When the mantra energy is inaudible and even intangible, not palpable, unintelligible and incapable of being felt in any manner, it is supposed to be a stage of para. When it slowly rouses or wakes up into action, and there is only a tendency to rise—although it actually has not risen—it is supposed to be the stage of pasyanti. The middling stages, called madhyama, are neither gross nor subtle. It is this stage that is supposed to be the anahata stage. Mystics are of the opinion that the para is comparable to the lowest recess at the base of the navel in the astral body. A little above it is the pasyanti. The madhyama is near the heart which is the seat of the anahata sounds (the sounds which are internally produced by the movement of the prana, and not by contact with things). Later we have the vaikhari or the grossest form of the energy, which comes out in the form of speech or the mantra that is uttered.

It is the instruction of the texts of yoga that when we recite a mantra, it should rise from the navel and not merely in the throat. It is not just a muttering through the lips or a slight sonorous sound that we make in the larynx—it is rather a force that we feel right from the deepest levels in the navel itself. Especially in the chanting of Om we will feel, if it is done properly, how the effect is felt in the navel, and then slowly how the energy seems to rouse up into a sonorous expression in the chant. This is the case with every mantra, which means to say that our whole being should be set in resonance with the recitation. Our mantra should be in tune with our own being, and vice versa.

The whole mantra is a vibration. All the mantras are forms of vibration which ultimately merge in the supreme vibration of pranava or Om, which is supposed to be the highest of mantras. Just as all rivers commingle in the ocean, all mantras may be said to be merged in the supreme mantra Om. It is the highest. The vibration that is produced by the chanting of Om is supreme, and all other mantras join it, because Om is an indeterminate mantra and therefore has no particular shape. While all mantras other than Om have particular forms of expression, Om by itself has no particular shape or form. It is indeterminable and its object is not any particular devata or deity, but the universe as a whole. The mantra japa techniques therefore lead finally to Om japa. God or Ishwara is supposed to be designated by Om.

As I said, while every name has a corresponding form, Om by itself has no particular form. Particular mantras have particular deities, but Om has no particular deity. It is general, and so it attracts the general force of the cosmos. It will not produce any effect immediately, because the general effect that will be produced later will be of such a nature that when it comes, we will feel as if the universe were coming to us from all sides. The mantras that we choose in our japa should therefore be sattvic, in the sense that they have relevance to the pranava or omkara (Om). If we take to mantras which have the power to produce immediate results, we are likely to get locked up in the concentration on these objects of the particular mantras. Temptations are not infrequent in these stages. The chant of a mantra, therefore, is possible only after a proper choosing of the mantra. We should not chant just any mantra according to our whim or fancy. Just as meditation needs an initiation, the japa of a mantra also needs initiation. By a beautiful blend of these methods—repetition of the mantra, concentration of the mind on the meaning of the mantra, the direction of the vital force or prana towards a centre, combined with physical exercises called the asana, bandha and mudra—a very good effect on our centre can be produced.

I have to repeat again that these centres are not objects of perception, but are subtly involved in our own personalities. When these are influenced, our whole system gets influenced. We change with the chakras, and it is not merely the chakras that change, as if we were merely the observers of the change. We are nobody outside—we are the chakras. When there is an impact produced on the chakras, it is an impact felt on our whole system, and we receive the impact. It is a self-transformation that takes place, and not only an objective transformation in the sense of an external thing or substance getting influenced by our force. It is not us exerting an influence on something else, but an influence which is exerted on our total being. One has to be very cautious in meddling with oneself, because the process of the release of force should be evolutionary and not revolutionary.

Then, there are difficulties of various kinds, and aberrations of many types may take place. People get into obsessions of various kinds, and they also have physical disorders if the rousing of the energy is forced by the power of will. Yoga is not merely exerting the force of will—it is the sublimation of the will into the understanding and feeling, which then lead further to intuition or integral vision. In spiritual perception what functions is not merely the will or the understanding or the feeling, but the blending of all these together in a flow which goes by the name of spiritual vision—sakshatkara is one of the terms used to describe it. When we see objects through the eyes or think through the mind, then it is perception or cognition. When our total being begins to see, it is called intuition. However, our whole being is never in tune with things at any time, and therefore intuition is unknown to us. A part of our being begins to vibrate with the objects, but our whole self is not in consonance with the things. The gradual ascent from one chakra to another is an ascent from sensation to perception, from perception to cognition, and from cognition to intuition. When we rise from chakra to chakra, we also have nobler and nobler perceptions and grander visions of reality, which are inclusive of the lower features and more universal in their character. This rise brings power, together with knowledge and joy. Strength, understanding and happiness get combined when the mind releases itself from the clutches of the lower centres and goes into the higher.

This process is gradual and evolutionary, as I said. There is no jump from one chakra to another, but rather a connection from one to another. The chakras tend from one to another. In certain texts of hatha yoga we will find the chakras portrayed as rings apparently unconnected with one another, except that there is a rod in the centre—which is the spinal column—and that rod passes through the many rings. The chakras are however not unconnected rings; they have an organic connection with one another. Thus, when the release of energy takes place in one chakra, immediately it is sympathetically felt by the other chakras in a certain proportion of intensity. Our whole body is an organism, and no part of it can be completely isolated from the other. If we have an injection of a medicine, we can sometimes feel the working of the medicine throughout our system in an instant—proving that we are an organism and not a machine. The chakras are organic links of our body, and so to touch one would be to touch all, though in varying degrees of intensity.

Remember this: we touch ourselves in the touching of the chakras. We handle ourselves in the handling of the chakras. We deal with ourselves in dealing with the chakras. This is also a very important thing to remember. We are tackling our own selves in these forms of meditation and not something like the chakra of someone else. It is not so—we are not dealing with another business—it is our business. It is not like the business of the world which we can throw away, but it is something vitally connected with us, which cannot be distinguished from our true being.

Many a time we forget this fact, and we are likely to look upon the chakras as external things, just as we look upon the body as outside us in some way. So much externalised is our way of thinking that we think God is outside us, the world is external to us, and the chakras are also external to us. Everything is external to us. It is difficult for us to believe for a moment that we are involved in everything—in other persons, in the world, in God, in the chakras and in all things. There is nothing in which we are not involved in this world. We cannot stand outside and be an observer of the things of the world. Such a thing is not possible. This is more important to remember in the case of meditation, because the forgetfulness of this fact and an illusory notion that we are observers, standing apart from the objects of meditation in yoga, brings us difficulties of various types.

We can imagine how serious a matter it would be to deal with our own selves, and if we proceed wrongly we will be out of order and out of tune. It is not something else outside—it is not some chakra that is going out of order—but we ourselves. This is the importance, the significance, the difficulty and also the glory of this practice. All these details I have mentioned in connection with the extended practices of asana, which is a limb of yoga, though all these details are not necessarily mentioned by Patanjali in his sutras, and apparently they are not connected or concerned with the system of Patanjali. I mentioned them only as information to enable those who are so inclined to be able to take to these detailed techniques of mantra japa and the practice of kundalini yoga, etc. Included therein is a word of wisdom combined with a word of caution.

The practice of asanas is therefore a very important limb of yoga, and this is associated with the movement of the prana within. This is because the asanas are vitally connected with the nervous system inside, through which the prana moves. The asana and pranayama therefore go together, as the one may help the other. In fact, the stage of pranayama is supposed to be next above the stage of asana in the system of Patanjali. We move one step higher when we concentrate our minds on the regulation of the vital force. Just as the practice of the asanas is an effort at bringing about a system of harmony in the physical body and the nervous system, pranayama is an attempt at harmonising the vital energy within. The vital force is that which moves our limbs and also our breathing process, inspiration and expiration.

The respiratory process may be said to be the outward form of the inward movement of the prana. The way in which we breathe will give a hint as to how the prana moves inside us, and indirectly, how we think in our minds. The method of thinking has a tremendous influence on the movement of the prana in the nervous system, and that is indicated in the way in which we breathe. Whether we gasp or heave a breath when we find it difficult to breathe, whether there is quick breath or slow breath, whether there is deep inhalation or shallow inhalation—all these are the things that we can observe when we breathe. The inhalation and the exhalation are supposed to be harmonious and without jerks.

Just as the asana practice should be harmonious and without jumps, jerks or twists, so should be the practice of pranayama. We should not be frightened about this method of pranayama. It is nothing but a simple form of breathing which has to be done normally. The instruction of this science of pranayama is simply to breathe normally instead of abnormally. The other variations of pranayama that we generally read in texts are only to help this normal breathing. By normal breathing, what is meant is the enabling of the prana to be equally distributed in all the parts of the body. Very rarely do we take a deep breath, as we breathe mostly in a shallow manner. A deep inhalation is unknown to us, unless we are exhausted, tired or worried. Sometimes we sigh with a deep breath, but normally we breathe shallowly. The breath becomes slower and slower when the thoughts also become less and less intense. For example, when we are about to go to sleep, the breathing becomes slow. When we get up from bed after sleep, the breath becomes more active.

The process of meditation, being a tendency to still the mind, has some resemblance to the symptoms that occur during sleep. Many people combine certain aspects of sleep with the aspects of meditation—especially in samadhi, as it is called. Deep meditation has certain characteristics of sleep, though it differs from sleep in the very important factor that we are conscious in meditation, while we are not conscious in sleep. The characteristics similar to both are that there is a slowing of breath, a natural withdrawal of consciousness from objectivity, a more intensified feeling of self-consciousness away from other-consciousness, and a tendency to feel relieved and happy. These we feel both in deep meditation and in sleep.

We feel relieved when we move nearer to our selves, and this happens both in sleep and in deep meditation. The farther we are from our selves, the lesser is our happiness and freedom. In waking life we are very much disturbed because of too much thinking about the objects of the world, and as a result we think less about our selves. So much engaged do we become in the works of the world in waking life that we do not have the time to think that we even have an inner life. But in meditation as well as in sleep, the consciousness gets withdrawn—in one case deliberately, in another case unconsciously. The inward withdrawal towards our own Self is what causes the slowing of the breath, the lessening of tension and a feeling of satisfaction.

That is why we are compelled to sleep every day. The distractions of the world are such in their intensity that we cannot tolerate them for a long time, and we cannot go without sleep for an extended period. The reason is that distractions are unnatural to the Self, and the Self cannot remain in unnatural states for a protracted period. The consciousness of the world outside is highly disturbing to Self-consciousness, but for various obvious reasons we get entangled in objective perceptions. But this is after all an entanglement, and it is not natural, and we cannot be in unnatural states for a long time. We cannot tolerate this disturbance caused to the Self by objective perception. There is a compulsive withdrawal forced upon our systems in the form of sleep. Every day we have to sleep, otherwise the body would perish.

In the sleep condition we refresh our system, not by eating food or by taking tonics, but by merely getting tuned to ourselves. We become strong when we are attuned to our selves, and we become weak when we are out of tune with our selves. Our strength and weakness do not only depend upon the diet that we take or the exercises that we practise. If that were the case, we could go on doing them without sleeping. One finds that nothing provided by the other forms of sustenance is comparable to the joy and the power that we derive from sleep. That we want to come into contact with things for the sake of happiness and acquisition of power in the waking life only goes to prove that we are under an illusion and the truth is not known.

In every effort of the mind to come in contact with things outside, it is trying to seek the ‘within’ in the ‘without’. The mind tries in a state of confusion to find the joy of the within in the objects without. We may say that in all states of objective consciousness, we are not in a normal state spiritually speaking. Because of this abnormal condition of perception in which the mind gets involved in waking life, it tries to make the best of things. In this attempt of the mind to seek the joy within in the external forms, it only gets tired and finds nothing. It is this fatigue that makes it come back to the Self, but it does not know what happens to it in sleep, because of the impressions of desires that are covering this consciousness.

What makes us unaware of things in sleep is the layer of desire that acts like a dark screen upon our own Self, which we have not been able to touch in the waking life. The unfulfilled desires lying embedded in our own Self within, layer upon layer, are what the psychologists call the unconscious. However, there is no distinct unconscious in our Self apart from our own desires. When we get ourselves locked in this unconscious level, we are in sleep. Though we are proximate to our own Self, we do not know that to be so. But in deep meditation, which is a conscious withdrawal of the mind from external consciousness and contact, it goes to the very same state of internality—but with a greater sense of freedom. This is the aim of the process of concentration, for which pranayama is the preparation. The purpose of pranayama is to bring about this cessation of distraction of breath, which has again a connection with a higher state called pratyahara or withdrawal of objective consciousness. One limb of yoga is internally connected with another, and we will find when we touch one we have touched the other, so that asana, pranayama and pratyahara are regarded as the outer court of yoga—all to be taken together at one stroke.