Why should I withdraw my senses?
How attention works, and how Pratyaahaar helps with Realization
Om Sri Gurubhyo Namah. Salutations to all the teachers.
Shuka Deva, the son of Vyasa, was dissatisfied with his father’s answers to questions about the Ultimate Reality. Wanting his son to have all the answers he was looking for, Vyasa sent his son to Janaka, the King of Mithila. King Janaka was widely known to be a Brahmajnaani (a knower of Brahman, ie. Enlightened), and so Shuka Deva jumped at the chance, and traveled to Mithila the very next morning.
When he reached the palace gates, Shuka Deva informed the guards of his arrival, and the reason for his visit. Upon hearing that Shuka Deva had arrived, Janaka decided to test him, and asked the guards to stop him from entering.
For three days and three nights, Shuka Deva waited at the gate without any food.
Impressed by his balanced mind and willingness to endure hardship, Janaka brought Shuka Deva into the palace. He was immediately taken to the harem, where he was served delicacies from all over the kingdom. As Shuka Deva ate, Janaka closely watched, and saw that he was neither upset at being left at the gate, nor impressed by the sense pleasures that he was offered. His mind remained balanced, untouched by the objects of the senses.
Once Shuka Deva had finished eating, Janaka asked Shuka Deva what he wanted. Shuka Deva responded that he wanted to know how to know the Ultimate Reality. In response, Janaka handed him a cup that was filled to the brim with oil. Confused, Shuka Deva asked what it was for.
Janaka responded that the following morning, Shuka Deva would have to take the cup around the city, and bring it back to the palace without allowing a single drop to fall on the ground. Shuka Deva agreed, and took the cup from the King’s hands.
As he left for to rest for the night, Janaka asked his most trusted ministers to arrange for loud music and dancing throughout the city the following day, as a way to distract Shuka Deva from his task.
The next morning, Shuka Deva walked through the streets as people danced, sang, and made merry. However, his attention was entirely fixed on the cup of oil in his hands, and on placing one foot firmly in front of the other. Completely untouched by the sense objects around him, he was able to keep his attention on the cup without wavering. Seeing the strength of Shuka Deva’s Pratyaahaar, Janaka agreed to teach him the secret of the Ultimate Reality.
Last week, we started our discussion on the fifth limb of Yoga - Pratyaahaar (प्रत्याहार). This limb involves the withdrawal of the senses at will. By practising this limb, the Yogi is able to control the movement of the senses with their buddhi, as opposed to the normal state where attention blindly follows the innate tendencies of the mind.1
Pratyaahaar goes beyond external objects, extending to internal, or subtle objects as well. Examples of subtle objects are internal ruminations (sub-vocalizations), internal images (like day-dreams), and any other mental sensations.
Without practicing Pratyaahaar, people often say things like “it’s too loud to meditate”, or even in the context of daily life, “turn off that loud noise so that I can focus.”
Poor Pratyaahaar also leads to feelings of agitation, anger, and restlessness which accompany a sense of helplessness. If one feels that their ability to focus is dependent on their surroundings, they may try to exert control, often to no avail, resulting in frustration.
Pratyaahaar empowers the Yogi to be in full control of their own attention, rather than depending on their environment.
“This is the question: With every sense and every organ active, have you that tremendous peace [so that] nothing can disturb you? Standing on Market Street, waiting for the car with all the rush ... going on around you, are you … calm and peaceful?”
- Swami Vivekananda, talk delivered in San Francisco on May 29, 1900
Pratyaahaar as a prerequisite for Self-Realization
While the ability to focus in the face of distraction is a nice side-effect, it is not the main goal of Pratyahaar from a Yogic standpoint. The goal of Yoga is the Realization of the Self - Awakening, Enlightenment, Moksha, the end of all suffering.
P: How does Pratyaahaar lead to Moksha?
Jogi: Moksha is the Realization of the Self. The Self - the Purusha, in Yogic terms - cannot be seen, touched, smelled, heard, or grasped. It is beyond the senses, That within which all sensations appear, sustain, and dissolve.
Normally, when we think of the word “self”, we may think of the body, the mind, the thoughts, perhaps memory, personality traits, or some combination of these. We sometimes say “this is my mind”, and other times say “I think.” We sometimes say “my body”, as though the body is a possession, and other times “I am thin”, “I am fat”, “I am South Asian” or “I am Black”, as if it is the self. We sometimes say “my personality” and sometimes say “this is me.” This confusion is so persistent that we don’t even think about how when we say “me”, “myself” or “I”, we don’t really know what we are referring to.
If you have a theistic or otherwise “spiritual” bent, you may think “I am my soul” or “I am my spirit.” But where is this soul? Where is this spirit? Have you seen it? Or is it belief?
“Belief has no place where truth is concerned.”
- Jiddu Krishnamurti
The Yogi’s goal is not to simply believe what they have been told, or what is convenient. The goal of Yoga is to search for truth. This requires unflinching honesty, and unrelenting investigation.
In Yoga, (and most of the aastik schools of Indian philosophy) the distinction between “Self” and “not-Self” is clear-cut.
स एष नेति नेत्यात्मा॥Sa esha neti netiAatmaa[The Self is] that [which has been described as] “Not this, Not this.”
- Brhdaranyaka Upanishad, 4.5.15
The via negativa definition of Self is “neti neti” (pronounced nay-ti, nay-ti), or “Not this, not this.”
Said simply, anything we can conceive of as an object - whether physical, or within thought - is not the Self. The Self is That which is not an object.
To make this clear, consider your current experience reading these words. You see your screen, and is quite clear that it is not “you.” Going one step further inward, you experience the sense of sight through which you see the words, and you also know that is not “you.” Similarly, you hear these words in the mind, even though you aren’t reading them aloud. That “subtle object” is also not you.
Then what is it that hears that sound? What is it that sees the image of these words within the mind? That which knows the knower of the mind - That is You. The unchanging Witness.
The Mandukya Upanishad puts it beautifully in its definition of the Self:
नान्तःप्रज्ञं न बहिष्प्रज्ञं नोभयतःप्रज्ञं न प्रज्ञानघनं न प्रज्ञं नाप्रज्ञं |अद्रिश्तमव्यवहार्यमग्राह्यमलक्षनमचिन्त्यमव्यपदेश्यमेकात्मप्रत्ययसारं प्रपञ्चोपशमंशान्तं शिवमद्वैतं चतुर्थं मन्यन्ते स आत्मा स विज्ञेयः॥NaAntahPragyam na bahishPragyam naUbhayatahPragyam na pragyaanaGhanam na pragyam naApragyamAdrishtamAvyavahaaryamAgraahyamAlakshanam AchintyamAvyapadeshyamEkaAtmaPratyayaSaaram prapanchaUpashamamShaantam shivamAdvaitam Chaturtham manyante sa Aatmaa sa vigyeyahNot that which is conscious of the internal world, nor that which is conscious of the external world, nor that which is conscious of both. Not that which is a mass of consciousness (ie. the deep sleeper), nor a lack of consciousness.
Imperceptible, un-transactable, ungraspable, inconceivable, unthinkable, indescribable, the One Self entirely by itself. The negation of all phenomena, peaceful, blissful, non-dual, It is considered to be the Fourth. This is the Self. This is to be Realized.
- Mandukya Upanishad, 7
If the definition of Self here is still unclear, please read this article before moving on.
The Self cannot be perceived by the sense organs, since it is that which perceives the sense organs. As a result, if the Yogi wishes to know the Self, the sense organs must be abstracted. Otherwise, the attention gets pulled by various objects, thus distracting from the goal.
This is not to say the senses are to be ignored or suppressed, rather it is much like driving through the rain with your windshield wipers on.
You are not ignoring or otherwise forcefully suppressing your perception of the wipers, rather you are “abstracting” them so that you can focus on the road. If you don’t abstract the windshield wipers, your attention will follow the wipers back and forth, and that would make driving a near-impossible task.
This “abstraction” need not be an explicit act. Vyasa, in his commentary on the Yoga Sutra says,
यथा मधुकरराजनम् मक्षिका उत्पतन्तमनूत्पतन्ति निविशमानमनुविशन्ते तथेन्द्रियाणि चित्तनिरोधे निरुद्धानित्येषा प्रत्याहारः॥Yathaa madhukaraRaajaanam makshikaa utpatantamAnuUtpatanti nivishamaanamanunivishante tathaIndriyaani chittaNirodhe niruddhaanItiEsha pratyaahaarah.Just as the bees fly when the queen flies, and settle as the queen settles, so the senses are mastered as the mind is mastered.
- Vyasabhashyam on Yoga Sutra 2.54
In the example of driving the car in the rain, you don’t need to make a separate effort to abstract the windshield wipers. Rather, you simply focus on the road, and the wipers automatically fade into the background of your attention.
Pratyaahaar with the karmendriyas
Thus far we have been discussing the buddhendriyas2, or the 5 organs of perception. However, Pratyaahaara also extends to the 5 karmendriyas, or organs of action. In decreasing order of subtlety, these are:
The power of speech
The power of grasping
The power of movement
The power of procreation
The power of excretion
Note, these are not the physical organs like the mouth or the hands. Rather, they are the subtle powers that allow you to speak, grasp, etc.
P: How do I differentiate between the gross organ and the subtle power? All this sounds pretty abstract to me.
Consider this. You can speak within your mind without using your mouth. Similarly, you can grasp within your mind without using your hands. Usually, we lump all these together and vaguely call it “imagination”, “thoughts”, or sometimes “me.” However, in Yoga, these powers are separated out into their subtle and gross aspects. The gross is what manifests in the external world, but is always accompanied by the subtle movement. The subtle movement, however, can happen by itself, without the gross organ being activated.
With Pratyaahaar, the subtle organs are let go of, with vairaagya.
P: What does that mean?
When sitting for meditation, after your Praanaayaam, acknowledge, for example, that you have the ability to move, grasp, or speak, even mentally, and set the intention to let go of these abilities for the alloted period of time. If, or rather, when, the desire to engage one of these organs crops up in the mind, catch it, acknowledge it, and let it go.
This is a continuous process and can take a few months of regular practice to really master. We are so used to engaging these organs and spoiling them with our attention to the point that they throw tantrums if we ignore them.
To calm this outgoing tendency, be gentle, as you might be with a child.
Rather than ignoring the desire to activate the karmendriyas, acknowledge this desire, and watch carefully as it arises and falls. Notice where you feel the desire in your body, and the strength and quality of the sensation. Over time, your mind will create new channels wherein the senses do not expect to be given as much attention. When this happens, you will feel noticeably calmer and more “grounded”, since you will no longer feel the urge to move, speak, act, etc.
Just like with the buddhendriyas (sense organs) above, do not suppress. Suppression only makes the tantrums worse. Acknowledge the feeling, and watch it carefully, with curiosity and full attention. Be patient and kind to your mind, and eventually these tendencies will weaken on their own.
How attention works: The Lighthouse
Consider the lighthouse.
There is a bright lamp which evenly spreads light in all directions. In addition, there is a powerful lens, which focuses the light in a particular area.
This lens rotates around the lamp, thus shooting out a beam of focused and intense light wherever the lens is pointed.
Even though the lens is powerful, without the lamp, there is no light for it to focus.
While from the outside, a ship coming near the shore may see the rotating light and think that the lamp itself is rotating, in truth the lamp is not moving at all. The lens rotates, and gives the appearance of a rotating lamp.
Now back to Yoga.
Consider two concepts:
The Purusha can be compared to the bright lamp in the lighthouse. It provides the Awareness which illuminates our every experience. This lamp is You, the Self.
The manas can be compared to the rotating lens. It moves around, attention flitting from one object to another, constantly scanning the surroundings, and never coming to rest.3
Normally, we think “I am sad”, “I am happy”, “I remember”, “I see”, or “I like cookies” and “I don’t like bell peppers”, but this is just an appearance. Just as the rotating lens gave the appearance of a rotating lamp, the moving and changing mind gives the appearance of a moving, changing Self.4
Additionally, just as the lamp illuminates the lens, and through it the sea, but cannot illuminate itself in the same way, the Purusha illuminates the mind, and through it the objects, but cannot illuminate itself in the same way.
In fact, the lamp does not need to be illuminated separately, because it is self-effulgent. In the same way, the Purusha does not need to be known separately, because it is self-effulgent.
Normally, we identify completely with the moving mind.
It goes from object to object, and we think that that’s what we are doing. This results in frustration, anger, sadness, and general suffering. We identify with the changing mind, and when it changes in particular ways that we don’t like, we suffer.
The mind has a movement of sadness and we think “I am sad”, it has a movement of stress and we think “I am stressed.” We think we are the mind, when in fact, upon careful investigation, we can clearly see that the mind is simply an object in Awareness.
The manas can be considered to be a sort of early-warning alarm system. It illuminates potential danger, allowing us time to react, so as to ensure the survival of the body. It coordinates our senses to make sure that we are aware of any potential harm, and coordinates the activation of the karmendriyas to act on potential threats. However, sometimes it does too good of a job.
By constantly stimulating our senses, the manas gets used to traveling down those channels. Then, when it doesn’t find a channel to go down, it gets agitated, creating subtle objects to hold on to.
This dependence on objects functions, from a Yogic standpoint, in exactly the same way as addiction. The mind is used to traveling down certain channels, and the more we do it, the stronger those channels become. Then, when we stop doing it, the mind doesn’t know where to go and starts to get disturbed.
To make this clear, consider Instagram.
If you become accustomed to scrolling through your feed when you feel bored, you will start to reach for your phone every time you feel bored.
To make matters worse, we identify with our early-warning system. As a result, we may feel that we are always in danger, living in constant fear. If we think the early-warning system is “me”, then we cannot help but take it seriously.
With Pratyaahaar, the Yogi slowly trains themselves to dis-identify with the manas, watching it carefully by observing the movement of attention through the senses, acknowledging what this early-warning system is doing, but letting it go (vairaagya) as “not me.”
The mind rests in its own nature
Normally, the manas extends outward through the 10 indriyas, taking the shape of objects. As mentioned previously, these objects are not only those outside of us, but subtle objects as well. For example, the voice reading this in your head is a subtle object of sound, while the pixels on this screen are gross objects of sight.
When an indriya is not engaged, the manas does not take on the nature of its respective object. Instead, it puts more “weight” behind the sense with which it is engaged. This is why when you close your eyes, for example, your hearing seems to become sharper. This is the principle behind concentration.
Notice how this principle is also true for the organs of action (karmendriyas). When you sit completely still, your ability to grasp, for example, becomes more subtle. If you play an instrument, you can recognize this phenomenon if you compare how it feels to play your instrument while walking around or talking versus sitting still and silent.
Now what happens if none of the indriyas are engaged?
When none of the indriyas are engaged with gross objects, the manas first starts to take on subtle objects. This means you may start to “think” verbal thoughts, or images within the mind. You may start to feel an “urge” to stand up, move around, or scratch a persistent itch. The mind may even try to convince you that it’s ok to get up “just this time.” Watch this “urge” carefully, with curiosity, and see what happens if you don’t entertain them.
When these subtle objects are let go of, with vairaagya, the mind comes to rest in its own nature. This feels like a deep mental silence.
Often, this silence is confused for the goal of meditation. While it is a relaxing milestone, it is not the goal.
Rather, it is here that the mind becomes fertile ground for the following limbs of concentration (धारणा, dhaaranaa), meditation (ध्यान, dhyaan), and absorption (समाधि, samaadhi).
In this way, Pratyaahaar is like a bridge between the external and internal limbs of Yoga.
Until next time:
Set a timer for 10 minutes, and keep your phone on vibrate (not silent), near you.
Close your eyes, and set an intention to disengage from all the ten indriyas.
Notice what happens in the mind every time the phone vibrates (or when you hear any other sound). Do images or words come to the mind? Is there a sense of agitation or an urge to get up and check the phone?
Take notes.
Next time: Methods of Pratyaahaar
At one level, the buddhi itself moves along tendencies. The distinction is in the subtlety of the tendencies. Through Pratyaahaar the more gross tendencies are weakened, and later, in meditation, the subtle tendencies are eventually destroyed.
The buddhendriyas are also sometimes referred to as the jnaanendriyas (organs or powers of knowledge).
This analogy also applies, in a slightly different way, to the chitta as a whole, not just the manas.
For the Buddhists reading this, don’t worry. This is more in line with Buddhist thought than it seems. There is no “Self” as an object - it is more akin to gzhi in the Dzogchen tradition.