Letting Go
The Twin Foundations of Yoga Part 2: Vairaagya
Om Sri Gurubhyo Namah. Salutations to all the teachers.
Wanting to know the secrets of the Universe, and desiring freedom from all suffering, a student traveled into the mountains. He had heard about a legendary teacher who lived in a cave who would be able to answer all his questions and lead him to Moksha. After several weeks of arduous travel, he arrived at the cave, and found the teacher sitting in meditation. He sat down respectfully, and waited. After some time, the teacher opened his eyes and asked the student what he wanted.
“Freedom from all suffering. I hear that you can teach me the way.”
“Certainly. Come and meet me here at sunrise”, the teacher said.
The student went into a nearby cave and fell asleep. At sunrise, as requested, he arrived at the cave to see the master standing with a broom in his hand. The master said, “Sweep the cave, inside and outside.” The student took the broom, and began to sweep, wondering about the teaching behind the exercise. At the end of the day, he left, perplexed, but determined to figure out what this was meant to teach him.
The next day was exactly the same. The student arrived at the cave, the teacher handed him the broom, and he got to work. When the sun set, he went back to his cave, still unsure of the teaching.
This continued, day after day for an entire year. Finally, he started to doubt the teacher’s intentions. Perhaps he did not know the way after all, and was just taking advantage of him to clean his cave. He resolved to take action.
The next morning, he went to the teacher and said, “I have done your bidding day after day, and have not received any teaching. I’ve done everything you’ve asked me to, and here I am, still bound to this world. I still suffer, I am not free. Show me the way, or else I will need to move on to another teacher.”
The teacher responded, “Ok, come back tomorrow at sunrise, I will show you how to be free.”
Excited to finally receive the teaching, the student returned to his cave.
The next morning, he returned to the teacher’s cave, prepared to finally learn the secret to freedom, but once he arrived the teacher was not in the cave. He walked around the cave and and saw the teacher tightly hugging a tree.
“Help me! Help me!”, the teacher shouted as he saw the student turn the corner around the cave.
“What’s happening? How can I help?”, the student asked, worried that something was wrong.
The teacher shouted back, “I am bound, please teach me how to be free!”
“What do you mean? Nothing is holding you to the tree. You are holding onto it.”
“Help me! Help me!”, the teacher shouted again, “I want freedom, please show me the way to be free!”
“You don’t need to do anything - just stop holding on! Just let go!”, the student shouted, exasperated.
In that moment, hearing his own words, the student understood the teaching.
Vairaagya (pronounced vaih-raah-gyuh) means dispassion, letting go, non-desiring, non-grasping, or a sort of mental renunciation. It is the second of the two foundations of Yoga, the first being Abhyaas, or practice. As a matter of fact, it is also the second of the fourfold qualifications for Vedanta, and is central to most Indic philosophical traditions. It is not merely the absence of desire, but rather the indifference to pleasure and pain, whether or not the objects are currently perceptible.
A quick reminder of the analogy of the field - the mind is like a field of soil, tilted in one direction. When you pour water, it will pour downwards. Over time, when the water flows over the same place, it will create channels in the soil, and these channels will get deeper the more water you pour, the longer you pour it for, and the more intensely you pour it.
In the analogy, the field of soil is the mind, the inclination of the land is in the direction of the objects of the world (as opposed to the direction of the Self), the water is your attention, and the channels are your mental tendencies and habits.
If you want to change the channels in the soil, you have to pour water elsewhere, and stop pouring water in the unwanted channels. Pouring water along desirable channels that lead to peace and tranquility is abhyaas. Not pouring water in unwanted channels is vairaagya.
In the story, the teacher was holding onto the tree, and all he had to do was let go. Said another way, he had to simply not hold on to the tree in order to be free. In this way, vairaagya is not a thing you do, vairaagya is in the not doing.
“I say to you that suffering is not holding onto you, you are holding onto suffering. And if you can agree to look into what I am saying, you will come to understand it for yourself. Not only will you come to understand it, but you will experience a letting go – and you will come to know how suffering can be dropped.”
- Osho (Rajneesh)
In the Yoga Sutras, Patanjali defines two types of vairaagya - lower (ie. preliminary) and higher (post-Moksha). In this article, we will discuss the lower vairaagya. It is defined as:
द्रिष्टानुश्रविकविशयवितृष्णस्य वशीकारसंज्ञा वैराग्यम् ॥DrishtAanushravikVishayVitrishnasya VasheekaarSangyaa VairagyamVairagya is the controlled awareness of one without craving/thirsting for objects, whether perceived or heard about.
- Yoga Sutras 1.15
Specifically, it is a non-thirsting for two types of objects - those that we directly perceive or infer, and those that we hear about. While the first category is fairly obvious, the second category is taken by traditional commentators to refer to celestial realms such as heaven. While the Yogi may be willing to give up objects of the world, it is often done with the end goal of heaven, better karma, or a better future birth in mind.1 These objects are not directly perceived, but rather only heard about through scriptures or stories. Vairaagya means also giving up the thirsting for heaven, or any other “heard about” objects after death.
For those of us who do not believe in heaven, you may think that this is easy to do. However, consider the idea of “success” in this life. We may have heard from others that if we get into a certain type of profession (doctor, lawyer, engineer, MBA, anyone?) or that if we rise up the career ladder, we will be happy, successful, and live happily ever after. This idea of “success” falls into the same category of anushravik (heard about) as heaven after death.
One more thing - objects are not limited to the physical things we experience, but also extend to thoughts, ideas, memories, and the mind itself. Often we hold tightly onto these vrittis and kleshas, and this results in suffering. Here is a story to illustrate the point:
Once upon a time, there was a snake, slithering happily along the bank of a river. Normally, rough branches and brambles covered the bank, but there had recently been a flood, and so new, soft soil from the riverbed had covered it all up. This was a rare occurrence, and the snake was really enjoying itself.
Suddenly, it felt a deep pain in the middle part of its body. Unbeknownst to the snake, it had just nicked itself against the tip of a sword that had gotten buried in the new soil.
Not knowing what hurt it, it immediately reacted in self-defence, and started to wrap around its attacker in an attempt to strangle it. But, as it wrapped tighter, it just got hurt more, and started to bleed. The more it got hurt, the angrier the snake got, and the angrier it got, the tighter it wrapped itself around the sword. The tighter it wrapped, the more it hurt, and the more it bled. Eventually, bleeding to death, with its last breath, determined to destroy its foe, the snake wrapped so tightly, that it cut itself in half and died.
Often we can feel like we have let go (ie. are practicing vairaagya), when actually we are still holding on. Take the example of someone who says “I don’t care about what people say about me”, but when you watch them closely, you can see that their actions are driven by a desire to appear as though they don’t care. This is still holding on. The following story from the Zen tradition illustrates the point:
Once upon a time two monks - one young and one old - were walking down a path together. As they walked, they happened upon a stream that they would need to cross to continue on their journey. By the stream, a young woman was standing, looking at the stream as though to find the easiest way to cross it.
The older monk asked the woman, “Do you need to cross the stream?”
“Yes”, she said, “I am trying to see if there is a shallow path so that I don’t wet my clothes.”
Hearing this, the older monk rolled up his robes above his knees, deftly lifted the woman up onto his shoulders, crossed the stream, and let her down on the other side. The younger monk rolled up his robe and crossed as well.
The woman thanked them both, and the two parties went their separate ways.
After some time, the younger monk - horrified at what had happened - simply couldn’t take it any more. He blurted out, “Don’t you know that it is against the rules of our monastic order to touch a woman?! How could you carry that woman on your shoulders?”
The older monk smiled compassionately and replied, “I left her by the bank of the river, why do you still carry her?”
In this way, vairaagya is not suppression. Suppression is still a manner of holding on, and in fact will strengthen the thought or object you are trying to suppress. It is like a pressure cooker - the more you try to push it away, the stronger it will become, and it will come up in unexpected places, in unexpected forms.
“Leave your front door and your back door open.
Allow your thoughts to come and go.
Just don’t serve them tea.”
- Shunryu Suzuki
The key to vairaagya is to first be aware of when you are “serving tea” to a thought, and what that feels like. You can try an exercise of trying to keep a thought alive as long as you can (the opposite of vairaagya). You can use any thought for this - use “birthday cake” if you can’t think of one. Put a timer on your phone for 5 minutes and just try to keep this going in your mind. This kind of exercise helps to shine a light on the mental gymnastics we usually do in trying to hold onto a thought. Once you understand what it feels like to hold onto a thought, it will be easier to see what vairaagya - or not holding on - means. It should feel as though the thoughts are not particularly important or meaningful, but rather just phenomena like clouds passing in the sky, the wind, or the sound of birds.
Shankaracharya, the famous 8th Century Indian mystic and philosopher, goes a step further in describing vairaagya:
ब्रह्मादिस्थावरान्तेषु वैराग्यं विशयेष्वनु |यथैव काकविष्टायां वैराग्यं तद्धि निर्मलम् ||Brahmaadisthaavaraanteshu vairaagyam vishayeshvanuYathaiva kaakavishtaayaam vairaagyam taddhi nirmalamThe indifference with which one treats the excreta of a crow - such an indifference to all objects of enjoyment from the heavens to this world is vairaagya.
- Aparokshanubhuti 4
The excreta of a crow is not a pleasant thing, but it is not particularly unpleasant either. It’s usually just something we pass by without giving it a second glance. Treating all the objects of this Universe like we treat the excreta of a crow is vairaagya.
Vairaagya stems from a settling of the knowledge of impermanence. When we truly see that all objects are impermanent, and that they are surrounded by the threefold suffering, vairaagya automatically arises. The threefold suffering of objects is:
Suffering before: The suffering we go through to acquire an object, including effort and longing.
Suffering during: Once we have the object, we suffer because we don’t want it to end, or because it doesn’t meet the expectations we had.
Suffering after : Once the object has gone, we suffer because we miss it, or because we want to repeat the experience.
Take the simple example of a vacation. Before you had it, you suffer because you long for it, and because you want to acquire it. You put in effort to go on the vacation, and this effort is suffering. Then, when you get it, you suffer because it isn’t as good as you expected it to be, or even if it is amazing, you suffer because you don’t want it to end. Finally, once it is over, you suffer because it is over (and you wanted it to continue), because you miss it, and because you long for more. In this way, all so-called “pleasant” experiences are shrouded in suffering.
Often just knowing this as theory is not sufficient, and for some of us, we may not be ready to accept this truth. In fact, for some, this teaching can result in feelings of denial, anger, or even outrage. This is understandable because all our lives we have been taught (implicitly, if not explicitly) to spend all our effort in the acquisition of objects (not just money, but knowledge, memories, or relationships too). If you (or people you know) are not ready to accept this teaching yet, that is ok. Eventually, in its own time, it will become clear.
P: So are you saying that I should just renounce the world and live as a hermit in a cave?
Jogi: Even a hermit may not have renounced the world.
P: What do you mean?
Jogi: A hermit living in a cave may still be attached to their loin cloth, their bowl, their blanket, their cave, their food, their knowledge, or their identity.
P: So then what do I do?
Jogi: Vairaagya is not a physical renunciation. It is a mental “letting go” of what you are holding on to. Physical renunciation may assist, but it is not the solution.
P: So I can still live my life and be successful in my career?
Jogi: Sure, if that is your tendency. Just be aware that any attempt to derive value or happiness from objects will result in inevitable suffering.
P: So what should I do?
Jogi: Simply let go of the idea that you can attain happiness from objects. Act, for you cannot avoid action, but do not be deluded into thinking that it will result in fulfilment. Use the fact of impermanence as a helping hand - you need not actually let go, simply see that any attempt to hold on is futile. Surf on this impermanence - this is the path to freedom.
ये हि संस्पर्शजा भोगा दु:खयोनय एव ते |आद्यन्तवन्त: कौन्तेय न तेषु रमते बुध: || 22||Ye hi samsparshajaa bhogaa dukkhayonaya eva teAadyantavantah Kaunteya na teshu ramate budhahThe delights that are born of [sense] contacts are only generators of pain, because they have a beginning and an end. [Seeing this], O Arjuna, the intelligent person does not overly rejoice in them.
- Bhagavad Gita 5.22
There are four levels, or stages of cultivating vairaagya:
Awareness of Endeavour
Awareness of Difference
Awareness of the single faculty (ie. internal attachments)
Awareness of supremacy (ie. indifference to vairaagya)
In the first level, the Yogi begins by making an effort to break attachments and weaken them. Once this starts to happen, in the second stage, the Yogi notices that some attachments have been weakened, while others are still active. In noticing this difference, the Yogi is able to focus their attention on the stronger attachments.
Eventually, once all external attachments have been weakened, the Yogi starts to focus on internal attachments - these include things like the attachment to honor, respect or kindness, or the dislike of dishonor, disrespect, or unkindness, for example. One may externally seem as though they are unattached, but internally be attached to the prestige or respect from others that a deep practice of Yoga can bring. Letting go of these internal attachments is the third stage.
Finally, once all external and internal attachments have been let go of, the Yogi turns their attention to letting go of vairaagya itself. This is the fourth stage of the lower vairaagya.
Why is this important in meditation?
During the initial stages of meditation, we view the vrittis and kleshas in the mind, and try to label them. If we get involved in the thought process, we are no longer meditating, just thinking, This is where vairaagya comes in.
As we sit down, the mind will become silent for a moment, and then begin to chatter. The goal is to watch the chatter arise and fall away, without locking on to any of the thoughts. This way, we can make a habit out of watching our thoughts rather than getting lost in them.
As an example, getting lost looks like the following:
“I need to do the dishes”
“When should I do the dishes?”
“I can do the dishes after my meditation.”
“Should I get up now and do the dishes?”
“If I don’t do the dishes then they will keep sitting in the sink”
“If they keep sitting in the sink they will start to smell”
“If they start to smell then my roommate/husband/wife will get mad”
and so on. Note how the continuous stream keeps the thought of “doing the dishes” alive. This is what it means to serve a thought tea.
Watching thoughts with vairaagya looks something like this:
“I need to do the dishes”
“I notice a thought in the mind that I need to do the dishes”
Here, notice how labelling the thought creates a distance. You are no longer involved in the thought process, just a detached witness. This labelling requires a “letting go” - this is vairaagya.
Vairaagya is also important at deeper stages of meditation. We will discuss this in more detail when we get into breadth vs. depth of meditation.
Ok, but what should I actually do?
In order to go away from the north, you simply need to go towards the south. There is no additional or secondary effort. Rather, you just don’t go north. Similarly in Yoga, in doing abhyaas (practice), vairaagya automatically arises. The more attention you place on things that bring you stability, peace, and tranquility, the less attention you will be placing on tendencies that take you in the opposite direction.
The first step is to simply notice when you are holding on, so that you know where to let go.
Until next time:
As you go about your day, notice when you are keeping a thought alive. Gently let it go (don’t serve it tea). If it comes back, just notice it, acknowledge it, and let it go again.
Write down the thoughts that return most often, so that you can find patterns.
Next time: Obstacles, accompaniments, and one-pointedness
The Mundaka Upanishad (in the Atharva Veda) is unsparing in its criticism of the Vedic ceremonies that promise heavens, better future births, wealth, and other objects of desire. Here is a brief translation of 1.2.7-1.2.10:
“The rafts of the 18 sacrificial forms are truly frail, and represent the inferior action. Ignorant are those who acclaim them as the highest good - they fall repeatedly into the domain of old age and death. Although they consider themselves to be wise and knowledgable, they are fools wandering aimlessly like the blind led by the blind.
Revelling in extreme ignorance, people like this think they have achieved the aim of life. But being bound to passions and attachment [for heaven, better births, etc.], they do not attain knowledge, and sink down in misery when the effects of their good deeds are exhausted. Such confused minds regard sacrifices and good action as the most important, and do not know any greater good.”
This theme also comes up in the Bhagavad Gita 2.42-44. Here is a brief translation:
“Some people, with limited understanding, get attracted to the flowery words of the Vedas which suggest special rituals and ceremonies for elevation to the heavens, and do not know of anything higher. These people glorify those parts of the Vedas that please their senses, and perform their rituals to attain high birth, luxury, sense enjoyment, and attainment of heaven [after death].
With their minds attached deeply to luxury and sense gratification, their intellects are confused, and they are unable to possess the determination required for Samadhi.”