The path is like the edge of a razor
Vichaar Samaadhi: Merging Ahamkaar into Buddhi, and Buddhi into Prakriti
Hello, and thank you for reading Empty Your Cup!
After the next few articles detailing the depths of samaadhi, I will be responding to specific questions posed by readers - sort of like an advice column focused on the practical applications of Yoga in your day-to-day life.
If you would like your question to be answered, please click this button:
If you’d like, you can remain anonymous as well, but putting in your email address will allow me to answer questions even if they don’t make it into the newsletter.
🙏🏽
Kunal
Om Sri Gurubhyo Namah. Salutations to all the teachers.
अव्यक्तादीनि भूतानि व्यक्तमध्यानि भारत।अव्यक्तनिधनान्येव तत्र का परिदेवना॥AvyaktaAdeeni bhootaani vyaktamAdhyaani BhaarataAvyaktaNidhananiEva tatra kaa paridevanaaO Arjuna, all beings are unmanifest in the beginning, manifest in the middle, and unmanifest again at the end. [Knowing this] what is there to complain about?
- Bhagavad Gita, 2.28
All the objects of the entire Universe, including the subtle components of your mind, can be broken down into 25 categories. In Yoga, these are known as the 25 Tattvas.
The goal of Yoga is the Realization of the Self, which leads to the cessation of suffering - the ultimate problem of existence. The method is a systematic march towards the Self, closely investigating all possible objects in search of that One we refer to as “I”.
There is no faith or belief involved, nor any authority.
The path of the Yogi is one of direct experience and understanding. See it for yourself, run your own experiments, and draw your own conclusions. These teachings are only pointers to help you along the way.
Over the past few weeks, we have been discussing the second stage of Samaadhi - known as Vichaar Samaadhi - where attention is placed upon subtle objects.
Subtle objects are those which generate further evolutes, just as a pot is an evolute of clay, or a wave is an evolute of water. The method is to go deep into the object of meditation - the aalambanaa - so as to uncover its nature.
At first, the object is seen as it is, without name (shabda) or categorization (jnana). This is known as Nirvitark Samapatti.
Next, the object is seen as an evolute of the tanmaatraas, or subtle elements - raw sound, texture, form, taste, and smell. These tanmaatraas are like the primary colours - the five types of primary, undifferentiated objects which combine and modify themselves to create the multiplicity we see in the Universe around us right now.
After this, the tanmaatraas are seen as evolutes of ahamkaar - the “I”-maker. This is the function of mind which generates the self-concept, and takes credit for all the complex happenings in the body-mind. We discussed the example of raising one’s hand, in which a complex set of actions takes place, but the ahamkaar takes credit for it all, saying “I did it.”
At this point, the next step is to see the ahamkaar as an evolute of the buddhi, and then to see the buddhi as an evolute of Prakriti. This will be the focus of our discussion today.
Identifying the Buddhi
Jogi: Pick a finger, and touch it to your nose.
P: Ok, done.
Jogi: Which finger did you use?
P: My ring finger.
Jogi: Now calculate the following sum - what is 29 + 11?
P: 40.
Jogi: Finally, what kind of animal is a golden retriever?
P: A dog.
In this experiment, Jogi asked P to complete three tasks.
In the first, P was asked to choose a finger. This task involved a decision - P picked one finger out of several options.
In the second task, P was asked to add two numbers. This task involved a calculation.
In the third task, P was asked to categorise an object. This task involved classification.
All of these tasks involved using the buddhi, or intellect, and careful observation can help us learn how to isolate the buddhi from the various movements of the mind. The question is, what is common between these three tasks?
In all three of these situations, P had to make a determination.
In the first, it was a determination of which finger to use. In the second, it was a determination of the sum. In the third, it was a determination of which class the object would best fit into.
P: I thought the task of the buddhi was to understand. Is this not the case?
Jogi: That is also correct!
P: How is understanding a determination?
Jogi: What we call “understanding” is actually classification or categorization. When we learn something new, we say we “understand” it only once it has been categorized into our existing frameworks. All knowledge is nothing but classification into existing categories.1 In this way, understanding is a form of determination.
The definition of the buddhi is:
बुद्धिर्नाम निश्र्चयात्मिकान्तःकरनवृत्तिः।Buddhirnaama nishchayAatmikaAntahkaranaVrittiBuddhi is the name for that movement of the internal instrument (ie. the “mind”) which determines.
- Vedantasara, 65
We can identify the buddhi in every perception, whenever we distinguish between one object and another.
Even in distinguishing the ahamkaar or the tanmaatraas, as we did last week, we are using the buddhi itself.
However, to isolate it from other parts of the internal instrument (aka the antahakarana, what we colloquially call “the mind”), we can focus on the subtle movement that appears when we make a decision, a calculation, a classification, or any other form of determination.
This determination is the linga, or distinguishing characteristic of the buddhi which can help us to identify it from the other movements of mind.
P: How is the ahamkaar made of the buddhi? We can use the example of deep sleep to show that they both arise and fall together, but that only goes so far as telling us they are interdependent. How can we prove a saamaanya-vishesha relationship? In what situation can we show the buddhi independent of the ahamkaar?
Jogi: In order to see this relationship between the ahamkaar and the buddhi, we will use two approaches - experiential and logical.
From the experiential standpoint, we can use the example of the flash of sattva that occurs during Dhaaranaa, or the flash of understanding when trying to comprehend a difficult topic. Both of these “flashes” are the buddhi shining forth in isolation. Specifically, in each of these scenarios, in the brief moment that the “flash” occurs, the sense of “I” is absent, yet the buddhi flashes forth.
From a logical standpoint, the function of the ahamkaar is appropriation, and the function of the buddhi is determination. Appropriation requires determination. That is, unless there is an object, a relationship, an action, or something to appropriate, appropriation is not possible. For example, the ahamkaar shines forth in the statement “I am walking.” However, in order for the ahamkaar to appropriate, or take credit for, the action of walking, there must first be a determination or classification of the action as “walking”, and the doer as “I.” The determination comes first, and the appropriation second.
The converse, however, is not true. One need not appropriate in order to determine. That is, as in the experiential example, one can have a flash of understanding without any action of the ahamkaar in appropriating it.
In this way, the relationship is a one-way, saamaanya-vishesha relationship. That is, while the buddhi does not depend upon the ahamkaar, the ahamkaar depends upon the buddhi for its existence in the same way that a pot depends upon the clay, or the Play-doh figurine depends upon the Play-doh.
Once we see the ahamkaar as an evolute of the buddhi, the identification moves one level up, and settles here. A good example of this is during a noting practice.
For those who are unfamiliar, noting is a method of meditation where the mind is not focused on any particular object, but is rather left to monitor openly. Then as sensations - internal or external - arise, they are “noted”, and released. Specifically, this means that they are classified - initially with a subtle word in the mind, and later without word.
A good example of identification taking up residence in the buddhi is when during this practice, the sensation of “I” arises. Then, we note this feeling of “I”, and eventually start to see it as a rising and falling thought, like any other. However, there is a trap here. Who is it that is noting? Who is the observer of the rising and falling “I”?
This is not the Self, but an imposter. It is the buddhi, impersonating the Self.
Even when we are able to successfully note the appropriating function - the ahamkaar - as “not me”, the “I” simply shifts up one level to the buddhi - the one who notes - and takes up residence there. This buddhi is also non-self, but is more difficult to disidentify with.
The buddhi is like the root of the tree of the Universe.
It is closest to the seed that creates it (ie. Prakriti), and is the cause of the trunk, the branches, and the leaves which stem from it.2
P: Wait a second. The root of the tree of the Universe? I thought we were only talking about me. How did we get to the whole Universe?
Jogi: The only thing that binds you to this body-mind is the ahamkaar.
P: What do you mean?
Jogi: Why do you think you are only this body? The body cannot be separated from the air you breathe, the water you drink, or even the sensations you perceive. The only thing that keeps you identified with the body is the self-concept which involves the body.
Once the ahamkaar is seen as a wave in the water of buddhi, the self-concept expands to include the entire Universe, since the Universe is, after all, made of tanmaatraas, which are made of ahamkaar, which is made of buddhi.
This is literal, not metaphorical.
Prakriti: The only Alinga Tattva
Prakriti (pronounced pruh-kri-tee) literally means “nature”, and in this context refers to the three gunas - sattva, rajas, and tamas. For more on the gunas, you can refer to this previous article:
Unlike the other Tattvas, Prakriti is alinga - that is, it cannot be inferred by any unique characteristics of its own. Rather, it can only be inferred through the activities of its evolutes.
Specifically, this means that we can only use the buddhi, ahamkaar, tanmaatras, etc. to infer its existence.
P: If it has no characteristics of its own, how can we say with certainty that it exists at all?
Jogi: This is an excellent question. As a matter of fact, we cannot say with certainty that it exists. But nor can we say with certainty that it does not exist. It is nihsattaasattah, or sadasadbhyaam anirvachaniyam.
P: Huh?
Prakriti cannot be said to exist in the same way that the buddhi, ahamkaar, and the rest of the evolutes can be said to exist. That is, we know that these Tattvas exist because we experience them directly, by their own characteristics, and we cannot use this same method of knowledge for Prakriti.
However, it cannot be said to be non-existent, like the horns of a rabbit or a sky-lotus (both traditional examples), since we can experience its evolutes.
As a result, it is can neither be said to exist, nor said to be entirely non-existent.
P: Then why should we consider it at all? Why can’t buddhi just be the final thing, and everything evolves from the buddhi?
Jogi: The buddhi itself comes and goes. It appears during waking and dreaming, but disappears during deep sleep. Given this, we can infer that there must be something that is deeper - a material cause from which it appears, and into which it disappears - a Play-doh from which it emerges, and into which it dissolves.
P: Then what can we know about this mysterious Prakriti?
Jogi: We can know Prakriti through the qualities it displays in its evolutes.
P: What do you mean?
Prakriti is composed of three gunas - “threads” or “qualities” - that pervade all of material existence. Everything - from a rock to a thought - is actually nothing but Prakriti in flux. The three gunas cannot be separated from one another - only the proportions change. The three gunas are called sattva, rajas, and tamas.
Sattva is the quality of lucidity, clarity, peace, and lightness.
Rajas is the quality of activity, motion, and passion.
Tamas is the quality of darkness, dullness, heaviness, and inertia.
For example, in the mind, we know tamas from the feeling of mental lethargy we get after eating a heavy meal. We know rajas from the feeling of agitation we get after drinking too much coffee. We know sattva from the feeling in the mind after meditation or a good night’s sleep - awake, alert, and lucid.
In objects, we know tamas in the heaviness of the body, rocks, trees, or any hard or heavy physical material. We know rajas in the movement of the wind or the water. We know sattva in the lightness and clarity of thought and understanding (remember, thoughts and understanding are also objects).
If we take a moment to notice, we will start to see sattva, rajas, and tamas all around us - in food, physical objects, personalities, thoughts, relationships, the mind, and anything else in our experience of the world. When this vision becomes clear, we start to see the buddhi itself as nothing but a play of the gunas.
Eventually, it becomes apparent that all things, including what we consider to be ourselves, are nothing but a play of the gunas. Everything, absolutely everything, emerges from, plays in, and returns to Prakriti just as waves emerge from, play in, and return into the ocean. This understanding results in a feeling of extreme calm, lucidity, clarity, and contentedness. After all, seeing that everything we once took so seriously is just a flux of the same underlying material, what is there to grieve over, or be anxious about?
This is the highest level of Vichaar Samaadhi, but is still not the final stage of Yoga. After this, the attention is turned towards the instrumental and subjective realms, in Aanand and Asmitaa Samaadhi, respectively.
How does this apply to meditation?
In practice, Vichaar Samaadhi has two parts to it - Savichaar and Nirvichaar - discussed at length in the article here:
Once the Yogi has passed through the stage of Vitark Samaadhi (ie. on the gross form of the aalambanaa), attention is brought upon each objective tattva first with name, knowledge, time, space, and causation (aka Savichaar), and then without name, knowledge, time, space, or causation (aka Nirvichaar).
Specifically, after the stage of Vitark Samaadhi, it looks something like this:
Savichaar Samaadhi on the Tanmaatraas.
Nirvichaar Samaadhi on the Tanmaatraas
Savichaar Samaadhi on the Ahamkaar (seeing the tanmaatraas as nothing but ahamkaar).
Nirvichaar Samaadhi on the Ahamkaar
Savichaar Samaadhi on the Buddhi (seeing the ahamkaar as nothing but buddhi).
Nirvichaar Samaadhi on the Buddhi
Savichaar Samaadhi on Prakriti (seeing the buddhi as nothing but Prakriti).
Nirvichaar Samaadhi on Prakriti
This practice requires a significant weakening, if not dissolution, of the kleshas, and happens of its own accord.
It is not a specific technique, where the Yogi follows the instructions. Rather, it is more like a map that shows the Yogi the direction in which their attention will naturally and automatically flow.
There are two tendencies, at the stage of Samaadhi.
On the one hand, there are those who put Samaadhi on a pedestal, thinking that they can never achieve it in this lifetime. If you find yourself in this camp, take heart. Progress in Yoga is achievable by anyone, with sufficient practice and determination (note the four keys to practice).
On the other hand, it is easy to fool oneself into thinking that they have reached a higher stage than they have. This is called bhraanti-darshan, and is one of the nine hindrances or obstacles to Samaadhi. If you find yourself thinking you have achieved these stages, notice your kleshas - are they still active? What triggers them?
If you are honest with yourself, and if they are still strong, you are likely in this camp without realising it. However, continue the practice, and results will come.
This balance is difficult to strike, and is one of many reasons that the path of Yoga is compared to walking along the edge of a razor-blade.
उत्तिष्ठत जाग्रत प्राप्य वरान्निबोधत ।क्षुरस्य धारा निशिता दुरत्यया दुर्गं पथस्तत्कवयो वदन्ति ॥Uttishtthata jaagrata praapya varaanniBodhatakshurasya dhaaraa nishitaa duratyayaa durgam pathasTatKavayo vadantiRise up, wake up, and learn, having reached the Great.
The path, say the Poets, [is like] the edge of a razor blade - sharp and difficult to traverse.
- Katha Upanishad, 1.3.14
Either way, you are the only one who has any visibility into your own mind, and as a result, to your own progress. As a result, it is critical to remain honest with oneself, otherwise, it is easy to fall off the path.
After all, being a Yogi is hard work.
Until next time:
Try to activate your buddhi intentionally, and notice it in your day-to-day life.
Try to notice the presence of the gunas in your daily life. Try to categorize things as more sattvic, rajasic, or taamasic. Take notes.
Notice the presence of the buddhi during your daily meditation. What is common on the days that it is easier to identify, versus on the days that it is harder? Take notes to find patterns!
Ask questions here:
Next week: The Bliss Samaadhi
One meaning of the word “gana” is a batch or a category. In this definition, Ganapati, or Ganesha, literally means “Lord of the categories”. Ganesha, in this way, is a symbol for the buddhi.
From Adi Shankaracharya’s commentary on the Yoga Sutra.
Very nicely and clearly explained -- these difficult concepts are explained so very well by you in simple words. Reading your articles is a pleasure. Thank you
Hi Kunal! The link to the next article is working. Please re-link. I have noticed this problem in the last few articles. Please check.