless character, he attains the supreme equality (samya,
equanimity; unity [with Brahman]).

3.1.4. This is the life energy (prana) that radiates out from every
being. Knowing this, the Knower tends not to excessive disputation. /
Playing and relishing the self (atman), with self as his delight, doing
works this one becomes the best of Brahman knowers.

3.1.5. This is the self (atman) obtainable by truthfulness (satya), by

tapas (heat of yogic austerities), by right cognition, by the constant
practice of the student’s life of chastity (brahmacharya). / For there is
within the body something made of light, beautifully radiant. They
perceive this one, the strivers (yati) do, whose faults have been
diminished (by these means).

3.1.6. Only truthfulness wins, not falsehood. By truthfulness was the

divine path laid out. / By following it, rishis, having obtained their
desires, come to that which is for truthfulness the highest home.

3.1.7. And that is the vast. Its form inconceivable, divine, subtly that
radiates, so subtly. / Farther away than that which is far and at the
same time right near at hand, it is here and now for those who see (it),
set in a secret place.

3.1.8. It is not grasped by the eye, nor through speech. Not by other
faculties, nor by tapas, nor action. / With (inner) being (sattva) purified
through knowledge and serenity, then in meditation one perceives
that one, the partless (the imperceivable).

3.1.9. This minute self is to be known by a consciousness into which

prana (breath, life energy) has in five ways entered (and become
controlled). / The intelligence (chitta) of creatures is altogether shot
through with prana (that is out of control). Once purified, in it this self
appears.

3.1.10. Whatever world the person of purified (inner) being turns to,
illuminating mentally, and what desires he makes his own, / He wins
just that world and those desires. Therefore, if you want (true)
prosperity, you should hold the self-knower as the ideal.

3.2.3. Not through words is this the self (atman) to be got. Not by
being smart. Not from wide learning (in scripture). / Just by whom the
self chooses is the self obtainable. Only the one the self chooses gets
the self’s own form.

3.2.4. This the self is not to be realized if you are not strong, and not if
there is distraction or carelessness, nor if the discipline (tapas) is off
 the mark, flawed. / But if by these methods and means you strive, a
knower you become. For you, the self has its home in Brahman.

3.2.5. Rishis having realized that one, satisfied in their knowledges,

perfected in the self, free of passion, calm and serene, / These wise
ones find the Omnipresent everywhere. Disciplined in yoga
(yuktatman), they enter the All.

3.2.6. Ascetics, strivers (yati), who know well the meaning of the
Upanishads (vedanta) through their own experience, purified in their
(inner) being through renunciation and yoga practice—/ All of them
become at the end absolutely liberated into the worlds of Brahman,
having passed beyond death (possessing the supreme nectar of
immortality, amrita).

Five varieties of breath are introduced in the Brihadaranyaka (3.9.26)

and other Upanishads: prana proper as well as inhalation, apana, down-
breath, vyana, wide-breath, udana, up-breath, and samana, equalizing
breath. The translations are problematic in that for yoga practice these
are terms of art and perhaps best left untranslated or anglicized.15
Probably these are the five breaths that are referred to in Mundaka 3.1.9.
However, the word prana is also used in the sense of life energy in
general (see, e.g., 3.1.4), energy that in tantric teaching can be
redirected up the central channel of the occult body, sushumna (see
appendix E, Hatha Yoga Pradipika 2.41–42).
As noted, verse 3.2.3 repeats the theistic idea of grace that we
encountered in the Katha (2.23)—at least in the theistic interpretation of
Ramanuja and company. Shankara takes the verse to express the idea
of the self’s power of self-illumination in such “choosing.” Verse 3.2.4
goes on to spell out yogic prerequisites in general terms. The last two
verses give us a conception of the goal of yoga.
From the Shvetashvatara Upanishad (1.1–3 and 2.8–17)

The Shvetashvatara is referred to generously by Ramanuja and other

classical Vedantins, including Advaita Vedantins, although, like the
Katha’s, its philosophy is theistic. The oldest commentary is by Shankara,
as for almost all the early and principal Upanishads. According to expert
indological opinion, the Shvetashvatara is in style like the Kena, the
Mundaka, and the Katha, and thus probably belongs to a second period
of Upanishadic composition, around 400 B.C.E., although some would
assign it a still later date. In any case, it is older than the Gita, which
borrows lines from it and dates from 300 or 200 B.C.E. at best estimate. All
four Upanishads appear to be prior to the advent of Buddhism and the
Gita afterward.
The Shvetashvatara repeats ideas and phrases from other
Upanishads, the long prose Brihadaranyaka and the cryptic and short
Isha as well as several others. In it philosophy and yoga coalesce in a
theistic vision that is world-affirmative, precursing tantra (though this is
not true according to Shankara’s reading). The directness of the
metaphysical questioning at the beginning is striking. The passage
constitutes part of the evidence that there were public debates about the
Brahman in kingly courts and elsewhere in Upanishadic times.
In verse 1.3, there is mention of yoga and meditation together in a
compound (dhyana-yoga), and it is impossible to say whether the
Sanskrit is to be rendered “the yoga of meditation” or “yoga and
meditation.” I think the ambiguity does not matter much, for everything is
spelled out in verses 2.8–15. Clearly, the method prescribed includes
meditation. Note, however, that it is with bhakti yoga that the passage
ends, verses 16–17, which are the last lines of section 2 (the Upanishad
is divided into six sections or chapters).

1.1. They say who debate about Brahman: “What is the cause (of the
phenomenal display)? Is it Brahman? From what are we born? By
what do we live? And on what are we based? / We live experiencing
pleasures and their opposites—governed by what or whom? (Tell us)
you Brahman-knowers.
1.2. “Should we think time is the answer? Each thing’s own nature?
Necessity? Chance? The elements? A (cosmic) womb? A (cosmic)
person? / No, not these nor a combination of them, since there is the
(individual) self (which is something other than these and their
combinations). The self too is not the answer, since it cannot
determine its own pleasures and pains.”

1.3. Those who follow the yoga of meditation have perceived the
hidden energy (shakti) of the divine self (devatman), hidden its own
workings and strands. / Who governs all those causes including time
on through the (individual) self, it is this one.

2.8. Holding the body balanced and steady (sama), the three upper
parts (torso, neck, and head) erect, pulling the senses with the mind
into the heart, / The knower would cross all fear-carrying currents by
the boat of Brahman.

2.9. Squeezing the pranas (the five breaths) here (in the heart), let the
yogin of disciplined movement, the knower, breathing through the
nose with constricted breath, undistractedly control the mind like a
vehicle yoked (yukta) to wild horses.

2.10. In a clean level spot, free from pebbles, fire, and sand, which is
pleasing to the sensuous intelligence (manas), not paining the eye, by
such qualities as sounds of water, let yoga be practiced by one who
lives in a secluded and sheltered place.16

2.11. Mist, smoke, rays, (vital) air (anila), (interior) fire (anala),
fireflies, lightning, crystal, the moon—/ These forms are precursors of
Brahman awareness in yoga, manifesting (by its imminence).

2.12. (The elements) earth, water, the fiery element (tejas), air, and
ether (kha, sky) are presented (subtly) when yoga practice is under
way in its fivefold character. / For the accomplished whose body is
made of the fire of yoga, there is no disease nor old age nor death.
 2.13. Lightness (or clarity of mind), health, steadiness, clarity of
complexion, and excellence of voice, / A beautiful smell, slight urine
and stool—they say these come first in the processes of yoga.

2.14. With a knife smear a mirror with clay, and just as when cleansed
it shines again brilliantly, / So the embodied who knows the reality of
the self (atman) becomes integrated, purposes fulfilled, parted from
grief.

2.15. One disciplined in yoga would perceive here in this life the
reality of Brahman by the reality of the self that is like a lamp. / Then
knowing the unborn, the constant, that which is untouched by all
(other) realities, the God, he becomes liberated from all bondages.

2.16. For this God extends in all directions. Everything follows in

accord with him. For he was born before. In the womb in the end it is
just he. / It is he who has been born and who will be born. In front of
all creatures, he faces in all directions.

2.17. Who is in fire, who is in the waters, the God who is everything
has entered the world. / Who is in plants, who is in the forests, to this
God salutations, let there be salutations (namo namah).

The yogic progression seems to be from asanas and the body

through meditation and control of the mind to discovery of an indwelling
self. That discovery then becomes the means, the lamp (2.15), whereby
the God is discovered.
The bhakti sentiments at the end are not spelled out as a method of
yoga. They belong rather to the substance of the discipline.
Along the way, siddhis come as signs of progress, indicators of
imminent yogic experience and spiritual transformation. Apparently in this
way a practitioner would receive feedback from the higher self and keep
confidence in the end to be achieved, not let up or fall away from the
path. The precise nature of the conveyance seems less important than
the fact simply that there would be such encouragement. The mist,
fireflies, and so on mentioned in 2.11 comprise nonetheless a
(fascinating!) sequence of events in meditation, according to the common
interpretation.17
 APPENDIX B

Yogic Passages in the Bhagavad Gita

The Gita is a small section of an epic poem, the Mahabharata (c. 400
B.C.E.–200 C.E.). The epic is enormous, with more than 100,000 verses;
the Gita has about 900 verses, arranged into 18 chapters. The main story
line is about princely succession. The Mahabharata describes city-states
of urban and agricultural centers amid dense forests along the Ganga
and other rivers of north India. The warrior Krishna rules a neighboring
state, and though able, just, and politically astute, is not the divine guru
(bhagavad) in the main part of the poem that he is in the Gita (see the
discussion in chapter 5 on Krishna as avatara). The political issues are
complex, but one side of a quarreling family, and not the other, has the
just claim. The rightful heir with his four brothers and their allies and
troops and elephants are arrayed on this, the side of justice; Arjuna is the
third of the five brothers. The usurpers along with, unfortunately (from
Arjuna’s perspective), many venerable sages and heroes are lined up on
the other side. Arjuna’s own archery teacher, who has guided him to
incredible proficiency, “best in the three worlds,” is in the enemy camp. At
the opening of the Gita, Krishna joins the battle line as Arjuna’s
charioteer. Then ensues a dialogue between the two just before the
fighting begins. In the poem, this is reported by a blind holy man who has
the siddhi of being able to hear at a distance, guaranteeing that the
words have been recorded accurately.
Arjuna insists that it cannot be right to kill his kinsmen, teachers, and
friends who face him on the far side of the battlefield. Verses 1.31b–35:

No good do I see in killing my own family in battle. I desire not victory,

 nor rule, nor pleasures, Krishna. What is power to us, enjoyments, or
life, Govinda? Those who make rulership desirable for us, and
enjoyments and pleasures, it is they that are arrayed in battle (against
us), abandoning life and wealth. Teachers, fathers, sons,
grandfathers, uncles, in-laws—these I do not wish to kill even if it
means that I must die, Krishna—not even to rule the three worlds,
why then for the earth?1

Despite the sincerity of moral feeling, Krishna says the right thing to do is
to fight, to kill the opposing warriors, and to win the battle—all the while
taking a yogic attitude, which, in apparent paradox, involves ahimsa,
nonharmfulness (Gita 10.5, 13.8, 16.2, and 17.14), as discussed in
chapter 3.
Traditionally the Gita is not identified as an Upanishad; it does not
form part of Vedic literature. Furthermore, its language is more direct and
less symbolic and playful than that of the early and principal Upanishads.
But in many Vedantic circles as well as by generations of yogins and
yoginis, it is treated as an Upanishad, a “mystic doctrine” meant to guide
practice and to encapsulate results. The selections below tend to avoid
controversial metaphysical statements in favor of direct instructions in
yoga. Sometimes, however, the line is hard to draw, particularly with
buddhi yoga, the discipline for the higher intelligence (buddhi) that is laid
out in chapters 2, 8, and 13, in particular, but also here and there
throughout.
Krishna’s teaching of karma yoga is meant to overcome the tension
between the ethical value of nonharmfulness, ahimsa, and the duty of a
soldier to fight. More broadly, it is a yoga for anyone who has to act in the
world (see the third section of chapter 3 in this book). Apparently any
action can be done with the yogic attitude specified, including killing.
However, in my reading karma yoga demands giving to a recipient whom
one loves and adores, and this factor surely shrinks the range of
permissible acts. It seems to me crucial that the cause for which Arjuna is
fighting is just, although some commentators say that any action may be
the stuff of karma yoga.2
Krishna also embeds his karma yoga teaching in a metaphysics that
has God’s creative act, or continuing acts, as the cosmic foundations of
human action, using a ritual image of sacrifice. Brahman creates the
world as a gift (see above, the last section of chapter 3), maintaining it in
“Brahman action” (Gita 4.24).
We should keep in mind too that in the Gita Krishna reveals himself to
Arjuna as God incarnate, an avatara, literally a divine descent or
manifestation (see again the second section of chapter 5). In chapter 11
(little of which is included here since it depicts Krishna, not his teaching),
Krishna shows Arjuna his divinity after first giving him the “divine eye”
necessary to see it—below, 11.8, a verse that includes an interesting
mention of the word yoga. Krishna reveals his own yoga, which would be
presumably the laws of the universe, like principles of alignment in
asana.3 Thus Krishna’s yoga instruction is not to be understood as simply
a friend’s encouragement or the teaching of just any guru. His words are
the voice of God speaking to a human being in personal crisis—so the
Gita is and has been understood by theists who would emphasize its
teaching of bhakti yoga, the yoga of love and devotion. In my reading,
this yoga is to be seen as completing or complementing the karma yoga
teaching.
Also laid out are practices of meditation, breath control, and other
forms of what is called jnana yoga, the yoga of meditation, as well as a
yoga for the higher rationality, the buddhi or intelligence. Indeed, the sixth
chapter has rather detailed instructions for meditation, and the
metaphysical themes of the entire text may be taken to inform buddhi
yoga. This latter, by the way, is mentioned explicitly at Gita 2.49, 10.10,
and 18.57, but is not always recognized as on a par with the karma yoga,
the jnana yoga, and the bhakti yoga often together taken to be the
threefold path of the Gita.
It is through such discipline in general that one comes to live a
transformed life. One would come to be in the end a person, like Krishna,
aware of one’s immortal soul or self, transcending the universe and its
karmic laws, and directly aware of God, the Brahman, the
personal/impersonal Absolute.
Textually, the Gita often echoes Upanishadic passages, and there are
several outright repetitions of lines. For example, Gita 8.6 (see below)
echoes Mundaka 3.1.10 (see above), though few of the words are
identical. Of course, the epic’s meter, which is rarely used in the
Upanishads, would demand a change of wording even if a quotation were
intended. In the Sanskrit edition I use, which contains the commentary of
Shankara, a title for each chapter is given in a colophon at the end of the
chapter.4 These seem to me to be useful indicators of content, and are
translated below though they are not to be thought of as part of the text.
Except for the title of chapter 11, each includes the word yoga, which I
omit: “(The Yoga of) X.” Chapter 1 (not excerpted) is entitled “The Yoga
of Arjuna’s Despondency.”
Chapter 2: Analysis (Samkhya)

(Krishna, Shri Bhagavan, the Blessed One, said:)

2.39. So much for the (metaphysical) truth, which is for the intellectual
(the philosopher, samkhya), for you spoken thus. Hear it now for yoga
(practice). Son of Pritha, if you practice yoga according to this
teaching, the bondage of karma you will escape.

2.40. With this yoga (unlike with a ritual act), there is never loss of
effort, never an obstacle that can prevail. Just a little bit of this dharma
saves from the great fear.…

2.47. (In this yoga of inner sacrifice unlike with Vedic rituals) to the
action alone is a person entitled, never to the results. Do not be
moved by the fruits of action; do not be attached to inaction.

2.48. Given to yoga, perform acts, giving up attachment, Dhanamjaya.

Becoming one for whom success and failure do not matter, equal-
minded; yoga is called equanimity.

2.49. For the act (itself) is far less important than the attitude (buddhi)
taken in practice, in yoga, Dhanamjaya. Put your trust in the attitude;
pitiable are those moved by fruits.

2.50. Practicing yoga with this attitude, a person pushes away, right
here and now, karma both good and bad. Therefore, direct yourself
toward yoga; yoga is skill in works.

2.51. For sages practicing yoga with this attitude reject the fruit due to
karma. Free from the bondage of birth, they go to the place beyond
misery.

2.52. If your mind (buddhi) transcends the chatter of delusion, then

 you’ll become indifferent to scriptural texts, both those known (to you)
and those still to be learned.

2.53. Averse to scriptural lore, unshaken (by controversy), unmoving

in yogic concentration (samadhi), if your mind were so, then you
would have (true) yoga.

Arjuna said:

2.54. How to describe one of fixed intelligence, the person who has
attained yogic concentration (samadhi), Keshava? How does the
person of fixed thought talk, how sit, how walk?

The Blessed One said:

2.55. One is of fixed intelligence if all the desires that come into the
heart, son of Pritha, have been rejected, (that is to say) if he is
content living solely in the (universal) self (atman), content through
the self.

2.56. A sage is of fixed intelligence if his heart is undisturbed in the

midst of sorrow and unclinging in the midst of happiness, if he is one
whom passion, fear, and anger do not touch.

2.57. Who in all circumstances is free of preference, whether this or

that good or ill fortune comes about, who does not rejoice nor gripe
(whatever happens), that person has a firm and stable intelligence.

2.58. If, like a turtle that draws in its limbs totally, he draws in his
faculties and organs (of sense, digestion, etc.) from their objects, that
person has a firm and stable intelligence.

2.59. Objects presented desist (in their attractiveness) for one who,
(though) embodied, indulges (eats) them not—except for an
impersonal relish, which also desists for him when he perceives the
Supreme.

2.60. For even striving, Kaunteya, a person of discernment has

organs and faculties that, churning and disturbing, carry away his
heart (his attention, manas) violently.

2.61. Integrating and controlling (samyamya) them all, a person sits

engaged in yoga, intent on me (the divine). For he whose organs and
faculties are in control is a person of firm and stable intelligence.

2.62. A man thinking about objects becomes attached to them. From

attachment is born desire, and from desire anger is engendered.

2.63. From anger bewilderment comes to be; from bewilderment loss

of memory. From the breaking off of memory, his (yoga-directed)
mental attitude (buddhi) perishes; from the perishing of his mental
attitude, he comes to nought.

2.64. But ranging over objects presented with organs and faculties
separated from passion and dislike, submissive to the self (atman),
self-governing, he achieves tranquility.

2.65. Once there is tranquility, all suffering is for him banished. For he
whose heart and mind are tranquil quickly achieves a mental attitude
that is stable and firm.

2.66. There is no right mental attitude without practicing yoga, no self-

enlivening (bhavana).5 There is no (spiritual) peace (shanti) without
self-enlivening. How, if one is without peace, can there be happiness?

2.67. For if the heart and mind follow the churning organs and
faculties, they carry away one’s intelligence, like the wind (does) a
boat on the sea.

2.68. Therefore, strong-armed warrior, a person has a firm and stable

intelligence if he has organs and faculties in every way pulled back
from their objects.

2.69. What is night for all beings is a time of wakefulness for the
person of (integral) control (samyamin).6 That which is their waking is
night for the sage who sees.

2.70. Waters enter the ocean forever being filled up (yet) unmoving
fundamentally. For whom, like that, all desires enter (without
disturbance), that person attains (spiritual) peace (shanti), not one
who welcomes desires (the kama-kami).

2.71. The man who, rejecting all desires, acts without longing, without
a sense of “my” and “mine,” without egoism, he attains (spiritual)
peace.

2.72. This is living in Brahman, the Absolute, O son of Pritha, attaining

which a person is no longer deluded. Coming to live in it even at the
last hour, to the nirvana that is Brahman he goes.
Chapter 3: Works (Karma)

Arjuna said:

3.1. Krishna, if you consider mental attitude (buddhi) superior to

action, why then do you urge me on to an action so terrible?

3.2. It seems you would confuse my mind (buddhi) with contradictory

words. So tell me definitely that whereby I can attain the supreme
good.

The Blessed One said:

3.3. There are in this world two fundamental stances declared by me

of old, Arjuna: the yoga of knowledge (insight) for intellectuals
(philosophers, samkhya), and karma yoga, the yoga of action for
yogins.

3.4. By abstaining from works, a person does not enjoy a mystical

actionlessness; nor by renunciation alone is perfection attained.

3.5. For no one is able to remain even for a moment without acting;
everyone willy-nilly is made to work by the impulsions (gunas, modes)
of nature (prakriti).

3.6. Self-deluded is he who sits controlling the organs of action while

at the same time remembering with heart and mind their objects. His
is a false practice.

3.7. But one controlling organs and faculties with heart and mind and
commencing disciplined practice (karma yoga) with the organs of
action, unattached, he excels, Arjuna.
3.8. Do controlled work, for action is better than inaction. The very
maintenance of your body would not be accomplished without work.

3.9. Without personal attachment undertake action, Arjuna, for just

one purpose, for the purpose of sacrifice. From work undertaken for
purposes other than sacrifice, this world is bound to the laws of
karma.

3.10. Bringing forth creatures along with sacrifice, the Creator said of
old, “With this may you bring forth fruit; let it be your horn of plenty
(your wish-fulfilling cow).

3.11. “With this, may you make the gods flourish and may the gods
make you flourish. Mutually fostering one another, you will attain the
supreme good.

3.12. “For made to flourish by sacrifice, the gods will give you the
enjoyments you desire. One who without giving to them enjoys their
gifts is nothing but a thief.”

3.13. Good people eating the remains from sacrifices are free from
sin. But those sinners eat evil who cook for their own sake.

3.14. From food beings come to be; the origin of food is from rain.
Rain comes to be from sacrifice. Sacrifice has its origin in works.

3.15. Know works to have their origin in Brahman, and Brahman its
foundation in the Immutable. Therefore is the omnipresent Brahman
established through all time in sacrifice.

3.16. The wheel is thus set in motion. One who does not follow its
rounds, evil in intention, sensual in delights, he lives in vain, son of
Pritha.

3.17. But the person delighting only in the higher self (atman) and
satisfied living in it—for such a person, thoroughly contented in the
self alone, there is nothing that must be done.

3.18. Nor is there for him any gain in what he has done or has not
done. Nor do his interests depend in any way on anyone or anything
else.

3.19. Therefore, ever unattached, do the work that has to be done.

For the person who is unattached in performing action attains the
supreme good.

3.20. For by work alone did Janaka and others attain perfection.7
Considering also the holding together of the worlds (i.e., of society),
you should be doing works.

3.21. Whatever the superior person does, that indeed is what others
try to do. The standard he sets, the world follows.

3.22. For me, there is nothing whatsoever that has to be done, son of
Pritha, in the three worlds; nor anything unattained that I need to
attain. Still I continue in action.

3.23. For if I did not continue ever tirelessly in action, my example

people would follow, son of Pritha, as they always do.

3.24. Societies would come apart if I were not to do works, and I

would be the author of chaos in the world. I would destroy these
creatures.

3.25. The unenlightened, who are attached to their actions, proceed in

works, Arjuna; so should the enlightened, unattached, to hold together
society.

3.26. One should not engender a division in the understanding of

ignorant folk who are attached to their works; rather, knowing, one
should inspire them, performing all actions, disciplined in yoga.

3.27. Works in every fashion are being done by the impulsions

(modes, guna) of nature. The person deluded by egotism thinks, “I am
the doer of this work.”

3.28. But the one who knows what is real, strong-armed warrior,
concerning those impulsions and the different types of action,
realizing that the impulsions operate on themselves, he is not
attached.

3.29. Deluded by the impulsions of nature, people are attached to its

works. One whose knowledge is complete should not disturb the dull-
witted whose knowledge is incomplete.

3.30. Concentrating on the higher self, entrust all your actions to me.
Be free of expectation and possessiveness. Fight, with your fever
departed.

3.31. People who always follow this teaching of mine, with faith and
without griping, they too are freed from (the karmic consequences of)
their actions.

3.32. But those who, finding fault with this teaching of mine, do not
follow it, know them as confused by every bit of knowledge, lost and
unaware.

3.33. Even a person with knowledge (insight) acts in accord with his
own nature. Beings follow their nature. What would coercing avail?

3.34. Attraction and repulsion are set in the object of each sense. One
should not allow oneself to come under their sway; for they are
highwaymen endangering the path.

3.35. Better one’s own right way (dharma), though flawed, than the
way of another perfectly followed. Death following one’s own way is
better. The way of another is perilous.…
Chapter 4: Renunciation of Action in Knowledge

The Blessed One said:

4.1. This imperishable yoga I proclaimed to Vivasvan (the Sun God);

Vivasvan declared it to Manu (the first human); Manu told it to
Ikshavaku (a primeval king).

4.2. Thus passed from one to another, the royal sages and seers
knew it. Then with a long lapse of time, Arjuna, the yoga was lost.

4.3. Today that very yoga, that ancient yoga, is by me explained to

you. You are beloved to me, and a friend. So this is indeed the
highest secret.

Arjuna said:

4.4. Later is your birth, sir; (much) earlier Vivasvan’s. How am I to

understand that you declared this yoga in the beginning?

The Blessed One said:

4.5. Many are my past births; yours also, Arjuna. I know them all; you
do not.

4.6. Although I exist as the unborn, the imperishable self, and am the
Lord of beings, by resorting to and controlling my own nature I come
into phenomenal being through my own magical power of delimitation.

4.7. Whenever there is a crisis concerning the right way (dharma),

Arjuna, and a rising up of evil, then I loose myself forth (taking birth).

4.8. For the protection of good people and for the destruction of
evildoers, for the establishment of the right way, I take birth age after
age.

4.9. Arjuna, he who in this way knows my divine birth and work comes
to me upon abandoning the body, not to rebirth.

4.10. There are many who have come to my (divine) state, their
passion, fear, and anger gone, who have been made pure by the
ascetic heat (tapas) of knowledge.

4.11. In whatever way people approach me, just in that way I give
them a share of myself. Humans in all their ways (and approaches)
follow a path that is mine, son of Pritha.

4.12. People offer sacrifices to divinities (perform Vedic rituals) in this

world when they want success in their activities. For (it is said) quickly
in the human world comes success born of (sacrificial) action.

4.13. The social order has been created by me, fourfold, according to
distinctions among modes of nature (guna) and karma (along with
karmic law). Although I am its maker, know me as the nonmaker, the
imperishable.

4.14. Actions do not stain me. Nor do I have desire for the fruits of
works. The person who recognizes me as this way is himself not
bound by his works.

4.15. So knowing, ancient seekers of liberation and enlightenment

carried out works. Therefore, simply do actions as were done of old
by them.

4.16. What action is, and what inaction, even rishis (seer-sages) are
confused on that score. To you I will explain that kind of action, which
when (you have) understood, you will be free from all ill.
4.17. For action must be understood, and wrong action as well;
inaction must be understood—deep, dark, and dense is the nature of
action.

4.18. If one were to see inaction in action and action in inaction, that
person among mortals would be wise; he would be spiritually
disciplined, yoked in yoga, in all his works.

4.19. One whose instigations and undertakings are all free from the
motive of personal desire, the wise see that person as the genuinely
learned, the one whose karma has been burned up in the fire of
knowledge.

4.20. Having abandoned attachment to the fruits of works, constantly

satisfied, independent, one does nothing whatsoever even while
thoroughly engaged in works.

4.21. Transcending hope and expectation, controlled in heart and

mind, with all possessiveness renounced, one doing simply physical
actions accrues no (karmic) adversity.

4.22. Satisfied with whatever gain comes, passed beyond oppositions

and dualities, untouched by jealousy, equal-minded and balanced in
the face of success and failure, such a person, though he acts, is not
bound.

4.23. All karmic dispositions dissolve and wash away when a person
is free from attachment, liberated, with a mind firmly fixed in
knowledge, acting in a spirit of sacrifice.

4.24. Brahman is the giving, Brahman the oblation; by Brahman into

the Brahman fire it is poured. It is just to Brahman where one goes,
achieving the ecstatic trance of Brahman action.

4.25. Some yogins practice sacrifice directed to the gods. Others offer
the sacrifice into the fire of Brahman.

4.26. Others offer the sense organs of hearing and so on into the fires
of control. Still others offer the sense objects of sound and so on into
the fires of the senses.

4.27. And others (offer) all the actions of the sense organs and the
actions of the life breaths as well into the yogic fire of self-control
kindled by knowledge.

4.28. Likewise, some perform material sacrifices, some sacrifices of

austerity, and some sacrifices of yoga. There are seekers who with
strict vows perform sacrifices both of religious study and of
knowledge.

4.29. Similarly, some offer the incoming breath into the outgoing
breath and the outgoing breath into the incoming. These restraining
the courses of the breaths are devoted to the practice of breath
control (pranayama).

4.30. Others controlled in diet offer the breaths into the breaths. All
these understand sacrifice, and through sacrifice reduce the stains (of
karma).

4.31. Those who eat the nectar of immortality left over from a
sacrificial action, they go to the eternal Brahman. This world does not
belong to one who fails to sacrifice, so how could the next, Arjuna?

4.32. In this way, numerous diverse sacrifices are spread wide in the
mouth of Brahman. Know them all as born in action. Thus knowing,
you will be liberated and enlightened.

4.33. A sacrifice in knowledge, Arjuna, is superior to a sacrifice with

material things. All action in its entirety culminates and is fulfilled in
knowledge.
4.34. Come to have this knowledge through submission to those who
know, by questioning and service. They, the seers of what is real, will
initiate and teach you.

4.35. Knowing that, you will not ever be confused again, Arjuna—that
whereby you will see beings without exception in the self (atman) and
then in me.

4.36. Even if of all sinners you are now the very worst evildoer, once
in the boat of knowledge you will safely cross over the crookedness of
evil.

4.37. As a fire kindled reduces its fuel to ashes, Arjuna, so the fire of
knowledge makes ashes all karma.

4.38. For here in this world there is no purifier the equal of knowledge.
A person perfected through yoga practice finds it himself in the self
(atman) after a time.

4.39. A person of faith gets that knowledge, (having) concentrated on

it, with senses controlled. Having the knowledge, he at once gets the
supreme peace.

4.40. A person not only not knowing but having no faith, his mind full
of doubts, is lost. Neither this world nor another, nor happiness,
comes to the doubting mind.

4.41. Actions do not bind him who has transcended works through
yoga and cut through doubt with knowledge; he is self-possessed,
Arjuna.

4.42. Therefore, having cut through the doubt that is born of

ignorance and set in the heart, having cut through it with the sword of
self-knowledge, in yoga, Arjuna, take your stand. Stand up and fight.
Chapter 5: Renunciation

Arjuna said:

5.1. Renunciation of actions but also yoga (in action) you praise,
Krishna. Which one is the better of the two? That tell me very
definitely.

The Blessed One said:

5.2. Both renunciation and karma yoga (the yoga of action and
sacrifice) bring about the supreme good. Of the two, however, great-
armed warrior, karma yoga is better than the renunciation of action
(altogether).

5.3. The person to be known as a renunciant, a constant renunciant,

is neither happy nor griping (whatever happens). For, strong-armed
warrior, transcending dualities, he easily is liberated from the bondage
(of rebirth).

5.4. Metaphysical truth (samkhya) and yoga (practice) children speak

of as separate, not the learned (or wise). Putting your heart in either
perfectly, you find the fruit of both.

5.5. The state obtained by the intellectuals (and their method, their
analysis, samkhya), that is also gained by yogins (and their method,
yoga). Who sees samkhya and yoga as one, genuinely does that
person see.

5.6. But renunciation, strong-armed warrior, is difficult to carry out

without yoga. Not in a long time is it that the sage disciplined in yoga
practice attains Brahman.

5.7. Disciplined in the practice of yoga, self-purified, self-controlled,

with organs and faculties conquered, he whose self has become the
self of all beings, however acting, is not stained.

5.8. The knower of the truth of things, disciplined in yoga practice,

would think, “I do nothing whatsoever,” while seeing, hearing,
touching, smelling, eating, moving about, sleeping, breathing.

5.9. Conversing, eliminating, taking in, opening or closing the eyes,

“The organs and faculties are working on their objects,” contemplating
(all the time).

5.10. Depositing actions in (the fire of) Brahman, giving up

attachment, he who then acts is not stained by sin, like a lotus leaf by
water (is not touched).

5.11. By the body, with the heart and mind, by the intelligence, even
only with the organs and faculties, yogins perform actions,
abandoning attachment, to purify themselves.

5.12. Disciplined through yoga practice, abandoning attachment, one

finds the peace of the deepest foundation. A person who does no
yoga practice, attached to the fruit of what he does because of desire,
is bound (by his karma).

5.13. Renouncing in heart and mind all actions, a person sits easily
(happily) in control. In the nine-gated city (the human body), the
embodied never acts, never causes to act.

5.14. The Lord lets go (creates) neither agency nor actions for people,
nor the connection between actions and their fruits. These operate
according to the law of nature.

5.15. The Omnipresent accepts neither the sin nor the good deed of
anyone. Knowledge is enveloped by ignorance; thus deluded are
creatures.
5.16. But for whom this ignorance is destroyed by knowledge
(insight), concerning the self (atman), for them, like the sun,
knowledge reveals that supreme (Brahman).

5.17. With their mental attitude set on that, taking their selves as that,
taking their stand on that (their consciousness set in that), on that
intent, they go to freedom from birth, their stains cleansed by
knowledge.

5.18. The learned (the wise) with respect to an educated and cultured
Brahmin, a cow, an elephant, a dog, and an outcaste see the same.

5.19. Here and now, by them whose heart and mind are set in
equality and equanimity, is birth conquered. For the faultless Brahman
is (everywhere) the same. Therefore, they take their stand in
Brahman.

5.20. One who would not get excited when something good occurs,
nor depressed at something unfortunate, a person of fixed and stable
mental attitude (buddhi), no longer deluded, is the Brahman knower,
(his consciousness) set in Brahman.

5.21. One by nature unattached to outward contacts, finding what

pleasure he finds in the self, one who is by nature disciplined by the
yoga of (the yoke of, union with) Brahman, easily (sweetly, sukham)
tastes the Imperishable.

5.22. For the enjoyments that are born from contacts with other things
are only a source of suffering. They have beginnings and endings,
Kaunteya. The wise person does not in them delight.

5.23. The man who just here, before leaving the body, is able to bear
the impetus that builds from desire and anger, is the one disciplined in
yoga, happy.
5.24. It is he whose happiness is within, whose enjoyment is inner,
and whose light is only within, who is the yogin. Having become
Brahman, he attains nirvana in Brahman.

5.25. Seer-sages (rishis) gain nirvana in Brahman with their sins

effaced, cut-ting through dualities, working for the good of all beings,
delighted in the good of all.

5.26. Separating themselves from desire and anger, the disciplined,

with their thought streams under control, possess nirvana in Brahman
here and now and all around, having knowledge of the self (atman).

5.27–28. Outside having put external contacts and directing the visual
organ (to the inner center) between the eyebrows, making the upward
and downward breaths (inhalations and exhalations, prana and
apana) equal (in duration), moving through the nostrils (not the
mouth), with organs and faculties, heart and mind, and (higher)
intelligence (buddhi) all under control, the sage intent on liberation,
with desire, fear, and anger gone, is (already) liberated forever
indeed.

5.29. Such a person, knowing the sweet inner heart of all beings,
comes to (spiritual) peace (shanti), comes to me, the enjoyer of
sacrifice and asceticism, the lord of all the worlds.
Chapter 6: Meditation (Dhyana)

…
(Krishna, the Blessed One, said:)

6.10. Let the yogin ever practice on himself (or, ever unite with the
self) in a retreat, becoming solitary, controlled in thought and emotion
(chitta) and without expectations and (any sense of) possessiveness.

6.11–12. Setting himself in a clean place in a steady asana (posture,

seat) that is neither too high nor too low (to be comfortable), on a
cloth, animal skin, or kusha grass, there fixing heart and mind on a
single point, working to bring his thought and emotion along with his
organs and faculties under control, let him practice yoga for self-
purification.

6.13–14. Holding the body, head, and neck motionless, drawing in the
vision to fix it (on midline) at the tip of the nose and not looking in any
direction, steady, consciously identifying with the thought and emotion
and controlling it, let him sit practicing yoga with his thought and
emotion directed to me, intent on me.

6.15. Practicing yoga on himself in this way constantly, the yogin with
fixed heart and mind attains the peace supreme of nirvana, (that is to
say) attains to the station of me (the station of my consciousness).

6.16. Yoga is not for one who eats too much, nor for one who does
not eat at all. Arjuna, it is not for one who sleeps too much, nor for
one who stays awake (constantly).

6.17. Yoga banishes suffering for one who practices asleep and
awake, eating and playing, in working (always) acting like a yogin.

6.18. Insofar as a person’s thought and emotions (chitta) are directed

solely to himself (that is to say, to the universal self, atman), such a
person is rightly called a yogin, free of wishing, practicing with respect
to all desire.

6.19. As a lamp set down out of the wind does not flicker—this
analogy is used for the yogin whose thought and emotion are
restrained, practicing yoga for himself (or, for the universal self,
atman).

6.20–21. Checked by yoga practice, the thought and emotion (chitta)

having come to stillness, seeing (everywhere) the self by the self,
being satisfied in the self (alone), a yogin knows a supreme and
endless pleasure, which is graspable by the intelligence though it is
not within the range of the senses, becomes in it fixed and stable, and
never moves away from the reality.

6.22. It is that which, once (having) obtained (it), a person would not
regard obtaining anything else as better. Fixed in it, a person is not
disturbed by even (occasions for) the fiercest grief.

6.23. May this (state) be known—yoga is known as the disjunction

from all contact with pain and grief. Such yoga should be practiced
with determination (never despairing), with thought and mind
engaged.

6.24–25. Rejecting desires born of intentions, all of them without

exception, with the manas alone, the attention, completely checking
the pack of sense organs, then gradually, step by step, one should
become still, holding the attention (manas) in the self (atman) with the
intelligence (buddhi), the intellegence itself held tight with fortitude,
one should think of nothing at all; nothing whatsoever should come
into consciousness.

6.26. Wherever the attention would roam, restless and not steady or
firm, just there checking it, one should put it in the control of the self
alone.
 6.27. For a pacified mentality carries the yogin to the highest pleasure
and happiness, his passion quietened, absorbed in Brahman, without
flaw.

6.28. A yogin constantly practicing on himself in this way, flaws

departed, effortlessly enjoys the supreme pleasure that is the touch of
Brahman.

6.29. Seeing the same everywhere, disciplined through yoga practice,

one perceives the self seated in all beings and all beings in the self.

6.30. A person who sees me everywhere and everything in me is

never lost to me, and I am never lost to that person.

6.31. However he may live, the yogin lives in me who, stationed in

oneness, is devoted to me who am set in (the heart of) all beings,
sharing in me.

6.32. Who sees through the lens of likeness to self the same
everywhere, Arjuna, whether pleasure and happiness or pain and
suffering, that yogin is to be deemed the very best.

Arjuna said:

6.33. The yoga declared by you, Krishna, as practicing equality (and

equanimity), well, I do not see it becoming firmly fixed because of the
restless nature (of the mind).

6.34. For the sense mind (manas) is restless, Krishna, whirling,

forceful, and tough. I think it is as hard to control as the wind.

The Blessed One said:

 6.35. Doubtless, O strong-armed warrior, the sense mind is hard to
control, (always) wandering about. But with practice (abhyasa),
Arjuna, and dispassion (vairagya), it can be checked.8

6.36. My view is that this yoga would be difficult for someone who is
not self-controlled. But for one who is self-controlled it can be done
through the proper means with effort.

Arjuna said:

6.37. Someone of insufficient accomplishment but of good faith,

whose heart and mind wander off from the practice, what becomes of
such a person, Krishna, one who (tries but) does not attain success in
yoga?

6.38. Is he not like a cloud split apart, dissolving bit by bit, separated
from both (success in the world and success in yoga)? O great-armed
warrior, would not the person who is not firmly set (in yoga or in
making gains in life) be self-deluded on Brahman’s path?

6.39. This is my doubt, Krishna. You are fit to make it disappear (if
anyone is). For other than you, there is no one who could get rid of
this worry.

The Blessed One said:

6.40. Not at all in this world, son of Pritha, nor hereafter is there for
him such loss. For, set on doing good, he does not, child, come to a
bad end.

6.41. Winning the worlds of the doers of good deeds, living there
immemorial years, someone (like you describe) fallen from yoga
would be born in a household of people who are pure (of good habits)
and beautiful.
6.42. Or he would be born just into a family of yogins and yoginis,
people of wisdom. For such a birth is very difficult to obtain in this
world.

6.43. There he would recover the purposefulness of his previous life,

and would strive, O joy of the Kurus, from that point on toward
perfection.

6.44. For even without trying he would be carried just by the practice
in his former birth. Even one who merely wants to know about yoga
transcends the revealed word (conventional religion).

6.45. The yogin is the person who willfully is making effort, his flaws
being washed away. Through many births becoming accomplished,
he attains then to the supreme condition.

6.46. The yogin is superior to those who practice austerities; he is (to

be) deemed superior to intellectuals (theologians) too. The yogin is
superior to ritualists. Therefore, be a yogin, Arjuna.

6.47. I deem the person the most accomplished of yogins who with
inner self given to me with trust takes his share of me.
Chapter 7: Knowledge and Higher Insight (Vijnana)

The Blessed One said:

7.1. Listen, son of Pritha, to how, by practicing yoga with your mind
attached to me, relying on and given over to me (mad-ashraya), you
will come to know with certitude me in my entirety.

7.2. I shall tell you in full the knowledge that is accompanied by the
higher insight, the knowing of which will leave it unnecessary to know
here anything else.

7.3. Among thousands of human beings, occasionally there is one

who strives (yatati) for perfection (siddhi). Among those strivers who
are accomplished (siddha), occasionally there is one who knows me
in my essential principles.

7.4–5. Earth, water, fire, air, ether (the medium of sound), the sense
mind (manas), and the rational intelligence (buddhi) too, along with
the ego sense (the principal of individuality, ahamkara), make up the
divisions of my eightfold nature. This is the lower nature. Know my
higher nature to be other than this, O great-armed warrior. It is by my
higher nature having become the living individual (jiva) that this world
is supported.

7.6. The womb of all creatures it is—realize this. I am the origin of the
entire universe, its dissolution too.

7.7. There is nothing whatsover superior to me, Arjuna. On me all this

is strung like gems on a necklace.

7.8. Kaunteya, for water (of all its qualities) I am taste, I am the light of
the sun and the moon; om among everything Vedic, sound (words) in
ether, among persons what makes them persons.
7.9. I am both the sweet smell of earth and the fiery light of fire. Life
am I of living beings, and the tapas (ascetic heat) of those who
practice austerities.

7.10. Know me, son of Pritha, to be the abiding seed of everything. I

am the intelligence of the intelligent. I am the tejas (enthusiasm and
energy) of the tejas-endowed.

7.11. The strength of the strong I am, strength devoid of ambition and
liking. Desire in creatures I am, desire in accordance with dharma.

7.12. And those (further qualities found in things)—sattvic, rajasic,

and tamasic (illuminative, passionate, energetic, and dull, inert)—
know them to come from me alone. But I am not in them; they are in
me.

7.13. This entire universe deluded by the emergent states (and

combinations) of these three qualities (guna) does not know me
beyond them, the Imperishable.

7.14. For this my divine maya is difficult to cross beyond. They cross
over this Maya who come over (prapatti) to me.…

7.29. Those who strive (yat, i.e., practice yoga) for freedom from old
age and death by taking their resort in me, Brahman is what they
come to know, the whole, the spiritual, who is karma (action) in its
entirety (or, the integral action).

7.30. Those who know me as I am in both material and spiritual being,

and in my sacrifical nature too, at the end of life as well (as at any
other time), with their consciousnesses disciplined in yoga (yoga-
yukta, yoked by yoga practice, yoked by union [with Brahman]), they
are knowers of me.
Chapter 8: Perseverance

…
(The Blessed One said:)

8.6. Whatever state (world or state of consciousness) remembering

upon abandoning the body at death, to just that state one goes who
has enlivenened (the idea of) it continuously (through meditation
thereon).

8.7. Therefore, at all times remember me and fight. As a person

whose mind and higher intelligence are on me, holding me as the
ideal, you will come to me alone, no doubt about it.

8.8. With a consciousness disciplined by yoga (yoga-yukta) practiced

diligently, not wandering off to some other thing, one goes—hereon
keeping the attention—to the supreme Person, the Divine, O son of
Pritha.

8.9–10. The ancient Poet-seer, the Preceptor, more minute than the
minute, whoso should (thoroughly and intensely) meditate on this one
that supports everything, of unthinkable form, the color of the sun,
beyond darkness, / That person, disciplined in yoga with a motionless
mind and bhakti made strong through practice, who at the time of
death makes the breath enter (the center) between the eyebrows
properly, attains the supreme Person, the Divine.

8.11. That Imperishable talked about by those who know the Vedas,
entered into and realized by ascetics (yati) with preferences gone,
desired by students practicing chastity, that station perspicaciously I
shall explain to you.

8.12–13. Consciously controlling all the gates (of the body, the sense
organs, etc.) and checking the sense mind in the (lotus of) the heart,
collecting the self’s breath into the head (center), engaged in holding
on to the yoga (dharana, concentrated perseverance), chanting om—
meaning the One, the Imperishable, the Absolute Brahman—thinking
about me, whoso abandoning the body goes forth (at death), that
person goes to the supreme goal (the supreme ongoing goal, gati).

8.14. Whoso constantly thinks about me, the consciousness

continually on nothing else, for such a person, O son of Pritha, I am
easy to find, for such a yogin ever disciplined in yoga.

8.15. Those the great-souled (mahatman) who have realized me do

not obtain another birth, no rebirth that is a place of suffering, that is
transitory. They go (rather) to supreme perfection (samsiddhi).

…
Chapter 9: The Royal Knowledge and the Royal Secret

…
(The Blessed One said:)

9.26. Whoso presents a leaf, a flower, fruit, water, to me with devotion

(bhakti), I consume that offering of such an aspiring soul, that offering
made with bhakti.

9.27. What you do, what you eat, what you offer, what you give, what
tapas you perform, Arjuna, do it as a present to me.

9.28. In this way, you will become free from the good and bad
consequences of your acts, the bindings of karma. Entirely liberated,
disciplined by a yoga of renunciation, you shall come to me.

9.29. I am the same in all beings. To me, none is despicable, none

dear. However, whoso worship me (taking their share of me) with
bhakti, they are in me and I too in them (consciously).

9.30. Although the behavior has been very bad, if I am loved with
unswerving devotion, the judgment should be that the person is
indeed a good person. For now the intention would be correctly set.

9.31. Quickly the person comes to be dharma-minded, attaining

everlasting peace. Understand, Arjuna, my bhakta, my devotee, does
not perish.

…
Chapter 10: Special Divine Manifestations (Vibhuti)

…
(The Blessed One said:)

10.8. The wise (the awakened), adoring me (taking their share of me)
in the knowledge that I am the origin of everything, that from me
everything comes forth, come to be filled with emotion.

10.9. With thought and emotion (chitta) on me, with their lives (their
life energies, prana) given over to me, enlightening one another,
constantly telling stories about me, they are happy and delighted.

10.10. To them thus constantly disciplined in adoration, bhakti, that is

accompanied by intense affection, I provide the discipline, the yoga,
of the higher intelligence whereby they realize me.

10.11. Out of compassion for them, I destroy the darkness born of

ignorance. Sitting in the seat of their emotions, I radiate with the light
of knowledge.

…
Chapter 11: The Vision of (Krishna’s) Totality

…
(The Blessed One said:)

11.8. With just your own organ of vision you are not able to see me
(as I am in my totality). Divine vision I give to you. See my majestic
discipline (yoga)!9

11.54. But, Arjuna, I can be known as such (as you have beheld, not
only by the grace of divine vision but) by undeviating love and
devotion (bhakti). And I can be so seen and realized in essential
principle, O scorcher of the foe.

11.55. Whoso acts for my sake, for whom I am the supreme ideal,
devoted to me (mad-bhakta) without self-interest, whoso has no
enmity toward any creature, that one comes to me, Arjuna.
Chapter 12: Love and Devotion (Bhakti)

…
(The Blessed One said:)

12.6–7. But those who giving all their actions up to me, focused on
me, worship meditating on me through an absolutely undeviating yoga
(of bhakti), I rescue them before long from the ocean of death and
transmigration. Their consciousnesses are absorbed in me.

12.8. Put your mind on me alone (your sense mind, manas); occupy
your higher intelligence (buddhi) with me. (Then) you shall live in me
alone, transcending this (mortal existence), no doubt about it.

12.13–14. Not hating any creature, friendly and compassionate too,

without possessiveness or egotism, facing pleasure and pain with
equanimity, patient and enduring, contented always, the yogin whose
(lower) self is under control, whose resolve is firm, whose manas and
buddhi are given over to me, this my bhakta (bhakti yogin) is dear to
me.

12.15. Who does not trouble people, and who is not troubled by
people, who is free from excitement, impetuosity, fear, and vexation,
he too is to me dear.

12.16. Independent, pure, capable, indifferent, having transcended

perturbations, who has surrendered all (separate) initiatives to action,
this my bhakta to me is dear.

12.17. Neither rejoicing nor cursing, neither mourning nor hankering

after, having no concern whether what happens is fortunate or
unfortunate, endowed with bhakti, he to me is dear.
12.18–19. Equipoised in the face of friend and foe, likewise in honor
and dishonor, the same in cold or heat, pleaure or pain, free from
attachment, balanced in the face of praise or blame, silent, contented
no matter what comes about, beyond home, steady, having intense
bhakti, the person is to me dear.

12.20. But those who put into practice this principled, immortal nectar
of teaching, as it has been laid out, having faith, entirely focused on
me, such devotees (bhaktas) are to me intensely dear.
Chapter 13: The Field and Knower of the Field

…
Chapter 14: The Triad of Qualities

…
Arjuna said:

14.21. By what marks, lord, is the person known who has

transcended these three qualities, gunas (sattva, rajas, and tamas,
the illuminating, the passionate, energetic, and the dull, inert,
respectively, that make up all of our lower psychology)? How does he
act? And how does he come to be beyond the three gunas?

The Blessed One said:

14.22. That person does not loathe (the workings or manifestation of

any of the three) the illuminative, the active, or the dull and confused.
He does not hanker after (the one or the other’s) working in himself
nor its ceasing to be.

14.23–25. The one seated as though high above, indifferent, who

does not move with the movements of the qualities, who thinks just, “It
is these gunas doing what they do,” standing apart, unflappable, the
same whether facing pleasure or pain, self-possessed, equal-minded
toward clay, stone, and gold, balanced in the face of both the pleasant
and the unpleasant, such a wise one who is balanced in the face of
both praise and blame, balanced in honor and dishonor, balanced
whether facing a faction of friends or enemies, who has surrendered
all (separate) initiatives to action, that is the person to be known as
transcending the gunas.

14.26. And whoso with an unswerving discipline (yoga) of bhakti

performs service (seva) for me, does go beyond the gunas
completely, becoming fit for Brahman experience.
14.27. For I am the basis of Brahman, the immortal and the
imperishable, and of dharma (the right way) ever ongoing, and of the
pleasure that is absolute and unsurpassed.
Chapter 15: The Supreme Person

…
Chapter 16: The Divine and Demonic in Us

…
Chapter 17: Three Types of Faith

…
(The Blessed One said:)

17.23. “Om tat sat” (“om, That, Being [Reality]”) is known as the triple
designation of Brahman. By it, priests, the Vedas, and sacrifices were
consecrated of old.

17.24. Therefore, the Brahman-professing commence acts of

sacrifice, giving, and tapas (asceticism) as laid down in rules only
after uttering om.

17.25. Uttering “tat” (“That”), (to suggest) intending not to aim at the
fruit, seekers of liberation perform acts of sacrifice and tapas, acts of
giving too, as laid down in rules.

17.26. The utterance “sat” (“Being, Reality”), is used in the sense of

being and in the sense of good. The word sat is thus used, Arjuna, for
commendable work.

17.27. And “sat” is said when a person is steadfast and persevering in

sacrificing, performing tapas, or giving. And any action whose
purpose is sacrifice, etc., is to be designated just by uttering “sat.”

17.28. An oblation poured without faith, without faith a gift given or

tapas performed, or whatever is done without faith, that is to be called
asat (nonbeing, unreal, bad), Arjuna. On dying, that is negative, as it
is negative too here in this world.
Chapter 18: Renunciation and Liberation

…
(The Blessed One said:)

18.45. A person delighted in the work that is to him natural (that he

seems cut out for) obtains complete perfection. Hear now how
perfection is got by him who is intent upon the work that is to him
natural.

18.46. A human being finds perfection by honoring through his own

work (the work he finds natural) the one from whom all creatures
come forth, by whom all this is pervaded.

18.47. One’s own dharma, though imperfectly carried out, is better

than the dharma of another performed to perfection. A human doing
work determined by his own nature does not get stained.

18.48. Work that is natural, Arjuna, though flawed should not be

rejected. For all undertakings are enveloped by flaws, like smoke
around a fire.

18.49. With an intelligence (buddhi) not attached to anything, with

(lower) self conquered, far gone his preferences, he attains the
ultimate perfection of actionlessness by renunciation.

18.50. Hear and learn from me perspicaciously, Arjuna, how once

attaining such perfection a person attains to the Brahman. What I
shall tell is the deep basis of knowledge (here).

18.51–53. Disciplined in yoga by means of a purified higher

intelligence (buddhi), firmly restraining the (lower) self, renouncing
(the distractions of) sound and other objects, casting far away liking
and disliking, living in a secluded place, eating lightly, with
constrained speech, body, and (sense) mind (manasa), all the time
intent on practicing the yoga of meditation, completely settled in
dispassion (vairagya), distanced from egotism, violence, pride, sexual
desire, anger, possessiveness, such a person, nonacquisitive and at
peace (shanta), is fit for Brahman experience.

18.54. Living in Brahman, self-content, such a person, neither grieving

about nor hankering for anything, and the same with respect to every
creature, obtains (although taking the route of meditation) a state of
supreme bhakti for me.

18.55. Such a person, coming through bhakti to recognize me as who

I am in essential principle, thus knowing me in essential principle,
enters me (my state) immediately thereupon.

18.56. Whatever action such a one may perform at any time—such a

one who has me as wide basis—obtains by my grace the everlasting,
the condition (of consciousness) that is imperishable.

18.57. In emotion and thought depositing all your action in me,

focused on me, practicing the yoga of the higher intelligence (buddhi
yoga), be one whose thought and emotion (chitta) are all the time
given to me.

18.58. One whose thought and emotion are given to me will cross
over all difficulties through my grace. But if from egotism you do not
learn (how to live yogically), you will come to nought.

18.59. If, retreating into egotism, you should think, “I will not fight,”
false then would be this “resolve” of yours. Nature (prakriti) would be
controlling you.

18.60. Arjuna, you are bound by the karma that is your own in virtue
of your peculiar nature. What you do not, because of delusion, want to
do, that you will do though (cluelessly and) willy-nilly.

18.61. In all creatures the Lord abides, Arjuna, in the place of the
heart, controlling all creatures (by their desires) through (the magic of)
maya (illusion, power to self-delimit) as though working a machine.

18.62. Make him alone your refuge, Bharata, in every condition and
state of mind. Through his grace you will obtain the supreme peace
(shanti), the condition, the abode that is imperishable.

18.63. This is the teaching that, (though) more secret than secret, has
been by me now told to you. Considering it without leaving anything
out, do what you want to do.

18.64. Listen again to the most secret secret, my final word. You are
very dear to me. Thus for your sake I shall tell you.

18.65. Be one whose mind is on me, devoted to me (in bhakti).

Sacrificing to me, honor me. You will come to me alone. This is the
truth, I promise. You are dear to me.

18.66. Abandoning all dharmas, take refuge in me alone. I shall free

you from every evil. Do not worry.
 APPENDIX C

The Yoga Sutra

The Yoga Sutra (YS) defines a worldview and spells out exercises of
yoga practice. That is, it spells out a system—really systems—of
practices framed by a metaphysics. The Yoga philosophy of the YS is
distinct from, for example, the theism of the Bhagavad Gita, though the
Gita also advocates yoga practices. As we have discussed (in the first
section of chapter 5 in particular), the supreme good according to the YS
is a rupture separating an individual conscious being, purusha, from
nature, prakriti. To explain this possibility, which it calls aloneness
(kaivalya), it presents a metaphysical dualism of an infinite plurality of
such individual conscious beings, on the one hand, and a single nature,
on the other. That is to say, its dualism may be interpreted as an
explanation of how liberation from nature (prakriti) is possible. It is so
because in reality the individual conscious being (purusha) is already
liberated.
Thus, in addition to its delineation of yoga practices in the style of a
how-to book or meditation manual, the YS attends to questions about
reality, especially about the relation of consciousness to nature. There is
also an intermediate level of psychological theorizing, which models
various cognitive and motor functions. The psychology constitutes a
bridge between the practice teachings and the metaphysics of Yoga, and,
as I have argued (chapter 2), is valuable despite the inadequacy of the
YS’s brand of dualism.
The textual and commentarial tradition is discussed in the last section
of chapter 1. Although the commentary by Vyasa (see figure 1A) fixes a
classical reading, probably many of the sutras were formulated in distinct
philosophical settings other than his and Patanjali’s. Modern
commentators sympathetic to traditions of Indian spirituality try to restore
a sense of the sutras outside the systematic interpretations of classical
commentators—with some success, in my opinion. Furthermore, some
classical philosophers, such as the tantric Abhinava Gupta (c. 950), also
read the aphorisms differently than Vyasa and his followers.
A telltale tension in the text concerns the theory about God, the Lord
(ishvara), in connection with practice teachings of bhakti (love and
devotion to God). As discussed in chapter 5, here theory seems to
undermine practice, and many classical theists find value in the
psychological and yogic teachings of the YS while rejecting its theology.
God, according to the YS (or, more precisely, according to the classical
Yoga interpretation of the text by commentators, beginning with Vyasa in
the fifth century), is the archetypal liberated conscious being, never
sullied by contact with the world (although somehow also the primeval
teacher). This is a very different notion from that of the Gita, where the
Supreme Being is conceived along lines a lot closer to the theology of
Western religions.
Indologists have seen the YS as a compilation of distinct texts.
Classical commentators, in sharp contrast, presuppose its unity. Modern
yoga sympathizers, such as B.K.S. Iyengar (1993), Georg Feuerstein
(1979), and Swami Satyananda Saraswati (1976), not only try to restore
an original “experiential” or “phenomenological” sense but also, in the
case of Iyengar in particular, import much traditional folklore in their
commentaries. My method has been to try to learn from everyone.
The text is taken from the critical edition of the first chapter and
Vyasa’s commentary by P. Maas and, for the remainder of the text, from
a critical edition of two important commentaries by V. Karnatak.1 The
transliteration of the YS text into roman characters follows the standard
indological rules and not the phonetic schema (without diacritics) used
here elsewhere than with full sentences. Sanskrit words used in the
translation are, as always, defined in the glossary. See p. 163 in this
book for an explanation of the translation style. In general, my reading
expands on the ideas of a paper, “The Conflict of Voluntarism and
Dualism in the Yoga-sutra,”2 which is summarized in chapter 2, the third
section.
The Yoga Sutras of Patanjali

Salutations to Patanjali!
oṃ namo namaḥ.

samādhi-pāda

1.1. atha yogânuśāsanam.

Now instruction in yoga.3

1.2. yogaś citta-vṛtti-nirodhaḥ.

Yoga is the stilling of fluctuations of thought and emotion (chitta).4

1.3. tadā draṣṭuḥ sva-rūpe ’vasthānam.

Then the seer (the conscious being, purusha) rests in its true form.

1.4. vṛtti-sārūpyam itaratra.

At other times, fluctuations are identified with.

1.5. vṛttayaḥ pañcatayyaḥ kliṣṭâkliṣṭāḥ.

Fluctuations are of five types, and are detrimental or nondetrimental
(to the practices of yoga).5

1.6. pramāṇa-viparyaya-vikalpa-nidrā-smṛtayaḥ.
The five are knowledge sources (and knowledge), the opposite,
thought and imagination, sleep (and dreaming), and memory.

1.7. tatra pratyakṣânumānâgamāḥ pramāṇāni.

Among these, the knowledge sources (along with the veridical
awarenesses to which they give rise) are perception, inference, and
testimony (including scriptural tradition).

1.8. viparyayo mithyā-jñānam atad-rūpa-pratiṣṭham.

The opposite to the knowledge sources amounts to misapprehension
indicating that something is what it is not.6

1.9. śabda-jñāñânupātī vastu-śūnyo vikalpah.

Thought and imagination (vikalpa, the third item on the list of five),
which are devoid of real objects, are dependent on words and
concepts.

1.10. abhāva-pratyayâlambanā vṛttir nidrā.

Sleep (along with dreaming) comprises the mental fluctuation whose
object is a stream of ideas about things not present.

1.11. anubhūta-viṣayâsampramoṣaḥ smṛtiḥ. Memory is not letting

experienced objects get away.

1.12. abhyāsa-vairāgyābhyāṃ tan-nirodhaḥ.

Restriction of them (all five types of fluctuation) is accomplished
through practice and disinterestedness.

1.13. tatra sthitau yatno ’bhyāsaḥ.

Practice is effort to hold fast the restriction.

1.14. sa tu dīrgha-kāla-nairantarya-saṃskārâsevito dṛḍha-bhūmih.

But that effort becomes firmly established when its mental (or
memory) dispositions (samskara) become habitual through long and
continuous practice.

1.15. dṛṣṭânuśravika-viṣaya-vitṛṣṇasya vaśīkāra-saṃjnā vairāgyam.

Disinterestedness is the consciousness of being in control (of
appetites), on the part of someone who has no thirst for objects
directly perceived or reported.7

1.16. tat-param puruṣa-khyāter guṇa-vaitṛṣṇyam.

Superior to that is (the absolute disinterestedness of) lack of desire for
(manifest or unmanifest) phenomena (guna, qualities) because of
perception of the purusha (true person).8

1.17. vitarka-vicārânandâsmitā-rūpânugamāt samprajñātaḥ.

Samadhi (yogic trance or enstacy) has two forms, one of which is
supported by wisdom in accordance with reasoning, discrimination,
bliss, and sense of identity (“I-amness”).

1.18. virāma-pratyayâbhyāsa-pūrvakaḥ saṃskāra-śeṣo ’nyaḥ.

The other, in which only mental dispositions (samskara) remain, is
preceded by effort to hold steady ideas intent on contentment.

1.19. bhava-pratyayo videha-prakṛti-layānām.

Disembodied yogins and those merged with nature attain samadhi
through being intent on birth (i.e., just by being born).

1.20. śraddhā-vīrya-smṛti-samādhi-prajñā-pūrvaka itareṣām.

Others attain it through faith, energy, remembering (i.e., meditation),
and wisdom deriving from samadhi.

1.21. tīvra-saṃvegānām āsannaḥ.

It settles in for those who are exceptionally intense.

1.22. mṛdu-madhyâdhimātratvāt tato ’pi viśeṣaḥ.

Even among those (who are exceptionally intense), there are
differences: the barely so, the moderately so, and the extremely so.

1.23. īśvara-praṇidhānād vā.

Or, (restriction occurs) from opening to (devotion to, meditation on,
pranidhana) the Lord.9

1.24. kleśa-karma-vipākâśayair aparāmṛṣṭaḥ puruṣa-viśeṣa īśvaraḥ.

By “Lord” is meant a particular conscious being (purusha) who (unlike
us) is untouched by obstacles to enlightenment or by stores of
ripening karma.
1.25. tatra niratiśayaṃ sarvajña-bījam.
The seed of omniscience (present in everyone) is unsurpassed in the
Lord.

1.26. sa pūrveṣām api guruḥ kālena anavacchedāt.

He is the guru even of the ancient teachers in not being limited by
time.

1.27. tasya vācakaḥ praṇavaḥ.

The Lord is indicated by the syllable om.

1.28. taj-japas tad-artha-bhāvanam.

(Devotional yoga consists in) repetition of om and enlivening its
meaning.

1.29. tataḥ pratyak-cetanâdhigamo ’ntarāyâbhāvaś ca.

From that comes understanding of inward consciousness as well as
negation of obstacles.

1.30. vyādhi-styāna-saṃśaya-pramādâlasyâvirati-bhrānti-
darśanâlabdha-bhū-mikatvânavasthitatvāni citta-vikṣepā antarāyāḥ.
Obstacles are illness, listlessness, doubt, heedlessness, laziness,
nonabstention, wrong outlook, and failure to attain a certain level or to
stay there. They make the chitta unsteady.

1.31. duḥkha-daurmanasyâṇga-mejayatva-śvāsa-praśvāsā vikṣepa-

sahabhuvaḥ. Symptoms of unsteadiness include pain, bad mood,
shaky limbs, and uneven in-and out-breaths.

1.32. tat-pratiṣedhârtham eka-tattvâbhyāsaḥ.

For the purpose of checking them, practice should be maintained
within a single system (or, by a single principle, eka-tattva).

1.33. maitrī-karuṇā-muditôpekṣāṇāṃ sukha-duḥkha-puṇyâpuṇya-

viṣayāṇām bhāvanātaś citta-prasādanam.
Calming illumination of the mind (chitta) is furthered through practicing
(or, enlivening), toward objects pleasant, painful, virtuous, and full of
vice, (respectively the balancing attitudes of) friendship, compassion,
gladness, and indifference.10

1.34. pracchardana-vidhāraṇābhyāṃ vā prāṇasya.

Or, it (calming illumination, stilling of the chitta) can be brought about
by controlled exhalation and holding of the breath (i.e., by
pranayama).

1.35. viṣayavatī vā pravṛttir utpannā manasaḥ sthiti-nibandhanī.

Or, (it arises from) the advent of sense-object-centered activity
binding the sensuous mentality.11

1.36. viśokā vā jyotismatī.

Or, (it arises with) activity that is free from sorrow and luminous (such
as concentration on the heart center or the center between the
eyebrows).

1.37. vīta-rāga-viṣayaṃ vā cittam.

Or, when the mind (chitta) contemplates beings who have
transcended passion.12

1.38. svapna-nidrā-jñānâlambanaṃ vā.

Or, (another means is) the mind brought to knowledge of sleep and
dreams.

1.39. yathâbhimata-dhyānād vā.

Or, from meditation in accordance with (an individual’s) proclivities.

1.40. paramâṇu-mahattvânto ’sya vaśīkāraḥ.

The (self-)control of the yogin extends from the smallest atom (of his
body) to the largest magnitude (known in meditation).
1.41. kṣīṇa-vṛtter abhijātasya iva maṇer grahītṛ-grahaṇa-grāhyeṣu tat-
stha-tad-añjanatā samāpattiḥ.
The person whose mental fluctuations have become attenuated
achieves samapatti, yogic balance, with respect to things subjective,
sensational, and objective, like a polished jewel that takes on the
color of that on which it lies.13

1.42. tatra śabdârtha-jñāna-vikalpaiḥ saṃklrnā savitarkā samāpattiḥ.

The type of samapatti, yogic balance, called the higher rational,
savitarka samapatti, has verbal and other cognitions blended in.

1.43. smṛti-pariśuddhau sva-rūpa-śūnyä iva artha-mātra-nirbhāsā

nirvitarkā. The type of samapatti, yogic balance, called beyond the
rational, nirvitarka samapatti, occurs after the memory has been
purified, (the chitta) shining in pure awareness of whatever object,
devoid of self-consciousness, as it were.

1.44. etayā eva savicārā nirvicārā ca sūkṣma-viṣayā vyākhyātā.

This explains both types of mental balance no matter how subtle the
content.

1.45. sūkṣma-viṣayatvaṃ ca ā-liṅga-paryavasānam.

Content can be subtler and subtler until it is the unmanifest (i.e.,
nature undifferentiated).

1.46. tā eva sabījaḥ samādhiḥ.

All these (stages and types of mental balance) are called samadhi
with seed, sabija.

1.47. nirvicāra-vaiśāradye ’dhyātma-prasādaḥ.

After becoming expert in nondiscursive mental balance and samadhi,
the spiritual opens its light.

1.48. ṛtam-bharā tatra prajñā.

“Truth-conscious,” ritam-bhara (bearing the divine mind, in tune with
 the cosmic order), is the yogin’s wisdom and awareness (prajna)
there.14

1.49. śrutânumānābhyām anya-viṣayā viśeṣârthavattvāt.

Its object and scope is other than that of the wisdom of scripture and
reasoning, since its purpose (or value, artha) is unique (or, since its
objects are absolute particulars).

1.50. taj-jaḥ saṃskāro ’nya-saṃskāra-pratibandhī.

The mental disposition created by this state blocks the firings of other
mental dispositions.

1.51. tasya api nirodhe sarva-nirodhān nirbījaḥ samādhiḥ.

When it too is checked, there is seedless samadhi, since all have
been checked.15

sādhana-pāda

2.1 tapaḥ-svâdhyāyêśvara-praṇidhānāni kriyā-yogaḥ.

(The second limb of ashtanga yoga—see below, 2.32—the niyamas,
include what is called) Kriya yoga, which consists of asceticism
(tapas), self-study (in the light of a yogic text), and opening to (or
meditation on) the Lord.

2.2. samādhi-bhāvanârthaḥ kleśa-tanūkaraṇârthaś ca.

(It is practiced) to enliven samadhi as well as to attenuate afflictions
(klesha).

2.3. avidyā-asmitā-rāga-dveṣâbhiniveśāḥ pañca kleśāḥ.

Spiritual ignorance, I-identification, liking, disliking, and the proclivity
to remain in one’s own form (or, clinging to life) are the five afflictions
(klesha).

2.4. avidyā kṣetram uttareṣāṃ prasupta-tanu-vicchinnôdārāṇām.

Spiritual ignorance is the field for the others (to flourish) in degrees
from dormancy and attenuatedness to suppression or expression
outright.

2.5. anityâśuci-duḥkhânātmasu nitya-śuci-sukhâtma-khyātir avidyā.

To be spiritually ignorant is to mistake the noneternal, impure, painful,
and nonself for the eternal, pure, delightful, and true self.16

2.6. dṛg-darśana-śaktyor ekâtmatā ivâ asmitā.

I-identification is the distinct powers of the seer (the conscious being,
purusha) and the seeing (nature, prakriti) seeming one and the same.

2.7. sukhânuśayī rāgaḥ.

Liking follows pleasure.

2.8. duḥkhânuśayī dveṣaḥ.

Disliking follows pain.

2.9. sva-rasa-vāhī viduṣo ’pi tathā rüḍho ’bhiniveśaḥ.

Proclivity to remain in one’s own form (clinging to life) is sustained by
its own relishing, being self-perpetuating even for the learned.

2.10. te pratiprasava-heyāḥ sūkṣmāḥ.

Subtle (though they be in their disturbances), these afflictions can be
banished by countermeasures.

2.11. dhyāna-heyās tad-vṛttayaḥ.

These detrimental fluctuations can be banished through meditation.

2.12. kleśa-mūlaḥ karmâśayo dṛṣṭâdṛṣṭa-vedanīyaḥ.

(Action-inducing) karmic latencies, which are to be experienced in the
current or a future birth, are rooted in afflictions.

2.13. sati mūle tad-vipāko jāty-āyur-bhogāḥ.

So long as the root endures, its fruit will endure, the (triple) fruit,
namely, of birth, life, and enjoyment.

2.14. te hlāda-paritāpa-phalāḥ puṇyâpuṇya-hetutvāt.

These three bring joy or suffering according to moral merit or lack
thereof (in accumulated karmic latencies).17

2.15. pariṇāma-tāpa-saṃskāra-duḥkhair guṇa-vṛtti-virodhāc ca

duḥkham eva sarvaṃ vivekinaḥ.
And because of conflicting fluctuations of qualities, there is suffering
in change, in anxious, feverish states of mind, and in mental
dispositions (samskara). Thus the person of discriminating judgment
sees all as suffering.18

2.16. heyaṃ duḥkham anāgatam.

Future suffering is to be banished.

2.17. draṣṭṛ-dṛśyayor saṃyogo heya-hetuḥ.

That which is to be banished is caused by a conjunction of the seer
(the conscious being) and that to be seen (nature).

2.18. prakāsa-kriyā-sthiti-śīlaṃ bhūtêndriyâtmakaṃ

bhogâpavargârthaṃ dṛśyam.
What is to be seen (i.e., nature) is characterized by the (three
qualities or strands) of intelligence, activity, and dullness or inertia
(sattva, rajas, and tamas); it includes the gross elements and the
sense organs, and has as its raison d’être enjoyment for, or liberation
of, the conscious being.

2.19. viśeṣâviśeṣa-liṅga-mātrâlingāni guṇa-parvāṇi.

The (three) qualities (nature comprises) are expressed in distinct
stages, that is to say, stages where predominate individuals, general
forms, subtle forms, and the trans-subtle.

2.20. draṣṭā dṛśi-mātraḥ śuddho ’pi pratyayânupaśyaḥ.

The seer (the conscious being), although pure (i.e., although pure
consciousness), appears to see through thoughts and ideas.

2.21. tad-artha eva dṛśyasya ātmā.

Only for the sake of the seer is the seen in its essence.19

2.22. kṛtârthaṃ prati naṣṭam apy anaṣṭaṃ tad-anya-sādhāraṇatvāt.

Although destroyed (for the liberated) yogin whose purpose is
accomplished, nature is not destroyed for others (who are not
liberated), because she is common to everyone.

2.23. sva-svāmi-śaktyoḥ sva-rūpôpalabdhi-hetuḥ saṃyogaḥ.

The conjunction (of the conscious being and nature) causes
perception of the true nature of the powers of the owned (nature) and
of the owner (the conscious being).20

2.24. tasya hetur avidyā.

Spiritual ignorance is its cause (i.e., the reason the conjunction
endures).

2.25. tad-abhāvāt saṃyogâbhāvo hānaṃ tad-dṛśeḥ kaivalyam.

When spiritual ignorance is no longer, the conjunction is no longer.
This is the relinquishment, the aloneness (kaivalya, i.e., the summum
bonum) of the seer (the conscious being).

2.26. viveka-khyātir aviplavā hānôpāyaḥ.

Unbroken practice of discriminative discernment is the way to that
relinquishment.

2.27. tasya saptadhā-prānta-bhūmiḥ prajñā.

For such a yogin, sevenfold wisdom and insight (prajna) are the
boundary of his attainment.

2.28. yogâṇgânuṣṭhānād aśuddhi-kṣaye jñāna-dīptir ā-viveka-

khyāteḥ.
By practice of the limbs of yoga (ashtanga yoga), impurity is
attenuated. Cognition is illuminated up to discriminative discernment.

2.29. yama-niyamâsana-prāṇâyāma-pratyāhāra-dhāraṇā-dhyāna-
samādhayo ’ṣṭāv aṅgāni.
Ethical restraints, personal constraints, asanas, breath control,
withdrawal of the senses from their objects, (and three stages of
meditation) dharana (concentration in movement), dhyana (meditation
proper), and samadhi are the eight limbs of yoga.

2.30. ahiṃsā-satyâsteya-brahmacaryâparigrahā yamāḥ.

The restraints (yama) are nonharmfulness (noninjury, ahimsa),
truthfulness, nonstealing, sexual restraint, and nonpossessiveness.

2.31. jāti-deśa-kāla-samayânavacchinnāḥ sārvabhaumā mahā-

vratam. These practiced universally, irrespective of station and
circumstance of time and place, constitute the “great vow.”

2.32. śauca-santoṣa-tapaḥ-svâdhyāyêśvara-pranidhānāni niyamāḥ.

The personal constraints (niyama) are cleanliness, contentment,
asceticism (tapas), self-study (in the light of a yogic text), and opening
to the Lord (or, meditation on the Lord).

2.33. vitarka-bādhane pratipakṣa-bhāvanam.

In order to check disturbances one should enliven counterattitudes.21

2.34. vitarkā hiṃsâdayaḥ krta-kāritânumoditā lobha-krodha-moha-

pūrvakā mṛdu-madhyâdhimātrā duḥkhâjñānânanta-phalā iti
pratipakṣa-bhāvanam. Disturbances are a feeling of injuriousness and
so on, perhaps actually acted out, perhaps caused to be acted out, or
perhaps simply approved of and acknowledged. Their symptoms or
precursors are greed, anger, confusion, and they come in slight,
middling, and extreme intensities. Their fruits are endless suffering
and ignorance.—This thought itself is an enlivening of a
counterattitude.
2.35. ahiṃsā-pratiṣṭhāyāṃ tat-sannidhau vairatyāgaḥ.
When nonharmfulness (ahimsa) is firmly established, then in the
person’s presence all animosity disappears.

2.36. satya-pratiṣṭhāyāṃ kriyā-phalâśrayatvam.

When truthfulness is firmly established, then what has been said
becomes the basis for action and results (i.e., promised and foretold
results come about).

2.37. asteya-pratiṣṭhāyāṃ sarva-ratnôpasthānam.

When refraining from stealing is firmly established, all jewels come
near.22

2.38. brahmacarya-pratiṣṭhāyāṃ vīrya-lābhaḥ.

When sexual restraint is firmly established, (great) energy and vitality
are gained.

2.39. aparigraha-sthairye janma-kathantā-sambodhaḥ.

Upon achieving steadiness in nonpossessiveness, the yogin or yogini
comes to know the how and the why—the meaning—of his or her
birth.23

2.40. śaucāt svâṅga-jugupsā parair asaṃsargaḥ.

From cleanliness comes aversion (or indifference) to one’s own body
and non-contact with others.

2.41 sattva-śuddhi-saumanasya-ekāgryêndriya-jayâtma-darśana-
yogyatvāni ca.
(Other results are:) The yogin or yogini becomes fit for, and capable
of, sattvafication (sattvic transformation), (unshakeable) cheerfulness,
concentration (one-pointedness of mind), and sight of the self.

2.42. saṃtoṣād anuttamaḥ suḥkha-lābhaḥ.

From (firm establishment of) contentment, unparalleled pleasure is
gained.
2.43. kāyêndriya-siddhir aśuddhi-kśayāt tapasaḥ.
Powers (siddhis) of the organs of action result from asceticism
(tapas), which destroys imperfections.

2.44. svâdhyāyād iṣṭa-devatā-saṃprayogaḥ.

From self-study (in the light of a yogic text, svadhyaya) comes contact
with one’s preferred divinity, ishta-devata.

2.45. samādhi-siddhir īśvara-praṇidhānāt.

The siddhi of samadhi comes from opening to (or meditation on) the
Lord.24

2.46. sthira-sukham āsanam.

Postures (asana) should be firm but easy (comfortable). 25

2.47. prayatna-śaithilyânanta-samāpattibhyām.
(Postures become perfect) in relaxation of effort or by the mental
balance, samapatti, called the infinite (or, the serpent Ananta, Without
End).26

2.48. tato dvandvânabhighātaḥ.

From that (mastery of asanas), a person becomes impervious to
dualities (of hot and cold, hunger and satiety, happiness and sorrow,
etc.).

2.49. tasmin sati śvāsa-praśvāsayo gati-vicchedah prāṇâyāmaḥ.

An asana practice in place, “breath control,” pranayama, involves
checking (holding voluntarily) the in-breath and the out-breath (for
regular intervals).

2.50. bāhyâbhyantara-stambha-vṛttir deśa-kāla-saṃkhyābhiḥ

paridṛṣṭo dīrghasükṣmaḥ.
Three types of pranayama practice are the outer (e.g., using one’s
fingers to close and open nostrils and counting), the inner (e.g.,
without use of props), and the suppressed (an advanced practice).
Modulated by location (within the body, from the abdominal muscles
to the nose), time (i.e., duration of each of the three factors), and
number (i.e., proportional time being spent on each breath as well as
number of repetitions), the breath is to be both protracted (i.e.,
deepened, slowed) and made subtle (practically soundless).

2.51. bāhyâbhyantara-viṣayâkṣepś caturthaḥ.

A fourth type transcends both the external and internal focuses.

2.52. tataḥ kṣīyate prakāśâvaraṇam.

From that (mastery of pranayama), the lid covering the light (above
the head) is diminished.27

2.53. dhāraṇāsu ca yogyatā manasaḥ.

And (then) the mind (manas, the internal organ of sense) becomes
ready for dharana, concentration (in movement) (limb number six).

2.54. sva-viṣayâsaṃprayoge cittasya sva-rūpânukāra iva indriyāṇāṃ

pratyāhāraḥ.
(Limb number five) “pulling back,” pratyahara, is the disconnection of
the sense organs from their objects as if in imitation of the talent of
the chitta, “feeling and thought” (to be still).

2.55. tataḥ paramā vaśyatā indriyāṇām.

From that comes utter control of the sense organs.
vibhūti-pāda

3.1. deśa-bandhaś cittasya dhāraṇā.

Concentration (in movement, dharana) is binding the chitta down to
the spot (of movement).

3.2. tatra pratyaya-eka-tānatā dhyānam.

Of the three (stages of meditation), meditation (dhyana) is a single
ideational focus.

3.3. tad eva artha-mātra-nirbhāsaṃ sva-rūpa-śūnyam iva samādhih.

Samadhi is illumination of an object as object only, bereft, as it were,
of its being anything other than an object of consciousness.28

3.4. trayam ekatra saṃyamaḥ.

The three together are called conscious identification (samyama).

3.5. taj-jayāt prajñā-ālokah.

Through its mastery comes the light of wisdom and insight (prajna).

3.6. tasya bhūmisu viniyogaḥ.

It is to be applied to different spheres (subtle objects as well as gross
ones).29

3.7. trayam antar-aṅgam pūrvebhyaḥ.

The three together are internal to the first five limbs.30

3.8. tad api bahir-aṇgam nirbījasya.

But, just as with the first five, these three are external to seedless
samadhi.

3.9. vyutthāna-nirodha-saṃskārayor abhibhava-prādurbhāvau

nirodha-ksana-cittânvayo nirodha-pariṇāmaḥ.
The restriction transformation correlates with chitta in a moment of
conquest of stimulating mental dispositions (samskara) and the
arising of mental dispositions of restriction.

3.10. tasya praśānta-vāhitā saṃskārāt.

That transformation is borne along tranquilly because of mental
dispositions (restriction) (becoming dominant).

3.11. sarvârthatā-ekâgratayor kṣaya-udayau cittasya samādhi-

pariṇāmaḥ.
The transformation of chitta called the samadhi transformation occurs
when distraction has become attenuated and one-pointedness
(ekagrata) has become natural for the chitta (the natural state of the
mind).

3.12. tataḥ punaḥ śāntôditau tulya-pratyayau cittasya ekâgratā-

pariṇāmaḥ.
After that, there is the transformation of chitta called the one-
pointedness transformation. It occurs when the ideative contents
disappearing and appearing are identical.31

3.13. etena bhūtêndriyeṣu dharma-laksanâvasthā-parināmā

vyākhyātāh.
By what has already been said, three further transformations are
explained with respect to both the material elements and the sense
organs: the chitta’s becoming transformed in its properties, the
dharma transformation, its becoming transformed in its (temporal)
character, the lakshana transformation, and its becoming transformed
in its state or condition, the avastha transformation.

3.14. sāntôditâvyapadesya-dharmânupātl dharmī.

The property bearer (i.e., the chitta as a substance) takes shape
according to its properties: quiescent, active, and unmanifest.

3.15. kramânyatvaṃ pariṇāmânyatve hetuḥ.

Which transformation occurs is determined by differences in interval
and sequence.32

3.16. pariṇāma-traya-saṃyamād atītânāgata-jñiānam.

From samyama (conscious identification) with respect to the triad of
transformations comes knowledge of the past and future.

3.17. śabdârtha-pratyayānām itaretarâdhyāsāt saṃkaras tat-

pravibhāga-sam-y amāt sarva-bhuta-ruta-jnānam.
Because of wrong projections among objects, meanings, and ideas,
there is (psychological) confusion. From samyama on their division
comes knowledge of all creatures’ cries (the language of beasts).33

3.18. saṃskāra-sākṣāt-karaṇāt pūrva-jāti-jñānam.

Through direct acquaintance with mental dispositions (samskara)
comes knowledge of previous births.

3.19. pratyasya para-citta-jñānam.

From samyama on ideas (or ideative currents) comes knowledge of
other minds (the chitta of others).

3.20. na ca tat sālambanaṃ tasya aviṣayībhūtatvāt.

That does not include the substratum or representational nature of the
other’s chitta (e.g., the language employed), since that is outside the
range of samyama.

3.21. kāya-rūpa-saṃyamāt tad-grāhya-śakti-stambhe cakṣuḥ-

prakāśâsaṃprayoge antar-dhānam.
By performing conscious identification (samyama) on the body’s
visible form, another’s power to grasp it is suspended, there being a
break between the light (necessary for perception) and the operation
of the other’s visual organ: (hence comes the siddhi of) invisibility.34

3.22. sopakramaṃ nirupakramaṃ ca karma tat-saṃyamād aparânta-

jñānam ariṣṭebhyo vā.
Karma ranges from active to dormant. From samyama on it comes
knowledge of (time of) death. Or, time of death may be known from
unfavorable symptoms or signs.

3.23. maitry-âdiṣu balāni.

From samyama on friendliness and so on come powers (of
friendliness and so on).

3.24. baleṣu hasti-balâdīni.

From samyama on powers come such powers as the strength of an
elephant.

3.25. pravṛtty-āloka-nyāsāt sūkṣma-vyavahita-viprakṛṣṭa-jñānam.

From casting the higher light on any effort, the object of the effort is
known, whether subtle, hidden, or distant.

3.26. bhuvana-jñānaṃ sūrye saṃyamāt.

Knowledge of the cosmic becoming comes from samyama on the
sun.35

3.27. candre tārā-vyūha-jñānam.

From samyama on the moon (or lunar sphere) comes knowledge of
(i.e., cognitive opening to) the multitudes of stars.36

3.28. dhruve tad-gati-jñānam.

From samyama on the pole star comes knowledge of their movement.

3.29. nābhi-cakre kāya-vyuha-jñānam.

From samyama on the navel chakra comes knowledge of the
members of the body.

3.30. kaṇṭha-kūpe kṣut-pipāsā-nivṛttiḥ.

From samyama on the well in the throat come cessation of hunger
and thirst.
3.31. kūrma-nāḍyāṃ sthairyam.
With it on the tortoise duct (kurma-nadi at the throat) comes
steadiness.37

3.32. mūrdha-jyotisi siddha-darśanam.

With it on the light at the crown of the head comes vision of the
perfected ones (siddhas).

3.33. pratibhād vā sarvam.38

Or, from luminous samyama, anything.

3.34. hṛdaye citta-saṃvit.

With it on the heart, awareness of the chitta.

3.35. sattva-puruṣayor atyantâsaṃkīrṇayoḥ pratyayâviśeṣo bhogaḥ

parârthatvāt svârtha-saṃyamāt puruṣa-jñānam.
Enjoyment (everyday experience, bhoga) is constituted by no
(awareness of) distinct ideative streams of sattva and the conscious
being (purusha), which are (in reality) absolutely unmixed. Since
sattva exists to serve the other (purusha), knowledge of the conscious
being (the purusha) comes from samyama on that which is for its own
sake (or, not for anything else).

3.36. tataḥ prātibha-śrāvaṇa-vedanā-darśâsvāda-vārtā jāyante.

From that come luminous (or supranormal) hearing, touch, sight,
taste, and smelling.39

3.37. te samādhāv upasargā vyutthāne siddhayaḥ.

These powers or siddhis (wonders or miracles), according to the
ordinary human consciousness, are obstacles to samadhi.

3.38. bandha-kāraṇa-śaithilyāt pracāra-saṃvedanāc ca cittasya para-

śarīrâveśaḥ.
From loosening the connecting causes along with awareness of the
(subtle) passageways (of chitta), the chitta can enter another body.40
3.39. udāna-jayāj jala-paṅka-kaṇṭhakâdiṣv asaṇga utkrāntiś ca.
From mastery of the udana (a form of prana or psychic energy, up-
breath) comes lack of (injurious) contact with water, mud, thorns, etc.,
as well as levitation.

3.40. samāna-jayāj jvalanam.

From mastery of the samana (abdominal or equalizing breath) comes
kindling (of a psychic aura).41

3.41. śrotrâkāśayoḥ saṃbandha-saṃyamād divyaṃ śrotram.

From samyama on the connection of the organ of hearing and the
ether comes divine audition.42

3.42. kāyâkāśayoḥ saṃbandha-saṃyamāl laghu-tūla-samāpatteś ca

ākāśâgamanam.
From samyama on the connection of the body and the ether, and from
the yogic balance (samapatti) called light cotton as well, there is
traveling in the ether.

3.43. bahir akalpitā vṛttir mahā-videhā tataḥ prakāśâvaraṇa-kṣayaḥ.

Outside (the range of the body), a fluctuation, which is not imagined,
is the “Great Bodiless” (state of mind) whereby the covering blocking
the light (above the head) is diminished.

3.44. sthūla-sva-rūpa-sūkṣmânvayârthavattva-saṃyamād bhūta-

jayaḥ.
From samyama on the gross, essential, subtle, connecting, and
purposive comes mastery of the elements.

3.45. tato aṇimâdi-prādurbhāvaḥ kāya-sampat tad-

dharmânabhighātaś ca.
From that, there is manifest the siddhis of minuteness (or,
atomization) and so on (the eight siddhis of special bodily powers) as
well as perfection of the body and nonobstruction of its functions.43
3.46. rūpa-lāvaṇya-bala-vajra-saṃhananatvāni kāya-sampat.
Perfection of the body means beauty, grace, strength, and
adamantine hardness.

3.47. grahaṇa-sva-rūpâsmitânvayârthavattva-saṃyamād indriya-

jayaḥ.
From samyama on the essence of grasping, egoity, connectedness,
and purposefulness comes mastery of the sense organs.

3.48. tato mano-javitvaṃ vikaraṇa-bhāvah pradhāna-jayaś ca.

Thence come speed like that of the internal organ (manas), freedom
from the cognitive instruments, and mastery of the root form of nature
(pradhana).44

3.49. sattva-puruṣânyatā-khyāti-mātrasya sarva-bhāvâdhiṣṭhātṛtvaṃ

sarvajñātṛtvaṃ ca.
The yogin whose awareness is restricted to perception of the
difference between (the strand of nature called) intelligence (sattva)
and the conscious being achieves mastery over all states of (inner)
being and knowledge of it all as well.

3.50. tad-vairāgyād api doṣa-bīja-kṣaye kaivalyam.

Through disinterest in that achievement arises aloneness (kaivalya) in
the attenuation of the seeds of defects.

3.51. sthāny-upanimantraṇe saṅga-smayâkaraṇaṃ punar aniṣṭa-

prasaṅgāt.
On being called by divinities, a yogin should not let the attention give
rise to pride or attachment, since that could lead again to unwanted
consequences.

3.52. kṣaṇa-tat-kramayoḥ saṃyamād viveka-jaṃ jñānam.

From samyama on moments (the units of time) and their succession
(in the flow of fluctuations of chitta) comes cognition born of
discrimination (of the conscious being from nature), viveka.
3.53. jāti-lakṣaṇa-deśair anyatâvacchedāt tulyayos tataḥ pratipattiḥ.
From that comes understanding by differentiation of each though
identical with another with respect to type, characteristics, and
place.45

3.54. tārakaṃ sarva-viṣayaṃ sarvathā-viṣayam akramaṃ ca iti

viveka-jaṃ jñānam.
The cognition born of discrimination (viveka) carries to the farther
shore with everything as its object in every fashion and
nonsequentially.

3.55. sattva-puruṣayoḥ śuddhi-sāmye kaivalyam iti.

When the intelligence (strand, i.e., sattva) and the conscious being
are equal in purity, aloneness (kaivalya) ensues.
kaivalya-pāda

4.1. janma-auśadhi-mantra-tapaḥ-samādhi-jāḥ siddhayaḥ.

Powers, siddhis, come by birth, from herbs, mantras, asceticism, and
samadhi.46

4.2. jāty-antara-pariṇāmaḥ prakṛty-āpurāt.

Transformation into a different type of being (or, into another birth)
comes about from a superabundance of natural potentiality.

4.3. nimittam aprayojakaṃ prakṛtīṇāṃ varaṇa-bhedas tu tataḥ

kṣetrika-vat.
Practicing yoga does not impel transformations of nature. Rather, like
a farmer (irrigating, weeding, etc., to let plants grow), yoga practices
break up coverings or obstacles (so that one’s true nature can
become manifest).

4.4. nirmāṇa-cittāny asmitā-mātrāt.

Thought and emotion (chitta) are shaped solely from egoity.

4.5. pravṛtti-bhede prayojakaṃ cittam ekam anekeṣām.

For all the great diversity of effort and action, there is chitta that
directs it. That is a single (type of) thing belonging to many (people).47

4.6. tatra dhyāna-jam anāśayam.

Among these (individuated chittas belonging to different people), that
born of meditation is without stores of ripening karma.

4.7. karmâśuklâkṛṣṇaṃ yoginas tri-vidham itareṣām.

Karma is neither good nor bad that belongs to the yogin. For others, it
is of three types (good, bad, or a mix).48

4.8. tatas tad-vipākâṇugunānām eva abhivyaktir vāsanānām.

Mental dispositions (across births), vasana, manifest just according to
the ripening (in good or bad deeds as well as in moral payback) that
results from the (moral) types of karma.49

4.9. jāti-deśa-kāla-vyavahitānām apy ānantaryaṃ smṛti-saṃskārayor

eka-rūpatvāt.
Since remembering conforms to mental dispositions, samskaras,
causal sequences of samskaras occur despite divisions of type (or
birth), place, and time.

4.10. tāsām anāditvaṃ ca āśiṣo nityatvāt.

And these vasana have no beginning, since desiring is permanent.50

4.11. hetu-phalâśrayâlambanaiḥ saṃgṛhītatvād eṣām abhāve tad-

abhāvaḥ.
Since desiring and vasana are connected as cause and effect, as
mutual support and dependence, in the absence of the one there is
the absence of the other.51

4.12. atītânāgataṃ sva-rūpato ’sty adhva-bhedād dharmāṇām.

In essence, the past and the future exist. Particular events and
properties (are objects of consciousness and real) according to the
different modalities or pathways (of past, present, and future).52

4.13. te vyakta-sūkṣmā guṇâtmanaḥ.

Particulars are manifest or subtle. They are of the nature (of
combinations) of the strands (the three gunas).53

4.14. pariṇāma-ekatvād vastu-tattvam.

The truth or particularity of a thing is due to a unique transformation
(of nature, a unique combination of gunas).

4.15. vastu-sāmye citta-bhedāt tayor vibhaktaḥ panthāḥ.

Since with regard to one and the same thing, chitta differs (on
different occasions of perception, or from the perspectives of two
different perceivers), the two (chitta and objects) have a distinct mode
of being.54

4.16. na ca eka-citta-tantram vastu tad apramāṇakaṃ tadā kiṃ syāt.

And (to exist) a thing does not depend on a single mind or awareness
(chitta). Were it not cognized by that mind, what then would it be?55

4.17. tad-uparāgâpekṣitvāc cittasya vastu jñātâjñātam.

Something remains known or unknown to a particular mind, according
to its conditioning or expectations.56

4.18. sadā jñātāś citta-vṛttayas tat-prabhoḥ puruṣasya apariṇāmitvāt.

The fluctuations of mind are always known to their lord, the conscious
being, the purusha, inasmuch as the purusha is unchanging.57

4.19. na tat svâbhāsaṃ dṛśyatvāt.

That (the chitta) is not self-luminous, because it is something to be
perceived.58

4.20. eka-samaye ca ubhayânavadhāraṇam.

And there is no possibility of (chitta) cognizing both (objects and itself)
at the same time.59

4.21. cittântara-dṛśye buddhi-buddher atiprasaṅgaḥ smṛti-saṃkaraś

ca.
It would be absurd to assume that different chitta is required to grasp
chitta, because of an impossible regress of one cognition after
another being required (in order that any be known). This would also
mean memory’s (impossibility because of) confusion.60

4.22. citer apratisamkraṃāyās tad-ākārâpattau sva-buddhi-

saṃvedanam.
Self-awareness—consciousness of self and of cognition—occurs
when the chitta (citi = chitta), (now) unfluctuating, assumes the form
of that (the conscious being).61
4.23. draṣṭṛ-dṛśya-uparakte cittaṃ sarvârtham.
Chitta that is conditioned by both awareness of the seer and that to be
seen is capable of cognizing anything.

4.24. tad-asaṃkhyeya-vāsanābhiś citram api parârthaṃ saṃhatya-

kāritvāt.
Although the chitta is moved by countless deep mental dispositions
(vasana), it works by unifying (diversities) for the sake of the other
(the conscious being).62

4.25. viśeṣa-darśina ātma-bhāva-bhāvanā-vinivṛttiḥ.

For one who sees the distinction (between nature and the conscious
being), the projection of sense of self in nature ceases.63

4.26. tadā viveka-nimnaṃ kaivalya-prāgbhāraṃ cittam.

Then the chitta, settling into deep discrimination, is carried on toward
(reflecting) the aloneness, kaivalya (of the conscious being).64

4.27. tac-chidreṣu pratyayântarāṇi saṃskārebhyaḥ.

In the gaps (or weaknesses) of discrimination, other ideational
presentations (i.e., distractions) may arise by force of (unexhausted)
mental dispositions (samskara).

4.28. hānam eṣām kleśa-vad uktam.

These are to be banished, like the afflictions, in the ways explained.

4.29. prasaṃkhyāne ’py akusīdasya sarvathā viveka-khyāter dharma-

meghaḥ samādhiḥ.
The samadhi called Cloud of Dharma occurs for a person who has no
interest even in elevated awareness, whose awareness is in every
way directed to discrimination (of the conscious being from nature).65

4.30. tataḥ kleśa-karma-nivṛttiḥ.

Thence afflictions and karma cease.
 4.31. tadā sarvâvaraṇa-malâpetasya cittasya anantyāj jñeyam alpam.
Then, since awareness is unlimited when parted from coverings and
impurities, what remains to be known is trivial.66

4.32. tataḥ kṛtârthānāṃ pariṇāma-krama-parisamāptir guṇānām.

Thence the completion of processes of transformation on the part of
the strands (gunas), their purpose fulfilled.67

4.33. kṣaṇa-pratiyogī pariṇāmâparânta-nirgrāhyaḥ kramaḥ.

Process, which is relative to the units of time, is apprehensible at the
end of a transformation.68

4.34. puruṣârtha-śūnyānāṃ guṇānāṃ pratiprasavaḥ kaivalyam sva-

rūpa-pratiṣṭhā vā citi-śaktir iti.
Aloneness (kaivalya, the summum bonum) entails the reversal of the
course of the strands of nature (gunas), now empty of meaning and
value for the conscious being. Or, it may be understood as the power
of consciousness returned and established in its own true self.69

Here ends the Yoga Sutra of Patanjali.

om shantih shantih shantih.

 APPENDIX D

Selections from (Tantric) Kashmiri Shaivite Texts

The history and core themes of tantra are introduced in the third section
of chapter 1. Let me again emphasize its richness and complexity. A
chronology for tantric literature has been determined by scholars only
roughly.1
There is Hindu, Buddhist, and Jaina tantra, and complex interactions
and dependences among authors with a tantric perspective. In practically
all yoga traditions, there is what I call the tantric turn. Although today
there are sects of Vaishnavism and Shaivism that perform pujas (rites of
worship), etc., grounded in old scriptures called Tantras and Agamas, the
texts mention many rituals and alchemical practices that researchers
have looked for but not found.2 There is little that is distinctively tantric, as
perhaps is fitting given its spirit of inclusivism. Tantric scriptures do not
reject the authority of the Upanishads or the Gita or even the Yoga Sutra,
for that matter (although Abhinava Gupta, for one, is very critical of the
Yoga Sutra). The distinctively tantric line is that these teachings are
incomplete or too difficult or in another way inappropriate for our day, the
Dark Age, the Kali Yuga—or, in modern tantric teachings, inappropriate
for our complex and noisy homes and workplaces—at least compared to
tantric teachings and practices that are appropriate for our times.
Here our focus must be mainly arbitrary. We shall sample the work of
the great yoga master and Kula philosopher, Abhinava Gupta, who lived
in Kashmir in the tenth and eleventh centuries. With Abhinava in
particular, aesthetics, spiritual metaphysics/theology, ethics within yoga
teachings, and professional exegesis and epistemology all reach high
points not only within tantra as a movement but also within classical
literature as a whole. The tantric development that has probably the
profoundest overall cultural impact, the occult psychology, is not much
addressed by him, though it is present in many of the sacred texts he
recognizes. A yogic or “subtle” or occult body comprised of “canals,”
nadis for prana and shakti, along with chakras, “wheels” or centers of
occult consciousness and energy exchanges, became systematized in
tantra, though hardly at a stroke. I shall discuss the tantric psychology in
the next section, in connection with the Hatha Yoga Pradipika (c. 1400,
which, by the way, quotes Abhinava). This ordering of topics is mainly for
convenience; one should not think that earlier tantric literature—pre-
Abhinava—contains no expressions of the distinctively tantric
psychological or physiological system. In this appendix, I shall try to take
more of a philosophic overview, with a tilt toward the Kaulism of
Abhinava.
According to scholar Alexis Sanderson, in tantra’s early history in
Kashmir rituals were reformed and “aestheticized” in Kaulism.3 This
judgment is broadly in accord with that of the scholar of classical
aesthetics Edwin Gerow, who finds the Vedantic philosophy of Brahman
to be “aestheticized” in the case of Abhinava.4 This, the premier Kaula
philosopher, brought together at least three prominent streams of tantric
practice and ritual, the early Kaula (the “Familial,” from kula, “family”) with
two other Shaivite groups, the Trika (the “Triadic”) and the Krama (the
“Sequential”).5 These “streams” are not really sects but rather traditions
of practice and teaching. Abhinava also synthesized these views with two
further textual and philosophic lines (in texts not associated with
particular rituals and pratices), the Spanda, the “Vibration” view (the
world is a tremor in the divine consciousness) and the Pratyabhijna,
“Recognitive” view (liberation is like recognizing something from your
past, the self, atman, that you have forgotten).
Abhinava wrote prolifically in aesthetics and metaphysics, but not so
prolifically about yogic practices. Perhaps, as some have surmised, he
considered certain Tantras to be sufficiently clear in that regard.6 Still, he
was influential as a guru as well as a writer. He is a prime source for the
yoga of art and beauty discussed in chapter 5, although he hardly makes
what we said explicit. The little he says explicitly about practices centers
not on rasa but on four ways, upaya, to experience the unitive
consciousness.7 But my claim in chapter 5 was not that Abhinava lays out
a rasa yoga but rather that one is implicit in much of what he says—as
well as in the practices of countless artists offering their performances to
the divine, in the spirit of karma yoga.8
Moreover, we cannot do justice to all the many dimensions of
Abhinava’s contributions—more than twenty-six major compositions,
including a commentary on the Gita that is terrifically subtle along with
philosophic works such as the Tantraloka, “Light on Tantra,” that are
terrifically long.9 We shall try to flush out the convergence of aesthetics
and yoga (or Yoga) in Kaulism and Abhinava.
First let us look at verses from the Kularnava Tantra, the tantra of
“The Surge of the Kula, the Family, the All,” the title of which is more
commonly rendered “Ocean of the Kula.” This text allows an overview
before turning to Abhinava’s work. This popular Agama may have been
contemporaneous with Abhinava or more probably appeared a century or
so later (c. 1100). He does not mention it among the scriptural sources of
his philosophy (more than twenty Agamas, according to the count of K.C.
Pandey).10
Like many other Agamas, the Kularnava Tantra (KT) is structured as
a dialogue between Shiva and the Goddess, with the Great God teaching
the Devi principles and methods of yoga, and enjoining her to teach them
herself to help human beings of good will and resolve. The KT has been
said to be “without doubt the most important of its class,”11 that is, of the
later Agamas that are in this way dialogically structured. It is often quoted
in still later literature, the experts tells us, and its style and language are
clear and crisp but also light and cheerful, with many simple symbols and
analogies. Some of it has been translated, and almost the entire text
nicely summarized by M. P. Pandit.12 Of the text’s seventeen chapters, I
present below verses from the first two. In the notes, some interpretive
problems are addressed and further background given.
From the Kularnava Tantra

1.1. Seated on the peak of Mount Kailasa, the God of Gods, the
World Guru, the Supreme Lord, whose bliss is transcendent, was
approached and questioned by Parvati (the Goddess).

Shri Devi said:

1.2. O Blessed, O God of Gods, O Lord, who have ordained the five
ritual acts, all-knowing, you whom it is easy to love, you who love as
loves a mother all who in you take refuge!

1.3. O Lord of the Family (kula), Supreme Ruler, O Ocean of the

nectar of compassion, in what is not your essence, in wild
transmigratory existence, there are those fouled by every kind of pain
and suffering.

1.4. In various types of embodiment, endless living hosts are born and
die. For them, there is no freedom (no moksha, no “spiritual
liberation”).

1.5. They are afflicted by pains and sufferings continually; there is

never anywhere a truly happy person. O Deva, tell me by what
means, Lord of Lords, by what method (upāya) can a person be free?

Shri Ishvara (the “Blessed Lord,” Shiva) said:

1.6. Listen, Goddess (Devi), I will tell you, I will answer the question
you ask. Merely from hearing what I have to say, a person can be
liberated from samsara, from transmigration.

1.7. There is, Devi, the Auspicious (shiva, “kind,” “agreeable”), the
status of the Highest that is Whole, Integral, whose own form is the
Supreme Brahman (the Absolute)—all-knowing, all-doing, Lord of all,
pure, without a second.

1.8. Self-luminous, without beginning or end, without flaw,

changeless, beyond the beyond, transcendent of the gunas, (in itself)
being, consciousness, bliss. Every living thing is a part of That.

1.9. Living things are characterized by beginningless (spiritual)

ignorance, like sparks (thrown away) from a fire (forgetful of the
whole, their origin). They are differentiated by circumstances of birth
determined by karma, talents, and so on.

1.10. Controlled by their own good and bad deeds that result in
pleasures and pains, they obtain a body connected to this and that
kind or species, a life span, and enjoyment born of karma.

1.11. Every rebirth they get this, coming to be humans of dull

consciousness. Beloved, the subtle body is imperishable up to
liberation.

1.12. Plants, worms and lotuses, birds, wild beasts, humans of

thirteen different characteristics, and then, in order, like that, there are
those who are seeking liberation.

1.13. Having held and held—restraining a thousand times—the

bodies of four types (physical, breath, lower-mind, and higher-mind),
from good action having become a human being, liberation would be
got if one has Knowledge (of the Whole).

1.14. Among the eighty-four-hundred-thousand bodies that are

possible for the embodied, Knowledge of reality is not had by any
without a human birth.

1.15. O Parvati, here among thousands of (types of) births taken by

even more thousands, occasionally a creature attains the human level
from accumulation of merit (by action).
1.16. Having attained the difficult to obtain, the human status, step by
step, one who does not carry himself across (to the further shore of
liberation), well, who is worse than he?

1.17. Therefore, having obtained the best birth as well as excellence

of talents and faculties, if you do not know what is good for yourself,
you are going to harm yourself. (By listening to what is being
revealed, you can learn what is good for yourself.)

1.110. Some want the Advaita (Nondual view), and others prefer the
Dvaita (Dual view). Neither group knows my truth, which goes beyond
both.

1.111. There are two paths, to bondage and to liberation. One is the
path of “It’s mine,” and one is the path of not-“It’s mine,” the
nonpossessive. By the path of “It’s mine” a creature is bound. It is not
the case that one becomes liberated by the path of “It’s mine.”

1.112. That karma which is not for bondage is the Knowledge that
liberates. Karma, action, that is other than that leads to exhaustion.
Knowledge that is other than that is nothing but skillful craftsmanship.

1.113. So long as desire and the like burn, so long as there are
(untoward) mental dispositions, vectors of transmigration, so long as
the faculties are unsteady, what is the point of telling the truth of
things?

1.114. So long as you have to try very hard, so long as the effort is
intense, forced, or impulsive, so long as you are thinking about what
you are going to do, thinking about your resolve, so long as your mind
is not steady, what is the point of a telling of the truth?

1.115. So long as there is identification with the body, so long as there

is myness, so long as there is not the compassion of the guru, why
then a telling of the truth?
 1.116. So long as the truth has not been found, people do tapas,
make pilgrimages, chant, sing praises, and so on, and the stories of
the Vedas, the Shastras, and the Agamas are necessary.

1.117. Therefore, with every effort, in every state of consciousness, at

all times, be one, Devi, who takes her stand in the truth, if you would
desire self-realization, the liberation of the self.

The blessed Devi said:

2.1. O Lord of the Family (Kula), you who for every living being are
the ocean of compassion, yes, indeed, I do desire to hear. The
Dharma of the Kula, the Way of the Family that you have indicated
has not by you been made clear.

2.2. Speak to me the Mahatmya (the “Importance,” a succinct

statement of the essence) of this Dharma that you say is the supreme
way. Speak to me the Mahatmya, as conceived by you, of (the text
named) the “Upper Road of the High Tradition.”13 If you care about
me, Supreme Ruler, tell me about this.

The blessed Lord said:

2.3. Listen, Devi, I will explain what you of me implore. By merely

hearing this, one will become dear to the yoginis.14

2.4. I didn’t tell this to Brahma, Vishnu, or Guha, the royal seer. I say it
to you because I love you. You are a person whose mind is one-
pointed, exclusively intent on listening.

2.5. What I am about to say has come down in a sequence (of

teachers), a lineage, firmly established (originating) in (one of) my
“five mouths.”15 In its deepest sense it is unsayable. Even so, I am
going to tell you.
2.6. By you too this must be kept protected. It is not to be given to just
anyone. It is to be given to a practitioner of bhakti yoga or a devoted
student. Otherwise, a falling away will occur. (You will lose the secret,
if you tell it to just anyone.)

2.7. The Vedas are superior to all other teachings (about ordinary
life), better than the Vedas is the Vaishnava teaching, the Shaivite is
better than the Vaishnaiva, and better than the Shaivite is the Right-
handed tantric.

2.8. The Left-handed is superior to the Right-handed, the Siddhanta

better than the Left-handed. The Kaula is better than the Siddhanta.
Nothing is better than the Kaula.16

2.9. O Goddess, this is more secret than secret. This is the essence
of the essence. This is better than the best. O Goddess, it is the Kula
(the Family), the word of Shiva, come down directly from ear to ear,
hearer to hearer.17

2.10. The Kula Dharma has been extracted by me stirring with the
staff of Knowledge the ocean of the Vedas and Agamas, stirred by me
who knows their essence, Devi.

2.11. The Dharmas (the teachings, paths), sacrifices, pilgrimages,

vows and the like (undertaken in spiritual endeavors) in all their
diverse portions are unified (in the end sought). (Similarly) because of
its unity, the Kaula Dharma, among these, is the best, O dear one.

2.12. For, as rivers (all) enter the ocean whether they go straight or
wind, just like that all observances enter the Kula.

2.13. As you can put the footprint of any living creature into the
footprint of an elephant, so, dear one, all the (spiritual) philosophies
(darshana) fit into the Kula.
2.14. And insofar as copper is similar to gold, in that way another
observance is similar to the Kula Dharma.

2.15. As of all rivers there is no equal to the Ganga, just so there are
no observances equal to the Kula Dharma.

2.23. If a yogin, then not at all could one enjoy the world. If enjoying
the world, then not at all could one be skilled in yoga. The Kaula is of
the nature of enjoyment and yoga. Therefore, dear one, it is
universal.18

2.24. If one follows the Dharma of the Kula, O Queen of the Family,
enjoyment becomes yoga immediately, misbehavior art (the good
deed), and transmigratory existence (all of life) liberation.19

2.33. Knowledge of the Kula (the Family, the Whole, the All) shines
forth for a person whose thought and emotion (chitta) have been
purified, for the one of spiritual peace who serves the guru in action,
for the zealous devotee, for the one who lives in secret.

2.34. The person whose love and devotion (bhakti) stays firm, for the
blessed guru, for the Kula teachings, for Kaulas, for the Kula’s
supports, that person is one for whom Knowledge of the Kula comes
to shine.

2.35. Through faith, culture, joy, and the like, right behavior and vows
that are firm, by righteous acts protecting the guru’s instructions,
Knowledge of the Kula is obtained.

2.36. For the unfit, for one yet unready for deep Knowledge of the
Kula, it (bhakti) won’t stand long at all (even if he or she seems to
grasp what I am saying). Therefore, consider carefully what’s to be
said, the Knowledge of the Kula by me presented (in words).

2.52. The Way, the Dharma, of the Kula, dear one, if harmed harms
(the offender), if protected protects. If honored, it will make honored in
an instant. Therefore, don’t reject it.

2.61. Mere trees live. Deer and birds live. The person whose mind is
based in the Kula Dharma, well, that person (really) lives (in the fullest
sense of the word).

2.62. Days come and go for one unmindful of the Kula Dharma. Like
the bellows of an ironsmith, though breathing he doesn’t (really) live.

2.70. People who are wealthy and fortunate, whose karma is

meritorious, good people, as well as yogins and yoginis, well, Devi,
the Knowledge of the Kula (the Whole) can shine forth for them too,
by (your) grace.

2.71. People who are the best of the human lot, venerable, generous,
content in their accomplishments, in the hearts and minds of such
people I make Knowledge of the Kula appear.

2.72. All (contemplative) visiting of places of light, all plunging into

mysteries at holy crossings (tirtha) brings one into the Kula Dharma
as well as any sacrificial performance or ritual.

2.77. For a person who knows the Kula (the “All”) knows everything
(worth knowing), even if he has left the Vedas and the Shastras
behind. A person may know the Vedas, the Shastras, and the
Agamas, but if he does not know the Kula he doesn’t know anything.

2.78. Only those who are your bhaktas, your devotees, know the
greatness of the Kula, not others. Only the chakora bird (singing to
the moon in love with it), not others, knows the moonbeam.

2.83. The world is made of Shiva and Shakti. The Kaula teaching is
founded on the world. Therefore, it is the best of all. What a universal,
comprehensive teaching!
2.84. The six philosophies (Nyaya, Vaisheshika, Samkhya, Yoga,
Mimamsa, and Vedanta) are limbs of my body, feet, belly, hands,
head. He who carves divisions in them breaks my body.

2.85. Just these are also six limbs of the Kula. Therefore, know the
Vedic Shastras to be Kaula in character.

2.86. According to all the philosophies (properly interpreted), there is

a single Divine who grants results. Dear one, the Divine grants
enjoyment and liberation within this family (kula) of human beings.

2.87. The Kula teaching may run against the wisdom of the world, O
Queen of Siddhas, O Queen of accomplished yogins and yoginis. But,
dearest, it is a knowledge source because it is the result of (yogic)
perception.

2.88. And perception is directed to the generation of knowledge in the

case of all beings with breath, dear. All bad reasoners (“bad” in
opposing Kula teachings) are defeated by the force of perceptual
evidence.

2.89. Who indeed knows what is not perceived, what will be, or to
whom it will occur? Verily only that which is the fruit of perception is
the best philosophy.

2.113. Such a vision of the Kula (the Whole) is obtainable through the
guru’s grace. Your bhaktas alone, not others, have it, know it, know
that which gives enjoyment and liberation.

2.117. If a human could really attain perfection (siddhi) through wine

drinking, then let all the riffraff get perfection who’d love to do nothing
but drink wine.

2.118. If by merely eating meat (spiritual) merit would accrue, then all
the meat eaters in the world would enjoy (spiritual) merit.
 2.119. O Queen of the Gods, if liberation could really be had by
sexual enjoyment, then just any creature could be liberated by having
sex.

2.120. In no case is the path to be blamed, the path of the Kula, Great
Goddess. It’s those lacking good behavior that are to be blamed here,
not others (practitioners of Kaula rituals whose behavior is good).

2.121. Otherwise is the behavior described by me (above) of one who

is on the Way of the Kula. Goddess, deluded people thinking
themselves learned are wayward when acting otherwise (than acts
the true Kaulika as described).

2.122. You may walk on the edge of a sword, you may hang on to the
neck of a tiger, you may hold a (poisonous) snake and carry it—these
are all easier than living (in the right way) in the Kula.20

The selections now from Abhinava Gupta belong to two different genres
of literature. The first is a type of poem, a stotra, hymn of praise, followed
by a remarkable prose passage on aesthetics. A similar poem translated
by Paul Mueller-Ortega comes from the same collection of nine poems
edited by K.C. Pandey and reproduced in Devanagari characters.21 My
translation and understanding, I should like to acknowledge, benefit from
both Mueller-Ortega’s and Pandey’s work, as well as from a French
translation and commentary by Lilian Silburn.
Professor Silburn explains the poem in lucid detail in her commentary,
uncovering multiple senses and interpretations as well as echoes of
earlier tantric literature.22 In notes, I mention several points of hers. She
also identifies an overall theme of alignment of the microcosm of the
human individual with the macrocosm of the reality of Shiva/Shakti.
Shakti engages in creative, supportive, and ecstatically reabsorptive
activities (see in particular verse 6). Silburn brings out the image of the
thousand-petaled lotus that is indeed there, suggested pretty explicitly
though not in so many words: the infinitely petaled “wheel,” or chakra,
namely, the lotus above the head that spreads in all directions from a
central axis or hub where sits Shiva/Shakti, Bhairava/Bhairavi. Note,
however, in verse 3, “Bhairava-Bliss” (bhairavananda) is said to be
“seated in the lotus of the heart.” Combining the images, one would have
Bhairava illumining the central channel, sushumna, or perhaps raining
down from the outside, penetrating the heart center.
Concerning the word deha in the title, which means body, clearly it is
not just the body made of matter (annamaya kosha) that is intended by
Abhinava, who stations divinities in the pranic, mental, and occult bodies
as well as associated parts of the physical frame.
Finally, whether or not there is a secondary sense of the word chakra,
wheel, in the title (and I agree with Silburn that there is), the primary
sense is the ritual act of saluting a circle of divinities, turning to address
each in turn. Although all our experience and all factors in and causes of
experience are, in the philosophic conception, included in the eight
goddesses’ offerings, the particular forms those offerings take are in the
language of the poem the best of whatever factor, a distilled essence or
finest example (see, e.g., verse 6, 10, 11, 12, or 13).
Dehastha-devata-chakra-stotra: The Wheel (Chakra)
Hymn to the (Circle of) Divinities Seated in the Body

1. (Shiva’s elephant-headed son, Ganesha, god of beginnings) the

Leader of the Assembly (of Shiva and Shakti’s retinue), honored by
the multitudes divine and undivine, delighted in the bestowal of what
one regards as a boon, and worshipped at the outset of hundreds of
treatises of philosophy, him I salute who is manifest in (up-)breath
(energy, prana).23

2. Vatuka (Shiva’s other son, Karttikeya, the young ascetic), whose

feet are touched by real heroes, yoginis, siddhas in (all) lineages, by
whom the troubles of the well-behaved are taken away, him I salute
who is picked out in down-breath (energy, apana).

3. (The fearsome form of Shiva) Bhairava-Bliss (ananda), who is

made of consciousness, whom, seated in the lotus of the heart, the
goddesses of the senses worship always with (offerings of) objects
experienced internally, I salute him.

4. The true Guru (sad-guru), who takes the form of vigilance, unsullied
(no matter what the activity), who by the force of intelligence (dhi)
reveals to bhaktas the whole universe as the path of Shiva, constantly
I salute him.

5. (The fearsome form of Shakti) Bhairavi-Bliss, who in the form of

self-consciousness (vimarsha) plays (lilam karoti) ceaselessly
bringing up, appearing as, and chewing up the universe, I salute her.24

6. Brahmani (the Divine), seated on the petals of (Indra) the lord of

the gods, saluting Bhairava with flowers of certitude, constantly I bow
before her who is the rational mind (buddhi).25

7. Shambhavi (the Kind, Parvati), seated on the petals of Agni (Fire),

worshipping Bhairava with flowers of pride, forever I salute her who is
egoism, the
Mother.26

8. Kaumari (the Young Woman), roaming the southern petals (of

Yama, Death), forever expressing adoration for Bhairava with flowers
of imagined possibilities, whose essence is the lower mind (manas,
the sensuous mind), I salute her.27

9. I forever bow before Vaishnavi (Vishnu’s feminine side), the Shakti,

who takes the form of sound (words and music); roaming the petals of
the southwest (i.e., of Nirriti, goddess of destruction), with flowers of
sound she adores Bhairava.

10. I honor Varahi (the Female Boar) who assumes the form of the
organ of touch; making her station the westerly petals (of Varuna, god
of waters), she delights Bhairava with flowers of touch, heart-stealing
flowers of touch.

11. Indrani (wife of Indra and the right pupil), who, in a body sitting on
the petals of the Maruts (the Winds), worships Bhairava with flowers
of the color spectrum, the very best, I salute her in her body of sight.

12. I honor Chamunda (Durga with the terrifying tongue dangling

down from her mouth), who is picked out in the tongue as the organ of
taste; abiding in the (lotus) buds of (Kubera) master of wealth, she
worships Bhairava with foods of all the combinations of the six flavors.

13. At every moment I bow before the Great Lakshmi (goddess of

beauty and fortune), who, seated on the petals of the Lord, adores
Bhairava spreading diverse fragrances, Great Lakshmi, who is named
in the nose as the organ of smell.

14. I salute the one named the self (atman), honored in the six
philosophies, infusing the thirty-six categories, granting siddhis, the
 proprietor of the field (the witness).28

15. The wheel of divinities roaming my own body thus I sing, the
wheel (chakra) pulsating as the essence of experience, settled in
everywhere (but) forever (absolutely) near, arising (and talked about)
continually.

The second selection is from Abhinava’s famous commentary on the

Natya Shastra, which has been edited in Sanskrit and translated by J. L.
Masson and M. V. Patwardhan in their book, Shantarasa.29 The
translation below is thus doubly indebted to their work. But it is a fresh
effort, hopefully more accessible than theirs, with which I have compared
it almost word by word. For background, see the second section of
chapter 5. Further background is provided in some of the notes. The
immediate context is examination of the thesis, endorsed by Abhinava,
that there are not only eight rasas, or kinds of aesthetic relishing, but
nine, to include shanta rasa, the relishing of the spiritual peace (shanti)
that is the result of discovery of the atman, the primordial self.

(Opponent:) What, then, is the (corresponding) ordinary, abiding

emotion (for the rasa of spiritual peace, shanta-rasa)?

We answer: It is just knowledge of reality (i.e., the self, atman).

Insofar as this is the means to liberation (moksha), it is appropriately
thought of as enduring (spiritual realization is not transitory, unlike
other “knowledges,” jnana). And knowledge of reality is just
knowledge of the self (atman).

And this is knowledge of the self as an object, as it were, that is

distinct (from other objects).30 For otherwise the self as something
else would ipso facto be the same as the not-self (which is absurd).…
Just the self is here the (corresponding) ordinary, abiding emotion
(sthayin for sthayi-bhava, implying the self can be felt as an emotion,
bhava, literally, “state”), the self, i.e., who is (intrinsically) connected to
unsullied characteristics of knowledge, bliss, and so on.…
If it is asked why the self should be counted separately (from the other
abiding emotional states, since, as already argued, it is implicated in
every emotional state), we answer that it is separately and distinctly
enjoyed when it is (enjoyed in itself) not in connection with tasting
(other bhavas and corresponding rasas).31…

…Therefore, knowledge of reality is simply the true nature of the self

(its native state), which is tranquility (shanti). Further, sexual feeling
and the rest (of the ordinary abiding emotions) are thus just
particulars of (relative) sullying coloration. Admittedly, the self is
understood as pure, of unmixed character. On the strength of the
evidence of samadhi (yogic trance), one understands it as
homogeneous. Nevertheless, upon returning to everyday
consciousness, a person is tranquil, at peace. As it has been said
(Yoga Sutra 3.10), “That transformation is borne along tranquilly
because of (restriction-causing) samskaras (becoming dominant).”32

Furthermore, the whole range of ordinary and extraordinary states of

mind (states and fluctuations of thought and emotion, chitta) can be
used dramatically as subordinate transitory emotions supporting (the
aesthetic transformation of) this abiding emotion characterized by
knowledge of reality. And dramatically it does have symptoms
(indications), those fostered by such things as practice of the yamas
and the niyamas (of the Yoga Sutra).… It does dramatically have
stimulants too, the grace of God and so on.…

Furthermore, the person (who knows the self), for whom what has to
be done has been done with regard to the person’s own self-interest,
well, such a person makes effort solely in the furtherance of others’
welfare. Therefore, being energetic (which is the abiding emotion
transformed dramatically into the heroic rasa) with such a person
(depicted dramatically) would take the form of a wishing, along with
effort on his or her part that has helping others as goal. An additional
subsidiary (dramatically considered) is the (enlightened) person’s
being focused on others through compassion.
Just for this reason, some (philosophers) identify (a rasa of)
compassionate heroism, on the strength of compassion being
(dramatically) a transitory supporting emotion (for the rasa of spiritual
peace, shanta rasa); others identify it as dharmic (righteous) heroism.

Objection: Being energetic lives on egoism, but being at peace has

the character of relaxing, loosening egoism.

(Abhinava:) Wrong. For using even a (diametrically) opposed emotion

(dramatically) as a transitory supporting emotion (as, for example,
disgust supporting the rasa of love) is not unsuitable (depending on
the plot).… There is no psychological state whatsoever without
energy. To think there could be one without desire, effort (etc.) would
invite citing a stone as the untoward consequence.

And it is for this reason that insofar as a person has, with respect to
his or her own self, truly fathomed it, both high and low (both in its
universal nature and in particular), there would be nothing left to be
done (and still the person would act). It follows from this that giving on
the part of those whose hearts are at spiritual peace, such giving as
proceeds wholeheartedly, holding nothing back, not the body (or even
life), in order to help someone else, is not opposed (dramatically) to
shanta rasa.…

…Vedic scriptures and “sacred memory” (e.g., the Bhagavad Gita)

say alike that liberation can occur in all the (prescribed) stages
(ashrama) of life for those who know (the self). So it has been
declared, “If delighted in honoring the gods and goddesses and
grounded in knowledge of reality (i.e., the self), fond of guests
(treating them graciously), even a (benighted) householder making
ceremonial offerings to ancestors is liberated.”

Not only this but also (there is the following evidence:) bodhisattvas,
who are persons who know reality (i.e., know the self though it is
conceived as nirvana, who thus according to Buddhist doctrine are
souls who could disappear), appear again even after (their
enlightenment) in a body that is perfectly appropriate for them in their
intention, dharmic (righteous) and born out of concern for others’
welfare, whose only consequence would be others actually being
helped.
 APPENDIX E

Selections from the Hatha Yoga Pradipika

This amazing work outlining yoga practices with only a little metaphysics
but lots of occult psychology is by a fifteenth-century author,
Svatmarama. One achieves “mental silence,” the goal of the yoga of the
Yoga Sutra, by mastering the violent (hatha), strenuous practices of
asana, breath control, and sequenced movements, learning to move the
prana in occult paths. Unlike in mainstream tantra, action by God or one’s
higher self is, if necessary for liberation in some sense (see below, verse
3.2), not the focus. One takes heaven by storm. Although, as with
Abhinava and company, yoga may be thought of as a matter of
preparation, getting oneself ready for grace, the road-building goes on at
a furious pace in hatha yoga. God and the guru’s grace are mentioned in
a verse or two, but bhakti is not prominent. Philosophically, the HYP is
notable for its claim that mental and vital energy are inseparable and that
control and redirection of prana is essential to achieving a quiet mind.
The HYP, whose title means light on hatha yoga, is a late tantric text
that borrows from many philosophic predecessors.1 But it is first of all a
yoga handbook, in this way much like the Yoga Sutra, a text that it often
echoes. Its closest predecessors, however, are the Goraksha-paddhati
and other works by Goraksha (c. 1150), who is traditionally viewed as the
founder of Swatmarama’s lineage. Swatmarama in several places
borrows verses from Goraksha, who himself uses, we may note, the
tantric chakric psychology. And like a few other texts that also stand in
the tradition of Goraksha, the HYP breaks with the YS not only in
metaphysics but also, most importantly, in the practices it teaches,
especially in emphasis and in matters of asserted efficiency. Even
meditation is ineffective without the difficult practices of hatha yoga (2.76
and elsewhere)—pranayama, in particular, coupled with mastery of
psychic locks, bandhas (see chapter 1) and the know-how and skill to
perform difficult sequences involving asanas, breath, and locks (called
mudra; see below). However, meditation is hardly ignored. The last
chapter has a long excursion on nada yoga, the yoga of listening to inner
sounds, where interesting references to the chakras are made, according
to the classical commentator Brahmananda as well as to the Bihar
School.
The HYP has been translated into English several times. I have
consulted two translations, both of which I can recommend. First, an
1893 Sanskrit edition and English translation by Srinivasa Iyengar (with
an introduction by Tookaram Tatya), re-edited by A. A. Ramanathan and
S. V. Subrahmanya Sastri, in an Adyar Library publication (1972), but
“thoroughly revised… so as to conform more closely to the text and yet
be readable” (vi). The book includes an easy and helpful Sanskrit
commentary by the nineteenth-century pundit Brahmananda, bits of
which appear in occasional comments by the editors in English. In
second place, I have consulted the Bihar School of Yoga’s translation
and commentary by Swami Muktibodhananda (1993), a book that
includes diagrams of asanas and sets of instructions.2 The transliteration
here follows the edition by Pandit Iyengar as re-edited by Ramanathan
and Shastri. (The verses in Sanskrit are metrically regular, melodious,
and easy to memorize.)
Since practicewise so much explanation is called for and so much of
the HYP concerns practice, I have chosen only three passages, all of
which seem particularly accessible as well as salient to the projects of
this book, the philosophical and psychological theses here encountered.
Comments are interspersed.
The HYP has four chapters of different lengths, a total of just under
four hundred verses. The first chapter is about asanas. The second is on
breath control and preliminary cleansing practices. The third is on mudra
—a word that in some contexts means sacred gestures (and seals of
yoga-generated energy) but here means something else. For the HYP, a
mudra is an attitude made manifest in a sequence of asanas along with
bandha engagement (engagings and releasings of the psychic locks).
The fourth, the most philosophic chapter, discusses samadhi, yogic
trance, as well as nada yoga, the yoga of sound.
Among postures, siddhasana, Perfection Pose, is preferred
apparently for its stimulating effect on occult energies and the central
channel, sushumna. Several others are listed along with general
benefits.3 The message of the first chapter is: master the asanas
because they—and control of the body and breath in general—are
presupposed by more vigorous practices, called mudra, which directly
lead to samadhi. For example, the mudra called viparita-karani, which
involves wholesale “reversal” of psychic energies, begins with
Headstand, shirshasana.
Despite some interesting advice about yoga practice in general, there
is less in chapter 1 concerning Yoga philosophy and psychology than in
later chapters. We shall skip directly to chapter 2 and verses in praise of
pranayama and breath retention (kumbhaka) in particular.
Proper breath control along with use of the psychic locks, bandha,
can by themselves secure the goal of mental silence, which is the goal of
raja yoga (the yoga of the YS), we are told repeatedly (e.g., in 2.75
echoing 1.67). In chapter 3, we are introduced to mudra, which are
complicated practices sometimes called kriya, actions, along with their
occult underpinnings in kundalini, the mystic serpent power. Finally, in
chapter 4 we have a remarkable passage on the results of the yoga of
sound (nada), of listening to internal sounds to the exclusion of all other
available objects. Here the occult psychology is in high relief.
The text opens with a mangala verse of “auspiciousness.” Thus it
signals itself not as a scripture reporting a dialogue of Shiva and Shakti
but rather as a textbook within a Shaivite tantric tradition that does indeed
hold Shiva to be the source of yoga instruction in dialogue with Parvati
(Devi). There are 67 verses in chapter 1, 78 in chapter 2, 130 in chapter
3, and 114 in chapter 4. Ellipses are filled in following the commentary of
Brahmananda.

2.39. brahmâdayo ’pi tri-daśāḥ pavanâbhyāsa-tat-parāḥ

abhūvann antaka-bhayāt tasmāt pavanam abhyāset.
Even the thirty gods, Brahma and the rest, practice yoga with wind
(breath energy), intent on it. They do so out of fear of its end.
Therefore, one should practice with wind (the “purifier,” pavana, i.e.,
breath energy, prana).

2.40. yāvad baddho marud dehe yāvac cittaṃ nirākulam

yāvad dṛṣṭir bhruvo madhye kāla-bhayam kutaḥ.
How can there be fear of time (death) so long as the wind is tied to
the body (by yogic breath control), the thought and emotion (chitta)
empty and steady, the gaze (drishti) set (on the chakra) between the
eyebrows?

2.41. vidhivat saṃyāmair nāḍī-cakre viśodhite

suṣumnā-vadanaṃ bhittvā sukhād viśati mārutaḥ.
Through proper regulation (awareness becoming identified with)
breath energy (prana), the (subtle) canals, nadis, and chakras
become cleansed. Easily then the mouth of the central channel
opens, the sushumna opens, and the wind (the breath energy) enters
in.

2.42. mārute madhya-saṃcāre manaḥ-sthairyaṃ prajāyate

yo manaḥ-susthirībhāvaḥ saivâvasthāmanônmanī
When the wind (maruta = prana) is moving through the central
channel, mental steadiness is born. That state of consciousness is
known as manonmani, “(eager) intentional absence of mind,” which is
a state of extraordinary steadiness of the manas, the thought-mind.

2.43. tat-siddhaye vidhāna-jñāś citrān kurvanti kumbhakān

vicitra-kumbhakâbhyāsād vicitrāṃ siddhim āpnuyāt.
To accomplish this, those who know the rules (of proper practice)
perform various kinds of breath retention, kumbhaka. (As a side
benefit) various kinds of siddhi are obtained from practice of the
various kinds of kumbhaka.

atha kumbhaka-bhedāḥ
2.44. sūrya-bhedanam ujjāyī-sītkārī sïtalï tathā
bhastrikā bhrāmarī mūrcchā plāviny aṣṭa-kumbhakāḥ.
Here are the varieties of breath retention: surya-bhedana (“splitting
the sun-channel”: inhalation through the right nostril, the “sun,”
pingala, and exhalation through the left, the “moon” and “earth,” ida),
ujjayi (“victorious”: deep breathing with contraction of the epiglottis),
sitkari (“hissing”: breathing through the mouth and teeth making the
sound “seet,” which expresses pleasure), shitali (“cooling”: breathing
through the rolled tongue), bhastrika (“bellowslike”: rapid breathing),
bhramari (“humming”: exhaling with sound like a bee), murchchha
(“swoon”: holding the breath almost to the point of fainting), and
plavini (“floating”: swallowing air into the stomach) are the eight
kumbhakas.

2.45. pūrakânte tu kartavyo bandho jālaṃdharâbhidhaḥ

kumbhakânte recakâdau kartavyas tu uḍḍīyānakaḥ.
Then at the end of the inhalation the lock should be done called
jalamdhara (throat lock). But uddiyana lock (stomach lock) should be
done at the end of retention when beginning the exhalation.

2.46. adhastāt kuñcanena āśu kaṇṭha-saṃkocane kṛte

madhye paścima-tānena syāt prāṇo brahmanāḍi-gaḥ.
The throat contraction in place (jalamdhara-bandha, throat lock), then
through quick contraction from below (mula-bandha, root lock), (and
at the same time) by stretching the belly back (and engaging
uddiyana-bandha, stomach lock), the prana is forced into the channel
of Brahman (sushumna, the central channel).

2.47. apānam ūrdhvam utthāpya prāṇaṃ kaṇṭhād adho nayet

yogī jarā-vimuktaḥ san ṣodaśâbda-vayā bhavet.
Making the apana (downward breath) come up (reversing its normal
flow through engaging root and stomach locks), one can lead the
prana down from the throat (with the throat lock engaged). (Thus) the
yogin becoming free from old age comes to look like someone sixteen
years of age.

atha sūrya-bhedanam
2.48. āsane sukha-de yogī baddhvā caivâsanaṃ tataḥ
dakṣa-nāḍyā samākṛṣya bahiḥ-sthaṃ pavanaṃ śanaiḥ.
 Now surya-bhedana (is described in the next three verses):
Taking a comfortable seat and making it an asana, the yogin, drawing
in through the right nostril (pingala) air outside the body, slowly—

2.49. ā keśād ā nakhâgrāc ca nirodhâvadhi kumbhayet

tataḥ śanaiḥ savya-nāḍyā recayet pavanam śanaiḥ.
—should retain it up to the limit of cessation (of breathing), up to the
hair on the head and the nails of the fingers and toes (feeling
pressure). Then slowly, through the left nostril (ida), one should empty
the air, slowly.

2.50. kapāla-śodhanaṃ vāta-doṣa-ghnaṃ kṛmi-doṣa-hṛt

punaḥ punar idam kāryaṃ sūrya-bhedanam uttamam.
The surya-bhedana type of breath control is the best for clearing and
cleansing the cranium, destroying disorders (dosha) of vata (vital air),
dispelling disorders caused by worms. Again and again should it be
practiced.

2.75. rāja-yoga-padaṃ câpi labhate nâtra saṃśayaḥ

kumbhakāt kuṇḍalī-bodhaḥ kuṇḍalī-bodhato bhavet
anargalā suṣumnā ca haṭha-siddhiś ca jāyate.
In addition (to the benefit of the power just described), from mastery
of breath retention the state of raja yoga (a silent mind) is gained, no
doubt about it. From mastery of breath retention, the serpent power
(kundalini) is awakened. And there would be, from the awakening of
the serpent power, unbolting of the central channel (sushumna), and
perfection (siddhi) would be born, the goal of hatha yoga.

Even the gods and goddesses practice pranayama, “extension and

control of the breath energy”! This extends and iconizes the thesis that
prana and chitta, the YS’s “thought stuff,” are inextricably intertwined.
There is no perfection in yoga without control or redirection of the life
energy. The word used in verse 2.39 is pavana, which means purifier and
is used to refer to air as the fourth of the five elements.4 The element
aside, it’s as though divine individuality is maintained by perfect
breathing. The gods and goddesses are conceived as occult energies, as
in tantra generally but here without the emphasis on bhakti. Divine beings
traverse subtle elements corresponding with the five gross elements,
earth and the rest, and are thought to have connections with particular
types of subtle energies that pass through our various chakras and subtle
bodies.
It seems that surely the Immortals would not fear death, but how is
their individuality sustained through time? Verse 2.40 answers that it is
through particular yoga practices. No one is exempt from practice. Then
verses 2.41 and 2.42 describe prana entering the central channel
connecting all the major chakras and eliciting the “thousand-petaled”
enlightment or self-realization visualized at the high end.
Verse 2.43 lays forth breath retention as the means to that end,
underscoring the connection between prana and mental silence, chitta-
vritti-nirodha, in the conception of the YS. Thought follows desire and
emotion, and so no mental silence is possible without a yoga that
addresses these factors. Implicitly, however, our text hints that breath-
control practices are superior—in accordance, we may remark, with the
order of limbs of the ashtanga yoga of the YS (yama, niyama, asana,
pranayama, pratyahara, dharana, dhyana, and samadhi).
Verse 2.44 names eight varieties of breath retention. Most of the rest
of the chapter consists in description and elaboration of the eight, touting
benefits for health and the acquisition of siddhis. The first of these, surya-
bhedana, is taken up in 2.48. Verses 2.45 through 2.47 preview the
mudras that are the subject of chapter 3. Introducing the locks, the
psychic bandha, the passage tells us how to make the prana flow
consciously into the central channel. Verse 2.47 appears to characterize
the same exercise in different terminology, talking about the usually
downward, eliminative “air” or “breath,” the apana (which is also
mentioned at 1.48), made to flow up and the normally upward energy of
breathing with the lungs and diaphram made to flow down. This action
apparently occurs in the pranic body (figure 4A).5
The chapter continues with detailed description of the remaining types
of breath retention along with benefits—until a final handful of verses,
including 2.75, about the serpent power (kundalini). The divine energy
asleep in the lower chakras is the central topic of the opening passage of
chapter 3. The last verse of chapter 2, 2.78, lists slimness, freedom from
illness, brightness of complexion, and clear eyes as among the signs of
perfection in hatha yoga.

3.1. saśaila-vana-dhātrīṇāṃ yathâdhāro ’hi-nāyakaḥ

sarveṣām yoga-tantrāṇāṃ tathâdhāro hi kuṇḍalī.
As the chief of serpents (Ananta, the Infinite, on whose back Vishnu
reclines) is the support of Mother Earth with her craggy mountains
and forests, / so indeed is Kundali (kundalini, the serpent power) the
support of the principles of yoga.

3.2. suptā guru-prasādena yadā jāgarti kuṇḍalī

tadā sarvāṇi padmāni bhidyante granthayo ’pi ca.
Asleep, Kundali awakens through the grace of the guru. Then the
lotuses (the chakras of the occult body) are all pierced and all the
psychic knots (granthi) cut.

3.3.prāṇasya śūnya-padavī tadā rāja-pathāyate

tadā cittaṃ nirālambaṃ tadā kālasya vañcanam.
Then the trail to the Void comes to be the royal road for prana. Then
the thought and emotion (chitta) disconnect from their objects (i.e.,
become still). Then time (death) is cheated.

3.4. suṣumṇā śūnya-padavī brahma-randhraṃ mahā-pathaḥ

śmaśānaṃ śāmbhavī madhya-mārgaś cêty eka-vācakāḥ.
There is a single referent of the expressions, “Sushumna” (the
Gracious), “trail to the void,” “cleft of Brahman” (at the back of the
head), the “Great Path,” / “Cremation Ground,” “Shambhavi” (the Kind
Mother), and the “Middle Way” (the central channel).

3.5. tasmāt sarva-prayatnena prabodhayitum īśvarīm

brahma-dvāra-mukhe suptāṃ mudrâbhāsaṃ samācaret.
Therefore, with all effort one should act to arouse this the Female
Lord, / who is asleep at the mouth of the door to Brahman, through
 practice of mudra (i.e., kriya, actions, to be listed).

3.6. mahā-mudrā mahā-bandho mahā-vedhaś ca khecarī

uḍḍīyānaṃ mūla-bandhaś ca bandho jālaṃdharâbhidhaḥ.

3.7. karaṇī viparītâkhyā vajrolī śakti-cālanam

idam hi mudrā-daśakaṃ jarā-maraṇa-nāśanam.
For there is, destructive of agedness and wasting away, this group of
ten mudras (attitudes or kriya): (1) the Great mudra (with one heel
tucked in below the sexual organs, the other leg outstretched,
retention of breath after an inhale, engagement of throat lock, and, to
end the round, very slow exhalation), (2) the Great Lock (Root Lock,
Stomach Lock, and Throat Lock engaged simultaneously), (3) the
Great-Piercing Attitude (Lotus Pose combined with a lift of the
buttocks and a beating of them, gently, against the ground along with
Throat Lock), (4) khechari (tongue curled back to touch the palate,
eyes rolled back with all attention directed to the third eye), (5)
Stomach Lock, (6) Root Lock, (7) Throat Lock, (8) the Reversing
Attitude (low shoulder stand with ujjayi breath), (9) vajroli (retention of
sexual fluids and energy, saholi for women), and (10) Coursing the
Shakti (in the central channel).

3.8. ādi-nāthôditaṃ divyam aṣṭaiśvarya-pradāyakam

vallabhaṃ sarva-siddhānāṃ durlabhaṃ marutām api.
These were taught by the original teacher (Shiva, the founder of
yoga). They belong to our higher nature. They bring the eight powers,
the eight siddhis. / They are the practices preferred by all the siddhas
(the perfected ones), though they are difficult even for the maruts (the
highly flexible wind gods).

These verses provide an overview of practices said to be especially

effective in arousing the serpent power.
The eight siddhis, which are commonly attributed to the Yoga Sutra
but are not spelled out there explicitly, are, according to HYP
commentator Brahmananda: animan, shrinking; mahiman, extension;
gariman, immovability; laghiman, lightness; prapti, cognition at a
distance; prakamya, irresistible will; ishita, mastery of the body and the
manas (thought mind); and vashita, dominion over external elements.
This list is closer to the list in the YS commentary by King Bhoja than it is
to Vyasa’s in his comments on YS 3.45 (see that sutra as well as note 43
to appendix C).6 Brahmananda provides a little elaboration for each,
although some of his examples are highly implausible.7
The serpent power is not the same as the jivatman, the individual soul
that survives death. The jivatman becomes liberated through Kundalini’s
awakening, splitting the psychic knots (granthi), and rising to the
thousand-petaled lotus or chakra through the central channel, which in
these verses is deified. The sushumna is the Royal Road, etc. It’s as
though the spark soul can now roam freely throughout the system newly
alive with shakti, the facilitating divine energy that now flows freely.
The chapter continues to the very end by elaborating and describing
the benefits of each of the ten mudras. Although the HYP is not a good
example of the theme we have been calling the tantric turn, one of the
verses on the ninth mudra, vajroli, which involves sex, is remarkable. The
tantric sex prescribed involves both partners trying to withhold fluids as
well as, upon release of fluids, to siphon them back up into one’s own
sexual organ, whether male or female (a kind of yogic competition!). After
listing the practice’s benefits (including a perfect body), verse 3.103 says
in effect that here enjoyment (bhoga) and making progress towards
liberation (mukti-da) are compatible.
All these methods of yoga are said at the end of chapter 3, as at the
end of chapter 2, to confer siddhis. The list of eight (see above) is
indicated by mention of the first, anima, shrinking. Death too is overcome,
the last verse says (3.130).
Chapter 4 begins with a round of salutations to Shiva, suggesting a
fresh beginning if not interpolation. There is a lot of repetition of ideas
previously introduced. Yogic trance, samadhi, is the main topic, which,
although hardly described in terms of worldly action, is said to protect the
yogin or yogini from harm from anything outside (conferring immunity
from weapons, etc.). There is nevertheless much reference to the tantric
psychology of chakras and so on, in particular in the midst of a long tract
elaborating an additional yogic method, nada yoga, some verses of which
are translated below. Two mudras are also discussed at length, one,
khechari, which was also listed and discussed in the third chapter, along
with shambhavi mudra, which is not on the earlier list of ten. The word
shambhavi is derivative from shambhu, “kind, peaceful,” which is a
common epithet for Shiva. The mudra is not as complex as any of the
ten, involving simply fixing the vision or drishti, with eyes open or closed,
at a spot just beyond the middle of the eyebrows, i.e., on the ajna chakra,
says Brahmananda.
In chapter 4—as also in chapter 3 with respect to sushumna (3.4)—
the HYP appears itself to acknowledge the legitimacy of a worry about
objectivity. As might be expected given that it is a late text with respect to
the whole of yoga literature (fourteenth century), it evinces awareness of
a pluralism of conceptions concerning, in particular, samadhi as yogic
goal. Verse 4.3–4 lists appellations of the yogic goal and supreme
personal good (parama-purushartha) across a wide range of yogic and
religious traditions. To my mind, this move helps to alleviate the historicist
worry that occult teachings are particularly culture-bound. The problem of
partial intersubjectivity is answered by the fact of the difficulty of the yogic
prerequisites.
The section on nada yoga begins with verse 66 and runs for thirty-
seven verses almost to the end of the chapter. Below are eight verses
listing four advanced stages that presuppose pratyahara, withdrawal of
the senses from their objects. Verse 68 says that not only the eyes but
also the ears, the nose, and the mouth should be closed, meaning that
the associated sensory organs should be withdrawn. Then one begins to
hear sounds in the central channel that apparently have the power to split
the psychic knots and usher in other, similarly puissant sounds as well as
bliss and eventually enlightenment.

4.70. brahma-granther bhaved bhedo hy ānandaḥ śūnya-sambhavaḥ

vicitraḥ kvaṇako dehe ’nāhataḥ śrūyate dhvaniḥ.
For should the “knot of Brahma” (brahma granthi) be cut, ananda
(bliss) arises out of nothing (out of the void, shunya). / Wondrous
buzzing in the body is heard; the “unstruck” (anahata) sound is heard
(in the anahata or heart chakra).

4.71. divya-dehaś ca tejasvī divya-gandhas tv arogavān

saṃpūrṇa-hṛdayaḥ śūnya ārambhe yogavān bhavet.
A divine body too is his, splendid (full of tejas, spiritual energy), with a
supernatural scent, free of disease, / his heart full (of shakti), if the
yoga practitioner enters into the beginning stage of “living in the void”
(shunya).

4.72. dvitīyāyāṃ ghaṭīkṛtya vāyur bhavati madhya-gaḥ

dṛḍhâsano bhaved yogī jñānī deva-samas tadā.
In the second stage, the yogin becoming a vessel (ghata), the wind
(prana) enters the central channel. / Then the yogin comes to be
settled in his consciousness, a knower, equal then to a god.

4.73. viṣṇu-granthes tato bhedāt paramânanda-sūcakaḥ

atiśūnye vimardaś ca bherī-śabdas tadā bhavet.
And then upon the splitting of the knot of Vishnu (in the throat chakra),
which is indicated by supernal bliss, / there is in the “over-void”
(atishunya) the rumbling sound of a kettle drum.

4.74. tṛtīyāyāṃ tu vijñeyo vihāyo-mardala-dhvanih

maḥā-śūnyaṃ tadā yāti sarva-siddhi-samāśrayam.
But in the third stage, what is to be known is a drum’s sound in the
space (of the ajna chakra). / The “Great Void” (maha-shunya) at that
time arises. The yogin attains the full availability of every kind of
siddhi.

4.75. cittânandaṃ tadā jitvā sahajânanda-saṃbhavaḥ

doṣa-duḥkha-jarā-vyādhi-kṣudhā-nidrā-vivarjitaḥ.
Then mastering the bliss of the chitta (thought and emotion), he
knows (another) bliss that is spontaneously born. / From flaws and
imperfections, pain and suffering, aging, hunger, and sleep he
becomes free.

4.76. rudra-granthiṃ yadā bhittvā śarva-pītha-gato ’nilaḥ

niṣpattau vaiṇavaḥ śabdaḥ kvaṇad-vīṇā-kvāṇo bhavet.
When the knot of Rudra has been cut, the wind (prana) is absorbed
into Shiva’s province (the ajna chakra). / That accomplished, a
 flutelike sound occurs, a ring resonating like a vina (a large guitar).

4.77. ekībhūtaṃ tadā cittaṃ rāja-yogâbhidhānakam

sṛṣṭi-saṃhāra-kartasau yogîśvara-samo bhavet.
Then the chitta comes to be single-pointed, (in a state) designated
raja yoga (the royal yoga). / Such a yogin comes to be like the Lord
(ishvara), capable of (creative) emanation and (destructive) retraction.

The passage continues with advice not to rest content even with this
fourth stage of “living in the void” called raja yoga (which is usually taken
to be a name for the yoga of the YS), albeit what has been achieved is
extremely enjoyable (4.78–80). The section on nada yoga concludes with
verse 102, and the book ends with verse 114.
The last thirteen verses again extol samadhi. The commentator
Brahmananda is apparently so offended by the ending’s lack of bhakti
that he launches a long (five-page) excursion on the compatibility of
bhakti with the methods described, and, in the words of the editors
Ramanathan and Subrahmanya Sastri, concludes that “bhakti, in its most
transcendental aspect, is included in… samadhi.”8
 GLOSSARY

Sanskrit Words and Sanskrit-Derived Anglicizations

Guide to Pronunciation

Sanskrit words are spelled throughout this book without diacritical marks
but otherwise in the standard indological fashion—with the following
exceptions, made in the interest of better pronunciation: ṛ becomes ri
(pronounced like “rea” in “real”)
c ch (pronounced like “ch” in “such”)
ch chh (aspirated “ch,” i.e., with slightly more breath)
ś sh (like “sh” in “hush”)
ṣ sh (also like “sh” in “hush”)

Vowels are pronounced in standard ways, except:

i ee (like “ee” in “feed”)

e a (like “a” in “cake”)
ai i (like “i” in “bike”)
au ow (like “ow” in “cow”)

Consonants are also pronounced in standard ways, except: ph p

(aspirated “p” as in “part,” not “f”).

Whole Sanskrit sentences transliterated in the notes and in some of

the appendices do employ the standard system, and here in this glossary
both styles are used. Words appear first in our simplified, anglicized way
in boldface and then in the indological manner italicized and in
parentheses. Quotation marks are used to indicate a comparatively literal
rendering.
Transliterated Words with Diacritics

Vowels (omitting two that rarely occur): a like “u” in “mum”: manas (both
vowels: muhnuhs) ā like “a” in “father”: Nāgārjuna (naa-gaar-joo-nuh) i
like “y” in “baby”: mukti
ī like “ee” in “feed”: Śrī (shree) u like “u” in “pull”: mukti
ū like “oo” in “moon”: sva-rūpa (svuh-roo-puh) ṛ like “rea” in “really”
(while turning the tip of the tongue up to touch the palate): Ṛg
Veda
e like “a” in “maze”: tejas (tay-juhs) ai like “i” in “mine”: Jaina
o like “o” in “go”: yoga
au like “ow” in “cow”: yaugika (yow-gee-kuh) Consonants and
semivowels (which are best understood as a particular class of
consonants) are pronounced roughly as in English. A few special
cases are worth noting: kh exactly like “k” in Sanskrit—that is, like
the “k” in “kite”—except aspirated, that is, breath out, as with
“keel”: mukha
All other aspirated consonants follow the same principle: “gh” like “g”
except aspirated, “th” like “t,” and so on.
c like “ch” in “churn”
ch is another aspirate, same principle: sac-chid-ānanda
ñ like “n” in canyon
ṭ There is no English equivalent: a “t” sound (as in “tough”) but with
the tip of the tongue touching the roof of the mouth.
ṭh aspirated “ṭ”
ḍ like “d” in “deer” but “lingualized” as with “ṭ”
ḍh aspirated “ḍ”
ṇ lingualized “n” sound There are three sibilants:

ś like “sh” in “shove”

ṣ lingualized “sh” sound s like “s” in “sun”: sūrya
Special sounds:

ḥ calls for breath following a vowel. For example, duḥkha (“pain”) is

pronounced as follows: “du” and then breath (very short) and then
“kha.”
ṃ This is shorthand for all nasals, the particular type determined by
the class of the following consonant: “ṇ” is guttural, “ñ” palatal, “ṇ”
lingual, and “ṇ” dental. For example, the “ṃ” in “Sāṃkhya” is
equivalent to “ṇ,” since “kh” belongs to the guttural class.
Euphonic Combination, Sandhi

The “hat” symbol (^) is used for vowel sandhi or “combination” when two
words are compounded (e.g., tāḍa, “mountain,” compounded with āsana,
“pose, posture,” results in tāḍâsana, Mountain Pose). The hat (^)
designates that a vowel so marked is long (or is the dipthong e or o)
because of sandhi in the bringing together of the two separate words. For
example: tāḍâsana (tāḍa + āsana) jnāñêndriya (jñāna + indriya)
śāmbhavôpāya (śāmbhava + upāya) abhyasa (abhyāsa) repeated
exercise or practice adhikara (adhikāra) prerequisite, yogic prerequisite
adhikarin (adhikārin) person who is qualified, entitled, “fit” (by yogic
practice, etc., for yogic experience, God’s grace, etc.) adho-mukha
shvanasana (adho-mukha-śvanâsana) “Downward-Facing Dog,” an
important asana for basic conditioning adhyasa (adhyāsa)
superimposition adrishta (adṛṣṭa) unseen (moral) force, impersonal
cosmic force of karmic payback Advaita Vedanta (advaita-vedānta) a
prominent school of classical philosophy subscribing to an Upanishadic
monism (“All is Brahman,” including—and especially—the seemingly
individual consciousness or self) agni (agni) fire, psychic fire ahamkara
(ahaṃkāra) egoism; the individuating principle (tattva) in Samkhya
ahimsa (ahiṃsā) nonharmfulness; see note 17 to chapter 3
ahimsika (ahiṃsika) one who practices ahimsa (q.v.) ajna chakra (ājñā-
cakra) third eye, the “command” chakra where tantrics say is heard
the “directive” of the divine or one’s highest self akasha (ākāśa) ether,
the medium of sound, one of five material elements, according to
almost all classical views; sometimes “space”
alankara shastra (alaṃkāra-śāstra) aesthetics, the “science of
ornament,” the classical tradition of literary criticism in particular alaya
vijnana (ālaya-vijñāna) “storehouse consciousness”; a principal
concept in early Yogacara Buddhism amrita (amṛta) nectar of
immortality anahata chakra (anāhata cakra) the “heart” center, where
tantrics say the “unstruck” sound can be heard, the chakra where
bhakti is felt ananda (ānanda) bliss, spiritual ecstasy; the nature of
 Brahman considered affectively, according to Vedanta anandamaya
kosha (ānandamaya-kośa) body made of bliss, ananda, the kosha
nearest the intrinsic nature of the self, atman
anatman (anātman) “no self” or “no soul,” an important Buddhist doctrine
anavopaya (aṇavôpāya) the Kaula way of the minute, for those of
coarse natures anekanta-vada (anekânta-vāda) nonabsolutism,
positive perspectivalism, the “doctrine of many-sidedness”; the
metaphysical stance of Jaina philosophers anga (aṅga) limb,
subordinate part animan (aṇiman) thinness; siddhi of shrinking
anirvachaniya (anirvacanīya) “impossible to say”; the Advaita view of
the ontological status of the everyday world in relation to Brahman
anjali mudra (añjali-mudrā) “hands cupped in offering,” prayer
position anjaneyasana (añjaneyâsana) Crescent Moon Pose—a
matronymic for Hanuman, the monkey king, who is a great bhakta
annamaya kosha (annamaya-kośa) body made of matter, “food,” anna,
the physical body anta (anta) end, extreme anubhava (anubhava)
experience, awareness (perceptual, inferential, and other veridical
awarenesses) anumana (anumāna) (cogent) inference; a knowledge
source or pramana (q.v.) according to practically all classical schools
anusara (anusāra) alignment anuvyayasaya (anuvyavasāya)
apperception, cognition of cognition, according to Nyaya anyatha
khyati (anyathā-khyāti) “presentation of something as other than what
it is,” the view of perceptual error that stresses the reality of the thing
misperceived and the reality of the thing which the presented object is
misperceived as
aparigraha (aparigraha) nonpossessiveness, the fifth yama (q.v.)
according to the Yoga Sutra
apta (āpta) expert; a person whose testimony is reliable apurvaka
(apūrvaka) without causal intermediary ardha uttanasana (ardba
uttānâsana) “half” uttanasana
artha (artha) wealth; goal, object arthapatti (artbâpatti) postulation,
presumption; circumstantial implication—deemed an independent
pramana by Mimamsa and some other classical philosophers, but a
form of inference (inference to the best explanation), according to
Nyaya asamprajnata samadhi (asamprajñāta-samādhi) yogic trance
without any meditational prop according to the Yoga Sutra; utter yogic
 self-absorption; equivalent to enlightenment and brahma vidya
according to some Vedantins asana (āsana) poses and meditational
postures taught as part of disciplines of yoga asat (asat) nonbeing,
bad ashrama (aśrama) spiritual and yogic retreat; stage of life
ashtanga namaskara (aṣṭâṇga-namaskāra) “eight-points bowing”
ashtanga yoga (astânga-yoga) “eight-limbed yoga” of the Yoga Sutra:
(1) yama, (2) niyama, (3) asana, (4) pranayama, (5) pratyahara, (6)
dharana, (7) dhyana, and (8) samadhi
asmita (asmitā) egoity, the principle of individuation in Samkhya; egoism
asteya (asteya) nonstealing, the third yama (q.v.) according to the
Yoga Sutra
atman (ātman) self; the Upanishadic term for our truest or most basic
consciousness; universal Self avadhuti (avadhūti) central channel;
see sushumna
avatara (avatāra) divine incarnation, e.g., Krishna and Rama avidya
(avidyā) spiritual ignorance; in much Vedanta, lack of direct
awareness of Brahman, the true self, or God ayur-veda (āyur-veda)
medicine (“knowledge of life”) avyakta (avyakta) unmanifest badha
(bādha) epistemic defeating or “blocking,” e.g., experiential sublation,
as a veridical perception of a rope correcting an illusory perception of
a snake; epistemic or justificational defeating bandha (bandha)
“bond,” binding, lock; a muscular lock that redirects pranic energy
bhagavad (bhagavad) blessed, divine bhakta (bhakta) devotee
bhakti (bhakti) devotional love bhakti yoga (bhakti-yoga) yoga of love
and devotion bhashya (bhāṣya) commentary bhastrika (bhastrikā)
“bellowslike” rapid breathing, a form of pranayama
bhava (bhāva) natural emotion: see sthayi bhava
bhava chakra (bhāva-cakra) wheel of birth, death, and rebirth, according
to Buddhism bhavana (bhāvanā) enlivening or re-enlivening (as of an
intention, samkalpa) bhoga (bhoga) enjoyment bhramari (bhramarī)
“humming,” exhaling with sound like a bee (bhramara), a form of
pranayama
bhuta (bhūta) gross element (earth, water, fire, air, and ether)
bodhisattva (bodhisattva) one who is capable of a final extinction of
individual personality in an ultimate nirvana but who retains form out
of compassion for sentient beings; the yogic ideal of Mahayana
 Buddhism brahmacharya (brahmacarya) sexual restraint, celibacy,
the fourth yama (q.v.) according to the Yoga Sutra
brahma randhra (brahma-randhra) the cranial cleft through which runs
the “central channel,” sushumna (q.v.) brahma sakshatkara (brahma-
sākṣātkāra) immediate awareness of Brahman; brahma-vidya (q.v.)
brahma vidya (brahma-vidyā) yogic knowledge of Brahman, the
Absolute (or God); the summum bonum, according to Vedanta
Brahman (brahman) the Divine Absolute; the One; the God, ishvara
(q.v.); the key concept of the Upanishads and all Vedanta (q.v.)
philosophy Buddha (buddha) “the Awakened”; an epithet of
Siddhartha Gautama, the founder of Buddhism, after his
enlightenment or nirvana (q.v.) buddhi (buddhi) rational intelligence
Buddhism (bauddha-darśana) world religion founded by Siddhartha
Gautama, the Buddha or “Awakened One,” who taught that a supreme
felicity and end to suffering occur in a special experience called
nirvana and who laid out a way or ways to attain it buddhi yoga
(buddhi-yoga) discipline for the higher intelligence chakra (cakra)
occult center of consciousness, “wheel” of occult energy chandra
namaskara (candra-namaskāra) Moon Salutations, a series of asanas
Charvaka (cārvāka) the classical Indian philosophic school of
materialism, religious skepticism, and hedonism chaturangasana
(catur-aṇgâsana) Four-Limbs Pose, a planklike asana with elbows in
under the ribs chikirsha (cikīrṣa) “desire to do”
chin mudra (cin-mudrā) the “consciousness seal (or gesture)”
chitta (citta) thought and emotion, mind stuff chitta-vritti-nirodha (citta-
vṛtti-nirodha) stilling of the fluctuations of thought and emotion; the
definition of yoga given by the Yoga Sutra
darshana (darśana) world view or philosophy, a “viewing”
deha (deha) body devi (devī) female divinity, “goddess”; superconscient
power of one’s higher self dharana (dbāraṇā) concentrated
perseverance; meditation or concentration (especially in movement)
dharma (dharma) (1) duty, right way of action; (2) quality or state of
awareness; (3) property dharma kaya (dharma-kāya) Dharma body of
the Buddha (see dharma) dhyana (dhyāna) meditation (proper)
dosha (doṣa) fault, disorder drishti (dṛṣṭi) gaze, sight duhkha
(duḥkha) pain and suffering ekagrata (ekâgratā) one-pointedness of
 mind, “exclusive concentration”
gariman (gariman) weight; dignity; siddhi of immovability gita (gītā) song
gopi (gopī) cowgirl (gopis are famously beloved of Krishna,
symbolizing individual souls) granthi (granthi) psychic “knot” blocking
the flow of shakti in the chakras and central channel guna (guṇa)
quality, property; twenty-four are enumerated in the early Nyaya–
Vaisheshika literature, including cognition (jnana), which is a quality
resting in the self (atman); mode or strand of nature, according to
Samkhya (see sattva, rajas, and tamas) guru (guru) teacher,
venerable person hamsa (haṃsa) (Siberian) crane, swan, goose; the
symbol of the transmigrating self or soul (jivatman) hatha (haṭha)
force, obstinancy, necessity hatha yoga (haṭha-yoga) type of self-
discipline emphasizing postures, pranayama, and mudra (q.v.) as
means to pierce occult granthi, open chakras, and awaken kundalini
(q.v.)
hetu (reason) reason, inferential mark or sign hetvabhasa (hetv-ābhāsa)
“pseudo-reason,” fallacy hita (hita) “favorable”; an Upanishadic word
for subtle connections or canals of subtle energies (see nadi) ida (iḍā)
earth; moon; devotion as goddess; channel or nadi that runs from the
left nostril, pranic channel indriya (indriya) sense organ or faculty
ishita (iṣita) “desired,” wanted; siddhi of mastery of the body and the
manas (thought mind and focus) ishta-devata (iṣṭa-devatā) “preferred
divinity”
ishvara (īśvara) God, the “Lord”; viewed as the equivalent of Brahman in
theistic Vedanta ishvara-pranidhana (īśvara-praṇidhāna)
“concentration on God,” “surrender to the Lord” (a term appearing in
the Yoga Sutra that has been variously interpreted) Jainism (jaina-
darśana) an ancient Indian religion founded by Mahavira, c. 500 B.C.E.,
who, like the Buddha, propounded a “supreme personal good”; in later
periods, Jaina philosophers addressed a broad range of issues
jalandhara bandha (jālandhara-bandha) throat lock, the “netting” lock
(see bandha) japa (japa) yoga of repetition of mantras such as om
Jataka (jāṭaka) stories of the Buddha’s previous incarnations, a portion of
the Pali or southern canon jivan mukti (jīvan-mukti) “living liberation,”
a living person’s attainment of spiritual enlightenment jivatman
(jīvâtman, jīva) individual, living person, transmigrating self jnana
 (jñāna) cognition, consciousness jnana yoga (jñāna-yoga) yoga of
meditation jnanendriya (jñānêndriya) sense organ, any of the five
faculties of sense perception and knowledge kaivalya (kaivalya)
aloneness or independence: the summum bonum according to
Samkhya and the Yoga of the Yoga Sutra
kama (kāma) pleasure, especially sexual pleasure; sensory gratification
kama-vasaya (kāma-vāsaya) the siddhi of dwelling wherever desired
karma (karman) (1) “action”; (2) habit; the psychological law that
every act creates a psychic valency to repeat the act; (3) sacrifice,
ritual karma yoga (karma-yoga) yoga of action and sacrifice or giving
karmendriya (karmêndriya) organ of action, such as locomotion as an
ability karuna (karuṇā) compasssion Kaulism (kula-marga) “Way of
the Family” (kula), an important stream of Kashmiri Shaivism kaya
(kāya) body khechara (khecara) mudra with the tongue curled back to
touch the palate, eyes rolled back with all attention on the ajna chakra
(q.v.) klesha (kleśa) affliction; five are listed in the Yoga Sutra (sutra
2.3: see appendix C) as obstructing spiritual accomplishment kosha
(kośa) sheath, body Krama (krama) “sequence”; a stream of Kashmiri
Shaivism (see note 5 to appendix D) kriya (kriyā) action; series and
combinations of asanas and movements with breath, outlined in the
Hatha Yoga Pradipika and other yoga manuals krodha (krodha)
anger kshana (kṣaṇa) moment, point-instant kula (kula) “family” (see
notes 5 and 12 to appendix D) kumbhaka (kumbhaka) breath
retention or halting, on either the inhale or the exhale; a technical term
of pranayama practice kundalini (kuṇḍalī, kuṇḍalinī) occult serpent
power; divine energy said to be asleep in the lowest or mula chakra,
the awakening of which is in tantra taken to be equivalent to
enlightenment and jivan mukti (q.v.) kusha (kuśa) grass or straw said
to be suitable for covering the ground for asana practice and
meditation ku-yogin (ku-yogin) bad yogin laghiman (laghiman)
lightness; siddhi of lightness lila (līlā) play, sport; as a concept
belonging to Vedanta, the world as Divine play linga-sharira (liṇga-
śarīra) subtle body comprised of sense data or subtle elements
transmigrating with the jiva or individual soul loka (loka) world, field of
vision Madhyamika (mādhyamika) Buddhist “school of the Middle”
(avoidance of extremes) founded by Nagarjuna maha bandha (mahā-
 bandha) “great lock” comprised of the simultaneous performance of
mulct, uddiyana, and jalandhara bandhas (q.v.) maha vakya (mahā-
vākya) “great statement”; one of eighteen or so Upanishadic
statements taken by Shankara and other Vedantins to have special
import for Vedanta philosophy Mahayana (mahāyāna) northern
Buddhism; the “Great Vehicle”
maitri (maitrī) friendliness, loving-kindness manas (manas) sense mind,
the inner sense, the internal organ, the conduit of sensory information
to the perceiving self, soul, or consciousness, according to several
classical schools mandala (maṇḍala) cosmic circle, graphic
representation of the universe mangala (maṅgala) “doing something
auspicious,” such as chanting om, making a flower offering, etc.
manipura (maṇi-pura) the navel chakra, the “city of jewels”
manomaya kosha (manomaya-kośa) body or kośa made of lower or
sensuous intelligence, manas
manonmani (manonmanī) “mind without mind,” a name for samadhi or
the supreme state accessible through yoga according to the Hatha
Yoga Pradipika
mantra (mantra) verse of the Veda; words or sound with occult power to
aid meditation, open chakras, etc.
marga (marga) way, path matsyasana (matsyâsana) Fish Pose maya
(māyā) illusion, cosmic illusion, according to Advaita Vedanta;
according to Vedantic theists, “(self)-delimitation” (from the root ma, to
measure or delimit: see note 14 to chapter 5) Mimamsa (mīmāṃsā)
“Exegesis”; long-running school of classical philosophy devoted to
defending the scriptural revelation of the Veda mudra (mudrā) “seal,”
gesture; attitude; form imitating that of an enlightened guru, channel to
yogic experience mukti (= mokṣa) “liberation,” enlightenment mula
bandha (mūla-bandha) root lock muladhara chakra (mūlâdhāra-
cakra) the lotus center at the base of the spine where the kundalini
serpent power rests (normally) asleep murchchha (mūrcchā) fainting,
swooning; type of pranayama in which the breath is retained for an
extended period nada (nāda) sound, in particular occult or internal
sounds nada-yoga (nāda yoga) the yoga of concentrating on internal
sounds nadi (nāḍī) pathway for prana and shakti (q.v.) namas te
(namas te) “salutations to thee”; see note 26 to chapter 1
naya (naya) perspective nirbija samadhi (nirbīja-samādhi) “trance
without any seed (of a samskara that would force one back to the
waking state)”—Yoga Sutra 1.51 and 3.8
nirguna (nirguṇa) without attributes nirvana (nirvāṇa) extinction (of
suffering); enlightenment; the experience of the “void” (of desire and
attachment); the summum bonum in Buddhism (although in
Mahāyāna the goal is to become a bodhisattva [q.v.]) nirvikalpaka
jnana (nirvikalpaka-jñāna) indeterminate awareness, “concept-free”
awareness, nonpropositional awareness niyama (niyama) (personal)
restraints, the second limb of ashtanga-yoga, comprising: (1)
shaucha, (2) santosha, (3) tapas, (4) svadhyaya, and (5) ishvara-
pranidhana (q.v.) Nyaya (nyāya-darśana) “Logic”; a school of realism
and common sense prominent throughout the classical period, from
the Nyaya Sutra (c. 200) on, developing out of canons of debate and
informal logic; explicitly combined with Vaisheshika in the later
centuries beginning with Udayana (c. 1000); focused on issues in
epistemology but also defending yoga practice padmasana
(padmâsana) Lotus Pose parama-purushartha (parama-puruṣârtha)
“supreme personal good”
paramita (pāramitā) perfection; six moral and spiritual perfections are
exhibited by a bodhisattva (q.v.), according to Mahayana Buddhism:
(1) charity, (2) uprightness, (3) energy, (4) patience, (5) concentration
(samadhi), and (6) wisdom (prajñā) parampara (paramparā) lineage
of teachers or gurus parshvottanasana (parśvôttānâsana) Side
Stretch pingala (piṇgala) channel or nadi that runs from the right
nostril, pranic channel; “Sun”
plavini (plāvinī) “floating”; type of pranayama in which the breath is
swallowed into the stomach pradhana (pradhāna) root form of nature
or prakriti according to Samkhya prajna (prajñā) wisdom; spiritual
insight; one of the “perfections,” paramita (q.v.) or marks of a
bodhisattva (q.v.), according to Mahayana Buddhism prakamya
(prākāmya) siddhi of irresistible will prakara (prakāra) predicate
content, the “way” something appears prakriti (prakṛti) nature
conceived as operating mechanically, without intrinsic consciousness;
a principal Samkhya concept pramana (pramāṇa) source of
knowledge; justifier; according to Nyaya, there are four: perception,
 inference, anology, and testimony prana (prāṇa) breath; inhalation;
type of wind or vital air or energy animating certain bodily functions;
life or vital energy (see note 15 to appendix A) pranamaya kosha
(prāṇamaya-kośa) body made of life energy, prana
pranayama (prāṇâyāma) breath control pranidhana (praṇidhāna)
devotion, meditation, devotional surrender prapanca (prapañca)
worldly display prapatti (prapatti) surrender (to God) prapti (prāpti)
“obtaining”; siddhi of cognition at a distance prasarita padottanasana
(prasārita-pādôttānâsana) Widespread Forward Fold prasanga
(prasaṅga) a form of philosophic argument: reductio ad absurdum,
dialectical difficulty; Nagarjuna’s refutational method pratibandhaka
(pratibandhaka) “blocker,” obstruction; epistemic defeater pratitya
samutpada (pratītya-samutpāda) interdependent origination; the
Buddhist doctrine that each event comes to be in interdependence
with all other events pratyabhijna (pratyabhijñā) recognition
pratyahara (pratyāhāra) “withdrawal” from the sense organs to
cognize only sense data, or, in some interpretations, external objects
directly through the manas (q.v.) pratyaksha (pratyakṣa) perception; a
source of knowledge, pramana (q.v.), according to Nyaya and
practically all classical philosophy puja (pūja) ceremony of worship
purusha (puruṣa) individual conscious being, person rajas (rajas)
guna of passion and activity rasa (rasa) aesthetic “flavor,” “juice”;
aesthetic experience, relishing; see the list on p. 153
rishi (ṛṣi) seer-poet, author of mantras of the Rig Veda; enlightened seer
who, with other seers in some instances, originates a tradition of yoga
or a skill or craft rupa skandha (rūpa-skandha) sense data, form, and
matter as comprising a “band” of an individual (see skandha)
sachchidananda (sac-cid-ānanda) Existence-Consciousness-Bliss, a
popular Vedantic characterization of Brahman in itself; sat = pure
being, the self-existent, chit = consciousness or consciousness force,
ananda = delight, bliss, self-delight saguna (saguṇa) with attributes
sahasradala (sahasradala) “thousand-petaled (lotus),” divine center
or chakra connectioning occultly with the brahma-randhra and
sushumna (q.v.), four fingers above the head sahasrara (sahasrâra)
“thousand-spoked (wheel)”; see sahasradala
saholi (saholī) retention of sexual fluids and energy (for women, vajroli
 for men) sahridya (sahṛdaya) the aesthetic expert or connoisseur,
“like-hearted” member of an audience sakshatkartavya
(sākṣātkartavya) to be made immediate in experience sakshin (sākṣin)
witness sama sthiti (sama-sthiti) Equipose Stance, the starting and
finishing position of a series or flow of asanas samadhi (samādhi)
yogic trance, “enstacy,” the ability to shut off mental fluctuations (see
note 1 to chapter 5) samagri (sāmagrī) collection of causal factors
together sufficient for an effect samana (samāna) “equalizing breath,”
one of five pranas mentioned in the Upanishads and manipulated in
pranayama
samapatti (samāpatti) “yogic balance”; see note 13 to appendix C
samatva (samatva) balance, equinimity samjna skandha (saṃjña-
skandha) skandha (q.v.) of cognition, thought samkalpa (saṃkalpa)
intention Samkhya (sāṃkhya-darśana) “Analysis”; an early school of
Indian philosophy according to which the “supreme personal good” is
achieved through psychological disidentification samnyasa
(saṃnyāsa) renunciation sampradaya (sampradāya) yogic lineage
samprajnata samadhi (samprajñāta-samādhi) samadhi “with prop”;
the penultimate stage of yogic accomplishment according the Yoga
Sutra; see asamprajnata-samadhi
samsara (saṃsāra) transmigratory existence, the wheel of birth and
rebirth, worldly existence samskara (saṃskāra) disposition; mental
disposition, memory or subliminal impression samskara skandha
(saṃskāra-skandha) skandha (q.v.) of mental connectives, rationality
samyama (saṃyama) control through conscious identification and
extension of self sandhi (sandhi) euphonic combination santana
(santāna) stream of psychological elements (dharma) said by
Buddhist philosophers to comprise personal identity santosha
(santoṣa) contentment, self-acceptance; the second niyama (q.v.)
according to the Yoga Sutra
sapta bhangi (sapta-bhaṅgi) seven styles or truth values, according to
Jaina philosophers, i.e., seven combinations of three truth values,
truth, falsity, and indeterminacy sarga (sarga) creation, emanation
sarvangasana (sarvâṅgâsana) Shoulder Stand (“All-Limbs Pose”) sat
(sat) being; good sat-karya-vada (sat-kārya-vāda) theory that the
effect in some sense preexists in the cause; view of causality
 appearing in Samkhya and Vedanta satta (sattā) beingness sattva
(sattva) guna (q.v.) of intelligence and purity satya (satya) truth; telling
the truth, the second yama (q.v.) according to the Yoga Sutra
savikalpa jnana (savikalpaka-jñāna) determinate awareness,
propositional awareness, verbalizable awareness setu bandhasana
(setu-bandhâsana) Bridge Pose seva (sevā) service shabda
brahman (śabda-brahman) Brahman as the Creative “Word”
shakha (śākhā) branch of Vedic recension shakti (śakti) divine energy,
power of God; the Goddess shakti pata (śakti-pāta) descent of shakti;
divine grace shaktopaya (śāktôpāya) way of the Shakta, the devotee
of divine energy (shakti) shambhavopaya (śāmbhavôpāya) way of
Shambhu, Shiva shanta rasa (śānta-rasa) relish of spiritual peace
shanti (śānti) spiritual tranquility, peace shastra (śāstra) an individual
science or craft; a scientific textbook shaucha (śauca) cleanliness; the
first niyama (q.v.) according to the Yoga Sutra
shavasana (śavâśana) Corpse Pose shirshasana (śīrṣâsana) Head
Stand shishya (śiṣya) “fit to be instructed,” student shitali (śītalī)
Cooling Breath, inhaling through the rolled tongue, a form of
pranayama
shiva (śiva) kind, agreeable; Shiva, the Great God (maha-deva) shlesha
(śleṣa) pun, double meaning shoka (śoka) grief shri (śrī) beauty,
divine beauty; an honorific used in the sense of “blessed” or “revered,”
e.g., “Shree Ramakrishna”
shruti (śruti) “hearing”; scripture; the Veda, including the Upanishads,
according to Vedanta and other schools shunyata (śūnyatā)
emptiness; void vibrant with compassion, according to Mahayana
Buddhism siddhanta (siddhânta) established view, proven position
siddhasana (siddhâsana) Perfection Pose siddhi (siddhi) occult
power, perfection sitkari (sītkārī) Hissing Breath, inhaling through the
teeth, a form of pranayama
skandha (skandha) band, aggregate of psychological elements, i.e.,
grouping of qualities (dharma), according to Buddhist philosophies
(see figure 4B) spanda (spanda) pulsation sthayi bhava (sthāyi-
bhāva) abiding emotional state; see the list on p. 153
stotra (stotra) hymn sukhasana (sukhâsana) Easy Seat sukshma
sharira (sūkṣma-śarīra) subtle body, astral body, pranic body to
 include the mental kośas
surya bhedana (sūrya-bhedana) Splitting the Sun Channel, inhaling
through the right nostril and exhaling through the left, a kind of
pranayama
surya namaskara (sūrya-namas-kāra) Sun Salutations, a series or flow
sequence of asanas sushumna (suṣumnā) centralmost nadi
connecting the muladhara and sahasrara (q.v.) centers or chakras,
the central channel sutra (sūtra) “thread”; a philosophic or another
type of aphorism svadharma (svadharma) a person’s individual
dharma (q.v.) svadhishthana (svâdhiṣṭhāna) “self-established,” self-
support; second chakric center (counting from the bottom or
muladhara) said to be related to sexual and “lower-life” energies;
location of the kundalini serpent power, according to a minority
svadhyaya (svâdhyāya) self-study (in the light of a yogic text), the
fourth on the Yoga-sutra’s list of niyamas (q.v.) svaprakasha
(svaprakāśa) “self-illuminating,” self-lit; an Upanishadic doctrine of
self-consciousness svarupa (sva-rūpa) own nature, own form
svasamvedana (svasamvedanā) self-reflexively perceiving; cognition
as self-cognizing, a Buddhist view of consciousness syad-vada (syād-
vāda) “maybe” ism, perspectivism; the view that each opposing
philosophic position has some validity, championed by Jaina
philosophers syat (syāt) maybe tadasana (tāḍâsana) Mountain Pose
tamas (tamas) guna (q.v.) of dullness and inactivity tanha (tanhā)
thirst, desire tanmatra (tan-mātra) subtle element; sense data tantra
(tantra) systematic instruction; “web” or (more literally) “woven fabric”
of belief; family of related religious and philosophic systems using
feminine imagery in ceremonies and stories, a movement valuing
nature as an expression of shakti (q.v.) or the Goddess (sh ri, q.v.)
tapas (tapas) asceticism, yogic “heat,” yoga in general tapasya (tapasyā)
asceticism, yoga in general tarka (tarka) hypothetical reasoning,
drawing out implications; spiritual or metaphysical reasoning,
according to Abhinava Gupta, the most important “limb” (anga) of
yoga tattva (tattva) reality, “that-ness”; principle of being or reality
tejas (tejas) heat and warmth; enthusiasm, energy; spiritual energy
tirtha (tīrtha) holy place, “crossing” (between worlds) Trika (trika)
“Triad,” stream of Kashmiri Shaivite tantra; see note 5 to appendix D
tvam (tvam) “you,” second-person personal pronoun udana (udāna) “up-
breath,” one of five pranas mentioned in the Upanishads and
manipulated in pranayama
uddiyana bandha (uḍḍīyana-bandha) stomach lock ujjayi (ujjāyī)
“victorious breath,” deep breathing with contraction of the epiglottis, a
form of pranayama
upalakshana (upalakṣana) (conversational) indicator, e.g., “hovering
crows” in the conversation pointing out Devadatta’s house, “It’s the
one where the crows are hovering”
Upanishad (upaniṣat) “secret doctrine”; various prose and verse texts
(appended to the Vedas, q.v.) with mystical themes centered on an
understanding of the self and its relation to the Absolute or God,
called Brahman; the primary sources for classical Vedanta philosophy
and the first texts advocating yoga practices upaya (upāya) way,
means; yogic means (for Abhinava Gupta on four upaya: see note 7 to
appendix D) urdhva hastasana (ūrdhva-hastâsana) Raised-Hands
Pose urdhva-mukha shvanasana (ūrdhva-mukha-śvānâsana)
Upward-Facing Dog uttanasana (uttānâsana) Standing Forward Fold
vada (vāda) theory or perspective of interlocking beliefs vairagya
(vairāgya) dispassion, disinterestedness Vaisheshika (vaiśeṣika)
Atomism; a classical philosophy focusing on ontological issues, sister
to Nyaya vaishishtya (vaiśiṣṭya) relationality, typically the relation
between a property and its bearer or locus Vajrayana (vajra-yāna) the
“Lightning-Bolt Vehicle,” a stream of Buddhist tantrism (see note 7 to
chapter 5) vajroli (vajrolī) retention of sexual fluids and energy (for
men, saholi for women) vama marga (vāma-marga) the left-hand path
vasana (vāsanā) mental disposition or samskara that spans lifetimes,
generalized subliminal impression and force; karma
vashita (vāśitā) siddhi of dominion over external elements vata (vāta)
vital air, form of prana
Veda (veda) “(revealed) knowledge”; the four Vedas, comprising
principally hymns to gods and goddesses; the oldest texts in Sanskrit
vedana skandha (vedanā-skandha) skandha (q.v.) of sensation,
feeling Vedanta (vedânta) originally an epithet for the Upanishads
(“end of the Veda”); school of classical Indian philosophy based on the
Upanishads and the Brahma Sutra and centered on a concept of
 Brahman, comprising several subschools, Advaita (q.v.) and theistic
Vedanta in particular vidya (vidyā) spiritual knowledge vijnanamaya
kosha (vijñānamaya-kośa) sheath or body made of higher intelligence,
vijnana
vijnana skandha (vijñāna-skandha) skandha (q.v.) of consciousness
vijnapti matra (vijñapti-mātra) “consciousness only”; a central
doctrine of Yogacara Buddhism vikalpa (vikalpa) possibility,
imagination vimarsha (vimarśa) self-consciousness; reflection
viparita-karani (viparīta-karaṇī) mudra or kriya that involves
wholesale “reversal” of psychic energies vira-bhadrasana-ka (vīra-
bhadrâsana-ka) Warrior One virasana (vīrâsana) Hero’s Pose
visheshana (viśeṣana) qualifier, property; adjective vishuddhi
(viśuddhi) the “pure,” the throat chakra, center of inspiration vishayata
(viṣayata) objecthood, intentionality viveka (viveka) “discrimination,”
especially of purusha from prakriti according to Samkhya vritti (vṛtti)
modification (of awareness) vyavahara (vyavahāra) conventional
discourse; everyday speech; taken by classical philosophers as prima
facie evidence yajna (yajña) sacrifice, ritual yama (yama) (ethical)
restraints, the first limb of ashtanga-yoga: (1) ahimsa, (2) satya, (3)
asteya, (4) brahmacarya, (5) aparigraha (q.v.) yana (yāna) religious
career, vehicle for salvation yantra (yantra) diagrams the
contemplation of which is said to absorb attention yaugika
pratyaksha (yaugika-pratyakṣa) yogic perception yoga (yoga)
connection, relation; self-discipline; “union” with higher self or God
Yoga (yoga-darśana) the philosophy of the Yoga Sutra; a philosophy
that advocates and defends yoga practices Yogachara (yogâcāra)
Buddhist idealism
Notes
Introduction: Setting an Intention

1. Sanskrit words are transliterated without diacritical marks except

within sentences of Sanskrit text (which occur mainly in the appendices)
and terms in the glossary. The first page of the glossary spells out the
conventions utilized in this book (changing, for example, indological ś to
sh), and gives all Sanskrit words used here both in the standard way with
diacritics and in our anglicized fashion.
2. The Yoga Sutra, which belongs to the fourth or fifth century C.E.,
says that om designates the ishvara, the “Lord” (YS 1.27: “The Lord is
indicated by the syllable om”). In this way it joins much earlier
Upanishads, theistic Upanishads—the fourth or fifth century B.C.E.—and
the very early Mandukya, sixth century B.C.E. or earlier, which is not
theistic (see appendix A). The ishvara in the YS is at a minimum the
archetypal yogin, self-rapt, self-illuminating, if not also, as understood by
some, the creator of the universe (YS 1.23–29). Some view the YS’s
ishvara as the impersonal self, atman, which would be, then, the sense of
om. But Buddhists chant om while rejecting all notions of atman and
ishvara. Suffice it to say that om means traditionally whatever the chanter
takes to be the highest and best in herself or the universe.
3. Henry Clarke Warren, Buddhism in Translations (1896), “The Story
of Sumedha,” 5–31.
4. At Yoga Sutra (YS) 1.20 (see appendix C), we get inclusivism
about ways to samadhi, the mystic trance or mental silence considered
the goal of yoga (see section 5.1): “Others attain it (samadhi) through
faith, energy, remembering (i.e., meditation), and wisdom deriving from
(previous) samadhi.” That there is more than one way to attain the goal is
also stated at YS 1.24 with the use of the word “or” (va): the sutra
specifies devotional yoga. The little word va appears again at YS 1.34
and again in each of the following five sutras. It of course functions as a
sentence connective, but it carries the sense of a certain methodological
pluralism. At YS 1.33, the method is pranayama, which apparently by
itself can carry one to mental silence. Yogic sleep is another method
mentioned. Analogously, different philosophies support yoga practices.
The explanation why distinct methods of yoga work to achieve mental
silence is that different people face different difficulties while each of us
has a core consciousness that is silent and thought-transcendent. Once
the obstacles are removed (YS 4.2 and 4.3), our true nature stands
revealed. The analogy to pluralism in Yoga philosophy is that philosophy
removes intellectual blocks that are different for different people and in
general provides intellectual support for the practices in distinct ways.
5. Warren, Buddhism in Translations (1896), “Questions Which Tend
Not to Edification,” 117–28.
1. Theory and Practice

1. Swami Satyananda of the Bihar School of Yoga in a manual: “Try

to feel the different parts of your body in contact with the floor. This is
important for it starts to develop your awareness of the different parts of
the body.” Swami Satyananda Saraswati, A Systematic Course in the
Ancient Tantric Techniques of Yoga and Kriya (1989), 27.
2. Charles MacInerney, Shavasana, the Art of Relaxation (1995).
Shavasana is traditionally a very important posture. It is expressly
mentioned, for instance, in the Hatha Yoga Pradipika, verse 1.32.
3. H. David Coulter, Anatomy of Hatha Yoga (2001), 62.
4. B.K.S. Iyengar, Light on Yoga (1979), 423–24.
5. Some of Iyengar’s usages appear a lot more abstract and
theoretical than others. Traditional theory of “breaths” and vital energies
is itself quite complex. See the range of usages in particular in Iyengar’s
presentation in Light on Pranayama (1987), 12–14.
6. Swami Satyananda Saraswati, Asana Pranayama Mudra Bandha
(1989), 27.
7. The term chitta (Yoga Sutra 1.2 and throughout the text) is used to
frame the goal of yoga: stilling of the fluctuations of chitta. The word is a
nominalized past passive participle of chit, to be aware. The
“mind”—chitta—connects the world and consciousness. “Mind” is also
okay to translate the Sanskrit word, although chitta includes emotion as
well as thought and perceptual experience. With respect to
consciousness, chitta is object, like the things of the world. But with
respect to the world, it is subject, having an object directedness, or
intentionality, among other features. In relation to consciousness, the
“mind” can be controlled, in meditation. But objects determine its
intentionality, in veridical perception, for example, the objects perceived,
which the perceptions in turn indicate, according to YS 1.8 and the
classical commentaries. Similarly, a person can check remembering
(remembering is a form that chitta takes), but any remembering would be
about something or other experienced previously.
In the YS, chitta comprises thought, emotion, and perception,
including internal perception, as well as dreaming. Perhaps the conscious
being has a native perception, but all conceptualized perception,
savikalpaka-pratyaksha, would be a formation of chitta. Emotion is
thought to color chitta in common classical conception, but there are few
explicit statements about emotion in the YS. Patanjali himself lists five
types of fluctuation of chitta (YS 1.6). From YS 1.15, we might expand
the idea to include desire. (See also YS 4.10.) Controlling desire is in any
case considered necessary to still the mind, since desire is given voice
by the mind.
For more on chitta, see in particular notes 48, 51, 55, and 56 to
appendix C. For a modern account, see, e.g., J. Krishnamurti, Talks and
Dialogues (1970).
8. For more on ajna chakra and references, see: Sir John Woodroffe,
The Serpent Power (1928), and Hiroshi Motoyama, Theories of the
Chakras (1981). Books from the Bihar School of Yoga generally include
talk of chakras, as does Iyengar (e.g., in his YS translation: Light on the
Yoga Sutras of Patanjali, 1993).
9. Swami Satyananda, Asana Pranayama Mudra Bandha (1989),
407–08.
10. Iyengar, Light on Yoga (1979), 437.
11. Coulter, Anatomy of Hatha Yoga (2001), 184.
12. The Hatha Yoga Pradipika (HYP) is not the earliest text we know
of where chakras are mentioned explicitly. Several are earlier, e.g., the
Goraksha Paditi of the eleventh century, from which the HYP borrows,
and there are bits of much earlier texts that can be interpreted as
mentioning, or presupposing, the tantric system, e.g., YS 3.29–34. See
also note 30 to chapter 4.
13. The contemporary philosophic literature on testimony has begun
to criticize an inferentialist account (we have to know that the testifier is
trustworthy and infer that what she says is true on that basis). And it has
begun to understand testimony similarly to Nyaya (to wit, that acceptance
and understanding are normally fused, and that in practice we give the
benefit of the doubt). H. H. Price, in Belief (1969), long ago moved in this
direction (112–29). A paper by Arindam Chakrabarti, “Telling as Letting
Know,” in Knowing from Words, ed. A. Chakrabarti and B. K. Matilal
(1994), presents a cogent case in favor of a noninferentialist theory (99–
124). We could not understand one another were acceptance not the
epistemic default. Then in a summary judgment about the whole area of
contemporary philosophy, Peter Graham says: “The testimony debate is
largely over whether testimony-based beliefs are epistemically inferential
or, like perception, memory, and introspection-based beliefs,
epistemically direct” (“Liberal Fundamentalism and Its Rivals,” in The
Epistemology of Testimony, ed. J. Lackey and E. Sosa, 2006, 93).
Graham lists eleven leading philosophers who argue the “direct” thesis in
a couple of dozen books and papers, and cites the Scottish philosopher
Thomas Reid (1710–96) as the classical (Western) source of the thesis.
14. Nyaya’s epistemology of testimony begins with the Nyaya Sutra
(c. 200 C.E.), which suggests (in sutras 1.1.7 and 2.1.49–56) that the
speech act of the expert who knows and wants to communicate without
deceit is the proximate cause of acquisition of knowledge through
testimony. Later Nyaya philosophers say that it is the statement under
the interpretation of the hearer that is the proximate cause, the trigger of
the knowledge acquisition, given that other conditions are in place.
15. Pattabhi Jois and his Power Yoga teachers famously use a form
of pranayama (called ujjayi, Victorious Breath: see below, note 20) in
their hatha flow series, but they too would say proper pranayama is done
sitting or lying down. Among other yoga teachers tying this type of
breathing to a series of asanas is Gary Kraftsow, who also follows the
convention of distinguishing right breathing in asana flow from genuine
pranayama; see Yoga for Wellness (1999) and Yoga for Transformation
(2002).
16. The ones mentioned in the fifteenth-century manual HYP are
nicely presented in English by B.K.S. Iyengar, Light on Pranayama
(1987), as well as in various publications of the Bihar School of Yoga.
17. Among Web sites giving instructions for Moon Salutations,
chandra namaskara, is http://odin.himinbi.org/moon_salutation. The
following comes from Austin yoga teacher Cary Choate (to whom
apologies for the modifications).
The origins of Sun Salutations, surya namaskara, are said to lie with
Hanuman, the Monkey King of Ramayana legend, specifically in
Hanuman’s gratitude to his guru, the Sun (surya), for teaching him
asanas—which he learned, so goes the story, backpedaling across the
sky to face his guru and his chariot on their daily journey. The Moon
Salutations series is said to have been developed in the Kripalu Yoga
Center in Stockbridge, Massachusetts, but I could find no information on
the center’s Web site to verify this. There is traditionally no story
comparable to Hanuman’s and Sun Salutations. (Someone should invent
one.) The sequence: 1. Mountain Pose (tadasana) with hands at the
heart in anjali mudra (see note 18 following). 2. Inhale to Raised-Hands
Pose, urdhva hastasana. 3. Exhale and bend to the left. 4. Inhale to
center. 5. Exhale and bend to the right. 6. Inhale to center. 7. Exhale to a
small backbend. 8. Inhale to center. 9. Exhale to (1) Mountain Pose, etc.,
called samasthiti, the Original Position, hands in prayer position. 10.
Inhale and jump to legs spread wide, arms shoulder height, palms above
ankles. 11. Exhale to Widespread Forward Fold, prasarita
padottanasana, hands on shins. 12. Inhale and look up. 13. Exhale and
fold. 14. Inhale to vertical, hands joined in prayer above the head, elbows
by ears. 15. Exhale and turn to the left for a version of Side Stretch,
parshvottanasana, hands in prayer in front of the left foot or on the shin,
head over the knee, which is bent at first and then slowly straightened.
16. Inhale to vertical, hands above head. 17. Exhale and turn to the right
for Side Stretch on the right side. 18. Inhale to vertical. 19. Exhale to face
forward and inhale, bringing in the feet to Raised-Hands Pose. 20.
Exhale in a swan dive to Forward Fold, uttanasana. 21. Inhale, place the
fingertips on the floor or on the shins. 22. Exhale, turn left, and step a
large step back with the right leg into preparation for Crescent Moon
Pose, anjaneyasana—a matronymic for Hanuman—getting ready to lift
the heart or sternum (in imitation of Hanuman’s devotion to the Divine
Mother, Sita, who is also the Moon). 23. Inhale to Crescent Moon, slight
backbend, remaining on toes, right knee to the floor, hands above head,
elbows by ears, hands folded, fingertips touching. 24. Exhale and crouch,
bringing the right leg up even with the left, on tiptoes with both feet,
fingertips on the floor, hands under the shoulders and shoulder-width
apart, weight on the toes, thighs parallel to the floor. 25. Inhale to
Crescent Moon on the other side, stepping the left foot back. 26. Exhale
and hold. 27. Inhale and exhale to Downward Dog, adhomukha
shvanasana. 28. Inhale, raising the left leg as high as possible, pushing
back through the heel. (Variation: Tilt back right, opening the torso.) 29.
Exhale to Downward Dog. 30. Inhale, raising the right leg in the same
fashion as the left. 31. Exhale to Downward Dog. 32. Inhale, moving
through Four-Limbs Pose, chaturangasana, to urdhva-mukha
shvanasana, “Up-Dog.” 33. Exhale and hold, look up. 34. Inhale and
jump, step, or walk to squat on tiptoes, torso upright, crown of the head in
line with the tailbone, chest up, thighs parallel to the floor. 35. Exhale and
inhale to raise the arms to the ears, fingertips touching above the head,
Upward Salute. 36. Exhale and inhale to stand up slowly back to the
Original Position, sama sthiti, which is Mountain Pose with hands folded
in anjali mudra.
18. “Hands Cupped in Offering” renders anjali mudra. The word
mudra means (sacred) gesture expressing a particular attitude (here
devotion), also seal, both tokening the meaning of the gesture and firmly
securing it, “sealing it off,” in the consciousness.
19. The reference is to Gita 2.48, samatvam yoga ucyate, “Yoga is
defined as equanimity [balance, samatva].”
20. Almost all yoga manuals include instructions for ujjayi pranayama,
Victorious Breath, which is mentioned in the HYP (2.51–53). Notably, it is
practiced in Power Yoga, the Ashtanga Yoga of K. Pattabhi Jois (see:
http://www.ayri.org). (Jois, Iyengar, and two other great modern hatha
yoga gurus, T.K.V. Desikachar and Srivatsa Ramaswami, were all
students of Tirumalai Krishnamacharya [1888–1989] in Bangalore and
Mysore in South India.) Particularly clear on this form of breath control is
Iyengar, Light on Yoga (1979), 441–43, whom I follow. The technique
involves full inhalations and exhalations but no retentions. The distinctive
trick is to sound like Darth Vader, slightly contracting the larynx as air
runs through the throat.
21. The word kumbhaka is a technical term of pranayama or breath-
control practice: “retention,” i.e., a moment of stillness, of not breathing in
or out. The word connotes the base of a pillar, and breath retention is
commonly said to be a foundation of pranayama.
22. For chin mudra, the consciousness seal (or gesture), which
involves, in one variation, the tip of the forefinger touching the tip of the
thumb, forming a circle, with the other fingers extended straight, palms
up, and the hands on the thighs or knees, see Swami Satyananda,
Asana Pranayama Mudra Bandha (1989), 427–29.
23. The HYP lays out the practice in four verses, 2.7–10. Iyengar,
Light on Pranayama (1987), has a long section on nadi shodhana (209–
20), and my rendition of course ignores many fine points covered by him
and in other standard manuals. Indeed, Iyengar discourages this practice
until, as he says (210), “your nasal membranes develop sensitivity and
your fingers dexterity by practicing the Pranayamas described earlier
[i.e., in the preceding 200 pages of the book!].” H. Maheshwari of the Sri
Aurobindo Ashram in Pondicherry taught me the technique in 1972 or
1973.
24. That yoga teachers use the term “sit-bones”—which does not
occur in the professional medical lexicon—proves again my point of the
first section that yoga teaching is from a first-person point of view. Sit-
bones are easily identified in asana practice (they are
phenomenological), but anatomical charts are drawn from an externalist
point of view, as though the bones were not ours.
25. A kriya is an action combining a series of asana, breath-control
practices, and/or locks. The particular kriya here is described at HYP
2.46 (see appendix E): “The throat contraction in place [jalamdhara
bandha, Throat Lock], then through quick contraction from below [mula
bandha, Root Lock], [and at the same time] by stretching the belly back
[and engaging uddiyana bandha, Stomach Lock], the prana is forced into
the channel of Brahman [sushumna, the central channel].”
26. The pragmatic meaning of namas te—literally, salutations to thee
(or you)—is salutations to the (divine) child (in your heart). In proper
Sanskrit usage, no one says te or any form of tvam to an adult, tvam
being the familiar “you” reserved for children mostly, and te being the
dative form of tvam. When such a pragmatic rule is broken, we
understand a secondary or metaphorical sense, as we do in a yoga class
with namas te.
27. Louis Renou in “Études Védiques: Yoga” (1953) delineates the
meaning in the Rig Veda, which is the oldest Sanskrit text. The dictionary
by Hermann Grassmann, Worterbuch zum Rig-Veda (1873), lists all
occurrences of root yunj and its derivatives for the Rig Veda. K. S. Joshi,
“On the Meaning of Yoga” (1965), surveys a dozen classical usages as
well as usages within the early literature.
28. For instance, Taittiriya Samhita 4.1.1–5, verses that are repeated
at the beginning of the second chapter of the Shvetashvatara Upanishad:
(4.1.1) yunjanah prathamam manas, “Disciplining the mind first.” The
word yunjanah is a form of the verbal root, yunj, from which the noun,
yoga, is also derived.
 29. See note 2 to appendix A for comments by the great scholar and
philosopher Sarvepalli Radhakrishnan on the controversy about
importance and originality.
30. An excellent introduction to the history and multiple developments
of classical Vedanta remains Surendranath Dasgupta, A History of Indian
Philosophy (1922–1955), in five volumes. Volumes II through V are
dominated by expositions of varieties of classical Vedanta; volume I
includes a discussion of the thought of early Upanishads as well as
Shankara’s Advaita Vedanta. I shall say a few words in overview later in
the main text.
Then there is neo-Vedanta, whose relationship to yoga practices and
teachings is so rich and complex that it would take at least another book
to do it justice. See, for example, works by K. C. Bhattacharyya, who
takes an Advaita perspective—Studies in Philosophy (1956, 1958) and
Search for the Absolute in Neo-Vedanta (1976). There is also most
notably T.M.P. Mahadevan, The Philosophy of Beauty (1969), who at
once endorses the classical Advaita understanding of Brahman and a
criterion of beauty as reflection of Brahman in terms of temporality and
finitude. Neo-Vedantins include the scholar and philosopher Sarvepalli
Radhakrishnan, who in An Idealist View of Life (1937), among many
books and papers, blends Vedanta with Western idealism. Further,
Swami Vivekananda and Sri Aurobindo, among other yoga masters, are
called neo-Vedantins. I shall have several occasions to refer to
Vivekananda’s and Aurobindo’s teachings.
31. I explore Nagarjuna’s influence on philosophy in my Classical
Indian Metaphysics (1995).
32. Teun Goudrian and Sanjukta Gupta, Hindu Tantric and Shakta
Literature (1981), 224–31.
2. Yoga and Metaphysics

1. See (in appendix C) Yoga Sutra 1.4 in particular.

2. YS 2.5. Bliss in Vedanta, including Advaita, is supposed to be
intrinsic to our truest self or Brahman. This is a old Upanishadic theme, or
megatheme, that is made dramatic in several passages, e.g.,
Brihadaranyaka Upanishad 4.3.33: If among humans one is
accomplished and prosperous, in charge of others, best provided with all
human enjoyments—that is, to consider human beings, (said to be) the
highest bliss. Now a hundred times that bliss, a hundred of the blisses of
humans, equals one bliss of… the Pitris’ world and a hundred times that
bliss equals one bliss of… the Gandharvas’ world and a hundred times
that bliss equals one bliss of… the gods-by-works’ world and a hundred
times that bliss equals one bliss of… the gods-by-births’ world and a
hundred times that bliss equals one bliss of… Prajapati’s world and a
hundred times that bliss equals one bliss in the world of the Absolute
Brahman—and of one who has heard the sacred teaching, is not
devious, and not afflicted by desire. Now this is truly the highest bliss.

3. Brihadaranyaka Upanishad 4.3.9.

4. Shankara, Brahma-sutra-bhashya, introduction to 1.1.1 (tr. G.
Thibaut, The Brahma Sutra of Badarayana, 1890), gives us a definition of
sublatable consciousness, which has a dualistic structure permitting what
the translator renders “superimposition” (the appearance of one thing as
another): But what have we to understand by the term “superimposition?”
The apparent presentation, in the form of remembrance, to
consciousness of something previously observed, in some other thing.
Some indeed define the term “superimposition” as the superimposition of
the attributes of one thing on another thing. Others, again, define
superimposition as the error founded on the non-apprehension of the
difference of that which is superimposed from that on which it is
superimposed. Others, again, define it as the fictitious assumption of
attributes contrary to the nature of that thing on which something else is
superimposed. But all these definitions agree in so far as they represent
superimposition as the apparent presentation of the attributes of one
thing in another thing. And therewith agrees also the popular view which
is exemplified by expressions such as the following: “Mother-of-pearl
appears like silver,” “The moon although one only appears as if she were
double.”

5. Shankara and his most able interpreters grasp what Western

philosophers call the Kantian notion of the transcendental unity of
apperception, and they distinguish the pure witness, sakshin, as a
presupposition of all experience, from the self, atman. (Kant, by the way,
conflates the two.) When it comes to the self, there is really neither the
witnessed nor witnessing, since self-illuminating consciousness is
nondual. So we have to keep mind, Advaitins would warn, that the
“witness” is a concept of everyday life and experience, and that what we
are after is the self. Bina Gupta has made these points especially clear in
two books, The Disinterested Witness (1998) and Perceiving in Advaita
Vedanta (1991).
6. It is a commonplace among Advaita authors that yoga removes
obstacles (a dominant theme of, e.g., Shankara’s Upadeshasahasri
[Mayeda 1979]), as do Vedic sacrifices with respect to bad karma. No
action, Shankara stresses, directly brings about the supreme good, since
the self is something already accomplished. See, e.g., Brahma-sutra-
bhashya 1.1.4. The Yoga Sutra takes a similar position, discussed here
at the beginning of chapter 5.
7. Kena Upanishad 1.3 (tr. R. Hume, 1921, 335):

There the eye goes not; Speech goes not, nor the mind. We know
not, we understand not / How one would teach It.

Here is a quotation from the eleventh-century Advaitin Shriharsha that

I discuss in my Classical Indian Metaphysics (1995), 82 and 347, note
35.

Indeed this (awareness as self-illumining) is made known by scripture,

which is a source of knowledge (pramana) for it. (Scripture does not
make it known directly, since—as I have already argued—it cannot,
 by its very nature, be known directly through words, but scripture)
indirectly indicates it through its general purport (i.e., in considering
the general purport of Upanishadic texts). Thus, although as it is it
cannot be directly denoted, from the perspective of spiritual
ignorance, in contrast, scripture in its general purport is to be taken as
the knowledge source (pramana) after the manner of our opponents.
In reality, however, it is self-certified in the form of consciousness.

Indirect indication is discussed by the great New Nyaya philosopher

Gangesha (c. 1300) in an entire section of his Tattvacinta-mani,
translated by myself and N. S. Ramanuja Tatacharya, Epistemology of
Perception (2004), 641–57. The point is that expressions can fix a
referent without having the remotest relevance to what the thing is by
nature, its structure and necessary properties. “Devadatta’s house is the
one where the crows are hovering” tells someone where to find the house
through an indicator, the hovering crows, that have nothing to do with a
house—this is one of several stock examples.
8. Like Yoga philosophy, Yoga psychology is not monolithic. There
are several overlapping schema, all of which are at odds with materialist
assumptions. The “sheath” conception according to which consciousness
has five types of embodiment—physical, vital (or “breath-made,” pranic),
lower mental, higher mental, and blissful koshas—first appears in the
Taittiriya Upanishad, c. sixth century B.C.E. (Brahmanandavalli 2ff.); see
figure 4A. The idea has been picked up by centuries of commentators,
including Buddhists in the idea of skandha; see figure 4B. While famously
antimetaphysical, Buddhist philosophy, like almost all forms of Yoga,
assumes a subtle body that survives death.
9. Here are the major theories. Property dualists say that, contra
Descartes, consciousness is not itself stuff. It is a property, like an
object’s color or shape. Consciousness is a property of the living body.
There is only one kind of stuff, but there are two kinds of property,
physical and mental. (Compare classical Indian Charvaka: “From the
material elements, earth, etc., consciousness is produced, like the
intoxicating power of grain fermented.”) Others, called functionalists,
claim that consciousness is an event. It is something that happens, a
bodily process or function, like digestion or sleep. (Certain Buddhists
might be called functionalists by this mark, but Western functionalists,
unlike the philosophers of the Eastern religion, see mental events as
physically caused.) Hard materialists, called reductionists, hold that all
description, including description of the mental and consciousness, is
reducible to scientific language. The reason—according to “type-type-
identity” theorists—is that types of brain event correlate with types of
mental event. Others argue that mind-body correlations connect
nonrepeating particulars that stand as either the mental or physical
terms. All mind-body generalizations are, to this group, suspicious: these
are “token-identity” materialists. Another faction holds that our ordinary
ways of speaking are misguided. What we say about consciousness and
its objects phenomenologically is false, and, according to some, can be
eliminated. Eventually everyone will learn to speak in technical terms.
Words like “consciousness,” “desire,” and “intention” belong to a “folk
psychology” that will be replaced by proper science, the terms
disappearing, like “phlogiston.” Other nonreductive materialists are
“mysterians”: consciousness is a natural phenomenon but human
concepts are, for various reasons, inadequate to the explanatory task.
Functionalism and other nonidentity materialist views developed out
of an epiphenomenalism in vogue a hundred years ago. Consciousness
is an epiphenomenon that while distinct from things physical is caused by
them. Consciousness has no causal power itself. The physical universe
is causally closed. Consciousness is, then, in the current jargon,
supervenient, like the faces in a photograph whose appearance depends
on the colors and patterns of pixels on the paper, or the computer screen,
on which they are seen. Any self or person, on this view, would have an
all-determining material substratum, riding piggyback on its material
cause. Functionalists say that supervenience occurs not on static
physical entities but rather on processes. The correlates of
consciousness are functions that physical things assume. An analogy to
computer programs has become familiar: steps in programs do not
reduce to states of electrons, since they might be realized in different
ways on different machines. Computers made by one company of silver
and by another of lead can all run UNIX. Programs are nevertheless
entitywise simply physical.
10. Explanations have a structure: propositions that explain—the
explanans—and propositions that are explained—the explananda.
According to materialism, brain science would do the explaining;
descriptions of consciousness and mental events would be explained. To
state the point a little differently: materialists debate among themselves
about the ontology of things mentioned in the sentences that comprise
the explananda of brain science without abandoning the supposition that
consciousness is physically caused.
11. Among the more dramatic and reputable of documented cases
where there is little or no measurable brain activity is: L. K. Kothari, A.
Bordia, and O. P. Gupta (all at the time professors in Indian medical
schools), “Studies on a Yogi During an Eight-Day Confinement in a
Sealed Underground Pit” (1973).
12. Actually, this view of later Nyaya was pioneered in its sister
Vaisheshika school, in particular by Prashastapada (c. 550),
Padarthadharmasangraha (tr. Jha, 1916, 1985), 570–74. Compare C. J.
Ducasse, Nature, Mind, and Death (1951), 402–04.
13. Technically, only “indeterminate perception,” nirvikalpaka
pratyaksha, is the end result of the triggering of a person’s physico-
psychological dispositions, since “determinate cognition,” savikalpaka
pratyaksha, is fed its “predication content” (prakara, the way something
appears) by an immediately prior indeterminate perception. At least this
is the view of the New Nyaya school. The earliest commentators on the
Nyaya Sutra (until Vachaspati, c. 950) do not distinguish the two types of
perception.
14. Some of these reverse dependences are dramatic. Learning
language, for example, fashions the brain in a very deep way, not just the
face. The “wild child” called Genie did not learn language because of
abuse, and her brain did not develop in the normal way: Susan Curtiss,
Genie: A Psycholinguistic Study of a Modern-Day “Wild Child” (1977).
Note also how a group of language speakers, e.g., the French, have
facial resemblances in virtue of the facial movements required to speak
the particular language.
15. David Chalmers, The Conscious Mind (1996), 94–99 and 120–21.
16. For other arguments, see Chalmers, The Conscious Mind (1996).
Chalmers is rhetorically efficient in showing what is wrong with a
materialist view of the mind, arranging the difficulties to mount a
convincing case.
There are several further refutations and motivating considerations
identified in the papers of The Case for Dualism, ed. John Smythies and
John Beloff (1989), among which is an asymmetry that many point out:
our world is imaginable on (let us say) idealist premises that accede no
reality to “matter,” whereas it is not imaginable on materialist premises
that accede no reality to “consciousness.”
There are several who claim that one or another materialist theory of
the mind resolves these difficulties, and there are now hundreds of books
and papers by professionals in now perhaps the hottest subject area in
academic philosophy. The reason for the excitement would seem to be,
from the Yoga vantage point, that materialism is wrong and the fact of
consciousness shows it.
17. L. Wittgenstein, Philosophical Investigations (1951).
18. Of course, we should not concede that literal meaning is in all
contexts restricted to physical referents. Linguistic requirements targeting
mystics’ communicating with nonmystics are discussed in my “Mystic
Analogizing and the ‘Peculiarly Mystical,’” in Mysticism and Language,
ed. Steven Katz (1992). The upshot is that mystics successfully
communicate, although later experience may bring deepened
understanding in an intellectual sense as well as experientially. In the
classic discussion of Nyaya and other schools, being told that a water
buffalo (gavaya) is like a cow in certain respects and unlike it in others,
one learns, even without water-buffalo experience, what a water buffalo
is. But after encountering a real water buffalo, even one’s intellectual
understanding is firmed up, while of course the experience is itself
something richer. Yogic experience is, like an immediate perception of a
water buffalo, a rather different mode of knowledge in the first place.
19. A famous chariot metaphor in the Katha Upanishad (3.3–9) has
the body as the carriage, the sense organs as the horses, the thought-
mind (manas) as the reins, the rational intelligence (buddhi) as the driver,
and the self (atman) as passenger. But the point of the passage is that if
the passenger would reach “the highest place of Vishnu,” he has to give
the orders and take the reins. The chief has to take better control of her
subordinates, integrating the instruments into a spiritual journey.
20. Many Upanishads present dualist Samkhya conceptions. This is
doubtless the reason the Brahma Sutra (c. 200 B.C.E.)—the founding
document of classical Vedanta as a philosophic school—is at such pains
to dispute the claim that Samkhya captures the teaching of the
Upanishads. The Bhagavad Gita also uses some Samkhya terminology,
and is generally counted as an important precursor for classical
Samkhya. For the history of the major Samkhya texts, see Gerald
Larson, Classical Samkhya (1969).
21. Gerald Larson, voicing scholarly consensus, puts Patanjali’s YS
as contemporaneous with Ishvarakrishna’s Samkhya-karika, that is,
around 400 C.E.: Samkhya, Vol. IV of The Encyclopedia of Indian
Philosophies (1987), 165–67.
22. Among scholars, I hardly stand alone in viewing Patanjali as
opposed here to the practicing mainstream. See, e.g., David White,
“Yoga in Early Hindu Tantra,” in Yoga: The Indian Tradition (2003), ed.
Ian Whicher and David Carpenter, for example, 143, as well as, in the
same book, David Lorenzen, “Kapalikas and Kalamukhas: Two Lost
Shaivite Sects,” 93–94.
23. There is also an internal inconsistency, since the YS conceives of
samadhi, mystic trance (or the ability to enter trance), to be included in
the nature of what it calls samyama (conscious identification), YS 3.4.
How can samadhi be part of what samyama is and also be transcendent
to all “powers?” That powers flow from samyama is the central theme of
YS chapter 3, occupying thus almost a fourth of the sutras of the entire
text.
24. Surendranath Dasgupta long ago in his classic A History of Indian
Philosophy (1922) argued that Patanjali was a compiler and editor. He
claims that the classical commentators Vachaspati and Vijnana Bhikshu
also looked at Patanjali this way, without, however, citing textual
evidence. My own sense is that this is right, though it is not said in so
many words. The internal evidence, however, does make the case for
Dasgupta’s reading, which seems to me warranted on the whole. From
Dasgupta (1922), I:229: Patanjali was probably the most notable person
[of a certain school of Samkhya] for he not only collected the different
forms of yoga practice, and gleaned the diverse ideas which were or
could be associated with the yoga, but grafted them all on the Samkhya
metaphysics, and gave them the form in which they have been handed
down to us. Vachaspati and Vijnana Bhikshu… agree with us in holding
that Patanjali was not the founder of the Yoga, but an editor.
 25. Probably, however, a convergence of evidence (pramana
samplava) should be viewed as Patanjali’s official position, though this
does seem the argument of YS 2.22 and 4.16. Accepted “knowledge
sources,” pramana, are listed at YS 1.7.
26. Classical Indian philosophers writing in Sanskrit were aware of the
problems of the YS’s dualism, and, indeed, the view is not nearly as
prominent as others in late classical times, so far as we can judge from
philosophic texts. The Nyaya Sutra (NyS) itself contains a refutation of
the Samkhya approach to consciousness (3.2.1–9), and Nyaya
philosophers think of the philosophy of the YS as a brand of Samkhya
without saying it in so many words.
And then there is an argument by Uddyotakara (c. 600), elucidating
Vatsyayana’s commentary on NyS 1.1.2. If the yogins responsible for the
shastra (science) on the topic of meditation and other practices leading to
the supreme personal good were lost to the world and incapable of
communication, that shastra would be bogus—an outrageous possibility
that Uddyotakara dismisses without further argument. In other words, if
there were an entire disconnection of consciousness and matter in the
liberation experience, then there could be no yogin “liberated in life” who
could tell us about it. However, we are told.
27. Yoga Sutra 1.50: “The dispositions (samskara) created by this
state (yogic trance) block the firings of other dispositions.”
In case some may think that Nyaya is not a Yoga philosophy since it
is motivated mainly by epistemological questions concerning knowledge
of everyday facts, let me point out that to accept yogic perception,
yaugika pratyaksha, as a genuine knowledge source, pramana, is the
mainstream Nyaya position. And the YS is often quoted by Nyaya
philosophers as a psychological authority.
28. I mentioned the Buddha’s parable of the arrow in the introduction.
Nagarjuna taught what is famed as the “Four-Cornered Negation.” From
his Mulamadhyamaka-karika, 18:8 (tr. Jay Garfield, 1995, 102):
“Everything is real and not real. Both real and not real. Neither real nor
not real. That is Lord Buddha’s teaching.”
Within the secondary literature on Nagarjuna and his school, I
recommend the overview of David Ruegg, The Literature of the
Madhyamaka School of Philosophy in India (1981), and Christian
Lindtner, Nagarjuniana (1986). For the logic of Nagarjuna’s method,
please see Graham Priest and Jay Garfield’s “Nagarjuna and the Limits
of Thought” in Priest, Beyond the Limits of Thought (2002), 249–70.
Lindtner, however, seems to my mind to better capture the spirit of
Nagarjuna’s Buddhism since Priest and Garfield provide a decidedly
intellectual as opposed to a mystic reading: Nagarjuna discovered true
contradictions (a position they call dialethism).
We should note further that the mainstream Mahayana view seems to
be that those who have direct (yogic) perception of emptiness do know
something about the connections between the realms, albeit they cannot
be expressed in ways easily understood by us. Nagarjuna, moreover, in
addition to his more famous treatises, wrote letters of advice on yoga
practice and indeed devotional poetry.
29. Advaita, despite its laudable silence about nature, is not so silent
about the self. Like the metaphysics of the YS, the view strips will and
action away from consciousness. The only value, and indeed the only
true reality (to take these words in an imaginative sense), is self-
absorption, the self’s self-illumining consciousness. This leaves out our
abilities; the self neither acts nor refrains from action. Extraordinary
powers, siddhis, are a trap, Advaita avers (at least does one faction of
Advaita, that following Padmapada, c. 800 C.E.), just as Patanjali
asserted. Indeed, most of the same reasons that were given why
Patanjali’s dualism is unsatisfactory show that Advaita is not the Yoga
philosophy for us. At least, it cannot be for those who are “experience
seekers” or “siddhi seekers” (terms of derision that I have heard from
contemporary Advaitins in conversation). Note, finally, that for Advaita the
“mind” does not include the self. Indeed, it is open to Advaita to take a
materialist position on mentality. The self transcends all science, as we
learned in the first section, and cannot be correlated with anything.
30. Recognition of psychosomatic phenemona is no longer
controversial within mainstream medicine. Imagery is a special instance,
about which skeptics might consult the Handbook of Therapeutic Imagery
Techniques, ed. Anees Sheik (2002), especially the introductory essay,
1–26, on the history of the technique in medicine by Carol McMahon and
the editor, the latter a professor at the Medical College of Wisconsin and
a past president of the American Association for the Study of Mental
Imagery as well as the founder of The Journal of Medical Imagery.
Michael Murphy in The Future of the Body (1992) presents a veritable
encyclopedia of “metanormal” capabilities, hundreds of pages of
cataloging of dramatic determinations of consciousness. Murphy cites
more than a dozen studies published in mainstream medical journals in a
note to the following claim (372): “Many clinical and experimental studies
have shown that imagery practice can facilitate relief from various
afflictions, among them depression, anxiety, insomnia, obesity, sexual
problems, chronic pain, phobias, psychosomatic illnesses, cancer, and
other diseases.” But some of the most notable examples of the power of
imagery are in the Christian tradition of religious imagining, with well-
documented cases of stigmata. See, in particular, 497–502.
31. The most dramatic yogic feat I know of through a modern
scientific source, the yogic death of Haridas as recounted by the British
Chief Medical Officer for Lahore and the Punjab, 1837, is highlighted by
Murphy, The Future of the Body (1992), 472–74. This is a fantastic story,
too long, unfortunately, to quote. The upshot is that CMO was convinced.
Elaborate care had to be taken in reviving the entranced yogin, whose
state may be compared to hibernation.
32. Ian Whicher is the first, so far as I am aware, to use the word
“sattvafication.” He also deserves credit for showing that this is the
central transformational thesis of the YS; see The Integrity of the Yoga
Darshana (1998).
33. An excellent survey is Michael Levine, Pantheism (1994).
34. The Indian theistic conception is developed in many of same texts
that are the classic expositions of yoga; see appendix A. Of particular
interest, however, is the “Inner Controller” passage from the
Brihadaranyaka Upanishad (3.7.3– 23), the first couple of lines of which
are (R. Hume translation, 1921): 3.7.3. He who, dwelling in the earth, yet
is other than the earth, whom the earth does not know, whose body the
earth is, who controls the earth from within—He is your Soul [atman], the
Inner Controller, the Immortal.

3.7.4. He who, dwelling in the waters, yet is other than the waters,
whom the waters do not know, whose body the waters are, who
controls the waters from within—He is your Soul [atman], the Inner
Controller, the Immortal.
 …[and so through about twenty items: fire, wind, sun, moon, the
visual organ, the rational intelligence, et cetera.]

For an overview and history of Indian theism, see E. W. Hopkins, The

Religions of India (1970).
35. Chandogya Upanisad 3.14.1. Among many other Upanishadic
passages that express the monistic idea is Taittiriya 2.1–9 (the
Anandavalli), where the “sheath” theory is introduced (see figure 4A).
Each of our bodies is discovered to be the Brahman.
That there is a single self that is everything is of course a centralmost
Upanishadic theme. In the midst of punning and false etymologizing, the
Brihadaranyaka brings out the logic with a light touch. From 1.4.1–2: “In
the beginning the world was self (atman) alone… He was afraid.… Then
this one thought to himself, ‘Since there is nothing else than myself, of
what I am afraid?’ Thereupon, verily, his fear departed, for of what should
he have been afraid?” In chapter 3, we shall explore the connection of
this idea with the yogic practice of ahimsa, nonharmfulness.
36. Shankara, the Advaitin (c. 700 C.E.), says that although through
yoga comes acquisition of extraordinary powers (siddhis), “the highest
beatitude is not to be attained… by the road of yoga” (yoga marga): in his
Brahma Sutra commentary on sutra 2.1.3 (tr. Thibaut, 1890, 1962), 1:298
(translation slightly altered), and 223 on siddhis (“that yoga does lead to
extraordinary powers, such as subtlety of body and so on, cannot be set
aside by a mere arbitrary denial”). Possibly Shankara means that the
supreme good cannot be obtained by the road of the philosophy of Yoga,
i.e., of the Yoga Sutra, for not only is this sutra, 2.1.3, and all the sutras in
this stretch of text, focused on systems (darshana), often Shankara
states that yogins know Brahman in their meditations, e.g., in his
commentary on Brahma Sutra 3.2.22 (tr. Thibaut, 1890, 1962, 2:166). But
more probably he is thinking about self-illumining consciousness, which
indeed requires no instrumentation and thus no yoga practice (Thibaut
translates yoga marga as “road of Yoga-practice”). But we should also
note that, as Shankara says in his Upadeshasahasri (Mayeda 1979), that
to be “self-disciplined in peace, self-control, compassion, and the like
(i.e., other yogic characteristics, shamadama-dayadi-yukta),” is
preparation for self-realization, the “highest beatitude,” as discussed in
the first section of this chapter.
 Ramanuja (c. 1100) and theistic Vedantins in general take a positive
view of yoga that is less qualified. Nevertheless, asana and other
traditional yoga practices have to give way to bhakti and then “surrender”
(prapatti) to God. In the course of this, the person is transformed, not so
much in terms of siddhis, personal powers that a yogini might exercise on
her own, but bhavas and rasa, emotions and (spiritual) relishing, that do
sometimes—it is commonly thought—have extraordinary bodily
manifestations. Ramanuja’s commentary on Brahma Sutra 1.2.23 is a
particularly clear statement of his attitude about yoga and bhakti (tr.
Thibaut, 1904, 284–85). The notion of surrender, prapatti, became
central in the later tradition of Vishishtadvaita Vedanta that developed
from Ramanuja and Yamuna (c. 1050).
37. Plato’s theory of the self is discussed in chapter 4.
38. William James, “Does Consciousness Exist,” Essays in Radical
Empiricism, 1912.
39. David Chalmers, The Conscious Mind (1996).
40. Here we may mention that this is the Nyaya position, namely, that
philosophy is a form of yoga; see Nyaya-sutra 4.2.42–48. Philosophic
debate as yoga practice is striking in certain traditions even today, most
notably Tibetan Buddhism.
41. William James, The Varieties of Religious Experience (1902,
1982).
42. From James, The Varieties of Religious Experience (1902, 1982)
in the chapter entitled “Conclusions,” 398–99:

Although the religious question is primarily a question of life, of living

or not living in the higher union which opens itself to us as a gift, yet
the spiritual excitement in which the gift appears a real one will often
fail to be aroused in an individual until certain particular intellectual
beliefs or ideas which, as we say, come home to him, are touched.
These ideas will thus be essential to that individual’s religion—which
is as much as to say that overbeliefs in various directions are
absolutely indispensable, and that we should treat them with
tenderness and tolerance so long as they are not intolerant
themselves.…
 Disregarding the overbeliefs, and confining ourselves to what is
common and generic, we have in the fact that the conscious person is
continuous with a wider self through which saving experiences come,
a positive content of religious experience which, it seems to me, is
literally and objectively true as far as it goes. If I now proceed to state
my own hypothesis about the farther limits of this extension of our
personality, I shall be offering my own overbelief—though I know it will
appear a sorry under-belief to some of you—for which I can only
bespeak the same indulgence which in a converse case I should
accord to yours.

In Hinduism, the idiosyncratic character of overbelief matches the

arbitrariness of one’s preference for a particular divinity, one’s ishta
devata, preferred divinity; see, in this book, p. 151.
43. Saint Teresa, “Prayer of Quiet,” chapter 15, The Autobiography of
St. Teresa of Avila (tr. E. Peers, 1960), 159 in particular: “In these
periods of Quiet, then, let the soul repose in its rest; let them put their
learning aside;… for, if the state of Quiet is intense, it becomes difficult to
speak except with great distress.”
44. Whether or not the person who wrote the famous commentary on
the Brahma Sutra is really the author of the bhakti poetry is beside the
point. That many have taken the Brahma Sutra positions to be
compatible with bhakti is clear just because the poems are attributed to
Shankara.
We may also note that the ishta-devata idea is prominent in Tibetan
Buddhism, where it is stressed that the deity (yidam) is to be understood
differently at different levels of practice.
45. Here, as mentioned, they join Nyaya.
46. Bhagavata Purana 10.29.47–48, tr. G. V. Tagare (1978), IV:1442:

Recipients of such a high honor from the noble-souled Lord Krishna,

the Gopis got puffed up with pride and… Lord Krishna disappeared
then and there, for curing them of that pride and showering Grace on
them.

A similar parable is told by Apuleius in The Golden Ass (tr. Robert

Graves, 1951). The beautiful Psyche has an occult lover, Cupid, who flies
away when she, prompted by her curious sisters (two older sisters in
whom she shouldn’t have confided in the first place), tries to know too
much, holding a lamp to see the sleeping Psyche.
3. Karma

1. Karl Potter distinguishes sharply between philosophical and

transactional views of karma in “The Karma Theory and Its Interpretation
in Some Indian Philosophical Systems,” included in Karma and Rebirth in
Classical Indian Traditions, ed. Wendy Doniger O’Flaherty (1980), 241–
67, showing the difference between a philosophical theory and popular
mythology.
2. Buddhists sometimes explain universals or natural kinds, such as
being water, as collective karma. A weaker view is that collective karma
produces an “environmental effect”: we are reborn in worlds that we
experience as having certain types of properties, and these properties
extend to the types of entity we believe exist in these worlds, not just to
particulars. Also, worlds are not necessarily spatiotemporally distinct.
Apparently, collective karmically induced generation of certain object
types correlates with types of subjectivity. For example, a deva (god), a
preta (ghost), and a human can all see an object as liquid. But the deva
sees ambrosia, the preta poison, and the human water. Here we have
the seed of the idea of cultural relativity.
3. Tibetan Buddhists, for example, tend to view the “fully ripened”
effect type of single action as determining type of rebirth in certain cases.
Thus no matter how much good karma you have and how little bad
karma, matricide, unpurified, leads to rebirth as a hell-being.
4. On the YS’s concept of chitta, see note 7 of chapter 1. In brief, the
notion encompasses emotion as well as thought. A common Upanishadic
theme is that the mind rests on pranic airs.
5. The Nyaya school takes over much of the ontology of a sister
school, Vaisheshika. The great Vaisheshika author, Prashastapada (c.
575) lists samskara as one of twenty-four qualities, finding three
subtypes, vega (impetus or speed), bhavana (the experiential, the
mental), and sthiti-sthapaka (elasticity): Padarthadharma-samgraha (tr.
Ganganatha Jha, 1916, 1982), 570–74. Although there is debate about
whether the overall category captures a true universal, a natural kind, as
opposed to a mentally projected generality (see Gopinath Bhattacharya,
Tarka-samgraha by Annambhatta, 1976, 361), it is not too difficult to see
the commonality, the dispositional nature of all three as a kind of self-
perpetuation.
6. David Hume, A Treatise of Human Nature (1888), 84–86.
7. When Yogachara idealists such as Asanga (c. 300 C.E.) and
Vasubandhu (c. 350) talk of a “storehouse consciousness” (alaya-
vijnana), they are thinking about things as webs of samskaras, more
commonly called bija, seeds, and vasana, dispositions in the broadest
sense—including, in this idealist perspective, not only internal objects but
also material things as, to use J. S. Mill’s phrase, “permanent possibilities
of experience.” Stefan Anacker writes in the introduction to his translation
of Vasubandhu’s Vimshatika (Set of Twenty Verses), Seven Works of
Vasubandhu (1984), 159: What is observed directly are always only
preceptions, colored by particular consciousness-“seeds.” The very fact
that these “seeds” are spoken of at all indicates a double influence. On
the one hand, every consciousness-moment deposits a “seed”; on the
other, each “seed” influences every subsequent consciousness-moment,
until a “revolution at the basis of consciousness” is achieved.

See also, e.g., Vasubandhu, Trimshika (Set of Thirty Verses) 19:

karmano vasana, the force of karma that provides continuity (K. N.
Chatterjee, Vijnapti-matrata-siddhi, which contains translations of both
the Vimshatika and the Trimshika along with a Sanskrit commentary, also
translated, and the Sanskrit text, 1980, 107ff.). The commentator
Sthiramati, c. 550, is quite explicit about all this: “[the vasana] is the seed
(or force) deposited in the Alaya by the object and subject (subject-object
aspect of a self-conscious idea) that had risen earlier and is capable of
giving rise to the yet-to-be similar subject-object aspect (of a self-
conscious idea)” (Chatterjee’s translation, 108). Conceived of earlier as
dharma, property quanta, they fall into bundles or aggregates, skandha,
corresponding to, roughly, the sheaths of the Upanishads and Vedanta.
See figures 4A and 4B in chapter 4.
8. Yoga epistemology of knowledge sources is carried out by
commentators on the YS, and in particular by Vachaspati Mishra (c. 900),
relying on Nyaya views. Sutra 1.7: “The knowledge sources (along with
the veridical awarenesses to which they give rise) are perception,
inference, and testimony.” The testimony referred to is probably meant to
include scriptural testimony, the Upanishads, for example, as well as
what we learn from teachers and friends. However, if a chain of testimony
does not orginate in veridical perception (or inference based on
perception), it would be unreliable, the philosophers argue. Perception is
the premier knowledge source, and presupposed in the working of
inference and other knowledge sources.
As is elaborated in this book in chapter 4, yogic perception is one
variety of perception, defended—but not normally appealed to—by Nyaya
philosophers in support of their theses. Nyaya philosophers for the most
part did not presume to be yogins, and have left us no mystic psychology.
But philosophers sympathetic to yoga practices and psychology do not
themselves have to be yogins, at least not master yogins or yoginis, and
of course yogic perception (along with testimony) is all-important for
Yoga’s occult teachings.
Vachaspati, we might add, is a treasury of wisdom and sophistication:
a tenth-century philosopher who wrote an important commentary on the
YS but who was also a luminary in Nyaya as well as, strange to tell
(given the disputes with Nyaya), Advaita Vedanta.
9. These ideas are elaborated by me in several publications, including
the introduction to Epistemology of Perception (2004), 7–20.
10. Vachaspati and others call this the anyatha-khyati position,
“perceptual presentation of something as other than it is.” Though it is not
universally accepted among Yoga contributors, there is equally a role for
samskara on alternative views.
11. The olfactory organ is normally stimulated when tiny bits of
odiferous substances are breathed in, coming into contact with it. This
conception is common to both the early Nyaya and Vaisheshika
literature. The Navya–Nyaya philosopher Gangesha repeatedly uses the
sandalwood example; see my Epistemology of Perception (2004).
12. The idealist and grammarian philosopher Bhartrihari (c. 450), the
Indian Plato, appears to have been an important influence on tantric
views of creation, as pointed out by Howard Coward, Bhartrihari (1976),
111. Bhartrihari has a theory of perfectly ordered universals, a hierarchy
in which the higher determines the lower all the way down to the
particulars of our world.
13. YS 1.50–51 and 3.9–10. Instead of “firing,” the term normally used
is “awakening,” and triggers are “awakeners,” udbodhaka.
14. See Abhinava’s stotra, translated in appendix D. See also Paul
Mueller-Ortega’s discussion, “On Subtle Knowledge and the Refinement
of Thought in Abhinavagupta’s Liberative Tantric Method,” in Knut
Jabobson, ed., Theory and Practice of Yoga (2005), 181–212.
Abhinava’s thesis of the bhava of the self matching the ninth rasa of
shanti is discussed in chapter 5, the second section.
15. Translated by R. Hume, The Thirteen Principal Upanishads
(1921), 110.
16. Compare Robert Nozick, Philosophical Explanations (1981), 409–
11. Hitler couldn’t just change his mind all of a sudden or change his
character, as though just waking up one morning and deciding to be a
good person.
17. The Sanskrit word ahimsa is a derivative of the verbal root han,
kill, harm, in an irregular form of the desiderative—normally,
“He/she/you/I desire to X.” Thus the word ahimsa carries a desiderative
sense: himsa is desire to harm and ahimsa desire not to harm. The
desiderative form is also used for will and intention, thus “will to X,” and
ahimsa intention not to harm, i.e., nonharmfulness. The popular
translations “noninjury” and “nonviolence” are satisfactory, but the
etymological lesson is that the word connotes an attitude or personal
policy. Nonharmfulness is an attitude one adopts, or tries to adopt. The
idea suggests a rule, or set of rules, governing effort and action.
18. In Buddhism, the focus is instead on karuna, compassion, and
maitri, friendliness or loving-kindness. But these are said to entail
ahimsa.
19. Unless otherwise indicated, translations are my own. I take the
Sanskrit text from the edition by J. L. Shastri, Upanishads (1970).
20. Perhaps the earliest occurrence of the idea is in the
Brihadaranyaka; see note 35 of chapter 2.
21. I follow the Sanskrit of the edition by Gokhale (1950).
22. In Tibetan Buddhism, the doctrine is dramatically exemplified in a
meditation (toglen, “taking and giving”) that involves accepting the
suffering of others. Those accomplished in it are said to be able to
transfer disease from others to themselves where it can be purified. This
is made possible by a fundamental interconnectedness.
 23. There is a term for the “bad yogin,” ku-yogin, and there are
examples strewn throughout the epics and Puranas, perhaps most
notably, Ravana in the Ramayana. That such a character is used as a
villian for plot development does not undermine the standard meaning,
which implies a kind of saintliness for the accomplished yogin and a
striving for saintliness in the beginner. The concept of the deviant is
common in classical philosophy; consider, e.g., the difference between
the veritable knowledge-generating inferential indicator or mark, hetu,
and the fallacious sign that resembles it, which is not a hetu but rather a
“pseudo-reason,” hetvabhasa, the common term for fallacy.
24. Translation by M. Kumar (1981).
25. From chapter 8 of The Bodhicaryavatara, which is full of
arguments that hinge on likenesses among subjects (verses 90, 94, and
95): At first one should meditate intently on the equality of oneself and
others as follows: “All equally experience suffering and happiness. I
should look after them as I do myself.… I should dispel the suffering of
others because it is suffering like my own suffering. I should help others
too because of their nature as beings, which is like my own being. When
happiness is liked by me and others equally, what is so special about me
that I strive after happiness only for myself?” Shantideva endorses the
Buddhist “no-self” theory: there is neither one’s own self nor others’
selves as enduring realities. Nevertheless, one should try to end all
suffering (verses 101 and 102): “The continuum of consciousness, like a
queue, and the combination of constituents, like an army, are not real.
The person who experiences suffering does not exist. To whom will that
suffering belong? Without exception, no sufferings belong to anyone.
They must be warded off simply because they are suffering.”
Metaphysically, there is nothing special about oneself or others. The
nonharm attitude we apply to ourselves for whatever reason (“just
because suffering is what it is”) we should apply to others equally (verse
103): “If it [suffering] must be prevented, then all of it must be. If not, then
this goes for oneself as for everyone.” Translations by K. Cosby and A.
Skilton (1996).
26. In Vaishnavism, for example, this accords with ahimsa heading
lists of virtues in the Gita—5.7, 6.29, and so on (see appendix B)—
despite the martial context of the Kurukshetra war. The ethics of
nonharmfulness is most probably Yoga’s greatest contribution to moral
philosophy as a whole. And it is, through Mahatma Gandhi and Martin
Luther King Jr., a major contribution to a global political ethic.
27. Here are several subtle points in danger of getting mixed up. Self-
sacrifice is surely both possible and commendable in the right
circumstances. But it would be the circumstances that justify assuming
harm, and the presupposition stands that one would and should not harm
oneself—without benefiting others.
In Buddhist ethics—to take up another apparently opposed position—
the emphasis is on others. Though it is said that to achieve acceptance of
the suffering of others one may start by accepting one’s own future
suffering, the ethical ideal targets others, not by any means oneself. All
self-interest seems banished. Nevertheless, current suffering is seen as
motivational, spurring one on or to take up the Buddhist path. Then
again, meditation that causes a person physical suffering (within limits) is
encouraged in some traditions (e.g., Zen). Moreover, surely mastering
asanas is not easy, not accomplished without pain. But there is good pain
and bad pain, and one must learn to tell the difference. Also, pain
changes, as does thought and emotion, under the influence of self-
monitoring consciousness.
28. This is emphasized by Arvind Sharma in his work on Jaina
philosophy, A Jaina Perspective on the Philosophy of Religion (2001), 43:
“while himsa has ordinarily been understood as harm to others; for
Jainas, however, it refers primarily to injuring oneself—to behavior which
inhibits the soul’s ability to attain moksha.”
29. An eloquent and complex defense of the proposition can be found
in a chapter in Aurobindo, The Synthesis of Yoga (1973), “Standards of
Conduct and Spiritual Freedom,” 170–88.
30. Within the context of bhakti yoga, there is the recurrent theme of
slipping away from one’s daily duties to dally with God, like Radha to
meet her divine lover, Krishna.
31. Personally I am persuaded by the arguments landing W. D. Ross
in an ethical pluralism of a handful of basic duties (but only a handful),
more or less the ones he identifies. Professor Ross recognizes a total of
six basic duties, including self-development but also including “duties of
fidelity (promise-keeping),” reparation, justice, benevolence, and
noninjury. W. D. Ross, The Right and the Good (1930, 2002), chapter II,
“What Makes Right Acts Right,” 16–47. To appreciate Ross’s view should
mollify (by its breadth) the queasiness of those who sense in the notion of
a duty of self-development a guise for “self-cherishing,” rationalization of
action done merely for the sake of self-interest. But self-development can
be motivated by the interests of others (the yogini as heroine).
32. Of course, the point that one’s first spiritual responsibility is
oneself is not to be used as an excuse not to provide help to others
(seva, service), protection, comfort, spiritual advice, and so on, as gurus
are wont to point out.
33. This observation is made by J. N. Mohanty, Classical Indian
Philosophy (2000), 108. On the pluralism of yogic methods according to
the Yoga Sutra, see above, note 4 to the introduction.
34. Not only is this move made in the Jaina argument outlined above,
it is implicit in Christianity’s “Golden Rule,” it seems to me, as well as in
Confucius. See in particular Analects 15.23, where “likeness to self” is
said to be the “single thread of morality.”
Among Western ethicists, Kant perhaps makes the most convincing
case in discussing applications of the categorical imperative where all
hinges on our ability “to stand in the other’s shoes,” to see ourselves and
others as alike as “ends in themselves” (Groundwork of the Metaphysics
of Morals [tr. Paton, 1964]).
35. For example, Mohanty, Classical Indian Philosophy (2000), 91.
36. B. K. Matilal, “The Jaina Contribution to Indian Logic,” in The
Character of Logic in India, ed. Jonardon Ganeri (1998), 130.
37. Compare Kant’s identification of antinomies of reason with respect
to certain questions such as the eternity of the universe (Critique of Pure
Reason [1965]).
38. Mohanty, Classical Indian Philosophy (2000), 91.
39. Translation by R. Hume (1921).
40. The Buddhist view is that harmonies arise naturally from beings
with virtuous minds. Samkhya and Advaita Vedanta tend to take a
negative view of nature.
41. Laurie Patton, “Nature Romanticism and Sacrifice in Rgvedic
Interpretations,” in Hinduism and Ecology, ed. Christopher Chappel and
Mary Tucker (2002). This passage is quoted in Sridhar and Bilimoria
(2007), 301.
42. That degree of value in general maps degree of organic unity is
argued by Robert Nozick, Philosophical Explanations (1981), 415–22.
43. That karma yoga is not exclusively a Hindu teaching is shown by
James R. Egge, Religious Giving and the Invention of Karma in
Theravada Buddhism (2002).
44. The Brihadaranyaka opens by cosmicizing the sacrificial horse (tr.
R. Hume, 1921):

Om! Verily, the dawn is the head of the sacrificial horse; the sun, his
eye; the wind, his breath; universal fire (Agni Vaisvanara), his open
mouth. The year is the body of the sacrificial horse; the sky, his back;
the atmosphere, his belly; the earth, the under part of his belly; the
quarters, his flanks; the intermediate quarters, his ribs; the seasons,
his limbs; the months and half-months, his joints; days and nights, his
feet; the stars, his bones; the clouds, his flesh. Sand is the food in his
stomach; rivers are his entrails. His liver and lungs are the mountains;
plants and trees, his hair. The orient is his fore part; the occident, his
hind part. When he yawns, then it lightens. When he shakes himself,
then it thunders. When he urinates, then it rains. Voice, indeed, is his
voice.

However, we might also label the theme “interiorization of the

sacrifice,” anticipating the Gita. See appendix A. The
interiorization/cosmicization-of-the-sacrifice motif is brought out by
scholar Mircea Eliade in connection with the Upanishads in History of
Religious Ideas, Vol. I (1978), 238–41, and then with the karma yoga
teaching of the Gita in History of Religious Ideas, Vol. II (1982), 241 (a
few lines are worth quoting): It can be said that the Bhagavad Gita
attempts to “save” all human acts, to “justify” every profane action; for, by
the mere fact that he no longer enjoys their “fruits,” man transforms his
acts into sacrifices, that is, into transpersonal dynamisms that contribute
to the maintenance of the cosmic order. Now, as Krisna declares, only
acts whose object is sacrifice do not bind (3.9). Prajapati created sacrifice
so that the cosmos could manifest itself and human beings could live and
propagate (3.10ff.). But Krisna reveals that man, too, can collaborate in
the perfection of the divine work not only by sacrifices properly
speaking… but by all his acts, whatever their nature. When the various
ascetics and yogins “sacrifice” their psychophysiological activities, they
detach themselves from these activities, they give them a transpersonal
value (4.25ff.), and, in so doing, they “all have the true idea of sacrifice
and, by sacrifice, wipe out their impurities” (4.30). This transmutation of
profane activites into rituals is made possible by Yoga. [Italics in the
original.]

Eliade is in error here only with the “all” part of the idea of karma yoga
embracing profane acts: not every activity is suitable for offering since not
every activity can be offered in the spirit of bhakti, as I shall argue.
45. Aurobindo, The Life Divine (1973). The view is perhaps at odds
with certain traditional ideas. For example, both Hindus and Buddhists
have tended to see time in cycles, with temporal succession usually
aligned with regression and tendency to evil, not progress. Thus the
stories of the “Golden Age” (satya yuga). In contrast, enlightenment is
usually viewed as a one-way transformation, so that—to take Mahayana
for example—eventually the universe is full of bodhisattvas. Historicity is
usually taken to be intrinsic to a Western perspective and foreign to the
classical Indian, and Aurobindo, a “modern” thinker, received a Western
education in the late nineteenth century (see below, note 42 to chapter
4). But I think the question of different cultures’ views of time and history
is not so simple as this, and the developmental strand of Aurobindo’s
conception is not just due to his “Westernness” but has at least
something to do with his reading of the Gita.
46. Karmic confidence is dramatically exampled in Tibetan Buddhist
stories of lamas planning their reincarnations and how they will be
recognized.
47. Many views about adrishta are common across classical schools,
but they are perhaps best developed in Mimamsa, Exegesis. Wilhelm
Halbfass explains both the concept and its history with reference to
Mimamsa and other systems in “Karma, Apurva, and ‘Natural’ Causes,”
in O’Flaherty (1980), 268–302.
In the Madhyamika Buddhist view, not only does karmic causation
work without a temporal intermediary, it takes place without essentially
existent entities. Moreover, almost all Buddhist philosophy eschews the
idea of a substrate for karma to rest in. But in Hindu as well as Buddhist
theories, karmic causation is something like action at a distance.
48. Warren (1896, 1973) collects many of the “life lessons” in Jataka
tales. See also Speyer, Gataka-Mala (1895), which is a translation of a
collection of stories by the Mayayana Buddhist Aryasura (c. 400, at best
guess). There are similar collections outside Buddhism, such as the
Hitopadesha (Wilkins 1886, 1968).
Note that generally in Buddhist theory one is not “punished” for being
“bad,” but rather has self-evaluating negative feeling tones accompanying
experience as a psychic consequence of having engaged previously in
actions of a certain type.
49. A classical source for the view that species continuity is usual is
Krishna’s assurance to Arjuna in the Gita (6.40–45) that as a yogin he is
guaranteed a birth that will allow his practice to continue from the point
achieved in the previous life. Admittedly, Krishna’s statement does not
itself entail that every human being is at death guaranteed a human
future unless every human being is a yogin. But isn’t everyone potentially
a yogin or yogini?
In support of the possibility of cross-species continuity are such
stories as Franz Kafka’s “The Metamorphosis,” where Gregor Samsa
wakes up one morning as a cockroach lying on its back, as well as a
famous passage from Chuang Tzu about dreaming being a butterfly
(“Now I do not know whether I am Chuang Tzu who dreamed he was a
butterfly or a butterfly dreaming he is Chuang Tzu”). My sense is that
there is no mainstream position among the classical Yoga philosophies.
Cross-species reincarnation is a common idea in the Puranas as well as,
strikingly, in the Buddhist Jataka tales.
50. This notion, which goes way back to the Vedas (that Vedic clans
reincarnate together is an idea that underlies the practice of certain
sacrifices), was popularized by the American novelist Kurt Vonnegut in
Cat’s Cradle (1963).
51. Murphy, The Future of the Body (1992) lists more than fifty studies
in support of the general thesis of reincarnation, but none, as far as I can
tell, supports much more than the general thesis; see his appendix E,
“Studies of Near-Death, Out-of-Body, Reincarnation-Type, and
Otherword Experiences,” 618–21.
52. Ian Stevenson, Children Who Remember Previous Lives (1987),
speculates that adults are less capable of previous-life memories since
they are much more occupied in the affairs of this one than children (54).
53. From the Introduction to the Jataka, tr. Henry Clark Warren (1896,
1973), 74–75.
54. The first section of the first chapter of Gangesha’s massive
Tattva-chintamani (Jewel of Reflection on the Truth of Epistemomology)
is about the causal efficacy of mangala, doing something auspicious,
such as chanting om, making a flower offering, etc. Some of his
reasoning there seems playful, not serious. But in the last section of the
inference chapter, on mukti, he argues that such actions can negate the
payback effect of karma; see Ramanuja Tatacharya (1999), the mukti
vada, 396–442.
55. The phrase “attraction of the future” is Aurobindo’s: The Future
Poetry (1973), 255: “the spirit is the master of the future,… in a profound
sense it is the call and attraction of the future that makes the past and
present.”
56. The stock example of a samagri is the sprouting of a seed joined
with water, sunlight, etc., a seed that by itself would stand as a necessary
though not a sufficient condition for a seedling. The bundle of causal
factors sufficient for the sprout include the seed but also water and
warmth and earthen nutriment.
Buddhists reject the notion of a bundle, but substitute similar
complexity. The topic is discussed at length by me along with Joel
Feldman in our forthcoming translation and explanation of the Kshana-
bhanga-siddhi, “Proof of Momentariness,” by the twelfth-century Buddhist
philosopher Ratnakirti. Please check my Web site for publication
particulars: http://asnic.utexas.edu/asnic/phillips.
57. Karl Potter, “The Naturalistic Principle of Karma” (1964).
58. Shankara’s “Commentary” or Bhashya (c. 750) on the Brahma
Sutra (c. 200 B.C.E.) 2.1.34, tr. G. Thibaut, The Vedanta Sutras of
Badarayana (1890, 1962), part 1, 357–59.
59. Shankara, Brahma-sutra-bhashya 2.1.35–36 (tr. Thibaut, 1890,
1962, 359–61).
60. Johannes Bronkhorst, Karma and Teleology (2000), argues that
the need to explain rebirth and the workings of adrishta moved the Nyaya
school progressively toward theism. This may be true of Udayana and of
others too, but late Nyaya is not as theistic as some think, being misled
by Udayana’s prominence in matters of natural theology.
61. Rebirth theodicy is in this way similar to the theory of Augustine
(e.g., Of True Religion) that natural evil is payback for sin. The Indian
theory has the advantage, however, of the punishment better fitting the
crime than in the Western version, because there are lines of individual
continuity as opposed to our paying for the sins of remote ancestors.
However, then there must be continuity in the consciousness making
choices and after-death awareness of the connection between payback
and choice (compare C. J. Ducasse’s reasoning, discussed at the
beginning of chapter 4). Otherwise, there could be no moral lessons and
the retributive nature of karma would make no sense.
4. Rebirth

1. C. J. Ducasse, Nature, Mind, and Death (1951), 491–502.

2. Twins born with a common hip that are separated by operation
would both possess the memory of a pain that occurred in the shared
body part before the separation. Other fission cases also show that
identity does not track a particular psychological process or ability; see
note 11 below.
3. The quote from Leibniz occurs in Nature, Mind, and Death (1951),
497, where Ducasse cites Leibniz’s Philosophische Scriften, ed.
Gerhardt, IV:300.
4. Ducasse, Nature, Mind, and Death (1951), 502. In a later book, the
professor develops this plank of his thesis further, within an even more
sympathetic treatment that combs through empirical evidence: A Critical
Examination of the Belief in a Life After Death (1961).
5. See note 40 below for Udayana’s version of the argument.
6. Abhinava, echoing a theme from the Gita (“one shouldn’t disturb
the minds of ordinary people”), says that Nyaya is the philosophy for the
masses, according to K. C. Pandey, Abhinavagupta (1963), 382. We,
however, are interested in the secret findings of yogic experience.
7. Stephen Braude, First-Person Plural: Multiple Personality and the
Philosophy of Mind (1991).
8. YS 3.38 describes the siddhi of what some have termed
“possession.” Supposedly, a yogin or yogini can direct more than one
body at once. David White treats the power—questionably in my opinion
—as a distinguishing mark of a yogin in “Ceci n’est pas un yogi” (2006).
9. Buddhaghosha, Visuddhimagga, “The Path of Purification,” tr.
Bhikku Nyanamol (1976), 2:521–22. The eighty-nine items all lie within
the consciousness “band” or “aggregate,” skandha; see figure 4B.
Mahayana has a slightly different list of fifty-one mental factors.
10. Bernard Williams in a famous paper, “The Self and the Future”
(1973), shows that what matters most is mind, not the body, by the
following thought experiment. A future group of scientists, heartless but
with the full authority of the State, have designed an experiment involving
you and another person whom you know nothing about. In an operation
during which you—we’ll call you person A—will lose consciousness, your
brain will be “wiped clean” and reprogrammed, so to say, with the exact
content of the mind of person B. Body B pre-operation will have your
mind A postoperation, so that all your current memories, intentions, skills,
dispositions to emotion, preferences, daydreams, etc., will be housed by
current body B. You have to decide now (you are convinced that what
you say will be decisive to the outcome) whether postoperation you
would like the combination of body A and mind B (Y) or the combination
of body B and mind A (Z) to receive $100,000. Which would you choose
and why? (Let us stipulate no altruism.) Almost everyone chooses to be
mind A and body B. We give mental factors greater weight.
Of course, the term “mind” hides many of the interesting questions.
Too much is lumped together. Not everything mental is equal. My
question: What about cross-life continuities? If there are some, as all
Yoga supposes, wouldn’t that change our opinion of what matters?
11. The Buddhist Shantideva denies that there is any such privileged
relationship: see chapter 3, note 25, for some of his arguments that we
should care about the suffering of others just as much as our own. But
even if these are persuasive morally, they are still prudentially
insufficient, it seems to me, concerning the rebirth possibility.
A fission thought experiment is supposed to show that personal
identity is not what matters. Imagine that your only chance of survival is
that your brain be bisected and each half transplanted to a body that has
every one of your memories and abilities. Arguably, your personal identity
does not transfer to both Lefty and Righty, since the concept of identity
entails something single. But you surely would be happy that there are to
be these continuers of you. Better that than no survival. Indeed, how
much more work could I get done if I could double! (Lefty and Righty
could amicably divide up chores.) Personal identity is, then, not what
matters most, concludes Derek Parfit, Reasons and Persons (1984), 262,
in particular, drawing a similar conclusion to Shantideva’s. But this and
other arguments against the rationality of self-interest are weak. (Parfit,
by the way, who has a reductionist view of personal identity, himself
claims that his is the Buddhist position: 273 and 502–3.) Personal identity
may not be what matters most in the Lefty/Righty scenario, but this does
not show that what separates persons—or, in the Buddhist view,
consciousness streams—is not something to care about. Indeed, as
argued in chapter 2, we have special responsibilities to our future selves,
whether at any given time that be just a single future self (as presumably
would be normal) or more, because our actions are special causal
factors.
Note again that it is part of yogic lore that one self or soul or
consciousness stream can divide or somehow live in more than one
(physical) body at a time. Reincarnation presupposes that a
consciousness factor is continuous through a series of physical lives, and
multiple embodiments is a consonant notion.
12. Parfit, Reasons and Persons (1984). Despite the general
excellence of this work, Parfit is wrong to claim that his is the Buddhist
position. Buddhists on the person and continuity share quite little with him
in broad overview, since I cannot imagine Parfit subscribing to any
version of reincarnation theory and all classical Buddhist views embrace
rebirth, with the possible exception of some varieties of (anti-
intellectualist) Zen. Nevertheless, Parfit not only rejects, like the Buddhist,
the sufficiency of physical criteria of identity, he proffers a reductionism,
which can be read as opposition to any Nyaya-like view of an essential
self, the possessor of properties. This is an idea that the Buddhist too
attacks. And the real target of Parfit is self-interest, which, as we have
noted, the Buddhist Shantideva also attacks.
The key idea in Parfit’s analysis is overlapping continuity. I cannot
remember the five-year-old birthday party but I can remember events in
the life of the seven-year-old who could remember events at five.
Personal identity is comprised of multiple psychological and physical
processes. These, again, do seem to be like the skandhas of Buddhist
theory; see figure 4B.
13. Nyaya Sutra 1.1.10 as interpreted by Vatsyayana, who begins his
commentary by discussing recognition (pratisandhana). The sutra itself
says only that cognition is one of several psychological properties that
show the existence of a self by inference.
In the Yoga context, the importance of recognition, we should note, is
not only argumentational in that the tantric Abhinava Gupta uses this type
of cognition as a model of enlightenment, of the awakening of the
individual to its identity with Shiva or Brahman. Similarly, some of the
best evidence for reincarnation are translife memories and/or training
(such as knowing a language not learned in the current lifetime, called
xenoglossy). The possibility of these phenomena require, if not a self,
translife lines of continuity of consciousness.
14. Nyaya Sutra 3.1.1 and commentaries. See also Jonardon Ganeri,
“Cross-Modality and the Self” (2000).
15. Udayana’s reasoning is in his famous treatise defending the view
of an enduring self, the Atma-tattva-viveka (Discrimination of Truth [from
Falsehood] Concerning the Self), where this is one of a barrage of
arguments put against the Buddhist stream theory, though also one of
the most important.
16. This is at least what Udayana thinks, voicing what he takes to be
the standard position in late Yogachara philosophy. We may note that
another explanation open to Buddhists would be a rather common yogic
thesis about sleep: consciousness of objects or properties very alien to
our ordinary, waking awareness cannot be remembered without special
training.
17. Udayana, Atma-tattva-viveka, ed. V. Dvivedhin and L. S. Dravida
(1986), 808–9.
18. The position that every moment of consciousness is self-
conscious is termed in Sanskrit sva-samvedana, and is prominent in
particular in the Yogachara school of Vasubandhu (c. 350), Dignaga (c.
500), Dharmakirti (c. 625), and followers. However, it is work by
Ratnakirti (Kshana-bhanga-siddhi), who seems to have been Udayana’s
contemporary, that appears targeted by the Nyaya philosopher. Ratnakirti
combines Yogachara with strong strains of Madhyamika.
19. There does seem to be one sense in which the person might
survive. In Vedantic theism, as also in the process theism of A. N.
Whitehead and Charles Hartshorne, God’s memory is so vivid that the
person’s life would be as though eternally reenacted, like a halo in a river
with rapids. See, e.g., Charles Hartshorne, Omnipotence and Other
Theological Mistakes (1984), 32–34.
20. Here is another of the many thought-experiments explored by
Parfit, Reasons and Persons (1984). Faced with mandatory travel to
Mars, by a teletransporter (as in Star Trek) that destroys your current
body, then replicates it down to subatomic configurations at the speed of
light on Mars seconds later or the conventional way by spacecraft
(requiring, let us say, two years), which would you choose? I have gotten
mixed results when I have questioned students on this, and Parfit reports
the same, explaining that people’s prior metaphysical conceptions seem
to determine their intuitions: 200ff. Personally, I would go the long way.
The living body is not the only factor in personal identity, but surely it gets
some weight.
21. Here we shall follow primarily the classical Vedantic and tantric
inheritance, though there is a Samkhya notion of a subtle body that
influences tantra in particular. According to Ishvarakrishna’s Samkhya-
karika (c. 400), the linga sharira, the “subtle body” that is the vehicle for
transmigration, is made of five subtle elements (tan-matra) matching the
five gross elements, earth, water, fire, air, and ether (akasha, the medium
of sound): tr. G. Larson (1979), 268–69. In everyday life, we are
acquainted with these subtle elements as the sense data delivered by the
five distinct sense organs, odors of subtle earth, tastes of subtle water,
visions of subtle fire (tejas), tactile sense data of subtle air, and sounds of
subtle ether. This theory moves some Yoga philosophers (in our broad
sense) to think about the koshas, and later the chakras, as composed of
different subtle elements. But no one seems very sure about the
connections, and the Samkhya view becomes absorbed in tantric
principles of manifestation.
We should also note that there is now a rather large contemporary
literature on near-death and out-of-body experiences that constitute
evidence for survival. Such reports are not usually tied to a yogic or
occult psychology, making them all the more probative for the fact of
survival but not very useful for tracing the psychological lines that matter.
22. Mention of five koshas or bodies first occurs in the Taittiriya
Upanishad, c. sixth century B.C.E. (Brahmanandavalli 2ff.): see appendix
A. The word kosha does not appear in this passage, but it does appear
earlier in the Upanishad (Taittiriya 1.4.1), and the commentators, rightly
to my mind, carry over the conception to the list of five.
The skandha concept appears in the Pali canon (of which, scholars
surmise, there was a Sanskrit version), and is used as an organizational
category by the great commentator Buddhaghosha (c. 400) and others in
the southern tradition. Among early Sanskrit texts where the notion is
similaly organizational is the Abhidharma-kosha of Vasubandhu (c. 350).
Surendranath Dasgupta brings out the importance of the notion for
Buddhist psychology at the beginning of an excellent survey of the
central concepts of early Buddhism, A History of Indian Philosophy
(1922), 1:93: “We have seen that the Buddha said that there was no
atman (soul). He said that when people held that they found the much
spoken of soul, they really only found the five khandhas [skandhas]
together or any one of them.”
23. The idea of such canals (nadi, also hita) connecting occultly the
parts of our larger self is as old as the Brihadaranyaka (2.1.19 and 4.2.3)
and Chandogya (8.6.1–3 and 8.6.6) Upanishads.
24. A famous passage in the Brihadaranyaka uses the word loka
twice in the sense of field of vision, not parallel universe, since the
passage is talking about a living person. Verse 4.3.32 (translated in my
Classical Indian Metaphysics, 1995, 11): “An ocean, a single seer without
duality becomes he whose world (loka) is brahman, O King,” Yajnavalkya
instructed. “This is his supreme way. This is his supreme achievement.
This is his supreme world (loka). This is his supreme bliss. Other beings
live on just a small portion of this bliss.”
The other world or worlds or vision fields are said to be accessible by
means of the pranic body through which we survive death. Sleep and
dreams are supposed to provide evidence supplementing the testimony
of those who are “travelers” by means of yogic trance. The accessibility is
underpinned by the omnipresence of Brahman, according to Vedanta,
although even Advaita Vedantins also hold that a subliminal being
connects with nonphysical forces and beings inhabiting the various
worlds, i.e., “levels” of Brahman.
25. The Upanishads mention hells, as do Buddhist texts. In my own
view, this world can be hell enough! We might also note that it is
commonly proclaimed in Puranas and tantras that ours is the only world
where spiritual progress (through yoga) is possible. Ours is the only world
of soul making. Other worlds are typal in the sense that their denizens do
not develop through life, death, and rebirth.
26. I know no Tibetan, though since many technical terms in Tibetan
Buddhist texts are taken from Sanskrit I can see a level of interlock
beyond concepts expressed in English. The two translations I have relied
on are: W. E. Evans-Wentz, The Tibetan Book of the Dead (Oxford:
Oxford University Press, 1957), and Francesca Freemantle and
Chögyam Trungpa, The Tibetan Book of the Dead (Boulder: Shambala,
1975).
Although I cannot claim to have consulted the translation by Robert
Thurman, I may say that his The Jewel Tree of Tibet (2005) is the best
introduction to Tibetan Buddhism I know of, capturing the tradition’s spirit
as an “enlightenment engine.” At the end, Thurman comments on his
own reading and translation of the Tibetan Book of the Dead, making
sure we see the big picture that there are no dead persons. Our
consciousnesses are ever moving on to new experiences and
opportunites. We are right now as much dead as anyone.
27. Probably this is not the expression in Tibetan, but it used in the
Freemantle and Trungpa translation (1975), 33ff.
28. The Tibetan Book of the Dead, tr. Freemantle and Trungpa
(1975), 72ff.
29. Some Tantric Buddhists utilize a chakric schema that is practically
identical with the Shaivite pictured in figure 4C, although a system of
three chakras and other variations occur, as also within Shaivism. Here is
a sample usage from an old Tibetan synoptic textbook, Fundamentals of
the Buddhist Tantras, by Mkhas Grub Rje (c. 1500), tr. F. D. Lessing and
A. Wayman (1968), which links up with the Shaivite Hatha Yoga
Pradipika in its mention of a central channel or “middle vein,” avadhuti, as
well as “four Voids,” 321: “through the “gate” of being a fit vessel for that
[completion of the discipline], he contemplates in piercing the “centers”
(i.e., lotus or chakra centers of the body). Thus… he makes the wind
[prana] enter, dwell, and dissolve in the middle vein” (avadhuti); from that
the four Voids are produced.”
The diversity in the numbers, etc., can be accounted for by the
complexity of our occult natures and connections to pranic, mental, and
spiritual worlds or continua, in my opinion. To have a yogic experience of
an opening or piercing in any single chakra from any direction can be,
according to contemporary accounts as well as classical texts, an
overwhelming experience. It would be easy to miss further occult
complexity through being absorbed in something special, it would seem.
Another way to appreciate this last point using Tibetan Buddhist
conceptions and our Jaina methodology is to consider that if the “three
realms,” the Formless Realm, the Form Realm (with its eighteen
heavens), and the Desire Realm (with its six heavens and five
migrations)—see, e.g., Robert Thurman, Essential Tibetan Buddhism
(1995)—are in any way real (i.e., if there is to be a truth here, syat, as
would say our positive perspectivalists), and if, the way all this occult
complexity relates to us is through a subtle body of centers of
consciousness or chakras, then surely we should expect diversity in
chakric accounts from our variously limited points of view.
30. Sir John Woodroffe (a.k.a. Arthur Avalon) translated and
commented upon the Shat-chakra-nirupana of Purnananda Giri of the
sixteenth century in The Serpent Power (1928), which has had enormous
influence, indeed probably too much influence, through another
enormously popular treatment, Mircea Eliade’s Yoga: Immortality and
Freedom (1954, 1969). Eliade erroneously and achronistically projects
Purnananda’s version as the paradigmatically tantric theory—as pointed
out by Paul Mueller-Ortega, “On Subtle Knowledge and the Refinement
of Thought” (2005), 182.
Nevertheless, there is much overlap and a mainstream conception, as
articulated, e.g., by Sanjukta Gupta, whom I follow: “Tantric Sadhana:
Yoga,” which is a chapter in Hindu Tantrism, by Sanjukta Gupta, Dirk Jan
Hoens, and Teun Goudriaan (1979). Gupta presents the mainstream
picture, filling in details from a wide range of texts (170–79). I rely also to
some extent on Hiroshi Motoyama, Theory of the Chakras (1981), who
himself relies, in part, on Woodroffe and (to be sure) the Shat-chakra-
nirupana.
31. Such imagery occurs throughout the literature on the “living
liberated,” jivan mukta. The Shaiva Siddhanta authors of South India
seem especially “fond,” as Chacko Valiaveetil puts it, “of expressing this
union in love in terms of a mystical marriage” (Liberated Life [1980], 132).
See also the papers in Living Liberation in Hindu Thought, ed. A. Fort
and P. Mumme (1996).
32. I have informal evidence for “chakric experience is not
uncommon”: informal surveys among students (eyes closed) about this,
also with yoga teachers whom I have, through weeks of attending their
classes, felt emboldened enough to ask. Now a standard take on this
kind of avowal is that it is bad karma to talk about such experience. So
my guess is that no formal survey would reveal anything of interest, and
that the incidence of such occurrence is actually higher than my informal
surveys would indicate.
33. The notion of yogic perception is discussed in Nyaya under Nyaya
Sutra 4.2.38, where samadhi is conceived as a kind of yaugika
pratyaksha. The notion is elaborated in the later, noncommentarial
literature such as the Nyaya-manjari by Jayanta Bhatta (c. 850). It is
universally supposed among Nyaya philosophers, although Raghunatha
(c. 1500) famously quips against the Vaisheshika argument for atoms
that if they are seen yogically, that we should find some yogins and ask.
The thesis that there is yogic perception as a knowledge source is clearly
expressed also in Prashastapada (c. 500), the great Vaisheshika
philosopher, Padarthadharma-samgraha (tr. Jha [1982], 392ff.). For the
Buddhist theory), the Yogachara Buddhist theory, that is, see Charlene
McDermott, “Yogic Direct Awareness as Means of Valid Cognition in
Dharmakirti and Rgyal-tshab” (1991). The Madhyamika Buddhist who
rejects the projects of epistemology may be counted an exception. But he
too—like the Vishishtadvaita Vedantin who holds that testimony (viz., the
Upanishadic revelation) trumps yogic perception—views the summum
bonum as achieved through a kind of meditation, which counts as yogic
perception for our purposes here. The Kularnava Tantra (c. 1100) makes
a particularly clear statement about the authority of yogic perception; see,
in appendix D, Kularnava 2.87–89. And so on.
34. Descartes thought that propositions restricted in content to
appearances (experiences themselves), e.g., “It looks as though I am
seeing a hand”—a claim that is true whether or not it is really a hand that
I am seeing—were known with certainty, infallibly. Early twentieth-century
Cartesians such as Bertrand Russell and A. J. Ayer considered such
propositions “basic” in the further sense that the justification for
everything that we believe about the world (i.e., everything we know
outside of math and logic) derives from their certainty, the certainty of
basic propositions. However, it seems a person can be wrong about an
appearance (“No, it really looks more like a foot”), and no one has been
able successfully to specify justification-transfer rules needed to justify an
“observation statement” that is about a physical object, e.g., “I see a
hand,” from a basic proposition, “It looks as though I am seeing a hand.”
With these two cracks in the dike, a flood of further objections has
sent philosophers scurrying to other positions, externalist like Nyaya, as
well as to coherentism, a kind of life raft for internalists (every belief helps
to justify every other in a big circle of mutual support, i.e., coherence).
35. Roderick Chisholm, Theory of Knowledge (1977), 76; William
Alston, Perceving God (1991), 79.
36. Among Ian Stevenson’s many books and papers, probably
Twenty Cases Suggestive of Reincarnation (1974) is the best known and
most often cited. But let me recommend in addition a study in which the
main types of evidence for reincarnation are laid out in the manner of a
philosopher (where Stevenson shows the importance of children’s
spontaneous acts): Children Who Remember Previous Lives (1987).
There is also in particular Unlearned Language (1984), which presents
the evidence of xenoglossy.
37. There are some pretty good philosophic engagements with the
broad topic of survival—Robin Harwood, The Survival of the Self (1998)
and R.W.K. Paterson, Philosophy and the Belief in a Life After Death
(1995)—but these do not really wrestle with Stevenson’s evidence or
theories (though Paterson has three or four pages of sympathetic
discussion of some of Stevenson’s evidence in the midst of a broad
examination of parapsychology, 180–84). Paul Edwards presents an
unfair treatment in Reincarnation (2001), more about which at the end of
the section.
There is an excellent philosophic study of some related evidence,
again, not so much for reincarnation as survival: Stephen Braude,
Immortal Remains: The Evidence for Life After Death (2003). Intentionally
bracketing the spiritual theories that incorporate a view of the
continuation of consciousness, Braude shows that survival or
persistence, however interpreted, is the best explanantion of certain
evidence. His conclusion is that certain indisputable facts push even the
philosophic skeptic to admit survival as the best hypothesis.
38. I was quite delighted to find this statement by Stevenson at the
end of his Reincarnation and Biology ([1997], 180–81):

Having drawn attention to the limitation of genetics and environmental

influences in early life, I need now to state that I do not propose
reincarnation as replacing these factors. I regard it as a third factor
that may fill some of the gaps in the knowledge we presently have
about human personality and, as the cases of this work suggest,
about the human body also. I turn now to some of the implications of
the acceptance of reincarnation as such a contributing factor.
 The most important consequence would be acknowledgment of the
duality of mind and body. We cannot imagine reincarnation without
the corollary belief that minds are associated with bodies during our
familiar life, but are also independent of bodies to the extent of being
fully separable from them and surviving the death of their associated
body. (At some later time, they become associated with a new
physical body.) In saying this I declare myself an adherent of
interactionist dualism. Proponents of dualism do not deny the
usefulness of brains for our everyday living, but they do deny that
minds are nothing but the subjective experiences of brain activity.
How minds and brains interact during life is part of the agenda for
future research, but that is equally true of the claims confidently made
by many neuroscientists who assert that minds are reducible to brain
activity. We need not, however, be misled into mistaking claims for
accomplishments.

39. See Trends in Rebirth Research, ed. Nimal Senanayake (2001).

40. The argument appears in the earliest stratum of Nyaya literature,
the Nyaya Sutra, and remains intact through the centuries. Here is the
version from Udayana (c. 1000) and his Atma-tattva-viveka (translation
by me from V. Dvivedhin, 1986): And, if it were the body that has
consciousness, then a (newborn) child would not be able for a first time
to make effort (to acquire something desired or to avoid something
disliked). For, without desire or aversion, effort makes no sense. And
without recognition (pratisandhana, recognitive synthesis) of how the
desired is to be acquired, desire makes no sense. Inasmuch as (under
the circumstances) there would be no memory (on the part of the
newborn child) of the connection that has not been experienced in the
current lifetime, such recognition (pratisandhana) would not happen
(whereas in fact the newborn desiring milk reaches for the breast of its
mother). And with respect to what has been experienced in another birth,
the experiencer (presuming, ex hypothesi, that it is the physical body),
having (been cremated and) turned to ashes, there would be no
remembering by another (body, that is, still supposing counterfactually
that it is the body that is the locus of consciousness). Furthermore, in this
very lifetime the causal relation between (samskara-forming) experiences
at the one end and effort (and action) at the other is definitely known. And
so, in the absence of the one (experience, etc.), there is absence of the
other (desire, etc.)—a proposition that is easy to grasp. (However, there
is desire, etc., and so there must have been experience, etc.) 41. YS
3.18 is on the siddhi of rebirth memory. Krishna tells Arjuna in the Gita
(4.5) that he can remember his previous births. And the common view in
Buddhism is that this and other siddhis are by-products of mental
concentration.
42. Let me sketch the background of the philosopher-yogin, Sri
Aurobindo (Ghose), 1872–1950. As Aravinda Ackroyd Ghose, he
received what was called at the end of the nineteenth century a Western
education. After returning to India from England in 1892, Aurobindo
became first a politician and then a yogin. Author of a long work of
spiritual metaphysics, The Life Divine, as well as of several on yoga
practice, most importantly The Synthesis of Yoga, he was also a poet
and composed an epic poem, Savitri. Almost all of his writing is in
English, but the sources of his philosophy are mainly in Sanskrit. The
young Aravinda began learning Sanskrit at Cambridge University, but on
his return to India he became an avid student of classical Indian culture
and, as mentioned, a politician and later a yogin with a self-avowed
“silent mind.”
In overview, we may say that Aurobindo uses the highbrow
vocabulary of his Victorian education as well as the spiritual language of
Vedanta and tantra to try to forge what he touts as a spiritual philosophy
suited for our global society by being sensitive to science. How well the
theory connects to biology, however, is questionable, since it is not clear
that his use of the term “evolution” is scientific. But this is besides the
point for our purposes, since here we concern ourselves not with the
question of the connection of his views with science but with a
metaphysical argument of his for reincarnation.
43. Here is a stretch of very abstract reasoning from Aurobindo, first
considering and then rejecting the possibility that the One could simply
assume our personalities each in turn without translife continuity, or with
only, as in Buddhism and Advaita Vedanta, (illusory) karma-maintained
continuity ending in dissolution of individuality in the single spiritual
consciousness.

The One Being personalised would pass through various forms of

 becoming at fancy or according to some law of the consequences of
action, till the close came by an enlightenment, a return to Oneness, a
withdrawal of the Sole and Identical from that particular
individualisation. But such a cycle would have no original or final
determining Truth which would give it any significance. There is
nothing for which it would be necessary; it would be merely a play, a
Lila.… [On my theory in contrast] the progressive ascent of the
individual becomes a keynote of this cosmic significance, and the
rebirth of the soul in the body becomes a natural and unavoidable
consequence of the truth of the Becoming and its inherent law.
Rebirth is an indispensable machinery for the working out of a
spiritual evolution.…

…It is through the conscious individual that this recovery [i.e., self-
realization, spiritual enlightenment] is possible; it is in him that the
evolving consciousness becomes organized and capable of
awakening to its own Reality. The immense importance of the
individual being, which increases as he rises in the scale, is the most
remarkable and significant fact of a universe which started without
consciousness and without individuality in an undifferentiated
Nescience. This importance can only be justified if the Self as
individual is no less real as the Self as cosmic Being or Spirit and both
are powers of the Eternal. It is only so that can be explained the
necessity for the growth of the individual and his discovery of himself
as a condition for the discovery of a cosmic Self and Consciousness
and of the supreme Reality. If we adopt this solution, this is the first
result, the reality of the persistent individual; but from that first
consequence the other result follows, that rebirth of some kind is no
longer a possible machinery which may or may not be accepted, it
becomes a necessity, an inevitable outcome of the root nature of our
existence. (Aurobindo, The Life Divine [1973], 754–56) 44. Aurobindo,
The Life Divine (1973), 671–78.
45. This is an old epithet used by Vedantins of all stripes that derives
from several Upanishads. Aurobindo’s notion of Sachchidananda departs
from the Advaita understanding in a theistic and tantric direction, with the
Chit portion understood as “Chit-Shakti,” divine “Consciousness-Force”
(to use his terms and spellings).
 46. Paul Edwards, Reincarnation: A Critical Examination (2001),
which, sadly, was published just before his death.
47. Edwards, Reincarnation: A Critical Examination (2001), 279.
5. Powers

1. Effort of will is implicit in the notion of samadhi. True, the word

samadhi is used in the YS to articulate the summum bonum
psychologically, and the metaphysics of the YS demands that effort be on
the side of prakriti, our everyday intuitions be damned. But the very
etymology of the word reveals a voluntarist sense. It is a noun derived
from the verbal root dha, to put or hold, which when joined with verbal
prefixes sam and a (long ā) to form the stem, sam-a-dha, as a verb is
used in an active and voluntarist sense: “to place or put or hold or fix
together…; to compose, set right,… put in order;… to effect, cause,
produce” are some of the meanings listed in the Monier-Williams
Sanskrit-English Dictionary (1851). I would not insist upon “ability to
maintain trance” to render the word in the YS. But this translation fits
nicely with the overall voluntarism of yoga practice.
The great scholar of yoga, Mircea Eliade, coined the term “enstacy”
as a translation of samadhi. Unlike ecstacy (standing outside oneself),
enstacy (standing within) comprises an inner bliss. Others, of course,
have offered alternative renderings. My view is that the word should be
anglicized (as it has been already in some circles). As an interpreter, I
would prefer a translation with a voluntarist spin, something along the
lines of “yogic accomplishment.”
2. Yogic trance, samadhi, has a cognitive dimension. Many of the
siddhis are cognitive, and YS 3.25 says in general that “the object of any
effort is known, whether subtle, hidden, or distant, by directing on it the
higher light.” This connects the higher consciousness made available by
yoga to the world. Furthermore, how could samadhi be part of what
samyama is (control through conscious identification) and also transcend
all powers? This is an outright inconsistency.
3. Throughout Hinduism, mantralike prayers—addressed to Vishnu,
Kali, the elephant-headed Ganesha (ganeshaya namah), and so on—ask
the deity to remove obstacles (vighna). Processes have natural flows,
including, say, mastering Headstand (shirshasana) or writing a book,
which, once the intention is set (presupposing a coherent plan), will be
completed if no obstacles occur. Thus one performs mangala, does
something auspicious, to invite the appropriate protection.
4. The word asmita is a synonym for ahamkara (egoism), which is
alluded to at Samkhya-karika 3 and mentioned at karika 22 apparently as
the principle of individuation; see Gerald Larson, Classical Samkhya
(1979), which contains a translation, for these verses, 256 and 262–63.
5. Interestingly, one could also read YS 4.4 as proposing a
teleological conception of the purusha, not of prakriti (as pronounced
earlier in the text, viz., YS 2.21): the conscious being is impelled to
embodiment. Thus we would have a conception similar to the
Whiteheadean concept of God, who is always necessarily embodied.
6. Abhinava too mentions this conception of the bodhisattva; see the
end of the first selection from his works in appendix D.
7. Shankara uses the metaphor of the world as “play,” lila, “sport,”
without purpose, according to his commentary on Brahma-sutra-bhashya
2.1.34 (Georg Thibaut, trans., The Vedanta Sutras of Badarayana [1962],
358–59). But it is the Vaishnava preceptors, Vallabha (c. 1500) along
with the yogin and saint Chaitanya of the same time, and Chaitanya’s
followers Rupa and Jiva Gosvami in particular who make the tasting of
rasa in spiritual experience the leading motif of their Yoga philosophies.
On the Buddhist side, we might mention the Four Purities central to
Tibetan tantrism, which as Vajrayana (lightning bolt) practices are meant
to bring enlightenment in a single birth: seeing your body as the body of
the deity; seeing your environment as the mandala (cosmic circle) of the
deity; seeing your pleasures as the enjoyments of the deity; and acting
only for the benefit of others.
8. Vivekananda, The Complete Works of Swami Vivekananda, 5:137
(letter dated 9 July 1897). The letter must have been published in an
early collection since Aurobindo flags the passage in his Synthesis of
Yoga (1973, first published 1914–1920), by quoting at length, 257–58.
9. Abhinava goes light on kama, sexual desire, as opposed to krodha,
anger, in his commentary on Gita 3.37, a verse that seems to imply that
both are obstacles: Arvind Sharma, The Gitartharthasangraha of
Abhinavagupta (1983), 126–26. Rupa Gosvami puts passionate love and
devotion to Krishna as more important than moksha, liberation, which is
then no longer the summum bonum; Bhakti-rasamrita-sindhu, tr. D.
Haberman (2003).
10. See Plato, Phaedrus (in the standardized pagination) 245c–246b
and 253c–254e; Republic 435b–c, 436a–d, 437b–d, and 439c–442b; and
Symposium 209e–212b, in particular.
11. Nyaya’s teleological argument is one of a host of theistic proofs
put forth by Udayana (c. 1000) in his Nyaya-kusumanjali, ed. Goswami
(1972). Of Udayana’s many arguments, Gangesha (c. 1325), the new
logician, writes only on the teleological in a long section of the inference
chapter of his Tattvacinta-mani. That section has been translated (and
analyzed) by John Vattanky, Gangesa’s Philosophy of God (1984). The
simplest version runs: Earth and the like are caused (by a conscious
agent, namely God), since they are (artifactlike) effects, like a pot. This
and all of Udayana’s arguments are ably scrutinized by Gopikamohan
Bhattacharya, Studies in Nyaya-Vaisheshika Theism (1961). See also
George Chemparathy, An Indian Rational Theology (1972).
12. Officially the pramana, the knowledge source, for the existence
and nature of God is scripture, according to Vedantic theists upholding
bhakti, who often reject rational theology as irrelevant or inconclusive. My
point is, however, about the views of the practitioner that seem implicit in
what she says and does. In Buddhism, the origin would of course be
(divine) “emptiness” or the Buddha Mind, which is not really an origin but
serves as an absolute reality and foundation of everything (“everything is
empty”). In tantra, the origin is the Goddess, nature not mechanical but
infused with divine consciousness.
13. This is not the only source of bhakti. Music and other forms of
beauty and art, even philosophy, are said to provoke bhakti, which has
several wellsprings. But though the emotion is not just for the teacher
aspect of the divine, this does seem particularly important. Compare YS
1.26 (appendix C), which conceives of the ishvara as teacher—a position
we shall focus on at the end of the section.
14. The word maya is understood by Advaitins as illusion, but this
seems wrong here. The word derives from the root ma, to measure,
delimit, and here it suggests that the special divine descent is like the
overall process of creation (sarga, here Krishna using the verb, srijami, “I
create [by emanating]”), where God, or Brahman, measures itself out,
i.e., delimits itself, in becoming the finite universe.
15. The translation is mine. The Sanskrit is from the edition by
Gokhale (1950).
16. Compare the Christian idea in “For God so loved the world that he
sent his only begotten son” (John 3.16).
17. That the Gita is a yoga manual is recognized by tantrics such as
Abhinava, who wrote an important commentary translated by Arvind
Sharma (1983). The Gita is not to be understood as only a Vedantic text.
18. That bhakti brings the yogic goal is said explicity by Vyasa under
YS 1.23, using the word.
19. The distinctiveness of the commentary attributed to Shankara—
who may or may not be the eighth-century Advaitin (before he became
an Advaitin)—crystallizes in the reading of this stretch of sutras on the
ishvara, YS 1.23ff.: The Complete Commentary by Shankara on the
Yoga Sutras, tr Trevor Leggett (1990), 107ff. Notably, Vyasa himself
presents, under sutra 1.24, an argument for the existence of God (or the
Lord, ishvara) that is much like the ontological argument put forth in the
West by Bishop Anselm in the twelfth century. Nothing greater can be
conceived, for if there were something greater, that would be the Lord.
Shankara writes extremely long subcommentary on Vyasa’s commentary
on this and the next sutra, 1.25, which says that the Lord has maximal
knowledge, and the two authors—especially Shankara, who considers
several ways the Lord could be known—achieve a great moment in
rational theology.
Vachaspati (c. 950) also writes a lot of subcommentary on this stretch
of sutras, but does not go in the direction of bhakti and its lore or of
rational theology, but rather toward Samkhya and views and
accomplishments attributed to its legendary founder, Kapila. Vijnana
Bhikshu (c. 1500) assimilates the ishvara teaching into the Vedantic
Brahman teaching explicitly and straightforwardly, quoting Vedantic texts.
Shankara does too though less explicitly, and quotes the Gita.
Vachaspati’s commentary is translated by J. H. Woods in The Yoga-
System of Pantanjali (1914); Vijnana Bhikshu’s by T. S. Rukmani,
Yogavarttika of Vijnanabhiksu (1981–1989).
20. That conception, “preferred divinity,” ishta devata, in turn, scholars
call “henotheistic”; see the next note below.
21. This the “henotheistic” idea of Hinduism is traceable to the Rig
Veda and is prominently expressed in the Gita as well as theistic
Upanishads. From the Rigveda Samhita, tr. S. P. Sarasvati and S.
Vidyalankar, 8 vols. (1977–1980) (I have made a few alterations): They
have styled him Indra (the Chief of the gods), Mitra (the Friend), Varuna
(the Venerable), Agni (Fire), also the celestial, great-winged Garutma; for
although one, poets speak of him diversely; they say Agni, Yama
(Death), and Matarishvan (Lord of breath). (Rig Veda 1.164.46.) The
divine architect, the impeller of all, the multiform, has begotten and
nourished a numerous projeny, since all these worlds belong to him. (Rig
Veda 3.55.19.)

The ten hundreds stand there as one; I have beheld the most
excellent form of the gods. (Rig Veda 5.62.1.)

His steady light, swifter than the mind, stationed throughout the
moving world, indicates the way to happiness. All the gods are of one
accord and one intention; they proceed unobstructed according to a
single will. (Rig Veda 6.9.5.) The following verses from the Gita
express the henotheistic idea transparently: 4.11, 9.23–24a, 11.15–
16a, and 11.37b–38.
22. The formulation by the great Nyaya rational theologian Udayana
(c. 1000) gives the example of weaving as well as of grammar. To the
objection that at least some such tasks require that God be embodied,
whereas God is not embodied, Udayana replies by quoting the Gita,
verses 3.23 and 3.24: (in effect) God becomes embodied from time to
time. These verses indicate the avatara doctrine; Krishna asserts that he
must work to maintain the worlds since people everywhere (in all crafts)
follow his example: Nyaya-kusumanjali, ed. Goswami (1972), 599. (N. S.
Dravid has translated this work: Nyaya-kusumanjali of Udayanacarya
[1996]; our argument appears on 414–15.) Gopikamohan Bhattacharya,
Studies in Nyaya–Vaisheshika Theism (1961), 133, cites the commentary
of Vardhamana (Gangesha’s son, c. 1350) arguing against the further
objection that a body as a locus of works is also the locus of pleasure
and suffering and thus incompatible with the nature of God. Vardhamana
replies that though to God there attaches no unseen force (adrishta) that
compels embodiment, that of individuals does force God to take a body—
compare Gita 4.7 (see appendix B).
 Dan Arnold connects the Mimamsa doctrines of the eternity and
unspoken character of the Veda (not spoken by any person,
apaurusheya, including Shiva, Vishnu, and so on) to the arguments of
Jerry Fodor that the view of language as convention faces the difficulty
that the stipulations that form conventions (“Let ‘apple’ pick out apples”)
presuppose a language of stipulation (or whatever the generative
engine): “On Semantics and Samketa” (2006). Fodor speculates that the
brain is hard-wired in “mentalese,” that there is a core language that is
not conventional. In other words, not all language is learned or even
invented, since there has to be a language of invention. Here from a very
different angle we see the strength of the criteriological argument of
Udayana.
23. The alankara shastra, which is concerned mainly with poetics, is
historically rooted in the Natya Shastra, a text as early as 200 B.C.E. that
is an extraordinary how-to compendium for actors, musicians, dancers,
carpenters, costumers, stage managers, and (above all) authors in
putting on together a spectacle (probably for several days) in which
theater was at the center. In the midst of details about musical
instruments and dialects is advice to authors to try to evoke rasa,
aesthetic relishing, of the dominant or abiding human emotions, sexual
feeling, mirth, grief, anger, vitality, fear, repulsion, and wonder.
In a famous verse (6.16), Bharata lists eight rasas: “The erotic, comic,
tragic, furious, heroic, frightening, gruesome, and the marvellous—these
are the names of the eight ‘relishings’ known in dramatics.” He goes on to
define rasa and to detail its relation to other types of psychological state.
Through these ideas, the Natya Shastra stands as the foundational text
not only of classical Indian dramatics but also, as mentioned, of the
alamkara shastra, the classical aesthetics and literary criticism that
stretches through the very latest and best Sanskrit authors. An excellent
translation in two volumes is by Manmohan Ghosh (1961–67).
24. The secrecy of the Kaula rituals and the requirements for
admission are apparently meant to exclude those unable to appreciate
the occult. This is the rough equivalent of the need with respect to
aesthetic objects to be aesthetically prepared, to be a like-hearted,
sahridya, member of the audience—to use Abhinava’s term for the
connoisseur. The uninitiated would disrupt the ceremonies, like someone
laughing inappropriately during a play.
 25. Har Dayal, The Bodhisattva Doctrine in Buddhist Sanskrit
Literature (1932), 168–71. Masatoshi Nagatomi explains the view of the
great Yogacara philosopher Dharmakirti of the seventh century that to
reject compassion is impossible, as it is transformative. Compassion
becomes, for the advanced practitioner, the inherent nature of her
consciousness—in a striking use of a substantivalist metaphor—its very
stuff: “Manasa-Pratyaksha: A Conundrum in the Buddhist Pramana
System,” included in Nagatomi, et al., Sanskrit and Indian Studies (1980),
246–47, including a long quotation (in English) from Dharmakirti’s
Pramana-varttika, chapter 2.
26. The Buddhist transformation theme is not only karmic but innatist.
As does what we saw in chapter 4 of the Yoga Sutra and its siddhi
tradition, the Buddhist tantric picture comes to include manifestation from
the top, or from the inside out. Consciousness is inherently
compassionate and wise, hence the six perfections of those who awaken
to its intrinsic and transformative influence, in the later conceptions.
Indeed, the assimilation of the perfections to yogic siddhis is made
explicitly along with an innatism totally consonant with that of the YS: see
Dayal, The Bodhisattva Doctrine in Buddhist Sanskrit Literature (1932),
20 and 26–29, in particular. In brief, the perfections are the natural
flowers of enlightened consciousness.
27. We noted a rough equivalent of the Gita’s karma yoga in the
“giving” enjoined in early Buddhism; see chapter 3, note 43, and, again,
Egge, Religious Giving and the Invention of Karma in Theravada
Buddhism (2002). Ellison Findly argues, in Dana: Giving and Getting in
Pali Buddhism (2003), that the emergent institution and practices of
giving to monks and nuns (of various classifications) were absolutely at
the center of the culture of early Buddhism. In Mahayana or northern
Buddhism, it is remarkable that the first of the six perfections, paramita,
exhibited by the perfect individual, the bodhisattva, is dana, giving or
charity. Furthermore, in karma yoga the giving has to be directed through
bhakti, and so the heart is arguably in the lead. The karma yoga teaching
of the Gita crucially includes bhakti, as does the way of the bodhisattva.
Look again at the Four Purities of Vajrayana, above, note 7.
28. Rupa Gosvamin, Bhakti-rasamrita-sindhu, tr. D. Haberman
(2003), the first “Wave of the Southern Quadrant,” verses 23–217.
29. My translation. See also (in appendix A) Katha 2.1.12:
 That one that is difficult to know, hidden, immanent, set in the cavern
(of the heart), resting in the depths.…

From the same Upanishad, Katha 4.7 (R. Hume translation, 1921):

She who rises with life (prana),

Aditi (Infinity), maker of divinity,
Who stands entered into the secret place [of the heart],
Who was born forth through beings—
This verily is That.

30. Swami Muktananda, Play of Consciousness (1978), 159.

31. See note 21 to appendix D below on the mantra hamsa, which is
the favorite of Abhinava’s Kaula tradition.
32. Purananda’s Shat-chakra-nirupana, “Description of the Six
Chakras,” was translated and popularized by Sir John Woodroffe in The
Serpent Power (1928). Hiroshi Motoyama edited and polished a few
verses, including verse 26, in Theories of the Chakras (1981), 173: “He
who meditates on this Heart Lotus becomes like the Lord of Speech.…
This Lotus is like the celestial wishing tree, the abode and seat of Shiva.
It is beautified by the Hamsa (here the Jivatma, the individual soul) which
is like the steady tapering flame of a lamp in a windless place.”
33. Satyananda Saraswati, Kundalini Tantra (1984), 164.
34. Aurobindo, The Life Divine (1973), book 2, part II, chapter 25,
“The Triple Transformation,” 889–909.
35. Like Vivekananda and Satyananda Saraswati and others,
Aurobindo is often counted a neo-Vedantin because of his championing
of ideas of the Upanishads. I, however, have been calling him a tantric.
The lesson perhaps is that in different ways tantra permeates neo-
Vedanta.
Many of Aurobindo’s major works were first published serially in a
journal of yoga entitled The Arya, 1914–1921. The Life Divine and The
Synthesis of Yoga were later extensively revised. The epic poem, Savitri,
marginally unfinished at the time of Aurobindo’s death (1950), was
published posthumously. Talk of a psychic element and psychic
transformation occurs throughout, especially his later work, but part of a
chapter near the end of The Life Divine (1973) is right on point: “The
Triple Transformation,” 889–918.
36. Aurobindo, The Life Divine (1973), 225.
37. Aurobindo, The Life Divine (1973), 893:

On this ignorant surface we become dimly aware of something that

can be called a soul as distinct from mind, life, or body; we feel it not
only as our mental idea or vague instinct of ourselves, but as a
sensible influence in our life and character and action. A certain
sensitive feeling for all that is true and good and beautiful, fine and
pure and noble, a response to it, a demand for it, a pressure on mind
and life to accept and formulate it in our thought, feelings, conduct,
character is the most usually recognized, the most general and
characteristic, though not the sole sign of the influence of this psyche.

38. Rupa Gosvamin, Bhakti-rasamrita-sindhu, tr. D. Haberman

(2003), the second “Wave of the Southern Quadrant,” verses 291–93, in
particular.
39. The poem by Jayadeva, the Gitagovinda (c. 1150), is a fine
literary example of the Vaishnava motif of divine love play. An excellent
translation is by Barbara Stoler Miller, The Love Song of the Dark Lord
(1977).
40. Yogic traditions converge on the desiderata of a healthy body and
mind, freedom from destitution, availability of spiritual instruction, and
sufficient leisure for practice.
41. John Rawls, A Theory of Justice (1971), 118–92.
42. As explained in chapter 4, this realm is continuous with others.
43. In a different context (economic strategies for development as
opposed to Yoga philosophy), Amartya Sen puts forth a similar idea, a
model of people as having “basic capacities”; see“Goods and People” in
his Resources, Values and Development (1984).
44. There is sometimes a sense—following the Gita or another
assurance—that if one is a sincere seeker then rebirth as a seeker is
secure. This may be true, but there would seem to be very real
possibilities of slippage (I may speak for myself), at least in a future life.
So over the long run, one might, like Rawls, want the least advantaged to
benefit from inequalities.
45. The Sanskrit (spelled in the indological fashion): agnim īḷe
purohitam yajñasya devam ṛtvijam / hotāram ratna-dhātamam. For the
translation, I follow the gloss given by Jagannatha Vedalankara, which is
published (in Sanskrit) in two places: Bhargo Devasya Dhimahi (1992),
21, and Agni-mantra-mala (1976), 78.
46. The textual case to be made with respect to the Veda is beyond
my personal competence, and I do not think that a yogic and occult
interpretation has much standing among professional vedists. But even
among indologists there are some who suggest such a reading, e.g., J.
Gonda, The Vision of the Vedic Poets (1963), chapters 11 and 12 in
particular. And there is no lack of scholarly support among the
traditionally educated in India, for example, K.V. Kapali-Sastry, Rig-
Bhashya Bhumika (1952), as well as Aurobindo, Hymns to the Mystic
Fire (1973). The idea is explicitly expressed in the Gita (15.14) as well as
in the Upanishadic theme of interiorization of the sacrifice (see the
second section of chapter 3 here as well as appendix A). A particularly
apt passage is Brihadaranyaka Upanishad, chapter 5, sections 6–9.
47. See again note 21 to appendix D on hamsa. The mantra, so ‘ham
(I am That), which has the advantage of being only two syllables in
length, may be superior in another respect too: as pointed out in the note,
it reads backwards (roughly) as “Hamsa,” which is a symbol of the
jivatman. Also, the sound ham (hum) is a so-called seed mantra for the
throat chakra. No wonder Shankara identifed the Upanishadic verse
where it appears (Isha 16) as a mahavakya, great statement (though his
stated reason is just the meaning, which he takes to be identity of self
and Brahman)! Surely, moreover, we would join distinguished lineages in
uttering it, a mantra that almost competes with om (and nothing can
compete with om) for endorsement in yogic texts. However, the sound
“nim” in agnim (fire) is often taken in tantric traditions to be a heart
mantra, and although the word’s sense may be different from that of so
‘ham, it would be intended to pick out the same referent.
Appendix A. Select Yogic Passages from the Early Upanishads

1. I have checked all occurrences of the word yoga that have been
flagged in indices of eight or nine translations as well as several editions
and, most importantly, the concordance compiled by Colonel Jacob, A
Concordance to the Principal Upanishads and Bhagavadgita (1891,
1963, 1082 pages). But the colonel misses a few occurrences, especially
forms of the root from which yoga is derived, and I suspect that there are
others I have not noticed (though probably not too many). Rather
arbitrarily, however, I am not including the passages in which forms of the
verb appear. These are more controversial occurrences of the “self-
discipline” idea, and the passages translated are sufficient to make the
connection between yoga and the early Upanishads.
On the basis of research and arguments by J.A.B van Buitenen, I am
not including the stretch of the Maitri Upanishad where the usage occurs
(dramatically in 6.25, where the word is used not only in the sense of self-
discipline but also in that of union, The Maitrayaniya Upanishad [1962],
85, in particular).
2. Shankara, c. 700 C.E., the oldest Sanskrit commentator whose texts
are extant, wrote on eleven Upanishads and quoted four others (see the
quotation below from S. Radhakrishnan). Shankara’s rival Ramanuja, c.
1050 C.E., did not write commentaries on individual Upanishads, but
includes in his Shribhashya hundreds of sometimes long quotations from
the fifteen quoted by Shankara, plus four or five in addition. On most of
these, Ramanuja’s follower, Rangaramanuja, c. 1600, wrote
commentaries.
Sarvepalli Radhakrishnan, The Principal Upanishads (1953), traces
the history of Western translation, making several learned comments
(21): “Prince Muhammad Dara Shikoh’s collection translated into Persian
(1656–1657) and then into Latin by Anquetil Duperron (1801 and 1802)
under the title Oupekhat contained about fifty. [H. T.] Colebrooke’s
collection contained fifty-two, and this was based on Narayana’s list (c.
AD 1400). The principal Upanishads are said to be ten. Shankara
commented on eleven, Isha, Kena, Katha, Prashna, Mundaka,
Mandukya, Taittiriya, Aitareya, Chandogya, Brihadaranyaka, and
Shvetashvatara.… [Beyond the fifteen or so known and discussed by
classical Vedantins] other Upanishads are more religious than
philosophical.… They glorify Vedanta or Yoga or Samnyasa or extol the
worship of Shiva, Shakti, or Vishnu. [Scripted is then the following
footnote.] There is, however, considerable argument about the older and
more original Upanishads. Max Mueller translated the eleven quoted by
Shankara together with the Maitri. Deussen, though he translates no less
than sixty, considers that fourteen of them are original.… English
translations of the Upanishads have appeared in the following order:
Ram Mohan Roy (1832), Roer (1853) (Bibliotheca Indica), Max Mueller
(1879–1884) (Sacred Books of the East… [and Professor Radhakrishnan
continues to list eight other translations prior to his own in 1953].”
3. “Secret doctrine” is not a bad translation for the word upanishad,
since the meaning is most literally that which is gathered from a guru in a
“sitting” with student practitioners, as scholars have shown. However,
“mystic doctrine” seems to me better.
The proposition that there are yogic requirements to be eligible to
receive what appear to be metaphysical doctrines reverberates
throughout yogic traditions, tantric traditions in particular. For example, in
the Kularnava Tantra (KT) Shiva tells Devi that there is no point in telling
the truth about things unless one has become ready for it by lifetimes of
yogic discipline. This is a main theme of KT chapter 1 (see appendix D).
4. Upanishads are a genre of Sanskrit literature. The genre demands
speculative philosophy, as it presupposes yoga practice. The philosophy
is actually not all that difficult to interpret. The disputes among the
Vedantic subschools focus mainly on Brahman and its relation to the
individual consciousness, and on this topic different Upanishadic
passages say different things. In my own interpretation of particular
passages (and all translation involves interpretation), I generally (but not
always) follow Shankara along with the elegant English of Sarvepalli
Ramakrishnan, The Principal Upanishads (1953), who himself seems
usually to follow Shankara.
5. Vedantins are not the only philosophers with reverence for the
Upanishads, not the only ones to try to assimilate scripture into a web of
belief also informed by sense perception and inference. For instance,
Nyaya philosophers join others in the Hindu mainstream in taking
liberation to be the epistemic province of the Upanishads. On this subject
—not on everything—the Upanishads are the pramana, the knowledge
source. The knowledge sources include sruti, scripture or revealed
hearing, but only on mukti and, with qualifications, dharma is sruti not
liable to be trumped by weightier authority, Nyaya insists. And even on
the Upanishads themselves, Vedantin voices are not the only authorities.
An example is the question of what type of knowledge is enjoined by the
Upanishads. The great “New Logician” Gangesha (c. 1325) agreed with
the Vishishtadvaita Vedantins that the Upanishadic sources do not mean
propositional knowledge. In enjoining knowledge of self, something like
self-perception, an immediately intuitive consciousness, is the end in
mind, he says (in his mukti-vada, Tattvacinta-mani II, part 2, ed. N. S.
Ramanuja Tatacharya, 1999, 429–30, my translation): So much being
said, let us take up liberation: “Verily the self is to be learned about,
thought about, and made immediate in meditation [made real to
experience, sakshatkartavya],” is a scriptural statement (that is pertinent).
And from (other) scriptural statements learning that the self is distinct
from the body and the rest, we discriminate, singling out scientifically (by
shastric means) the types of things that words pick out (padartha, the
“categories”), carrying out the thinking (the manana enjoined), which
becomes firm about it through considering the possibilities of it being
understood (in a wrong way).

And it is incorrect that (directly) from knowledge of (the fundamental)

truths produced in conformity with scripture there ceases to be, for the
one for whom this has become immediate, false cognition along with
(perverted) dispositions, the seeds of transmigratory existence. For
such is not found with such phenomena as directional confusion (on
the part of someone dizzy where knowledge does not end the
dizziness).

The point is, as Gangesha goes on to say, that yoga practice is also
necessary, not just intellectual understanding of the Upanishads. Here
we may be inspired, then, by the Nyaya interest in yoga.
6. Mircea Eliade, Yoga Immortality and Freedom (1954), finds first
and foremost Vedic tapas (ascetic heat) as a concept continuous with
yoga, 106–14. K. S. Joshi, “On the Meaning of Yoga” (1965), supports
this conclusion with better citations and argument.
7. Early Vedic usages of the word yoga are principally yoking or
joining, a pair of animals, for instance, and more abstractly any
connection between two things, including even an application of a rule to
an instance. See the discussion in the last section of chapter 1.
8. The Maitri belongs to the Maitrayaniya lineage of the Krishna Yajur
Veda. There is no commentary by Shankara, and hardly any scholar
assigns it to the oldest and principal group, partly because it gives the
name Shiva to its all-in-all theistic conception of Brahman, the Absolute.
In verse 4.5, it mentions the triad of classical Hinduism, Brahma, the
Creator (the word is masculine in gender, as opposed to the word for the
Absolute, brahman, which is neuter), Vishnu, and Rudra (an early name
for Shiva). Max Mueller, however, argues persuasively that the language
and style (a certain use of euphonic combination or sandhi) of the
Upanishad point to an early date. See The Upanishads in the series
edited by Mueller, The Sacred Books of the East, vol. 15, part 2 (1884),
xlvii–xlviii. However, the Maitri is pretty clearly later than the advent of
Buddhism.
The Maitri is a theistic Upanishad with a remarkable use of the word
yoga in 6.25. However, van Buitenen (see note 1 above) has cogently
argued that the passage is an interpolation. Tantric texts may deserve
the credit for the new meaning of mystical union—or the Gita the credit
for yoga-yukta, united (with your higher self) through yoga, an expression
that occurs repeatedly.
9. See again, above, note 6. Among the most resonant passages
from the Rig Veda employing the word tapas is a line from 10.129, the
“Hymn of Creation,” verse 4: “That One was born by force of tapas
(ascetic heat).” This is echoed, for example, by Katha 4.6 (“the One born
of old from tapas”). Mundaka 1.2.11 is a clear example where tapas
means in general yoga practices (though it is usually translated
“austerities”).
10. This is to follow the recension that the Nyaya philosopher,
Gangesha, apparently has, since this is what he quotes (using standard
transliteration): ātmā vā are śrotavyo mantavyo nididbyāsitavyaḥ
(Tattvacintamani II, part 2, ed. N. S. Ramanuja Tatacharya [1999], 396).
Other recensions add the word draṣṭavyaḥ (is to be seen) after are, but
almost all Vedantic as well as Nyaya philosophers remember the theme
of the verse as that the self is to be learned about through hearing,
thought about, and made immediate in meditation: shravana, manana,
and nididhyasitavya.
11. Gangesha, for example, discusses at length libertation in
connection with the Brihadaranyaka quotation (Tattvacintamani II, part 2,
ed. N. S. Ramanuja Tatacharya [1999], 429ff). See note 5 above.
12. Although “immediate meditational experience” is controversial as
a gloss, Gangesha apparently has an Upanishadic edition that includes
the word sakshatkara—put before the eyes, made immediate in
experience—as part of the Upanishadic text (Tattvacintamani II, part 2,
ed. N. S. Ramanuja Tatacharya [1999], 429).
13. The Sanskrit edition I use for the following translations is Ten
Principal Upanishads (1964), which also contains Shankara’s
commentary. All translations are my own. One previous English
rendering more than others has guided my eye and ear: Sarvepalli
Radhakrishnan, The Principal Upanishads (1953). I have also consulted
R. Hume (1921), Sri Aurobindo, The Upanishads (1973), V. Roebuck
(2000), and E. Easwaran (1987).
14. Brihadaranyaka 4.3.9-10 uses loka in a similar way, where there
is no suggestion that the “world” seen would be other than this world we
ordinarily see, though now known as the Brahman: “‘An ocean, a single
seer without duality becomes he whose world (loka) is brahman, O King,’
Yajnavalkya instructed. ‘This is his supreme way. This is his supreme
achievement. This is his supreme world (loka). This is his supreme bliss.
Other beings live on just a small portion of this bliss.’”
15. For the mainstream yogic understanding of the breaths, see
Iyengar, Light on Yoga (1979), 45, “prana… which moves in the region of
the heart and controls respiration; apana, which moves in the sphere of
the lower abdomen and controls the function of eliminating urine and
faeces; samana, which stokes the gastric fires to aid digestion; udana,
which dwells in the thoracic cavity and controls the intake of air and food;
and vyana, which pervades the entire body and distributes the energy
derived from food and breath.” Swami Satyananda, Asana, Pranayama,
Mudra, Bandha (1996), discusses the five “airs” as part of the pranic
body, providing a drawing (364–66). The notion is in the earliest
Upanishads (e.g., Brihadaranyaka 1.5.3) as well as the Yoga Sutra (3.39
and 3.40).
Here is also an interesting passage from Aurobindo, Record of Yoga
(2001), II:1462:

There are five pranas, viz.: prana, apana, samana, vyana, and udana.
The movement of the prana is from the top of the body to the navel,
apana from Muladhara to the navel. Prana and apana meet together
near the navel and create samana. The movement of vyana is in the
whole body. While samana creates bhuta from the foods, vyana
distributes it into the body. The movement of udana is from the navel
to the head. Its work is to carry the virya (tejas) to the head. The
movement of udana is different to the Yogin. Then its movement is
from the Muladhara (from where it carries the virya to the crown of the
head and turns it into ojas) to the crown of the head. [All spelling
following the original.]

16. Shvetashvatara 2.10 is echoed by Gita 5.11.

17. On Shvetashvatara 2.11, Sarvepalli Radhakrishnan (1953) quotes
(translating) the Lankavatara Sutra of Buddhism: “In his exercise, the
Yogin sees (imaginatively) the form of the sun or the moon or something
looking like a lotus, or the underworld or various forms such as skyfire
and the like” (721).
Appendix B. Yogic Passages in the Bhagavad Gita

1. The translation here is my own, as is that of all the verses to follow.

The Sanskrit is taken from The Bhagavad Gita with the Commentary of
Shri Shankaracarya, ed. Dinkar Vishnu Gokhale (1950).
2. For example, the great historian of religions and interpreter of
Yoga, Mircea Eliade, History of Religious Ideas (1982), II:241: see above,
note 43 to chapter 4, where Eliade is quoted.
3. In the classical Vedantic concept as articulated especially by
Ramanuja, God is a much more powerful being than, say, according to
Nyaya. But in no Vedantic theology is God free from universal laws in
self-determination. The Vedantic is not the Cartesian voluntarist God who
can make 5 + 7 = 13. Thus the mention of God’s own yoga in Gita 11.8
can be interpreted as a vision of the laws and principles of manifestation.
4. The Bhagavad Gita with the Commentary of Shri Shankaracarya,
ed. Dinkar Vishnu Gokhale, (1950). Matthew Dasti helped me choose the
passages that appear to be the most relevant to yoga practice, leaving
out the stretches of text more exclusively devoted to metaphysical
conceptions. Among translations by others that I have consulted and that
inform the effort here are, in order of my sense of helpfulness and debt:
Franklin Edgerton (1952), J.A.B. van Buitenen (1981), and Barbara Stoler
Miller (1986). Both Shankara and Ramanuja wrote extensive
commentaries that I have consulted, using Shankara’s in particular as a
dictionary. I have not consulted any English translation of Shankara, but
the translation and commentary on Ramanuja’s Bhashya by J.A.B. van
Buitenen, Ramanuja on the Bhagavadgita (1968), has been invaluable.
5. The idea of self-enlivening, bhavana, is crucial to the aesthetic
tradition drawn on by Abhinava Gupta; see the second section of chapter
5.
6. Conscious identification and control, samyama, is perhaps the
absolutely most important concept of the Yoga Sutra; see the discussion
of siddhis as flowing from samyama in the first section of chapter 5.
7. Janaka is a king who is a character in the Brihadaranyaka
Upanishad and is often mentioned as an example of a yogin who lives in
the world.
8. Compare YS 1.12: “Restriction of fluctuations is accomplished
through practice (abhyasa) and disinterestedness (vairagya).” It seems
likely Patanjali knew the Gita, partly because abhyasa, practice, is vague
and vairagya, disinterestedness, not so vague, hence an odd coupling
and memorable phrase.
9. See note 3 immediately above.
Appendix C. The Yoga Sutra

1. Philipp Maas, Samadhipada (2006). Maas’s apparatus includes

twenty-one published editions of the YS as well as manuscripts in eight
alphabets from different regions of India. For YS chapters 2 through 4, I
have relied on Vimala Karnatak (ed.), Patanjala-yoga-darsanam, 4 vols.
(1992), which follows the subcommentaries (on Vyasa) by Vachaspati (c.
950) and Vijnanabhikshu (c. 1500).
2. Stephen Phillips, “The Conflict of Voluntarism and Dualism in the
Yoga-sutra” (1985).
3. The word atha, now, is viewed within traditional circles as a ritually
auspicious way to begin a text (mangala: see note 54 to chapter 3).
4. See note 7 to chapter 1 on chitta.
5. Probably what is meant is that these are five major types, not that
all fluctuations of chitta fall into a clear subcategory. Emotions, for
example, seem to be left off the list that follows.
6. This is a definition of nonveridical cognition that sounds a lot like
that of Nyaya; see note 10 to chapter 3.
7. Yoga clearly involves control over desire (a form of prana) as well
as thought and emotion. Although desire is not on the list of types of
fluctuation at 1.6, chitta should be thought of as comprising it.
8. An alternative translation: Afterward, from perception of the
purusha, there is lack of desire for (manifest or unmanifest) phenomena.
9. The stretch of sutras beginning here (1.23) and running through
1.28 is discussed in the second section of chapter 5 on bhakti.
10. The match of compassion and the painful (duhkha) here is in
accordance with the traditional matchings of rasa (aesthetic relishing)
with bhava (natural emotional state); see the second section of chapter 5.
11. Sutra 1.35 seems to say that mental silence arises from observing
sense experience. Vyasa, however, gives a different spin: by
concentrating on a particular sense-organ activity along with the nature of
its objects in general—e.g., the tasting organ and taste in general—one
gets an experience of a subtle, prephysical evolute of nature, prakriti.
This is important feedback, for it confirms a person’s trust in yogic
teachings and practices and thus helps to lead to mental silence.
12. An alternative translation for 1.37: A mind (is quiet and restrained)
whose objects are no longer colored by desire.
13. The technical term, samapatti, has been variously translated and
interpreted. Integration of the parts of the being in a yogically balanced
fashion is a reading slightly different from yogic balance, with samapatti
as yogic integration (a rendering that is true to the etymology of sam + ā
+ the root, pat).
14. The word prajna is employed in Mahayana Buddhism to capture
the sixth and best attribute of a bodhisattva, the “perfection of wisdom
and insight,” prajna-paramita.
15. The last two sutras (1.50 and 1.51) are discussed in the book, pp.
85–86.
16. Sutra 2.5 frames the mistake—the “spiritual ignorance,” avidya—
in the reverse of the typical order in tantra. There the mistake is not to
see the eternal, etc., in the noneternal, etc.
17. The notion of moral payback implicit here in 2.14 is discussed in
this book at the end of chapter 3.
18. See, above, pp. 144–45, on the idea, “All is suffering.”
19. This sutra (2.21) together with 2.18 presents a wonderfully
teleological conception of prakriti, nature. Though these links between
nature and the conscious being look rather like metaphysical patchwork,
at least now we can understand the urge to practice yoga: it is in nature,
in her essential heart .
20. Vyasa interprets 2.23 as saying that the conjunction, though
misleading for the moment, leads eventually to the genuine perception of
the conscious being’s own powers as well as the separate powers of
prakriti—in consonance with the optimistic, teleological outlook of 2.21
and 2.18.
21. For example, nurturing thoughts and feelings of nonharmfulness is
a practice to be employed to check a feeling of wanting to injure
someone.
22. According to the tantric interpretation of Swami Satyananda
Saraswati (1976), this sutra (2.37) says that from mastery of this niyama
the yogin or yogini comes to live in an atmosphere of abundance,
impersonally enjoying, so to say, the wealth of the world.
23. Freed from concern for wealth, you are relaxed enough to
remember—by way of triggering samskaras formed in previous births—
activities in previous lives, including what it was you did that is key to
your present personality and station in life. Thus this sutra does not have
to be read theistically. The theistic interpretation—here I follow Swami
Satyananda (1976)—has it that, cleansed of personal interests, you can
discern God’s reason for giving you the current birth along with your
individual dharma, what you should try to do or be.
24. Sutra 2.45 is discussed in the second section of chapter 5.
25. 2.46 is the famous sutra on asana. The point seems to be that
whereas it is perhaps not so hard to do an asana and make it firm and
steady if you put in the effort, mastery entails the ability to do it
effortlessly, easily, with pleasure (sukha).
26. Possibly, in accordance with modern tantra, the last part of the
sutra (2.47) encourages, in certain asanas, meditation on kundalini, the
serpent power, the shakti in the lowest of the seven centers, chakras,
according to the occult physiology.
27. Sutra 2.52 echoes Isha Upanishad, verse 15: “The face of Truth is
covered with a golden lid.”
28. The classical commentators take sutra 3.3 to indicate a
transcendence of subject/object consciousness. But it may mean an utter
absorption in an object with no self-consciousness. See, above, notes 1
and 2 to chapter 5, on samadhi.
29. An alternative translation for sutra 3.6 following Vyasa: The yoga
of conscious identification (samyama) is to be developed in stages.
30. In other words, samyama is intrinsic to, though perhaps not fully
developed in, the practices of nonharmfulness, cleanliness, asanas, and
so on, according to sutra 3.7. B.K.S. Iyengar makes much of a mutual
entailment of all the limbs (or in a weaker version, mutual support), in his
Tree of Yoga (2002) and elsewhere. The limbs are not stages, in this
view, but rather to be practiced simultaneously.
31. For instance, a person might constantly concentrate on om to the
point that a moment of perishing consciousness and a moment of arising
consciousness would have exactly the same content, presumably for
long periods.
 32. Properties and moments of change of property fall into discrete
units—it seems to be assumed here in accordance with Buddhists and
others. States of mind, perceptions, rememberings, etc., are momentary.
However, the changes would occur in chitta, mind stuff. This and the last
sutra (3.14 and 3.15) are metaphysical statements, combining the picture
of the mind as a kind of substance with that of a serial nature for mental
occurrences.
33. Sutra 3.17 seems to endorse the philosophic task of differentiating
the likes of use and mention, sense and reference, object and view, or
word, meaning, and reference. But how, then, could the siddhi be
credible? (None of my philosophy colleagues has it.) 34. An additional
sutra does not appear in most published editions I have seen, and
Karnak (1992) does not include it. But there is no harm in looking at it in a
note: 3.21´. etena śabdâdy-antar-dhānam uktam.

By this (by the information in 3.21) is explained the disappearance of

sound and so on.

As the representations of Maas, Samadhipada (2006) make plain,

sutras in manuscripts were often written entirely embedded within the
commentary by Vyasa. And here indeed Vyasa uses almost the very
words of 3.21’ in his commentary on 3.21.
35. Vyasa explains that the “cosmic becoming,” or “universe,”
mentioned in sutra 3.26 consists of seven worlds, or planes of being,
ranging from our world of earth (bhu) to the three worlds of the Brahman
along with three intermediate worlds.
36. The interpretation of this siddhi as intellectual knowledge, as
expertise in astronomy, is implausible. The implausibility urges us to find
a metaphor. Unfortunately, there is no consensus about what occult
phenomena may be meant. And it is interesting that usually long-winded
Vyasa has practically nothing to say about this sutra (3.27) or the next,
and we are left wondering what kind of knowledge, jnana, is intended.
37. The last three sutras (3.29–31), and perhaps the next, appear to
express the tantric occult physiology of chakras and energy canals.
Vyasa talks, however, about elements one interior to another, suggesting
cylinders, as in the sheath or kosha theory.
 38. Counter to the mainstream, I think the word pratibhad (3.33) is an
adjective, qualifying an understood samyamat.
39. Sutra 3.36 makes a strange use of the word varta (normally
“news,” not “smelling”), but I follow Vyasa in completing the list.
40. Georg Feuerstein, The Yoga-sutra of Patanjali (1979) thinks—
contrary to Vyasa—that sutra 3.38 may be referring to an astral or subtle
body as opposed to the physical body. Swami Satyananda, Four
Chapters on Freedom (1976) says this is a very advanced siddhi that
should not be tried at home.
The conceptual problem is that chitta is individuated by purusha: one
chitta, one individual conscious being, that is to say, one mind, one
purusha. And each mind has its own body, one would think. But this sutra
says otherwise. Bodies can be controlled by alien chitta, which here
seems less thought and emotion than a kind of psychic energy.
41. See note 15 to appendix A on the five breaths or pranas.
42. Ether is the medium of sound, according to mainstream classical
Indian physics. There are also other conceptions, as noted, some of
which relate the elements and subtle elements of Samkhya to koshas
and chakras.
43. Feuerstein, The Yoga-sutra of Patanjali (1979), 118, cites the
Mahabharata (12.318.7) for assigning the siddhis in general to the subtle
or pranic body as opposed to the physical.
Vyasa provides the list of eight: shrinking, expansion, lightness or
levitation, extension (wide occult reach), freedom of preference, general
mastery, creativity, and wish-fulfillment. See also, in appendix E, my
comments under verse 3.8 of the Hatha Yoga Pradipika for a slightly
different list from King Bhoja (c. 1050) and the HYP commentator,
Brahmananda (nineteenth century).
44. Sutra 3.48 is not to be interpreted as promising omnipotence but
presumably mastery over one’s own prakriti, although it does say
pradhana, which means the principal or root.
45. Other translators and interpreters take sutra 3.53 to refer to
differentiating material things of the same type, two pots, for instance.
However, since two pots cannot be in the same place (at the same time),
a better reading seems to be that the discrimination is to be between
consciousness and nature—which do occupy, so to say, the same place
at the same time, at least in the sattvafication of nature. This
interpretation also accords better with the topic of the immediately
preceding and following sutras.
46. The stretch of sutras opening the fourth book, 4.1–4, is discussed
in the first section of chapter 5.
47. All voluntary action has chitta, mind, as the purusha’s instrument
or intermediary. People are numerous, acting in diverse ways, but an
action on anyone’s part involves chitta, which is of a single type for
everyone. As remarked, some have translated chitta as mind stuff (e.g.,
J. H. Woods). In Samkhya, and sometimes in Vedanta too, it is
considered a kind of subtle matter. It is the receptacle or locus of
samskara, mental dispositions, such as skills, memories, and habits.
It is my view that it is pretty consistently treated by Patanjali as a third
basic kind of existent, especially here in the fourth chapter, along with
consciousness (purusha) and nature (prakriti). Of course, the official
position is to make it part of prakriti.
48. The implication sutra 4.7 seems to make is that the yogin is free of
karmic payback, but perhaps the idea is a little more elaborate. The
yogin’s karma could be of such a universal or harmonious order that it
invites no payback, as in the theme of the Gita. In any case, the sutra
does not deny that the yogin acts and thereby makes karma.
49. This is the first time the word vasana has been used. Previously,
the theory of karma had been couched in terms of samskara, mental
dispositions. The suggestion seems to be that vasana—like Ducasse’s
talents and deep dispositions that could bridge lifetimes (see chapter 4)—
are translife samskara, whereas at least some samskara perish with the
death of the body.
50. Here (4.10) we get an idea of connection, albeit obscure, between
mental dispositions and desire, or, as say the commentators, desire to
live, ashisha (āśiṣa). The next sutra (4.11) says that it is a causal
connection, and Vyasa and his followers try to spell it out more precisely.
I speculate that Patanjali sees the eternity of the purusha projected into
nature as a desire to continue forever in one’s current identity.
Vijnanabhiksu constructs an argument about the permanence of chitta,
the substratum of desire and mental dispositions. It echoes Udayana’s
argument for rebirth, reviewed in chapter 4.
 Sutra 4.10 echoes Buddhist teaching. Compare the Second Noble
Truth: “Suffering comes from desire (which has no beginning).” It’s as
though near one’s core, though not part of one’s genuine essence, there
is a desire component, perhaps common with all life. The sutra also
reinforces Vedantic readings and the Vedantic tendency to see chitta as
a form of prana (breath, life energy), a universal vital substance to which
desire is natural.
51. This claim of causal relationship mirrors the structure and
interrelationship of the Four Noble Truths: “Eliminate desire, and
suffering, its fruit, will be eliminated.” Vyasa’s reading, through the notion
of alambana, dependence (of x on y), does express this structure as
4.11’s main point. But the terms of the relationship, which he understands
to be determined by content, are not for him in either case subconscious
mechanisms but rather consequences of action understood hedonically,
in terms of pleasure and pain; Vyasa’s “six-spoked wheel of existence,”
which really has only five spokes, similarly parallels and contrasts with
the famous twelve-spoked wheel of early Buddhism, the bhava chakra. It
runs: 1) from virtue, pleasure, and from vice, pain; 2) from pleasure,
attachment/attraction, and from pain, aversion; 3) action (to acquire what
attracts or to avoid that to which one is averse); 4) consequences of
action (in benefits to others or injury); 5) virtue and vice—and so on,
around again. The Buddhist wheel includes death and rebirth.
52. This and the following two sutras, the triad 4.12–14, address the
metaphysics of time from a Samkhya perspective.
Vyasa takes a straightforward interpretive route, proposing a realism
about past and future that is severely qualified. The past and the future
do not exist in the same way as the present. The future exists as “to be
manifest” and the past as “having been experienced.” Nevertheless, we,
and especially yogins, have knowledge of things past and future, and so
there must be truth makers (facts of the matter) grounding the
knowledge.
53. Vyasa interprets the subtle (sukshma) in sutra 4.13 as applying to
the past and the future, which is generic, unmanifest, or potential. Nature,
which is composed of the three strands, sattva, rajas, and tamas, is the
font of all possibility. Indeed, in a sense all particulars preexist (or
postexist) in that they are true potentials within prakriti, combinations of
the strands. This is the doctrine of sat-karya-vada, the “preexistence of
the effect,” which is aired at length in the subcommentaries.
The point from the perspective of yogic practice is apparently to have
a view that would give us a sense of nature as a whole—including the
three times—and that would lead us to indifference to particular
happenings. This in turn, would be, in Patanjali’s conception, a step
toward utter transcendence.
54. Sutra 4.15 begins a stretch of text that is, in my opinion,
Patanjali’s best philosophizing, best stretch, that is to say, of
argumentation concerning mind and consciousness. The most
compelling arguments of the entire YS occur here.
Counter to the Samkhya theme of seeing everything as like
everything else in being a transformation of prakriti, the passage opens
with the current sutra establishing “mind” (chitta) as—let us say, to make
the point clear—belonging to a distinct category. Chitta is different from
worldly things, as well as different from consciousness. Patanjali’s
philosophy has been mislabeled a dualism. For all intents and purposes,
it posits a triplicity of consciousness, mind, and object. Note, furthermore,
that minds are paired with purushas, with individual conscious beings:
one purusha, one chitta. Of course, chitta is also colored and variously
determined by objects and natural processes.
In terms, then, of the three categories, Patanjali’s yoga could be
characterized as the bringing of the chitta under the control of the
purusha, free from the influence of prakriti. The mind becomes an
instrument like the hand, which one can hold still or move purposefully,
not like a neighbor’s radio, over which one has no control.
55. Objects exist independently of cognition. The question at the end
of the sutra (4.16) helps us to see this quickly—whatever be the
arguments of idealists, Buddhists and others, who would convince us that
objects are mind dependent. The fluctuations of our chitta, i.e., what
objects are to us, are, of course “mind dependent,” being composed of
chitta and shaped—I would say in opposition to the standard
interpretation of Patanjali—in part by the individual conscious being (who
practices yoga and samyama in particular). The world is common to
everyone, though I have my individual chitta and you yours, with mine
conforming (to some extent) to my volition and yours to your volition.
56. B.K.S. Iyengar, Light on the Yoga Sutras of Pantanjali (1976),
suggests this interpretation of 4.17, which is different from Vyasa’s.
Another possibility for the “according to” phrase is: “depending on the
coloring conferred.” This would continue what appears to be engagement
with Buddhist idealism. One concedes the “grain of truth” in the
opponent’s position: our individual expectations and conditioning
determine, as you Buddhists insist, what objects are for us differently
from what they are for others—and it all comes out determined in the
best way when we practice yoga (or the Eightfold Path of the Buddha).
Here we all agree. But let us not concede the essential, namely, here, the
view of objects as real and external to chitta.
57. Each individual knows his or her own mind and is capable of
controlling it, not other minds. At least, normally this would be the case.
Knowledge of one’s own mind as embracing fluctuations over time
proves the enduringness of oneself as the knower.
This argument is standardly used against Buddhists who would deny
the separate existence of a self, as discussed in chapter 4. Only a self
that endures is capable of the knowledge that we have of our minds
fluctuating in one way at one time and in another way at another, or, in a
different conception, has memory of cognizing something earlier. Memory
dispositions, samskara, formed by previous experience are triggered and
cause remembering. In the YS’s conception, the individual who has
knowledge of certain fluctuations occurring at a certain time and of others
occurring at other times is one and the same, that is to say, unchanging.
There would seem to be, on this view, no possibility of unconscious
mental fluctuations. The tie between the purusha and its chitta seems
implausibly tight. But again, the yogic point would be that the individual
can take control.
58. Here again (4.19) Patanjali sides with classical realists, Nyaya
philosophers, and others, against Buddhist idealists (and Advaitins and
others): cognitions are not self-luminous since they are themselves
known. Cognitions are instruments of a self’s knowledge of the world,
according to Nyaya, and themselves have intentionality—or a content, an
object-directedness—evidenced in terms of the things known. But
cognitions (jnana) can be cognized as cognitions, through apperception,
anuvyayasaya, an after-cognition, in Nyaya. Patanjali appears to have
similar views about chitta. Here Nyaya’s cognitions are fluctuations of
chitta. So since chitta is perceived, it is not self-luminous.
59. In the context of the classical arguments, nonsimultaneity of self-
and object-cognition—sometimes presented as phenomological fact—
buttresses the view of cognition as other-illumined, para-prakasha. Here
(4.20) the point seems to hook up with the supposition that the purusha is
required for the mind to be known. Two sutras below (4.22), it is claimed
that the chitta, the mind, can know simultaneously the purusha and the
world, under certain conditions.
It is tempting to read 4.20 as presenting a battle over the directedness
of chitta, whether to cognize self or world. Thus it would show the true
dualism of the old Yoga worldview, to choose world or self. I take it that
part of the “tantric turn” is to deny that the yogin cannot know the world at
the same time as the self is known. However, that idea seems already
present with the message of 4.23, which is then a “tantric” sutra, like
many in YS chapter 3. The right reading here seems to be that the chitta
cannot cognize both itself and the world at the same time, not that it
cannot reflect the purusha and cognize itself at the same time (as
asserted in 4.23).
60. A unitary purusha is required to know chitta, not one cognition
after another, as, for instance, Nyaya holds. Here Patanjali sides with
Nyaya’s adversaries who advocate the self-illumination thesis. Such a
regress argument against “other-illuminationism” is often repeated in
philosophic texts as a mainstay of “self-illuminationism.”
The point here (4.21), then, seems to be to insist that the mind is a
unitary substance subject to fluctations, as opposed to a stream of
individual cognitions occurring one after the other. Note that the Buddhist
schools share with Nyaya the picture of cognition as serial. Patanjali
takes a different view, which he supposes allows him, but not Nyaya, to
avoid the regress objection.
Consciousness rests with the self; it is intrinsic. The conscious being
grasps mentality in a single swoop, so to say, past, present, and future
fluctuations not yet manifest. It does not grasp chitta by means of other
chitta. Otherwise, there would be an insuperable gap. An unbridgeable
gap would also open were we to think of chitta as incapable of cognizing
itself. The pertinent background assumption seems to be that the
purusha uses chitta when it is no longer moved by the world, to self-
cognize and to reflect the purusha’s spiritual reality.
Remembering too would be impossible on the serial view, which sees
cognition as fleeting. One could not simultaneously know that one is
remembering something or other and actually remember the something
or other, nor, again, could one remember perceiving it.
61. The first word of this sutra (4.22) is chiti, power of consciousness,
not chitta, mind. Perhaps it should be thought to designate the purusha,
but I have translated it as I understand it, namely, as chitta or a form that
the mind can take. The word recurs in the very last sutra, 4.34.
Different readings are offered by the classical commentators and, as
might be expected, by modern interpreters. Vijnanabhikshu, for example,
finds here a double reflection theory: the reflection of the purusha in the
mind doubles back such that the mind as seemingly conscious is located
in the purusha, who is, then, the knower. Vachaspati interprets the sutra
in line with his view that the higher mind (buddhi) is the knower in
everyday knowledge, not the purusha.
My reading is in line with the following sutra, 4.23, which says
explicitly that the chitta is capable of knowing both the purusha and the
world. Here, it seems to me, we have either the breakdown of the
metaphysical dualism of purusha and prakriti as classically interpreted or
a psychological bridge concept, actually both.
Practicewise, the sutra makes entire sense. One tries to still the mind
in order, within the mind, to know the self.
62. This sutra (4.24) continues the argument against the philosophers
of other schools. In Western philosophy, Immanuel Kant is famous for
supposing that the mind synthesizes impressions and thoughts in
concepts, with the unity of the deepest organizational concepts provided
by the unity of the self. That is to say, the unity that makes thought
possible is the “transcendental unity of apperception.” Kant’s idea is not
too removed, it seems to me, from Patanjali’s here. The chitta unifies the
information of the senses, in part by absorbing the information stored in
samskara (formed in the current life) and indeed that of the deep
activators than span lifetimes, vasana.
63. In this fourth chapter it is at this point, sutra 4.25, that Patanjali
turns away from the holistic goal of transformation to the other-
worldliness of kaivalya. Note that the sutra can be read as indicating a
process, suggesting that a yogin who sees the distinction would naturally
want no part of nature. And that idea would be compatible with the idea
of another yogin, the tantrini, let us call her, who would not abandon
embodied existence. Mahayana Buddhism sees the choice as between
becoming a “solitary buddha” (pratyeka buddha) and a bodhisattva.
64. It is the chitta that is the beneficiary of yoga practice, according to
the conception here (4.26).
65. Various theories have been offered, none obviously superior to
the rest, about why the state is called Cloud of Dharma. I would like to
say, with a touch of sarcasm, that it is because dharma is clouded, that
is, duty abandoned along with the world in a kind of self-indulgence of
expectation of self-bliss.
66. Sutra 4.31 may be read as an argument in favor of world
abandonment. There remains little of interest once one has had a taste of
self-absorption. This could be right.
67. Apparently, the individual nature of the yogin, that portion of
prakriti making up his body and mind (and whatever subtle bodies too,
presumably), would decompose into the generic elements or principles
(tattva) into which nature can be analyzed. No longer would there be
individual embodiment and continuity of karma across lives.
68. This sutra (4.33) seems to say—partly by the pragmatics of its
placement near the end of the text—that just before passing into the state
of utter self-absorption known as kaivalya, aloneness (an aloneness of
contemplation of contemplation, so to say), the yogin can see the
process propelling him to the summum bonum. If this is right, I should like
to emphasize that such a person could not report his or her experience,
since reporting requires use of mental and bodily instruments. Thus this
sutra is speculation.
69. The use of the word chiti here (4.34) for the purusha’s power of
consciousness suggests reading chiti at 4.22 (see above) in the same
way, namely, as a conscious power inherent to the conscious being and
as distinct from chitta. However, I stand by my rendering of 4.22, taking
the usages to be different.
Appendix D. Selections from (Tantric) Kashmiri Shaivite Texts

1. Teun Goudriaan and Sanjukta Gupta, Hindu Tantric and Shakta

Literature (1981), present the history of indological study of Hindu tantra
along with the broad divisions of tantric literature (1–31).
2. David White, The Alchemical Body (1996), 335ff.
3. This is a summary judgment that Professor Sanderson has made in
many venues. See, in particular, the discussion in “Shaivism and the
Tantric Traditions,” in The World’s Religions, ed. S. Sutherland, et al.
(1988), 679–80.
4. Edwin Gerow, “Abhinava’s Aesthetics as a Speculative Paradigm”
(1994), 186–87.
5. Indologists use the metaphor of “streams” of Shaivism, among
which are Trika, Krama, and Kaula, which are streams of both
practices/rituals and philosophy, whereas Pratyabhijna and Spanda are
only philosophies. These five “systems,” if you will, are brought together
by Abhinava, although before him they have different Agamas that do
not, apparently, have the same views.
Trika gets its name from a “triad” of Agamas taken to be most
important in convergence with philosophic or theological ideas, the “triad”
of Shiva, Shakti, and their union, and other symbols or sets with three
members; Krama from the psychological thesis that spiritual progress to
enlightenment is a matter of a “sequence” of steps; and Kaula, of course,
the “family” of seekers, though the word can mean the entire universe
and has other connotations too (see note 12 below). Pandey,
Abhinavagupta (1963), 594–97, identifies different meanings of kula, and,
on 295–96 and 597–603, different meanings of trika.
It seems that the Kaula comes to be the preferred name for the
umbrella of unification Abhinava achieves—like a stream that becomes a
mighty river after converging with other streams, which then could be
known by the other names, like the lower Mississippi thought of as the
continuation of the Missouri.
6. According to Somadeva Vasudeva, who has translated and
explained large portions of the Malinivijayottara Tantra, Abhinava does
not occupy himself very much with yoga because he takes this and other
Tantras clearly to spell out the necessary practices. There is no need for
him to detail them again; see The Yoga of the Malinivijayottaratantra
(2004), 146.
7. The four, which Abhinava takes from various Agamas, are: the
“nonway,” anupaya, for those whose immersion in the self is effortless,
without practice prerequisites; the “way of Shambhu (Shiva),”
shambhavopaya, for those from whom the effort needed is minimal; the
“way of the Shakti worshipper (shakta),” shaktopaya, for those whose
practice is to be mainly through the mind, involving meditation, japa
(mantra repetition, in particular so ’ham), and tarka (spiritual reasoning:
see below); and the “way of the minute,” anavopaya, for those whose
natures are coarser, requiring more of the traditional disciplines of asana,
pranayama, and so on. The four are not really separate paths but rather
form a continuum starting with the fourth. See K. C. Pandey,
Abhinavagupta (1963), 314–15, who cites Abhinava’s Tantraloka. Some
of these terms—anupaya, etc.—have slightly different meanings with
other authors and texts. See, e.g., Navjivan Rastogi, The Krama
Tantricism of Kashmir (1979), 4–17.
Surprisingly, Abhinava says tarka (spiritual reasoning) is the most
important “limb” (anga) of yoga, more important than any and all of the
eight listed by Patanjali. Thus tarka is not (as with Nyaya) counterfactual
reasoning meant to undermine an opponent’s position or to strengthen
one’s own but rather something like Kant’s transcendental reasoning.
That is to say, tarka is able to reveal the conditions of the possibility of
our experience, which are, in brief, the tattvas or “principles” of
Shiva/Shakti’s manifestation. Its importance derives from its ability to
correct the dualistic misimpressions derived from sense perception,
specifically that objects are discrete entities with nothing unifying them
and that we as individuals are their perceivers.
Taken together, Abhinava’s criticism of the “eight-limbed yoga”
(ashtanga yoga) of Patanjali and his advocacy of tarka show that for him
the mind matters. Mental silence, chitta-vritti-nirodha (YS 1.2), is only a
step along the path. It is to be interpreted as the ability to turn off mental
chatter at will. The ability clearly does not preclude tarka, which we might
render as “metaphysical reasoning.” See Paul Mueller-Ortega, “On
Subtle Knowledge and the Refinement of Thought” (2005).
 8. This is the main thesis of dozens of essays collected in Poet-Saints
of India, ed. M. Sivaramkrishna and S. Roy (1996).
9. K. C. Pandey (1963) has to date presented the most
comprehensive study in English. Much of the text has been translated
into Italian; see Raniero Gnoli, Tantraloka (1980).
10. Pandey, Abhinavagupta (1963), 549. See also Pandey’s appendix
B, 909–42.
11. Goudriaan and Gupta, Hindu Tantric and Shakta Literature
(1981), 95.
12. Sir John Woodroffe (a.k.a. Arthur Avalon) composed a sketchy
summary that includes translations of a few remarkable verses. He is
also the general editor of a series of tantric texts in Sanskrit, including our
Kularnava Tantra, which was edited by Taranatha Vidyaratna and
published in Madras in 1916. That text, along with Woodroffe’s
introduction in English and an eloquent summary by M. P. Pandit in
English (more than a hundred pages in length and highly
recommendable), was published in 1965, and the book has been
reprinted several times since. It is listed as Arthur Avalon, Kularnava
Tantra (1965). The Sanskrit I follow is from this edition.
Advanced teacher of Anusara Yoga Christina Sell flagged the
Kularnava Tantra (KT) for me. She also transcribed a first draft of a
translation that we made together.
M. P. Pandit’s summary is not only eloquent but also quite extensive,
sometimes following the text closely. In addition, true translations of
some portions of the Kularnava Tantra have appeared. The chapters on
the guru, 12 and 13, have been translated in part by André Padoux, “The
Tantric Guru,” in David White, ed., Tantra in Practice (2000), 41–51. This
same book contains translations by Douglas Brooks, “The Ocean of the
Heart: Selections from the Kularnava Tantra,” 347–60. Brooks translates
about 80 verses drawn from almost all of the text’s 17 chapters (there are
approximately 125 verses per chapter).
Brooks’s introduction to Kaula philosophy in Tantra in Practice, which
is given in connection with the verses he renders, is the best I have seen,
penetrating, concise, and comprehensive. Unfortunately, however,
Brooks mistranslates the word kula as “heart.” This is at best a
metaphorical sense that is not at all evident unless a lot of Shaiva
philosophy is explained. The word kula means ordinarily “family” or any
group closely connected through emotional or other bonds. A related
meaning is the body, the “family” of limbs, and a third everything, the
“family” of the universe.
Georg Feuerstein has translated chapter 9, on yoga, 134 verses, with
an occasional explanatory comment: The Yoga Tradition (1998), 369–79.
Feuerstein anglicizes the Sanskrit kula, treating it as a proper name. This
practice would be fine if we were told the word’s range of meanings, the
name’s connotations. Gudrun Buhnemann has translated chapter 15, on
the “preliminary ritual,” puras-charana, in Ritual and Speculation in Early
Tantrism: Essays in Honor of André Padoux, ed. T. Goudriaan (1992),
61–106. What Buhnemann describes as a “free translation” of the entire
text by Ram Kumar Rai has been published, but I have, unfortunately, not
been able to secure it. Goudriaan and Gupta, Hindu Tantric and Shakta
Literature, also translate (elegantly) a few verses (93 and 94).
13. Chapter 3 of the KT takes up a traditional division of Tantras and
Agamas into four, matching the four directions, adding a fifth, the
Urddhva Amnaya, “Upper Road of the High Tradition”—a vertical axis
distinct from the four horizontal directions. The five issue from the five
mouths of Shiva, all leading to enlightenment but with the “Upper Road”
as the best (3.19).
14. Presumably, Shiva refers here (2.3) to the “yoginis” who are said
to have stood at the center of especially the early Kaula rituals.
15. As explained (note 13), from each of Shiva’s five mouths comes a
different scriptural tradition. An alternative reading of 2.5 says “firmly
established from mouth to mouth.” God (Shiva/Devi) is, nevertheless,
here too implied as the founding Guru, the World Teacher, who stands at
the head of the lineage, as (S) he does of all teaching of crafts. (See the
second section of chapter 5.) 16. Although the Shaivite is mentioned
separately, the Right-handed, Left-handed, and Siddhanta are usually
considered forms or streams of Shaivism. Siddhanta Agamas are dualist,
borrowing from Samkhya with less alteration than in other systems or
streams. The Right-handed, M. P. Pandit writes (Avalon 1965:30), is “the
path where karma, bhakti, and jnana are skilfully harmonized and
synthecized” (italics in the original). The Left-handed is a path of
transgression or reversal from “outward-directed” energies (pravritti) to
the “inward” (nivritti), also according to Pandit (30–31).
 17. An alternative reading of 2.9: it comes as a gift directly from Shiva.
18. This is to accept the alternative reading given by Vidyaratna in a
footnote to 2.23 from one of his manuscripts.
19. There are three denominative verbs (verbs made from nouns) in
this verse, all in the reflexive mode, atmane-pade (becomes), as opposed
to the transitive or irreflexive, parasmai-pade (acts on). To preserve the
construction in English, we might say, anglicizing bhoga, which means
“enjoyment”: “On the Way of the Family, bhoga yogas, being-tripped-up
dances, and life heavens, O Queen” (bhogo yogāyate sākṣāt pātakaṃ
sukṛtāyate / mokṣāyate ca saṃsāraḥ kuladharme kulêśvari).
20. Here in honor of all Anusara teachers let me translate (with
transliteration in the standard form) one more verse. Chapter 14, verse
38 is responsible, I am told, for the “Anusara” name: “śakti-pātânusāreṇa
śiṣyo ’nugraham arhati / yatra na śaktir na patati tatra siddhir na jāyate.”

The student, the disciple becomes worthy and capable of Grace by

aligning with (anusāra) the descent (or reception, literally, “fall”) of
Shakti (divine energy). Where Shakti is not descending (alternatively,
where the guru’s initiation has not been received), no perfection
(siddhi) is born.

An alternative translation is provided by Brooks, “The Ocean of the

Heart: Selections from the Kularnava Tantra,” 359. Brooks does not give,
as I have, occult ambience to “descent of Shakti,” interpreting śakti-pāta
as amounting to initiation and the grace received from the guru in the
ceremony. The text is probably meant to be taken also in that sense. And
the overall context of chapter 14 is against me. Nevertheless, double
meaning is a virtue of the verses of KT as it is for poetry in general. The
KT is elegant poetry, exhibiting all the tropes loved by aestheticians,
including, to be sure, shlesha, the pun or double entendre. Unfortunately
in English there is no way to render double meaning except by the
artificial means of parentheses (no phrase in English means both descent
of Shakti and initiation). Note that M. P. Pandit (Woodroffe 1965:104) in
his summary reads the phrase pretty much the same way I do (or, I
should say, I follow him): “The disciple receives the Grace according to
the impact of the Shakti, shakti-pata; where there is no impact of shakti,
there is no fulfillment.”
21. Here are the first and third verses from Paul Mueller-Ortega’s
translation of Abhinava’s Anubhava-nivedana-stotra, “The Song of Praise
Intended to Communicate the Direct Experience of the Absolute,” which
has a total of four verses; from David White, ed., Tantra in Practice
(2000), 585–86.

1. The accomplished Tantric yogin, whose mind and breath have

been dissolved through complete immersion in the innermost object of
perception, the supreme goal of yoga—such a yogin then abides with
a silenced but open vision, the pupils of the eyes unmoving. Though
he [is seen to] gaze still on the outer world, in truth his vision
assuredly does not rest on its [apparent outwardness]. This is the seal
of Shambhu—the shambhava mudra, the Shaiva “seal” of unitary
consciousness, the performing of the ultimate “stance” of Shiva’s
illumination.

This state of true and ultimate mystical vision, O Divine Master, is

produced only because of your potent and illuminating grace. This is
the domain of Shambhu, the gracious Lord, the true state of reality
which is beyond the experience of… the fullness [of the conditions of
ordinary awareness] as well as beyond even the [extraordinary] void
states [of advanced Tantric meditation].…

3. In that state, whatsoever words may emerge from the mouth of

such a yogin are, indeed, transcendentally charged mantras. The
aggregate form of the body—within which the experience of pleasure
and pain are constantly arising—that very bodily form [of the
illuminated yogin] is nevertheless the mudra or seal that reveals [the
experience of the Absolute].

The spontaneous and natural flow of the breath [which produces the
natural mantric sound hamsa continuously]—that, indeed, is the
extraordinary and highest yoga itself. Having directly experienced the
unparalleled splendor, the illuminating glory of the divine shakti, in
truth, what will then not reveal itself to me?
 A word about the mantra, hamsa, which has both a literal and a
figurative meaning as well as a distinct, double meaning when its two
syllables are taken in reverse order, sa and ham. By attraction from the
“Great Statement” of the Isha Upanishad, viz., so ’ham, its second or
double meaning is: “I am He (the Conscious Being in the Sun and
everywhere, the Absolute, the Brahman).” The mantra so ’ham has
extraordinary resonance. It is the climax of the Upanishad, while the short
Isha, which has only eighteen verses, comes first in traditional Vedantic
collections (in both Advaita and theistic lineages). Then, there is the
primary meaning of the word, hamsa, which is the Siberian crane—as I
surmise on the basis of the evidence (against several divergent
translation conventions, “goose,” “swan,” “eagle,” etc., partly because this
bird, unlike the other candidates, flies over the Himalayas to summer in
the north while wintering in India). Thus the secondary meaning,
connected beautifully to the first, is the transmigrating individual, jivatman
(see the beginning of the third section of chapter 5). Repeating this
mantra thousands of times, the seeker hears so ‘ham equally with the
generic name of his individual soul—the mantra is Abhinava’s favorite as
well as glorified in numerous Kula texts, e.g., Kularnava Tantra, chapter
3, almost the whole of which is devoted to praising its virtues.
The text of the hymn I translate is from K. C. Pandey, Abhinavagupta
(1963), 952–53 (placed immediately before the Anubhava-nivedana-
stotra).
22. Lilian Silburn, Hymnes de Abhinava (1970), 37–47 and 85–97. My
only criticism of the commentary, which runs several pages in inspired
prose, is that the professor takes perhaps too much opportunity to
elaborate Abhinava’s monistic philosophy. Some ideas of Silburn’s have
the barest point d’appui in the poem’s actual words. Her comments are
nevertheless usually insightful and informative.
23. Here and in the next verse, in-breath and out-breath are only
meant in part (Silburn’s translation is in error here, 87). In breathing in,
pranic energy flows up. In breathing out, pranic energy in the form called
apana, down-breath energy, moves down. Air may in the first case be
going in and down, but the pranic energy rises; similarly with out-breath,
that is, the energy pushes down. The divinities are stationed in the prana,
in the first two of five types (see note 15 to appendix A). This suggests
endorsement of pranayama as a yogic method, but see again note 7 to
this appendix.
The two energies are the portals for entry into the occult domain,
where our ordinary faculties and activities become material for offerings
by the various divinities to Shiva/Shakti (as Silburn points out).
24. The word vimarsha, translated here “self-consciousness,” means
more broadly “reflection,” as in the mental effort required to make an
inference. One “reflects” upon seeing smoke that wherever is smoke
there is fire, and that thus there must be fire here too. With Abhinava and
his predecessors in Pratya bhijna (Recognition) philosophy and the
Spanda-karika (“Verses on the [Divine] Vibration [Creative of the
Universe]”), the word is used for the process of self-realization, or self-
immersion, where there is a recognition that comprehends both the
universal/transcendent (“That”) and the individual/immanent (“This”):
“That is This.”
The word lila, “play,” has Advaita and more broadly monist
reverberations: see note 7 to chapter 5, above. Brahman self-manifests
for the purpose of novel delight. Everything contributes to ananda from
the right perspective.
The use of the masculine “Bhairava” so often together with the
feminine “Bhairavi” suggests the figure of the Ardha-narishvara, Half-
Female God, depicted in statues as divided at midline into, on the
statue’s right, a divine male torso, etc., and, on the left, a divine female.
25. One may wonder whereto in our bodies are there references? The
answer: certitude and rational intelligence. These are divinities in our
body consisting of higher mind, to use the theory of the koshas; see
figure 4A.
26. Here we see explicitly expressed the thesis that pride and egoism
—so vilified in yogic traditions—are a force of divine manifestation,
offered to the Ultimate by—we might note—the most tolerant and
indulgent of the divinities, the Mother, Shambhavi, the Kind. Abhinava
makes explicit which deity reigns in which region of the divine lotus in a
couple of verses such as this one. For the other identifications, I rely on
Silburn (1970).
27. The Sanskrit word translated “imagined possibilities” is vikalpa,
imagination in the technical sense of not being about the present or past
but rather the future. But these are really thoughts that present life
“options,” so to say, the imagined possibilities of getting what we want
and avoiding what we want to avoid that our chattering minds occupy
themselves with daily.
28. The six philosophies are those that are Vedic in lineage and, let
us say, religious practice, though all hardly regard the Veda in the same
way: Mimamsa, Vedanta, Nyaya, Vaisheshika, Samkhya, and Yoga. The
thirty-six categories are of Shiva/Shakti and their manifestation according
to the Trika school (which Abhinava infuses into his overall Kaula). The
expression translated “proprietor of the field,” kshetra pati, echoes the
Gita, chapter 13.
29. J. L. Masson and M. V. Patwardhan, Santarasa (1969). The
Sanskrit text that I translate appears on 115–17, and Masson’s and
Patwardhan’s translation on 130–35.
30. There is no need to amend and read, following Masson and
Patwardhan (note 5, p. 130), vishayasyaiva for vishayasyeva. The point
is that unlike sensory objects, the self is also subject, and so the self is
object “as it were” (iva).
31. This is not to accept Masson and Patwardhan’s emending to
yoga, “in connection with,” from ayoga, “not in connection with.”
32. Masson and Patwardhan say (note 3, p. 132) that they cannot
understand the reason for the citation. But this is easy. The Yoga Sutra
claim is that samadhi as an experience leaves “traces,” samskara, the
mental dispositions we have so often discussed. But these that lead to
spiritual tranquility are special traces, special dispositions, in that they
push one to shanti and further experience of samadhi. Sly Abhinava has
referred us to a transformational theory of the YS that stands in tension
with its official dualism: the mystical state has worldly consequences.
Appendix E. Selections from the Hatha Yoga Pradipika

1. George Briggs, Gorakhnath and the Kanphata Yogis (1938),

provides novel-worthy descriptions of yogins in this tradition coupled with
textual background. Finding descriptions of what he views as a similar
lineage in the early epic the Ramayana and elsewhere, Briggs argues
that the lineage may be very old indeed. There is, he judges, evidence for
similar yoga practice in Vedic times in a hymn about a muni (sage/mage)
with wild hair, as suggested also by a few other scholars, as he points out
(210–12).
2. The Hathayogapradipika of Svatmarama, with the commentary
Jyotsna of Brahmananda, ed. and trans. A. A. Ramanathan and S. V.
Subrahmanya Sastri (1972), and Hathayogapradipika, trans. Swami
Muktabodhananda (1993).
3. Asanas are named and some briefly described. For details, I
recommend Light on Yoga by B.K.S. Iyengar and the publications of the
Bihar School of Yoga—including the HYP translation and commentary
already mentioned—but also especially Swami Satyananda Saraswati,
Asana Pranayama Mudra Bandha. Precise physical instructions are
given over dozens of pages.
4. Wind is fourth in its subtlety, air being known by touch and sound,
whereas ether, the fifth element, akasha, is known only by sound, earth
by all five sense modalities, water by four, and tejas, the fiery element, by
three.
5. See note 25 to chapter 1 for a comment on verse 2.46 in the
context of a yoga class.
6. See note 43 to appendix C for Vyasa’s list of eight siddhis in his
commentary on YS 3.45. King Bhoja (c. 1050) has a practically identical
list as the one here in his Rajamartanda commentary, which is an
independent commentary on the YS (not a subcommentary on Vyasa),
also under 3.45, although instead of prapti, cognition at a distance, Bhoja
has kama-vasaya, dwelling wherever desired; Dhundhiraj Sastri, ed.
(1930, 1982), 158.
7. Ramanathan and Subramanya Sastri, eds., The
Hathayogapradipika of Svatmarama (1972), Brahmananda’s
commentary, 75 (in the Sanskrit page-numbering).
8. Ramanathan and Subramanya Sastri, eds., The
Hathayogapradipika of Svatmarama (1972), 85, the English quotation.
Brahmananda’s complaint runs on 181–85 in the separate Sanskrit page
numbering.
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 Index

Abhinanva Gupta
Absolute. See Brahman
adhikara (adhikari)
adrishta (Unseen Force)
Advaita Vedanta, on yoga practices. See also consciousness (self-
illumining); Vedanta aesthetics; classical Indian
Agamas, tantric (Tantras),
ahimsa (nonharmfulness); meaning of the word air
ajna chakra. See also chakras alankara shastra
Alston, William
Anacker, Stefan
anahata chakra. See also chakras ananda (bliss)
anirvachaniya (impossible to say) anjali mudra
Anselm, Bishop of
Anusara Yoga
apperception (anuvyavasaya)
Apuleius
Aranyakas
ardha-narishvara
Aristotle
Arjuna
Arnold, Dan
artha
Aryasura
asanas,
Asanga
Ashoka
ashtanga yoga (of the YS). See also Power Yoga atman (self). See also
individual; self Augustine
Aurobindo, Sri
awareness. See cognition
avadhuti. See also sushumna
avatara,
avidya
Ayer, A. J.
Ayurveda

balance. See also equanimity

bandha (psychic lock)
beauty,
belief; and practice. See also knowledge Bhagavad Gita
Bhagavata Purana. See under Puranas bhakti (bhakti yoga)
Bharata. See also Natya Shastra
Bhartrihari
Bhattacharya, Gopikamohan
Bhattacharyya, K. C.
bhavana
Bhoja, King
Bible
Bihar School of Yoga
biology
bliss. See ananda
bodhisattva,
body. See also koshas
body, mental. See also koshas, skandhas body, subtle (pranic, astral,
sukshma sharira), Brahma Sutra
brahmacharya
Brahman (the Absolute, brahman) Brahmanas
Brahmananda
brain
Braude, Stephen
breath. See also prana
breath control. See pranayama
breath retention. See kumbhaka
Briggs, George
Bronkhorst, Johannes
Brooks, Douglas
Buddhaghosha
buddhi (higher or rational intelligence), buddhi yoga
Buddhism; a buddha; the Buddha (Gautama Siddhartha); conception of
afterlife,; doctrine of interconnectedness, interdependence (pratitya-
samutpada); Four Noble Truths; idealism, (see also Yogachara);
nonself theory; on natural kinds; on personal identity; tantric. See also
Mahayana Buddhism; Pali canon; southern Buddhism (Theravada);
Tibetan Buddhism; Zen Buddhism Buhnemann, Gudrun
Buitenen, J.A.B. van

causality; causal closure. See also samagri

certainty. See also fallibilism Chaitanya
Chakrabarti, Arindam
chakras (cakra),
Chalmers, David
Chandra, Sheila
Charvaka
Chisholm, Roderick
chitta (thought and emotion, mind-stuff) Choate, Cary
Christianity; Christian philosophy
Chuang Tzu
Cobra Pose (bhujangasana)
cognition (awareness),; as qualitative; nonveridical; veridical. See also
consciousness; perception compassion (karuna)
Confucius
consciousness (mental events, etc.); as a substance; explanatory gap
concerning,; hard and soft problem of; metaphysics of; self-illumining;
self-monitoring; self-consciousness. See also cognition Corpse Pose
(shavasana),
Coulter, H. David

Dao
Daoism
Dasgupta, Surendranath
Dasti, Matthew
debate
defeasibility. See fallibilism
Descartes, Réné
desire
Deussen, Paul
Devi. See Goddess
devotion. See bhakti
dharana (concentrated perseverance) dharma (duty, justice)
Dharmakirti
dharmas (properties)
Dignaga
disidentification. See also Samkhya (theme of the elusive “I”) disposition,
mental. See samskara
Downward Dog (adho-mukha shvanasana) dualism; interactionist. See
also under Yoga (philosophy); Yoga Sutra
Ducasse, C. J.,
duty; to self-development. See also dharma

earth
Easwaran, Eknath
Easy Seat (sukhasana)
economics
Edwards, Paul,
effort, classical theory of
Egge, James R.
egoism
Eight-Points Bowing (ashtanga namaskara) elasticity
Eliade, Mircea,
Eliot, T. S.
emanationism
emotion
environmental science
epistemology; externalism in; foundationalism; internalism in,;
justification. See also knowledge equality
equanimity. See also balance
ether
ethics. See also duty; virtue; yama
evil. See also theodicy
existentialism
explanation,

faith
fallibilism (defeasibility)
Feldman, Joel
Feuerstein, Georg
fideism
Findly, Ellison
Fodor, Jerry
Four-Limbs Pose (chaturangasana) Friend, John
friendliness (maitri)
functionalism

Gandhi, Mahatma
Ganesha
Gangesha
Garfield, Jay
Gautama
genetics,
Genie (Susan Curtiss, “wild child”)
Gerow, Edwin
Gestalt psychology
Ghosh, Manmohan
Gita. See Bhagavad Gita
God; criteriological argument for; ontological argument; teleological
argument. See also Ishvara, theodicy Goddess (Devi)
Gonda, J.
Goraksha; Goraksha Paditi
Goudriaan, Teun
Graham, Peter
gratitude (gratefulness)
gunas,
Gupta, Bina
Gupta, Sanjukta
guru,. See also testimony (yogic); yoga (teaching of) habit. See also
karma
Halbfass, Wilhelm
hamsa
Hanuman
happiness. See also pleasure and pain Haribhadra
harmony
Hartshorne, Charles
Harwood, Robin
hatha flow
hatha yoga
Hatha Yoga Pradipika (HYP) healing,
health
heavens
hells
Hemachandra
henotheism
Hero’s Pose (virasana)
Hinduism
historicism,
historicity
Hitopadesha
holism,
Hopkins, E. W.
Hume, David

idealism. See also Yogachara

identity. See personal identity; disidentification illusion. See perception,
illusory imagery (visualization)
imagination
inclusivism
indeterminacy
individual self (or soul, jivatman, individuality) inference
integration (self-integration). See also transformation intention
(samkalpa)
intentionality. See also objecthood intersubjectivity
ishta devata (preferred divinity), Ishvara. See also God
Ishvarakrishna. See also Samkhyakarika
Islam
Iyengar, B.K.S.,
Iyengar, Srinivasa

Jacob, Colonel George A.

Jagannatha Vedalankara
Jai Uttal
Jaimini
Jainism; Acaranga Sutra; anekanta-vada (doctrine of many-sidedness,
nonabsolutism, perspectivalism); canon; Mahavira. See also ahimsa;
maybe-ism James, William
Janaka, King
Jasraj, Pandit
Jataka tales; story of Sumedha
Jayanta Bhatta
Jesus
Jiva Gosvami
jivan mukta (living liberation) jivatman. See individual self jnana yoga
(yoga of knowledge)
Jois, K. Pattabhi
Joshi, K. S.
justice

Kafka, Franz
kaivalya (aloneness)
Kalidasa
kama (sexual desire)
Kama Sutra
Kant, Immanuel
Kapila
Kapali-Sastry, K. V.
karasse
karma; and rebirth; causal power of; definition of; meaning of the word
karman; “ripening” of karma yoga
karmic justice
Karnatak, Vimala
Karttikeya
Kashmiri Shaivism,. See also Kaulism; Krama; Trika Kaulism; meaning of
the word kula
King, Martin Luther, Jr.
knowledge; knowledge of; sources of (pramana). See also epistemology
koshas (psychological sheaths), Kraftsow, Gary
Krama
Kripalu Yoga Center
Krishna
Krishna Das
Krishnamacharya, Tirumalai
Krishnamurti
kriya
kriya yoga
Kularnava Tantra (KT)
Kumarila
kumbhaka (breath retention)
kundalini (serpent energy)
kundalini yoga

Lakshmi
language (meaning),
Leibniz
Levine, Michael
liberation. See moksha
libertarianism
liberty
lila (play)
Lindtner, Christian
linguistics
logic

Maas, Philipp
Madhyamika Buddhism
Mahabharata
Mahadevan, T.M.P.
Mahayana Buddhism (northern Buddhism); canon of. See also
bodhisattva; Buddhism; Madhyamika; Tibetan Buddhism; Yogachara
Maheshwari, H.
Majjima Nikaya. See under Pali canon Malini Vijaya Tantra
Malini-vijayottara Tantra
manas (sense mind, sensory intelligence). See also buddhi
mandala
mangala (auspiciousness)
mantra
Masson, J. L.
materialism; correlations argument of; reductionist Matilal, B. K.
maya
maybe-ism (syad-vada),
McCartney, Paul
McMahon, Carol
McTaggart, J.M.E.
meaning. See language
medicine; preventive; psychosomatic,. See also Ayurveda meditation
(dhyana)
memory. See remembering
mental events. See consciousness mental silence (chitta-vritti-nirodha),
metaphysics. See also dualism; idealism; monism; mysterianism;
realism Mill, J. S.
Miller, Barbara Stoler
Mimamsa,
mind. See also buddhi; manas
mind-body problem
minimalism, philosophic
Mohanty, J. N.
moksha (mukti, liberation) momentariness
monism; neutral
Moon Salutations (chandra namaskara) Motoyama, Hiroshi
Mountain Pose (tadasana)
mudra
Mueller, Max
Mueller-Ortega, Paul
Muktananda, Swami
Muktibodhananda, Swami
multiple-personality syndrome
Murphy, Michael
music,
mysterianism
mysticism; world-denying

Nachiketas
nada yoga
nadi,
Nagarjuna
Nagatomi, Masatoshi
namas te
naturalism
nature. See also prakriti
Natya Shastra
naya
near-death experience
Neoplatonism
neurology
nirvana
nonabsolutism. See under Jainism nonharmfulness. See ahimsa
nonviolence. See ahimsa
Nozick, Robert
Nyaya; interest in yoga; New (navya); theism of Nyaya Sutra

objecthood (vishayata). See also intentionality om

organic unity
over-beliefs

Padmapada
Padoux, André
pain. See also pleasure and pain; suffering Pali canon (of southern
Buddhism); Majjima Nikaya
Pandey, K. C.
Pandit, M. P.
pantheism
paramita (perfection of a bodhisattva) Parfit, Derek
Patanjali. See also Yoga Sutra
Paterson, R.W.K.
Patton, Laurie
Patwardhan, M. V.
perception; and personal identity; effort and; epistemic value of; illusion,
(see also cognition, nonveridical); indeterminate; olfactory;
psychology of; self-perception; yogic (yaugika pratyaksha, yogic
experience),. See also cognition perfection. See paramita; self-
 perfection person
personal identity, passim. See also disidentification personality; mental
and emotional
perspectivalism. See under Jainism phenomenology
Philo
philosophy; classical Indian; Socratic method physical universe
Plato
Platonism
pleasure and pain
pluralism
political philosophy
Potter, Karl
Power Yoga
powers, yogic (siddhis)
Prajapati
prajna (wisdom)
prakriti (nature)
pramana. See under knowledge prana; five breaths,
pranayama (breath control), nadi shodana; surya bhedana, ujjayi
(victorious breath) prapatti (surrender)
Prashastapada
Pratyabhijna
pratyahara (sense withdrawal)
Price, H. H.
Priest, Graham
process philosophy (process theism, of A. N. Whitehead et al.) psychic
knots (granthi)
psychology, occult. See under tantra puja
Puranas; Bhagavata Purana
Purnananda Giri
purusha (individual conscious being). See also self qualification; true and
pseudo-qualifiers Radhakrishnan, Sarvepalli,
Raghunatha
Raised-Hands Pose (urdhva hastasana) raja yoga. See also Yoga Sutra
Ramakrishna, Sri
Ramanathan, A. A.
Ramanuja
Ramaswami, Srivatsa
Ramayana
Rangaramanuja
rasa
Ratnakirti
Rawls, John
realism
rebirth; arguments for and against,; soul-making; theodicy of recognition,
Reid, Thomas
relativism. See also under Jainism religious pluralism
remembering (memory)
renunciation (samnyasa)
Rig Veda. See under Veda Rje, Mkhas Grub
Roebuck, Valerie
Ross, W. D.
Roy, Ram Mohan
Ruegg, David
Rumi
Rupa Gosvami
Russell, Bertrand

sacrifice (yajna)
sahridaya (connoisseur)
sakshin (witness). See also consciousness (self-monitoring) samadhi
(yogic trance, enstacy); meaning of the word samagri (sufficient
causality)
samapatti
samkalpa. See intention
Samkhya; theme of the elusive “I,”. See also disidentification
Samkhyakarika
samskara (disposition); definition of samyama
Sanderson, Alexis
Sanskrit,
santana
santosha (contentment),
sapta bhangi (septad of truth valuations) Sartre, Jean-Paul
Sastri, S.V. Subrahmanya
sat
sattva. See also guna
sattvafication
Satyananda Saraswati, Swami
science
scripture
self; enduring, (see also personal identity); future,; likeness of; Platonic
tripartite,. See also atman; consciousness (self–consciousness);
purusha
self-absorption. See also samadhi
self-acceptance
self-determination (thesis of)
self-development. See under duty
self-illumination. See under consciousness self-perfection,
self-transformation. See transformation Sell, Christina
Sen, Amartya
service (seva)
sex
Shaiva Siddhanta
Shaivism
shakti
Shankara
Shankara, Yoga Sutra commentator shanti (tranquility, spiritual peace)
Shantideva,
Sharma, Arvind
Shat-chakra-nirupana (of Purananda) sheaths, psychological. See kosha
Sheik, Anees
Shiva (maha-deva, the Great God) Shiva / Shakti
Shiva-sutra
Shri (divine beauty)
Shriharsha
siddhis. See powers, yogic Sikhism
Silburn, Lilian
skandhas
sleep. See also yogic sleep
southern Buddhism (Theravada). See also Pali canon; skandhas soul.
See individual self (jivatman) soul-making. See under rebirth
spanda
Spanda
Spanda-karika
Standing Forward Fold (uttanasana) Stevenson, Ian
Sthiramati
Subbulakshmi, M. S.
suffering
Sufism
suicide
Sun Salutations (surya namaskara) superimposition (adhyasa)
survival
sushumna (central channel, avadhuti) sutra
svadhyaya (practice of self-study) Svatmarama. See also Hatha Yoga
Pradipika
syad (maybe). See also maybe-ism tantra; (occult, tantric) psychology,
(see also chakras); tantric sex; “tantric turn,”
tapas
tarka
tat
tattva
Tatya, Tookaram
tejas, the fiery element
Teresa of Avila, Saint
testimony; yogic
theism. See also Vedantic theism theodicy (theological explanation of
evil), theology, rational
theory. See explanation
Thurman, Robert
Tibetan Book of the Dead (Bardol Thotrol) Tibetan Buddhism; Four
Purities of
time, metaphysics of
training
trance, yogic. See samadhi
tranquility. See shanti
transformation (psychic, self-, spiritual). See also integration Trika
truth
truthfulness

Udayana,
uddiyana bandha (Stomach Lock)
Uddyotakara
universals
upalakshana (indirect indication) Upanishads; Brihadaranyaka;
Chandogya; Isha; Katha; Kena; Maitri; Mandukya; meaning of the
word upanishat; Mundaka; Shvetashvatara; Taittiriya, upaya (way of
yoga)
Upward-Facing Dog (urdhva-mukha shvanasana) Vachaspati Mishra
vada
vairagya (dispassion, disinterestedness) Vaisheshika
Vaishnavism
Vaishvanara (the universally human)
Vajrayana, See also Tibetan, Buddhism Vallabha
Vardhamana
vasana
Vasubandhu
Vasudeva, Somadeva
Vatsyayana
Vedas, Atharva, Rig, Yajur
Vedanta, neo-Vedanta. See also Advaita Vedanta; Vedantic theism
Vedantic theism (Vishishtadvaita, etc.) Vidyaratna, Taranatha
vijnana (higher insight)
Vijnana Bhikshu
vikalpa
virtue,
visualization. See imagery
Vivekananda, Swami
voluntarism. See also self-determination Vonnegut, Kurt,
Vyasa
vyavahara (everyday speech and action) Warrior One (vira bhadrasana
ka) water
wealth
Whicher, Ian
White, David
Whitehead, A. N.
Whiteheadean process philosophy
whole / part relationality
Williamson, Bernard
wisdom. See prajna
witness. See sakshin
Wittgenstein, Ludwig
Woodroffe, Sir John
Woods, J. H.
world-affirmationism
world-negationism
worlds, other,

xenoglossy

yajna. See sacrifice

Yama (Death)
yamas
Yamuna
yantra
Yoga (philosophy); and science,; dualism of; New Yoga; pluralism of,
(see also inclusivism); theistic, (see also theism). See also
 minimalism; self-determination yoga (practice); Abhinava Gupta’s
“four ways,”; and language,; definitions of; goal of, (see also moksha);
meaning of the word; psychology, (see also tantric psychology); yoga
class; yoga teacher (teaching), (see also guru). See also ashtanga
yoga, hatha yoga, jnana yoga, karma yoga
yoga of art and beauty,
Yoga Sutra (YS); dualism of Yoga Vasishtha
Yogachara,
yogic perception. See under perception yogic proposition
yogic sleep
yogic testimony. See under testimony yogic powers (siddhis). See
powers Zen Buddhism
zombie thought-experiment