When the mind disappears

Samaadhi: The eighth and final limb of Yoga

Om Sri Gurubhyo Namah. Salutations to all the teachers.

What do you say when asked to introduce yourself?

Most likely you begin with your name, and then move on to some contextual information such as your job, how you spend your time, your hometown, and perhaps the things that you like or dislike.

Notice, all of these are just words - intricate sounds that the body makes, which can be interpreted by others. These sounds may refer to objects - for example, your name refers to a particular body, the job refers to a collection of individuals working towards a common mission, your hometown refers to a physical location on the planet, and so on.

However, neither these objects, nor the words that refer to them, are really You. You are aware of the sounds, as well as the objects, but You are not them - rather, You are the subject that witnesses them.

Note: If you missed the article on the Self (aka Purusha in Yoga), take a look at the article linked below:

What is neither known nor unknown?

This can be understood from a philosophical standpoint, and this is a valid and powerful method, called Jnana Yoga (the Yoga of Knowledge)¹, which we will discuss in future articles.

However, Raja Yoga² - the Yoga we are discussing here - focuses on direct experience. After all, it is one thing to hear and understand something intellectually, and another thing altogether to see and feel it for yourself.

“If I tell you of a wonderful fruit I have found, and describe it to you in detail every day for a year without ever giving you a taste of it, you will not be satisfied.”

- Paramahansa Yogananda

Last week, we revisited the sequence of Yogic techniques that help to calm and settle the mind. Specifically, the foundational methods (ie. eka-tattva-abhyaas, the six stabilizing techniques, the Brahmahvihaaras, and Kriya Yoga), followed by the first seven limbs of the eight-limbed (Ashtaanga) Yoga.

The foundational methods help to weaken the kleshas and calm the mind such that the eight limbs can be practised more easily. Then, the eight limbs work from the outer layers of the Yogi’s being, systematically moving inwards. With each limb, a layer of apparent “self” is dropped away, or let go of (with vairaagya), moving further inward.

The Yamas simplify the Yogi’s dealings with the external world, until it is no longer a distraction, and can be dropped away. The Niyamas simplify personal conduct until it can be let go of. Aasana strengthens and stabilizes the body so that it can be let go of, and so on.

P: What does it mean to let go of a layer? No matter how much I practise Aasana, for example, I still retain the body.

Jogi: To “let go” in this context means that this layer no longer pulls attention.

Attention can be compared to the flow of oil. At first, it is scattered, moving in all directions.

One stream may be pulled out towards your external dealings - you were rude to someone, and now you are thinking about it, or you like to indulge your senses, so your attention is drawn towards imagining or remembering pleasurable experiences. Another stream may be pulled towards your personal conduct - you haven’t showered for a few days, and so you are feeling itchy, maybe you don’t feel like sitting for meditation, so your mind flits back and forth (should I? shouldn’t I?). Meanwhile, a third stream may be towards the body - your back hurts, your neck feels uncomfortable, and so on.

Each of the limbs works on a particular layer of being, in such a way that it no longer pulls attention outwards. This frees up those “streams” of oil, so that they can be pulled together into a single, more powerful stream.

P: But why would I want to do that?

The eight limbs “collect” these streams of attention in order to cultivate vivek - the power of discernment.

Vivek is the power to discriminate between one thing and another, and the sharper your vivek is, the more subtle objects you will be able to discern from one another. An ancient analogy likens this to the ability of ants to separate sand from sugar.

Normally, we confuse the Self with the body, the mind, and sometimes even the objects around us. This confusion is called avidya, and is the root cause of suffering. The method of the eight limbs of Yoga is to cultivate vivek so that it can be used to clearly discern the distinction between Self and non-self (in technical terms, Purusha and Prakriti).

The grosser the objects are, the easier they are to discern from the Self.

For example, it is easy, even with a scattered mind, to distinguish between yourself and a phone.

It is also reasonably easy, with some practice, to discern between the Self and the body. After all, we already feel like we are somehow passengers inside this elaborate vehicle.

But now consider discerning between Self and mind. This is more difficult.

We often confuse ourselves with the voice in our head - sometimes hearing it speak in first person (e.g. “I shouldn’t have done this”), and sometimes in second person (e.g. “Why did you say that? How embarrassing”). If we already have a hard time doing this, consider the difficulty in distinguishing between the Self and mental faculties such as attention, judgement, and understanding.

This is why vivek is important. By cultivating vivek, and systematically applying it to the different layers of our being, we are clearly able to see that this is “not me”, and move on to the next inward layer, until we finally arrive at the Self.³

P: Ok, how does this all work? What are the layers of my being, and how do I apply vivek to see them as “not self”?

Samyam: The chisel

The tool to apply vivek is called samyam. Samyam is like a sculptor’s chisel, and vivek is its sharpness. As another analogy, samyam is like a microscope, and vivek is its tuning.

P: So what is this samyam? We have been discussing meditation, how does “samyam” fit in?

त्रयम् एकत्र संयमः॥

Trayam ekatra samyamah

Where these three (ie. Dhaaranaa, Dhyaan, and Samaadhi) [are performed] together, [it is called] Samyam.

- Yoga Sutra, 3.4

The last three limbs of Yoga are Dhaaranaa (concentration), Dhyaan (meditation), and Samaadhi (absorption). They are not separate techniques, but rather a single technique with different levels of depth. Dhaaranaa deepens into Dhyaan, which naturally and effortlessly (ie. without conscious effort) deepens into Samaadhi.

Once Samaadhi arrives (”arrives” and not “is achieved”, because it cannot be forced), the tool of samyam is sufficiently sharp to use.

P: Are you saying I can’t use samyam until Samaadhi has arrived?

Jogi: Let us compare samyam to a knife. You can certainly try to use a dull knife to cut vegetables, but it will be difficult. On the other hand, if you spend some time sharpening the knife, it will be a lot easier to cut through vegetables. In the same way, you can certainly apply meditation to different layers of being. However, it will be more difficult.

P: Why?

Jogi: In order to understand this, we must first understand the final limb - Samaadhi.

Samaadhi: Meditative Absorption

तद् एवार्थमात्रनिर्भासम् स्वरूपशून्यम् इव समाधि ॥

Tad evaArthaMaatraNirbhaasam svaroopaShoonyam iva samaadhi

Samadhi is when that object [of Dhyana] shines forth alone, as if [the mind] is devoid of its own form.

- Yoga Sutra, 3.3

In any act of knowledge, there are three necessary entities:

1. Grahitr (ग्रहीतृ): The subject/the knower, literally “the grasper”

2. Grahana (ग्रहण): The instrument(s) of knowledge, literally “the grasping”

3. Graahya (ग्राह्य): The object of knowledge, literally “the grasped”

For example, you are perceiving these words on the screen. The subject (the grahitr) is You - the one who perceives, the instrument of knowledge (the grahana) is your sense of sight, and the object (the graahya) is these words.

This image shows the distinction between the knower, instrument of knowledge, and object of knowledge two levels of depth. At the first level, above, the mind is the knower, the eye is the instrument of knowledge, and the cookies are the object of knowledge. At the second level, the eyes become the object of knowledge (e.g. how do you know that you are blinking), the mind becomes the instrument, and the Witness Consciousness (aka the Purusha) becomes the knowing subject.

Another example, you know that 2 + 2 = 4.

The subject, the grahitr, once again, is You; the instrument of knowledge, the grahana, is your faculty of memory; the object, the graahya, is the specific memory that 2+2=4.

This kind of analysis can be done for any act of knowledge.

Throughout your life, and throughout the first seven limbs, there is a subtle sense of separation between these three entities - the knower, the instruments of knowledge, and the objects of knowledge. However, as our samyam deepens from Dhaaranaa to Dhyaan to Samaadhi, this distinction begins to weaken.

P: What do you mean?

Consider a time that you were completely immersed in an activity - perhaps a movie, a book, or some work that you were doing. Try to remember how your sense of self became curiously absent.

In complete absorption, it is as though the object of knowledge is all that exists - there are no distractions, and no sense of “I am doing this.” The object of knowledge - the graahya - becomes the entire Universe of your perception.

When we become completely immersed in any object, the mind (in a sense) transforms itself completely into it. As a result, the distinction between knower, knowing, and known weakens, and eventually completely disappears. This is known as samapatti - immersion or engrossment.

The more attentive we become, the weaker the distinction between subject, instrument, and object.

When this distinction completely disappears, it is called samapatti (समापत्ति, pronounced sum-aah-putt-tee) - immersion, or engrossment.

Just as this is true in our day-to-day experiences of focus, it is also true in meditation.

Initially, when we sit down for Dhaaranaa, we are aware of ourselves sitting, we are aware of the wandering mind, and we are aware that we are trying to focus on on object. Then, as Dhaaranaa deepens into Dhyaan, we still retain some sense of distinction, but it becomes weaker.

The more smoothly attention flows, the less we notice the mind - just as one may not notice a pair of pants until they are too tight.

In Samaadhi, like in samapatti, the distinction between knower, instruments of knowledge, and object of knowledge completely disappears. There is no sense of “I am meditating”, nor any awareness of the mind.

However, what distinguishes Samaadhi from samapatti⁴ is that the distinction between word, meaning, and idea becomes clear, and word and idea are dropped from the Yogi’s awareness (more on this later). In this sense, in Samaadhi, the mind is completely devoid of its own form - a state of “no mind” arises, and the object shines forth, as it is, without any intermixed memories or ideas about it.

The Eight-limbed (Ashtaanga) Yoga: In this article, we are beginning a discussion on Samaadhi, or absorption - the eighth and final limb.

In the Yogic framework, Samaadhi can be broken down into two categories, with one following the other:

1. Sabeeja (सबीज): With seed, aka samprajnata (संप्रज्ञातः)

2. Nirbeeja (निर्बीज): Without seed, aka asamprajnata (असंप्रज्ञातः)

The main difference between these two is that sabeeja samaadhi involves an aalambanaa, or support, for the mind (e.g. the breath, a mantra, etc.), whereas nirbeeja samaadhi does not.

Normally, attention requires an object. One cannot focus without something to focus on.

However, in nirbeeja samaadhi, attention has been trained to such an extent that attention can be alert without the support of an object.

P: Why are they named “with seed” and “without seed”? What “seed” is being referred to?

Jogi: The “seed” in this context is the samskaara, or impression, that is created in the mind any time attention is placed upon an object. Every time we “pay attention” to something - a physical object, a sensation, or even a thought - it leaves an impression, or a seed in the mind. Since sabeeja samaadhi involves the use of a support for the mind, impressions, or seeds are created. On the other hand, since nirbeeja samaadhi lets go of the support, no new seeds are generated. Hence the name nirbeeja - without seed.

Sabeeja samaadhi is further divided into four levels of depth, which appear in sequence:

1. Vitarka (वितर्क): “Reasoning”

2. Vichaar (विचार): “Concept”

3. Aananda (आनन्द): “Bliss”

4. Asmitaa (अस्मिता): “I am”-ness⁵

The first two are further subdivided into levels of absorption known as samapattis⁶:

1. Savitarka (सवितर्क): With reasoning

2. Nirvitarka (निर्वितर्क): Without reasoning

3. Savichaar (सविचार): With concept

4. Nirvichaar (निर्विचार): Without concept

At this level of depth, it becomes difficult to apply language for the purposes of description.

P: Why?

Jogi: All language requires a distinction between subject and object. In Samaadhi, this distinction does not exist. As a result, language cannot be used in the same way as it would in other situations.

Given this limitation of language, it is important to try (as best as we can) not to take these descriptions too seriously, or to cling to mental images of these states. Otherwise, we may miss them when they appear, since we would have built up an expectation that does not match reality.

Rather, we can use these teachings as one would use a map.

Imagine a person who has never seen a mountain before. On a map, one may see a triangle, but once they get to the spot indicated by the triangle, the experience of the mountain is completely different. They may see why the cartographer chose to indicate the mountain with a triangular shape, but it is now clear that the triangle was just an extremely gross approximation of the mountain in front of them. However, if they were looking for a literal triangle upon arriving, they would not realise that their destination was right in front of them.

Similarly, language can be used only to approximate these states⁷. However, if we know these descriptions to be approximations, they can be extremely helpful in order to help us recognise these states once they appear.

Over the next few weeks, we will explore the depths of samaadhi - the final limb of Yoga - along with its philosophical underpinnings, so that when it happens for you, it is easier to recognise.

Do not put it on a pedestal. Pedestalizing samaadhi is one of the most effective ways to hinder your progress. In fact, you are in samaadhi right now! Just that the object is your identity, mind, and surroundings.

Like anything in Yoga, Samaadhi can be achieved by anyone at all - with sufficient practice.

Samaadhi may be the final limb of the eight-limbed path, but it is not the goal. Rather, it is just a tool to help us get there.

Until next time:

1. Strengthen your practice of the Yamas and Niyamas.

2. Continue your practice of Dhaaranaa, and take notes on what you did differently on the days that your Dhaaranaa deepens into Dhyaan more easily.

Next time: Breadth vs. Depth of Meditation

1. Jnana Yoga is also referred to as Vedanta.

2. Raja Yoga, or “the Royal Yoga” is most often referred to as just “Yoga”

3. More accurately, we arrive a reflection of ourselves in the “mirror” of the buddhi.

4. More accurately, only one of the seven samapattis includes word and idea, in addition to meaning. The other six samapattis overlap with Samaadhi. We will discuss this in more detail in future articles.

5. Not to be confused with asmitaa the klesha, which is a hindrance to samaadhi.

6. Some commentators, both recent and modern, subdivide Aananda and Asmitaa into their sa- and nir- subdivisions, respectively.

7. Truly speaking, this is the case for any object.