What's going on in my head?
Primal Ignorance and the 25 Tattvas: The Mind in Yogic Psychology
Om Sri Gurubhyo Namah. Salutations to all the teachers.
Welcome back! Last time, we started to go over the 25 Tattvas, or 25 categories of the Universe.
In particular, we discussed:
The 5 Mahabhutas: Gross/Physical Elements
The 5 Tanmaatras: Subtle Elements
The 5 Buddhendriyas: Organs of Perception
The 5 Karmendriyas: Organs of Action
The elements (objects) evolve from the tanmaatras, which in turn evolve from the organs of perception, by way of the Ahamkaar, or self-identity.
This week, we will go over what is called the antahkarana, or “internal instrument.” In English, the term “mind” is quite vague. Without clear language to describe our inner life, it can feel like a tangled web of stuff - memories, feelings, perceptions, sub-vocalizations, decisions, and many other happenings. In this article, we will dive into the main functions of mind in Yogic Psychology, and how they work together.
The antahkarana is composed of 5 categories (the yellow-filled boxes in the diagram above), all evolving from each other. In reverse order of subtlety, they are:
The Karmendriyas: The organs of action
The Buddhendriyas: The organs of perception
Manas: The Lower Mind
Ahamkaar: The “I-maker”
Buddhi: Intellect
We already went over the organs of action and perception last week, and so this week we will begin with the manas.
Manas: Lower Mind
Manas (pronounced muh-nuhs) is the lower mind - specifically, it is where doubt, attention and emotion happen. Consider this traditional example:
The sun is setting, and in the semi-darkness, you notice a tree trunk in the distance. But, since it’s dark, you’re not sure if it’s a tree trunk or a person. Your mind flits back and forth between the options (this is called sankalp and vikalp). This is the manas at work, repeating in an endless loop of doubt and uncertainty.
We can notice this most prominently when we ruminate.
Perhaps you did something that you wish you had done differently, the mind will flit back and forth between different things you could have or should have done. This cycle is endless, and will continue to repeat itself until the buddhi (more on this below) steps in and decides on one way or another.
The manas is like the reigns in the hands of the charioteer (the buddhi), on a chariot (the body) with 5 horses (the senses of perception). You are reading this right now, and your eyes are engaged in the text. Suddenly, there is a loud noise outside - it is the manas that coordinated the shift in attention between your power of seeing and your power of hearing. The manas can also coordinate shifts between the senses and thoughts in the mind. A subtle point here - the manas does not decide to move attention between one thing and another - this is the job of the buddhi. The manas takes orders from the buddhi, and plays them out to create a cohesive experience, and then passes the information back to the buddhi to make sense of it. The final “understanding” is then passed onto You, the Purusha (Atman in Vedantic terminology, but more on the subtle difference later), who simply witnesses all of this happening.
Ahamkaar: The “I” Maker
“Ahamkaar” (pronounced uh-hum-kaar) is a compound of two words - “aham”, which just means “I”, and “kaar” which means “doer” or “actor.” Together, it is the “I-doer” or the “I-maker.” Often, this is translated as “ego”, but this may result in unwarranted comparisons between modern and Yogic psychology.
We can physically place the “I” as well. Consider this brief experiment:
Do you feel “I” more below your waist or above it?
Do you feel “I” more above your sternum or below it?
Do you feel “I” more above your neck or below it?
Do you feel “I” more on the left, right, or center?
There are usually two groups of people here - those who feel “I” near their heart, and those who feel “I” in between their eyebrows, behind their eyes. The point of this exercise is that the “I” is a feeling that we can physically place. This shows us, clearly, that it is an object in our experience - I am different from the feeling of “I.”
Mano Buddhyaahamkaara Chittaani Na’aham
I am not the Manas, the Buddhi, the Ahamkaar, or the Chitta- Nirvaanashatakam, Adi ShankaracharyaOften, when it comes to meditation and related Eastern traditions, there is a misconception that one is to get rid of the ahamkaar. However, while it is certainly at the root of the confusion of Self with the body-mind complex, the ahmakaar is an extremely useful tool. It provides us with a unified sense of self (hands, arms, torso, mind as a single unit called “I”) without which it would be extremely difficult to function. It also allows us to identify objects as separate from us, which is critical to survival. Additionally, it give us the capacity to act appropriately given the situation we are in - to see this in action, just notice the difference in your behaviour when you are in front of your parents versus in front of a group of close friends, or how your behaviour changes in a large group versus a small group. We sometimes see this as “not being genuine”, when actually, it is just the normal functioning of the ahamkaar.
The trouble is, however, that rather than seeing it as the object which it is, we take it seriously and identify ourselves with it. We start to think “I am the I”, when indeed you are not. You are the observer of the “I” in your mind.
Prakriteh kriyamaanaani gunaih karmaani sarvashahAhamkaar vimoodhaatma kartaaham iti manyateNature is the doer of all actions, the gunas truly do everythingThe Self, confused by the ahamkaar says “I am the doer”- Bhagavad Gita 3.27The ahamkaar is defined in the Vedantasara, an ancient text by the sage Sadananda as abhimaanaatmika antahkaranavritti. Simply translated, this means the “movement of mind which takes credit.”
If I were to ask you the question “do you know how to walk”, you would say “yes, of course - I’ve been doing it since I was a toddler!” However, if you really think about it, if you were given conscious control over your muscles, tendons, sinews, circulation, nervous system, etc., you wouldn’t know where to begin. The truth is, you don’t know how to walk. You never did.
Walking happens, and you take the credit.
Ahamkaar is like a bad manager - the team does all the work, but the manager takes the credit.
In the tomato example at the beginning of last week’s article, it is ahamkaar that is at the root of the misidentification. It is because we identify with the mind-body complex that we feel anxiety about death, sorrow about disease, guilt about the past, and worry about the future. But it isn’t all bad, since without ahamkaar we wouldn’t be able to function - something as simple as walking would be a huge mental strain.
The unified sense of self, when taken too seriously, results in arrogance. Its ability to identify objects as separate from us, while critical to survival, when taken too seriously, results in debilitating fear. Its capacity to help us act appropriately given the situation, when taken too seriously, results in anxiety, lack of self-worth, and a crippling worry about how we appear to others.
Just as fire can cook food, but also burn you, and just as the internet is both a wonderful place for learning but can also be a cesspool of trolls and disinformation, the ahamkaar, like all objects, is neither good nor bad in itself, but can be the cause of good and also of harm. An old Chinese story illustrates the point:
Once, a frog and a centipede were walking together. The frog asked the centipede “I have two legs, and I hobble about. You have a hundred legs, and you are able to walk so gracefully. How do you do it?” The centipede thought about it for a moment, and tripped.
The indication that your ahamkaar is coming in the way, is when you begin to notice it. A good analogy is the tightness of pants - you only notice the feeling of your pants on your waist when they are either too loose or too tight. Another analogy is the eyes - you only notice the eyes when they are not functioning properly (e.g. your vision is poor, or if there is a cataract).
Learning to use your ahamkaar as a tool can be extremely helpful in the path towards freedom - so don’t be too quick to get rid of it. Just don’t take it too seriously.
Buddhi: Intellect
The buddhi, or the intellect, is the ability of the mind to decide and understand. In the Vedantasara, Sadananda defines it as nishchayaatmika antahkaranavritti (literally, the movement of the mind which determines).
When the manas brings it doubt, the buddhi is the one that chooses the path to go with. We can notice our buddhi in action when we make any decision, big or small. It also decides on what constitutes a given “object” in our experience. For example, how do you know that this is your phone, and not a piece of food? It is the buddhi that decides the boundaries of objects. Additionally, the buddhi is what understands. You are reading these words right now, but they are simply pixels on a screen. Your sight brings in the information, the manas coordinates the movement of your eyes across the screen and also pulls that information back in a coherent way. At this point, the buddhi decides what is a word and what is the background. This then goes back through the manas, to the tanmaatras which play the words out as an “inner voice.” This “inner voice” goes back through the manas to the buddhi, where it retrieves associations from memory (more on memory below), and then finally understands the meanings of the words.
The buddhi is what makes decisions, not You. This might sound frightening, but it’s actually apparent in our everyday experience. Make a decision right now to wiggle your right toes. Notice where that decision takes place. See how you are able to objectify the decision - it is an object in your experience. The decision happened, You “saw” it, and the ahamkaar jumped in to take all credit. Then you say “I wiggled my toes.”
The buddhi is the most subtle of all the functions of the mind. In experience, it is like a soft mental whisper in the back of the head. Try this: What is 17+5?
Somewhere in the back of your head, there is a whisper that says “22.” This is the buddhi in action. Decisions are at the same level of subtlety. They are so subtle that we usually miss them altogether, and as a result, confuse ourselves thinking we are the ones deciding.
Buddhi, Manas, and Ahamkaar are not parts of the antahakarana (internal instrument), but rather movements in it, like ripples in a pool of water (the technical term is vritti - literally “whirlpools” - we will discuss these further in a future article).
Realising ourselves as different from the buddhi is one of the final stages of Raja Yoga, and is no easy feat. At this stage, however, understanding it intellectually is sufficient.
Wait. What about memory?
In some other frameworks in Indian philosophy, memory is a category of its own, called the chitta. However, in Yoga, chitta refers to the entire antahakarana, and not just the function of memory. Look back at the diagram of the 25 Tattvas - you will notice that memory has no place of its own. This is because, according to Yogic psychology, it is not an independent category, but rather functions as impressions (samskaaras) in/through all the other categories. Every category can and does hold memory.
For example, your karmendriyas hold memory (muscle-memory). Take an example of a musician or an athlete. Physically going through the motion, or even just going through the motion mentally with the subtle organ of action, will both lead to better performance of that motion over time.
Another example is the buddhendriyas (organs of perception) holding memory. For example, using your favourite app, you know exactly where to look to find the back-button. The opposite of this is true when you ask a grandparent to use a phone - notice, they will read it from the top left corner of the screen rather than skimming for icons as younger people will do. This is because the impressions in their sight-buddhendriya over their lifetime are from reading printed text from top-left to bottom-right.
Memory also functions through our manas, ahamkaar, and buddhi through impressions in these categories. Every movement of the antahkarana leaves an impression, and this impression is what we call memory.
We tend to follow these impressions as water on soil tends to follow the path it has gone on before, but we can change these paths with repetition and attention. We know when we are following an impression when it feels natural and effortless. As with anything, this can be both good and bad. When you intentionally practice something, and then it feels effortless, that is useful. On the other hand, when you act out habitual patterns that you want to break, you will need to put in intentional effort to break them.
We also tend to remember some things more than others (e.g. extremely pleasant or unpleasant things, things that relate to us, etc.). More on this later when we discuss kleshas.
To summarize, we have now covered the entire antahakarana or internal instrument, as well as the “external” world. So far, we have discussed:
The 5 Mahabhutas: Gross/Physical Elements
The 5 Tanmaatras: Subtle Elements
The 5 Buddhendriyas: Organs of Perception
The 5 Karmendriyas: Organs of Action
Manas: Lower Mind
Ahamkaar: The “I”-maker
Buddhi: Intellect
We usually look at our minds like we would a drawer full of cables. Not only does it feel messy, but as a result, we try to avoid it. Using this framework as a lens for your daily inner experience can help to bring clarity to what’s going on in your head. Explore your mind through the frameworks of Yoga with curiosity, like a baby seeing it with fresh eyes, and you will find that objectifying your mental processes in this way helps to create a distance from them.
When was the last time you cleaned your cable-drawer?
Next time: Prakriti and the 3 Gunas
If you have any questions, please feel free to post them in the comments section below!