Am I the body, or does it belong to me?

More on the Cause: Moksha, Kaivalyam, Enlightenment Part III

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What's the purpose of life?

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Kunal

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Om Sri Gurubhyo Namah. Salutations to all the teachers.

“Being aware of,

The sound of the bell,

Does not mean that,

The bell belongs to you.

Likewise, being aware of thoughts,

Does not mean that,

The thoughts belong to you.”

- Wu Hsin

Traditional Indian medicine suggests a fourfold method for doctors to communicate with their patients:

1. Rogah (रोगः): The Diagnosis

2. Hetuh (हेतुः): The Etiology, or the Cause

3. Aarogyam (आरोग्यं): The Prognosis

4. Bhaishajyam (भैषज्यं): The Treatment

Over the past few weeks, we begain with a discussion on the diagnosis of our predicament as living beings - dukkha. You can find the articles here:

The Diagnosis: An analysis of suffering

The Cause: The Conjunction between the Seer and the Seen

The word “dukkha” is most often translated as “suffering”.

However, the word “suffering” in English indicates a certain type of intensity and pain which is not always an accurate representation of the actual situation. Instead, we looked to the etymology of the word - the word “kha” and the prefix “du”, which simply means “bad space.” Specifically, this conjures the image of a wheel that does not quite fit onto its axle, resulting in a bumpy, uncomfortable ride.

Life is, inevitably, a bumpy ride.

There is old age, sickness, disease, and (perhaps) finally, death. There is frustration, sadness, jealousy, anger, unfulfilled desire, and no clear reason for why this is the case.

For most people, we learn to live with it and accept it as it is. After all, in order to eat fish, one must first remove the bones.¹ The Yogi, however, is as sensitive as an eyeball, and sees the dukkha that is apparent - death, sickness, etc. - but also sees the suffering that shrouds even what appears to most as pleasure.

All pleasures are contaminated by the threefold suffering, like honey mixed with poison. There is suffering prior to the experience of pleasure in longing, and in the hard work we put in to achieve our goals. Then, there is suffering during the experience of pleasure as we dread its end, and try our best to extend it. Finally, there is suffering after the experience in the form of wishing it would have continued, sadness at its completion, a longing for continuation, and a striving for repetition.

While this cartoon uses money as the “pleasure” being sought, the same is true for all apparently pleasant things. Furthermore, even if we achieve the objects when we are young and healthy, the fear of retention and extension, as well as the desire for more, continue to plague the mind. In this way, dukkha is inevitable.

The Yogi is the one who sees this, and channels their reason and determination towards finding a way out.

Following this discussion, last week, we began to look into the cause of our predicament. What is the cause of dukkha?

Upon inspection, we find that our entire house experience can be classified into two categories - the Seer and the Seen.

The Seer is Pure Consciousness - the Purusha - the Witness beyond thought.

The Seen, on the other hand, is everything that is experienced - this includes the world, the body, and the mind as well. After all, thoughts - perceptions, imaginations, memories, and so on - are also within the realm of experience, and it is You, the Purusha - the Witness - who experiences them all as they arise and fall in the light of Your Awareness.

The Seer is simple - like the light of the Sun which illuminates everything indiscriminately. The Seen - Prakriti, or nature - is composed of the three gunas (sattva, rajas, and tamas) which always appear together, and modify and morph into the entire Universe.

All things are just the three gunas in different proportions. Air has more sattva than a rock, thoughts have more sattva than air. The body has more tamas than air, but more rajas than a rock. Moving water has more rajas than still water, a restless mind has more rajas than a dull mind, and a meditative mind has more sattva than a restless mind. All objects have each of these three gunas, just in different proportions.

The cause of dukkha is the conjunction of the Seer and the Seen. When Prakriti and Purusha come together, the result is the experience of this Universe, and the experience of this Universe, as we know, is filled with impermanence and, ultimately, dukkha.

But where is this dukkha located? It feels like “I” suffer, and “I” am the Purusha. Is the dukkha located in the Purusha? If so, then there seems to be no escape!

As we investigate, we find that dukkha is located within the realm of Prakriti. What we call “dukkha” is, in fact, simply a covering of rajas and tamas. When rajas is high, it manifests as desire and restlessness. This is a state of dukkha. When tamas is high, it manifests as dullness, sadness, and mental cloudiness. This is yet another state of dukkha. On the other hand, when rajas and tamas clear, even temporarily, we experience happiness, just as the sun shines through when clouds clear momentarily on a rainy day.

P: This must mean that if we can find a way to maximize the sattva, we will be happy!

This is true to a degree. The more sattva there is in the mind, the happier, more lucid, and more mentally calm you will feel. However, sattva is one of the three gunas, which can never appear apart from each other. Additionally, the gunas are always shifting and moving - never still for even a moment. As a result, any happiness we gain from maximizing sattva is, like everything else composed of the gunas, impermanent.

As a result of this, not only are the clouds of dukkha bound to return, there is also the additional suffering of longing to maximize sattva.

This feeling may be familiar to meditators who experience a state of bliss during a session, and spend every subsequent session trying to return to it. This longing for sattva is just another form of dukkha.

We experience happiness when rajas and tamas clear, and sattva permeates the mind. However, this sattva is just another part of nature, which is impermanent. As a result, chasing this bliss of meditation is just another form of clinging, and results in the same threefold suffering.

P: So then is there no way out?

Jogi: There is. This is the gospel - the good news.

If we can find a way out of the gunas, out of the conjunction between the Seer and the Seen, we can be free from dukkha. This complete freedom is the purpose of Yoga - far beyond a calm mind. The Yogi settles for nothing less.

P: But how do we get out?

Jogi: Let us further investigate the cause.

P: Didn’t we discuss that last time? The cause of dukkha is the conjunction between the Seer and the Seen, right?

Jogi: That is true, but what is the nature of the conjunction?

Confusing the possessor for the possession

स्वस्वामिशक्त्योः स्वरूपोपलब्धिहेतुः संयोगः।

svaSvaamiShaktyoh svaroopaUpalabdhiHetuh samyogah

The conjunction [between the Seer and the Seen] is the cause of the recognition/understanding/feeling of the true nature of the capacity of being the Owner and being the Owned.

- Yoga Sutra, 2.23

We now know, after the discussion last week, how dukkha exists in the realm of Prakriti. What’s more, we also know how it functions. The gunas interact with one another - rajas and tamas cover up sattva, and we experience suffering. We also know that the Purusha is the witness of the suffering, but itself does not suffer, just as sunlight may illuminate a dirty puddle of water but itself does not get dirty.

Yet, despite knowing this, if we are truly honest with ourselves, we still feel like we suffer. Why is this the case?

The reason for the feeling that “I suffer” lies not in the suffering itself, but in our confusion around what we mean by the word “I.”

Normally, when we say “I”, we are referring to the body, the mind, an image or idea of ourselves within the mind, or some combination. We are not actually very clear about what we mean, and this lack of clarity comes through in casual slips of the tongue in our daily use of language.

Consider, for example, the sentence “I felt pain when I fell on my head.”

The first “I” is the mind - specifically, the buddhendriya of touch - that experienced the sensations of pain through the sensory apparatus, in combination with the buddhi which categorized the sensations as painful.

The second “I” is the ahamkaar that took credit for the action - in this case, “falling.”

Finally, there is the phrase “my head”, indicates possession (as in “my phone” or “my watch”). That is, it seems that the head belongs to someone other than the head itself. There is apparently someone who possesses the head!

As another example, consider the phrase “my mind is racing.”

To whom does the mind belong?

Or yet another, “I will hold you in my arms”

Who is doing the holding, what is the “you” that is being held, and who owns the arms?

P: I own the arms, this is my body, of course!

Jogi: Then the body is your possession?

P: Yes.

Jogi: Then you are not the body?

P: No, I am the body.

Jogi: But I thought you were the owner of the body? Is there one “you” or two?

This is one angle - we can notice these slips of understanding through our usage of language, as we often refer to the owned (the body, the mind, etc.) as “me”, but sometimes refer to them as possessions of another, somewhat more mysterious “me.”

Another angle is to deconstruct how the body and mind cannot be your possession, as follows, beginning with the body (and extending to the mind).

In order for any object to be a possession of a person, it must fall into at least one of the following categories:

1. It was created by way of some effort put in by the owner.

2. It was donated or gifted to the owner by a previous owner.

3. It was purchased by the owner through trade.

4. It was won by the owner (e.g. through a contest, a battle, by defeating the previous owner in some other way)

In addition to these, there are two additional categories through which ownership may be claimed:

5. It functions per the owner’s plans or wishes

6. It is made out of some part of the owner.

Let us investigate these systematically with the help of our friend P.

Jogi: First, was the body created by you through effort?

P: No, it was born, and that was it. If anything there was an effort on the part of my parents, but not really - they didn’t sculpt me as a potter sculpts a pot. There were many factors that went into my development and growth, the food I ate, the friends I made, and the body just seemed to grow of its own accord, into its own shape.

Jogi: Was the body donated to you by the previous owner?

P: No, I don’t think anyone else has inhabited this body before, and I certainly don’t recall such an event.

Jogi: Did you purchase the body through some trade?

P: No.

Jogi: Did you win it by defeating someone else?

P: No.

Jogi: Ok, so you didn’t get it through any legitimate claim. Maybe it functions as per your wishes?

P: It mostly does its own thing. I can direct some of its actions, but even then its a minimal amount. But I can direct it more than others can!

Jogi: Is that so? Do you know how to walk?

P: Yes of course!

Jogi: Oh! So if you had voluntary control of your muscles, nerves, sinews, circulation, etc., you would be able to direct the body to walk?

P: No no, that is too complex. I don’t know how to control all that. But I know how to walk!

Jogi: Do you? Or do you just take credit for it?

P: What do you mean?

Jogi: The body walks, the ahamkaar takes credit. The brain sends and receives signals, the muscles move accordingly, the nerves coordinate the movement, the circulatory system gets blood to all the right places, yet the mind somehow says “I did it.” The thought “i did it” is a movement within the mind that happens after the fact.

P: What about the decision to do it? Isn’t that me?

Jogi: Can you observe the decision?

P: Yes of course.

Jogi: Then the decision is an object to you - you observe it, just like you observe everything else. You are claiming this decision maker - the buddhi - to be “me”, while also claiming to be the observer. Are there two “you”s, or just one?

P: Just one.

Jogi: So which one are you? The observer or the observed?

P: The observer.

Jogi: In that case, does the body function as per your wishes?

P: No, it functions as per the wishes of the buddhi - a part of the observed, and mostly of its own accord.

Jogi: Ok. Then there is only one option left. Is the body made of a part of you?

P: Given that I am the observer, then no, it is not made of a part of me. I simply observe the movements of Prakriti, of which the body is made.

Jogi: The body is not made from a part of you, it does not function as per your wishes, you did not win it in a contest or a battle, you did not purchase it, you were not gifted it, and nor did you make it. What claim do you have to the body?

P: None.

To summarise, we are fundamentally confused.

We feel that we are somehow both the object and its owner.

This is like if you said you were your phone on the grounds that you owned your phone. When we think about it, it feels completely ridiculous. Yet, we all fall prey to this feeling, and as a result, we suffer.

P: Even though we know this, why do we remain confused?

तस्य हेतुरविद्या।

Tasya heturAvidya

The cause is avidya (ie. the Primal Ignorance).

- Yoga Sutra, 2.24

Next time, we will explore avidya in further detail, and begin a discussion on the prognosis.

Don’t worry, it’s good news!

Next week: Avidya, and the Prognosis.

Until next time:

Review these two previous articles on avidya:

How we lie to ourselves: Part I

How we lie to ourselves: Part II

1. This phrase is borrowed from the Charvaka - the ancient Indian school of atheist materialists.