The thief escapes by climbing the stairs
Merging the aalambanaa into the tanmaatraas, and the tanmaatraas into the ahamkaar
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Kunal
Om Sri Gurubhyo Namah. Salutations to all the teachers.
"When a thief is robbing a house and the police enter on the ground floor, the thief goes up to the second floor, and when the police follow up the stairs, the thief goes higher and higher, until at last he gets out at the rooftop.”
- Alan Watts
Last week, we began a discussion on Vichaar Samaadhi - the second of four stages of Samaadhi with support.
In Yoga, Samaadhi is the eighth and final limb of Yoga. It is not the same as enlightenment (aka Moksha or Kaivalyam), but is rather a stage of meditation wherein the distinction between observer and observed disintegrates, and objects are perceived independently of names and concepts.
As we have discussed, “meditation” begins with Dhaaranaa, or concentration, where attention is brought to an object of the Yogi’s choice, known as the aalambanaa. Then, when attention inevitably wanders, it is returned gently to the aalambanaa. More on this topic here:
Eventually, as sattva increases, attention “sticks” to the aalambanaa. This is known as Dhyaan. More on this here:
Finally, in Dhyaan, the name and knowledge of the object start to disappear, and the distinction between observer and observed starts to disintegrate. This is Samaadhi.
Samaadhi can be broken down into two broad categories - samprajnaata (with support), and asamprajnaata (without support). The first category - samprajnaata - is further broken down into four levels of depth, based on the subtlety of the object supporting attention.
The first of these is Vitark, which is where the object is the aalambanaa itself - the breath, a mantra, a flame, etc.
The second of these is Vichaar, where the object is the subtle substance that composes the aalambanaa.
Both Vitark and Vichaar use the graahya, or the object, as the support for attention.
In contrast to this, the next stage, Aananda Samaadhi, uses the graahana, or the instruments of perception, as the support, while the fourth stage, Asmitaa Samaadhi, uses the grahitr, or the perceiver itself, as the support for attention in meditation.
We discussed previously how the relationship between the aalambanaa and its “subtle” components is like the relationship between a flower or a figure made of Play-doh, and the Play-doh itself. The Play-doh underlies all possible forms made of it, and the form is a superimposition on top of the Play-doh.
One cannot remove the Play-doh and retain the form, and so it is a one-way relationship, where the form is dependent upon the Play-doh.
In this example, the Play-doh is known as the saamaanya, or generic form, and the flower or figure made of Play-doh are the vishesha, or specific forms. The vishesha is ultimately nothing but the saamaanya, that is, there is no second entity apart from the saamaanya. The vishesha is nothing but a layer of thought - it is ultimately just the saamaanya, through and through.
Similarly, the breath, for example, is composed of the tanmaatraas of texture and sound. One cannot retain the breath but remove texture and sound. The breath is dependent on these tanmaatraas, in a one-way relationship.
The tanmaatraas are the saamaanya, and the breath is the vishesha.
When attention is completely absorbed in the tanmaatraas, rather than the “breath”, this level of depth is known as Vichaar Samaadhi. However, the tanmaatraas are only the beginning of this stage.
Vichaar Samaadhi goes even further than the tanmaatraas, breaking them down even further into their subtle components, all the way up to the buddhi. At each stage, the vishesha, or specific form, is merged into its saamaanya, or generic form.
Specifically, with the example of the breath, here is the stepwise progression:
This is where most of Yoga happens, both in terms of time spent, as well as in terms of depth of progress.
Last week, we discussed the first step, where the aalambanaa is seen as nothing but the tanmaatraas. This week and the following week, we will consider the next three steps in this process.
P: I noticed that in the table above, there are more objects mentioned in the stage of Vichaar Samaadhi. It seems like we are jumping straight from the tanmaatraas to ahamkaar. Which path is correct?
Jogi: There is no one correct path. Either way will work. When the attention is finely tuned enough to see the tanmaatraas as modifications of ahamkaar, it may automatically move to the indriyas (ie. the sense powers), which are also modifications of ahamkaar. This is ok, but may result in mental scattering.
P: Why?
Jogi: The indriyas are more sattvic products of ahamkaar than the tanmaatraas. However, being products of ahamkaar, they are less subtle than ahamkaar. This means that the mind may find itself jumping from one modification to another (ie. from the tanmaatraas to the indriyas), rather than going deeper into the source. It is similar to the phenomenon of jumping between different aalambanaas, where achieving depth becomes difficult due to an attempt to achieve breadth.
सूक्ष्मविषयत्वं चालिङ्गपर्यवसानम्॥SookshmaVishayattvam chaAlingaParyavasaanamThe realm of subtle objects extends up until the Alinga.
- Yoga Sutra, 1.45
Linga vs. Alinga
The word “linga” (लिङ्ग, pronounced ling-uh) literally means sign or “unique characteristic for inference.” To make this clear, consider the classical example of inference - the statement “there is smoke on the hill, therefore there is fire.”
In this statement, even if one does not see the fire directly, as long as they can prove that smoke cannot exist without fire, then, by seeing smoke, they can confidently say that there is fire. This is called inference, or anumaan.
In this example, smoke is the “linga”, or sign, that can be used to infer the existence of fire.
The 25 Tattvas of the Universe (see the diagram below) can be broken down into 2 broad categories - linga and alinga. Linga refers to those Tattvas which can be inferred by their own signs or unique characteristics.
That is, we can infer their existence without their evolutes, but rather just by their own functioning.
For example, you can infer the existence of your buddhi when you understand something, or when you make a decision. Understanding and decision-making are functions of the buddhi - its unique characteristics. You do not need to use the ahamkaar or the tanmaatras in order to infer the existence of the buddhi (although you may certainly do so).
On the other hand, alinga are those Tattvas which cannot be inferred by their own unique characteristics. That is, we can only infer their existence by the use of their evolutes - not by seeing their functioning directly.
The only Tattva which falls into this category is Prakriti - that is, the three, interdependent, gunas of sattva, rajas, and tamas.
P: Why can’t we infer the existence of Prakriti using its own characteristics?
Jogi: We only notice Prakriti through the qualities manifested in its evolutes. For example, you only know tamas by noticing a taamasic buddhi (like when you feel slow to learn or understand something), or by noticing taamasic qualities in objects (like a rock or a table has more tamas than a thought or a spoken word).
Tamas by itself cannot be known in the same way a rock, a concept, or your identity (all evolutes) can be known. Given this observation, we see that we cannot know Prakriti by itself - we can only infer it through observation of its evolutes.
Using characteristics to identify individual Tattvas
Vichaar Samaadhi is a systematic march towards the Self, in the realm of the objective (as opposed to the realms of the instrumental and the subjective).
The entire weight of attention is systematically brought upon each successive aspect of the object, until it is seen clearly as “non-self.” Then, attention automatically moves one further level inward.
However, the Yogi must first learn to identify these aspects so that they can be sure of what it is they are focusing on.
For example, if you are asked to focus on the breath, you know what it is, so you do not have any difficulty bringing your attention to it.
However, if you were asked to bring your attention to your patella, you would likely not know how to do it.
This is not because you are unable to bring your attention to your patella, but rather because you do not yet know how to recognize your patella.
If you were then to be told that the patella is just a fancy word for your kneecap, you would have no trouble bringing your attention there.
In the same way, we must first learn to identify the different Tattvas in our own experience - as opposed to simply learning their names - so that we can easily bring our attention to them in the depths of Vichaar Samaadhi.
In order to recognise any object, we must first learn to recognise its characteristics.
This is true for objects like tables, chairs, books, and cows, and is equally true for objects like tanmaatraas, ahamkaar, and buddhi.
There is a verse taught to students initially learning Sanskrit, which summarises the logic behind this technique beautifully:
काकः कृष्णः पिकः कृष्णः को भेद पिककाकयोः।वसन्तसमये प्राप्ते काकः काकः पिकः पिकः॥Kaakah krshnah pikah krshnah ko bheda pikaKaakayohVasantaSamaye praapte kaakah kaakah pikah pikahThe crow is black, the koel is black, so how to distinguish between them?
Come the arrival of spring time, the crow [is seen as the] crow, the koel [is seen as the] koel.
- Subhaashitam
The crow and the koel (the Indian cuckoo) are both black in colour, and from a distance, are difficult to distinguish from one another, and can be easily confused. However, the koel is known for its unique song, which it sings during the spring season.
This song of the koel is its linga, or unique characteristic, which can be used to identify it and distinguish it from the crow. However, the linga can only be used once it has been activated by the arrival of the spring season.
Until the linga has been activated, distinguishing the crow from the koel is a difficult task.
In the same way, the Tattvas are difficult to distinguish from one another, and are most commonly mixed in with the rest of “mind” or “perception.” In our day-to-day experience, we do not actively distinguish between the activities of the ahamkaar or the buddhi. Rather, our attention is focused on the contents of the perception.
Here, however, the Yogi uses the linga, or characteristics of each of these Tattvas so that they shine forth independently of each other, and can thus be easily distinguished. Once they are distinguished, it is far easier to place attention upon them.
P: How do I distinguish the tanmaatraas, ahamkaar, and buddhi from each other, and from the rest of mind and perception?
The Tanmaatraas
Last week, we discussed the tanmaatraas at length. Briefly, they are, in a sense, the five undifferentiated primary objects (a la primary colours), which combine to form the objects of the Universe that know.
Taking the example sound, gross sound is sound that is differentiated into the various frequencies we hear (e.g. C, D, E, F, G, etc.). The tanmaatraa of sound, known as shabda is like the Play-doh that takes the form of these various sounds, and runs in and through all of them.
Tanmaatraas also underpin subtle objects, such as a mantra recited mentally.
The mantra, when recited in the mind, is a subtle yet differentiated sound. This differentiated sound is made of the same undifferentiated tanmaatraa of sound as the gross sounds we hear around us.
P: When there is no gross sound, is the tanmaatraa still there?
Jogi: What do you mean?
P: Let us say I ring a bell. After a while, the sound of the bell stops. While the bell is ringing, the tanmaatraa is present. But after the bell has stopped ringing, is the tanmaatraa still present?
Jogi: Yes. The tanmaatraa is still present, however it is no longer in the shape of the bell-sound. The form has changed into the other sounds you hear around you.
Normally, we distinguish one sound from another by distinguishing their source from one another. In this framework, all sound that we hear around us is like a single track. You can imagine, for example, listening to a recording of a forest in the early morning. You hear crickets, birds, the rustling of leaves, and a number of other sounds. However, if you pause the recording, say, by clicking the pause button on your phone, the entire track stops. Then, when you start it again, the entire track restarts - birds, crickets, leaves, and all. The entire host of sounds is actually a single, undifferentiated track. Similarly, the sounds that we hear around us are a single, undifferentiated track. We only distinguish them by overlaying a sense of distinction.
Another thing, we normally think that the sound of the bell comes and goes. In this framework, the sound of the bell emerges from the mass of undifferentiated sound, and goes back into it. Sound does not appear in silence. Rather, it emerges from silence.
We can distinguish the tanmaatraa of sound from gross sounds by noticing the commonality amongst various sounds - gross and subtle. We can further distinguish them from each other by honing in on which sense organ we use to sense them.
If you find yourself stable at this point in Samaadhi, afterwards or beforehand, try to reflect upon how you know you have a body. What are the particular sensations that you treat as evidence of the existence of your body as a cohesive whole?
Once this seed of inquiry is sufficiently deep, this stage of Vichaar Samaadhi (specifically in Nirvichaar) will lead to the inexplicable experience of the body appearing as nothing but a shifting constellation of tanmaatraas in constant flux.
The concept of “body” will disappear altogether.
After some practice, once this tendency has been set in the mind, the body-identity will weaken significantly, and the sense of identification - the thief from the Alan Watts quote at the beginning of this article - will move one level up the stairs, to the ahamkaar.
The Ahamkaar
Jogi: Raise your right hand.
P: Ok, done.
Jogi: Who raised it?
P: I did, of course.
Jogi: Did you?
Let us take note of the facts in this simple experiment.
Our friend P raised their right hand. How did this happen?
A sound emanated from Jogi’s mouth in the form of a unique combination of vibrations in the air. These vibrating air molecules entered P’s ear, where it in turn generated a vibration on P’s ear-drum.
This vibration of P’s ear drum was converted into an electrical signal which traveled up the auditory nerve into P’s brain, where it was then converted into a different electrical signal, compared with memories (e.g. the meaning of the words), and finally recognised, in the form of “understanding.”
This understanding then generated an additional electrical signal, which travelled down P’s body, through their arm, where it led to a change in the shape of the protein molecules comprising P’s arm muscles. As a result, the muscles moved, the bones lifted, and the hand was raised.
Feedback in the form of sensation was then sent back via the nervous system back up P’s arm and into P’s brain, where it was noted, once again, as “understanding.”
This is, of course, an oversimplification.
There were several other systems involved, including circulation, breathing, energy transfer, and so on.
In all of this complex machination, where was P’s involvement?
In reality, the body-mind changed its configuration, and a little thought popped up in P’s head that took credit for the whole thing, saying “I did it.” This specific mental movement that takes credit for the complex happenings in the body-mind is the ahamkaar.
It is defined as:
अभिमानात्मिकान्तःकरनवृत्तिः अहंकारः।AbhimaanAatmikaAntahkaranaVritti ahamkaarahAhamkaar is that movement of the internal instrument which appropriates (generates self-conception).
- Vedantasara, 69
This “taking credit” or “generating self-conception” is the linga, or unique characteristic of the ahamkaar. It shows up in every perception (specifically in loka-pratyaksha, the everyday perception), in the subtle form of the feeling “I am perceiving this.”
In the wild, we can find the ahamkaar at play in statements of activity such as “I am watching this movie” or “I am walking”, statements of identity such as “I am a woman”, “I am Indian”, “I am a liberal”, statements of ownership such as “This is my phone” or “This is my idea”, statements of quality such as “I am smart” or “I am fast”, statements of relationship such as “I am her father” or “I am his student”, and statements of convention such as “My name is Bob.”
Try and notice your ahamkaar right now as you are reading this. Perhaps it is in the form of the thought “I am reading this”, whether explicitly forumlated or not. Perhaps it is in the form of identification with the body in the thought “I am sitting.”
When you are completely focused, this sense of ahamkaar starts to become more subtle, and so can be difficult to isolate. Given this difficulty, it can be useful to try to identify your own ahamkaar prior to meditation so that you can find it easily in the depths of Samaadhi.
P: Do I have to make any explicit effort in Samaadhi to isolate the ahamkaar?
Jogi: No. In Samaadhi, the inward flow will take attention to the ahamkaar automatically, without the need for any external effort. However, knowing how to isolate the ahamkaar provides direction.
This is similar to how when you are going on a journey along a straight road, you can travel along the road without a map, and you will arrive at the destination in due time. However, it is still helpful to have a map, so that you know how much further you have to go, and so that you have context that will help you. It is not necessary to know these details in order to arrive at Vichaar Samaadhi. However, it is often more effective for many people to know where they are going before they arrive.
P: How are the tanmaatraas made out of ahamkaar?
There is a one-way relationship between the tanmaatraas and ahamkaar, in the same way as there is a one-way relationship between a pot and clay, or between a wave and water. We can notice this for ourselves by seeing how the tanmaatraas only persist as long as the ahamkaar persists. We can investigate this by looking at two situations - one where the ahamkaar is present, and the other where it is absent.
P: In what state is the ahamkaar absent?
Jogi: In deep sleep.
The experience of deep sleep is one of complete blankness. Here, there is no sense of “I am sleeping” or “I am perceiving blankness.” Said another way, there is no ahamkaar.
Concurrently, we know that there are no objects in deep sleep (unlike in the dream state or the waking state).
Now let us compare this to the states of dreaming and waking.
In both waking and dreaming, there is a sense of “I.” In waking, it is usually a reference to some combination of the body-mind and awareness, while in dreaming it may refer to the same body-mind as in waking, or another body-mind altogether (for example, one might dream that they are an elephant, a king, or even an alien). What is common is the sense of “I.”
Therefore, whenever objects are present, the ahamkaar is also present.
Additionally, we see that in both waking and dreaming, there are objects of perception. That is, the tanmaatraas are present.
P: But this only tells us that they are interdependent. Is there a state where the ahamkaar is present without the tanmaatraas?
Jogi: In order to prove that the relationship between ahamkaar and the tanmaatraas is the same as the relationship between Play-doh and its various forms, we do not need to necessarily show the ahamkaar separately from the tanmaatraas. Rather, at minimum, we need to show that the ahamkaar can exist in the form of each tanmaatraa, in isolation of other tanmaatras.
P: How does this compare to the Play-doh example?
Jogi: Play-doh is the material of the Play-doh pot, the Play-doh flower, and the Play-doh figure. The pot, the flower, and the figure are all dependent upon Play-doh for their existence (ie. you can’t remove the Play-doh and retain the pot). However, the Play-doh cannot be shown apart from any form. It can only be shown apart from specific forms. That is, we can prove this relationship of saamaanya-vishesha by showing the same Play-doh as a pot, then showing the same Play-doh as a flower, and then showing the same Play-doh as a figure.
Similarly, with ahamkaar, we need to show the ahamkaar as one tanmaatra at a time, without other tanmaatras simultaneously present, in order to prove the saamaanya-vishesha relationship.
P: I see. So how can we see the ahamkaar with tanmaatras independent of each other?
Jogi: Consider this example. Imagine you are listening to music with your eyes closed. Your focus on the music is so intense that the sound has enveloped your entire being. The ahamkaar may still be present (in the subtle feeling of “I am listening to music”, even if not explicit). However, the other tanmaatras (form, texture, smell, etc.) are absent.
Similarly right now, as you are reading this and trying to understand it, you may not notice the taste of your own mouth. The tanmaatra of taste was absent, but the ahamkaar was still present.
In this way, we can see that the tanmaatras are entirely dependent upon the ahamkaar for their existence. It is not a two-way relationship of interdependence, but rather a one-way relationship of saamaanya-vishesha, where the ahamkaar is the generic cause, and the tanmaatras are the specific effects.
How does this apply to my practice?
Normally, the ahamkaar has a particularly strong effect on our idea of self. After all, its very function is self-conception.
It is a very useful function, in that without it, we would have no easy way to make sense of all the actions going on in the body-mind at any given time.
To make this clear, consider the example of P raising their right hand in the section above. If every time you did any action, you had to refer to every single thing that the body-mind did, it would make communication and understanding extremely difficult. Given this, the abstraction of “I” is a very useful concept, in that it provides us with an easy way to refer to a large umbrella of actions or events, without having to dive into detail each and every time.
The problem arises when we start to take this abstraction of the ahamkaar as “I” seriously. That is, when we start to identify with the ahamkaar, and start to think “this is me.”
That is, the “ego” is not a bad thing that we must get rid of. The problem is not the ahamkaar itself, but our identification with it.
In the beginning of our practice, we most likely have some confusion about whether “I” refers to the body, the mind, the memory, Awareness, or some combination thereof.
This confusion becomes apparent when we refer to the body as though it were a possession (for example in the phrase “my body”), but then other times as though it were “me” (for example, in the phrase “I am tall”, “I weigh 65 kgs”, or “I am injured”).
We do the same with the mind. Sometimes we say “my mind” as though it were a possession of an entity called “me”, and at other times we say “I don’t understand” or “I am sad” as though the mind is equivalent with “me.”
Then, as we progress, especially through Aasana practice, we start to disidentify with the body, seeing it clearly as an object in our experience.
At this point, the identification - the thief - starts to go a level up the stairs, and settles in the ahamkaar.
As we weaken the kleshas through the various practices of Yoga, this identification starts to weaken. However, throughout the practice, even up until the point of Vichaar Samaadhi, it can remain in a subtle form. At the gross level, we can identify this identification by noticing the appearance of the klesha of asmitaa in our day-to-day perceptions.
At the subtle level, however, it appears in a very different way - as a deep fear.
When we reach this stage of Vichaar Samaadhi where the tanmaatraas are merged into the ahamkaar, the entire weight of attention is now placed upon the ahamkaar as it is. Eventually, we start to see the ahamkaar as an object, rather than as “me.” At this point, if the identification is strong, a deep sense of fear can arise - almost as though the fear of death is welling up inside of you.
As a matter of fact, this is the same thing as death, on a conceptual level. The mind is not mistaken! Death of the body is only scary because of identification with the body. We are not afraid of death per se - we are afraid of the discontinuity of the sense of self, and we get scared because the sense of self is connected with the body.
This same feeling arises when we see the ahamkaar clearly as an object, since we are essentially dissolving, or rather merging, the object that we have for so long identified as the Self.
The stronger the identification with the ahamkaar, the stronger the sense of fear will be. This is why it can be helpful to first practice the initial techniques of Yoga before trying to directly dissolve the sense of “I”.
Yoga is a systematic process, and it has checkpoints like this along the way that help you to gauge your progress. If you arrive at this stage of Vichaar Samaadhi, and feel a sense of great fear, do not worry. It is just an indicator to weaken your kleshas further through Kriya Yoga, eka-tattva-abhyaas, the Brahmavihaaras, and the earlier limbs.
Additionally, know that there is nothing to fear.
Ultimately, the ahamkaar is just another fluctuation in You, the Awareness. It is different from You, and you continue to exist regardless of whether it rises, falls, or entirely disappears.
Until next time:
Try to activate your ahamkaar intentionally, and notice it in your day-to-day life.
Notice the presence of the ahamkaar 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 by clicking on the button below!
Next time: Vichaar Samaadhi continued: How ahamkaar is buddhi, and buddhi is Prakriti