The Yoga System

by Swami Krishnananda

The Self is mistaken for the not-Self, and vice versa, in the sense that the universal is forgotten and gets localized in certain objects and the senses commit the blunder of taking the non-eternal for the eternal, the impure for the pure and pain for pleasure. Pratyahara is greatly helped by this analysis, for the senses, by this understanding, refrain from clinging to things. The entanglement of the senses in their respective objects and their organic connection with the objects is so deep and strong that it is not easy to extricate consciousness from matter. Just as one cannot remove one's skin from one's body, it is difficult to wean the senses from things. The organic contact artificially created between the senses and objects should be snapped by vichara or philosophic investigation. This is a stage in vairagya or dispassion for what is not real.  

It is not necessary that in a state of pratyahara the senses should always be active. Many a time they appear to lie down quietly and yet cause great disturbance to the student. When they are positively active, the student becomes conscious of them, but, when they resort to subterfuges, it is difficult to perceive them. The activities of the senses have stages or forms of manifestation. A mischief-maker might be maintaining silence, but thereby it does not mean that he is inactive, because he might be scheming over a course of action in which he wishes to engage himself at a proper time. At times, his activities might get thinned out due to the work of the police and when he is harassed from many sides. When he is overworked, he might get fatigued and in this condition, again, he may not do anything. Yet, it does not follow that he is free from his subtle intentions or that he is really free from activity. Sometimes, it might also happen that he suspends his activity for other reasons like the marriage of his daughter or the sickness of his son. This suspension of action does not also mean a closure of his plans. When all circumstances become conducive, he will resume his work in full vigour. 

This is also the way of working of the desires. They may be asleep, attenuated, interrupted or actively operative. When we sleep, the desires also sleep; they regain strength for further activity on the following day. They also get tired and then cease from work for a while. They lie dormant (prasupta) when there is frustration due to the operation of the laws of society, the absence of means for fulfilment, or the presence of something obstructing satisfaction. In frustration, the activity is temporarily stopped. When one is in an environment which is not conducive to the expression of desire, one suppresses it by will, and here it is in a condition of induced sleep. In cosmic pralaya or the final dissolution, when all individuals get wound up in a causal state of the universe, the senses with their desires lie latent; they remain in a seed form. The desires are not wholly blind, because they know how to create circumstances for their expansion and fulfilment. Even instinct has intelligence. Sometimes intelligence gets stifled by instinct. Intelligence often justifies instinct and accentuates its work. 

Though this may be one of the conditions of desire in ordinary persons, it gets thinned out and becomes thread-like in the case of students of yoga. Sadhana attenuates desire, makes it feeble, though it is not easily destroyed. The desire loses some strength in the presence of the spiritual Guru, inside a temple or place of worship, because it is not the atmosphere for its exhibition. This is another condition of desire, where it remains feeble or thin (tanu). 

There is a third state of desire, where it may be occasionally interrupted (vichhinna) in its activities. One may have love for one's son, but for a mistake committed or an unpleasant behaviour of his, one may get angry with him. Here the love for the son has not vanished but is temporarily suspended in a state brought about by passing circumstances. This frequently happens between husbands and wives. Love is suppressed by hate and hate by love due to situations that may arise now and then in society. For the time being, the object of affection may look like one of hatred. We see, among monkeys, the mother-monkey will not allow her baby to eat and she may even snatch away from its mouth the piece of bread it has. This does not mean that the monkey hates the baby and we can also observe the extent of attachment the mother-monkey has for her baby. Love and hate are mysterious psychological conditions and we cannot know where we stand at a given time until we are strongly opposed by contrary forces. Sometimes one feels depressed and at other times one is in a mood of joy. There is often dejection and melancholy. Small unhappy events easily put out people, though all the while they might have been happy. Suddenly, also, they may be elated due to some joyful news conveyed to them. These are waves which arise in the lake of the mind due to the movement of the wind of desire in different directions. The mind dances to the tune of the senses. 

There have been instances where seekers, for a long time, appeared to be sense-controlled persons and then began to indulge in unwanted activity. Sometimes, when no progress is tangible, one may think that one's efforts have all gone waste; but then suddenly one may realize also a great joy. This happened in the case of the Buddha. He lost hopes even on the day previous to that of his illumination. He had decided that his end had come. But the bubble burst the next day, and light dawned. Seekers may go down or go up on the path winding like a hill-road, with many descents and ascents. The student of yoga should be vigilant and should not make decisions or pass judgments by looking at the moods of the mind day by day. Things may appear all-right for a time; but there may also be a cyclone of emotions subsequently, shattering one's hopes and expectations. This is the guerilla warfare that the desireful senses wage when one tries to control them or restrict their activity. When we constantly watch the senses, they show resentment and react and want to jump upon us. None tolerates restriction on one's freedom. 

Whatever be the condition of desire - sleep, attenuation or interruption - it is still there, and has not gone. It can gain strength at a convenient time. We may go on pouring water over fire with a view to extinguish it, but if a spark is left, though the large fire is put out, it may create a huge conflagration again. This happens often in forests, with a small log of wood smouldering in a corner. The spark that is left manifests itself in an opportune moment. Though the desire may be thin, it is not destroyed, and becomes powerful when suitable circumstances present themselves. 

Desire, when it is placed wholly in favourable circumstances, becomes fully active (udara) and then one cannot do anything with it, as with the wild forest fire. The raging flames cannot be put out with a bucketful of water. The student's little discrimination will get extinguished due to the might of desire. The whole world is fire, said the Buddha. Experience is the fire of desire; the eyes are this fire burning, the ears and the other senses are burning with desire. The mind and the faculties have been caught up in this fire. The world is a burning pit of live coal, according to the Buddha. The four conditions mentioned are only a broad division of the working of desire. But it has many other forms in which it may lie concealed or act. The mind creates certain mechanisms within itself for its defence against attack from yoga. It runs away from the spot where it can be observed and the student might miss his aim. And it can follow any of the four techniques mentioned already. It can divert its activity along another channel altogether. This is one of the defence-mechanisms of the mind. If the student in a higher state of mind observes that the lower mind is attached to an object, there will naturally be vigilance kept over it. But it employs a shrewd device of giving up that object and deftly clinging to something else, thus creating an appearance that the attachment has gone. Loves are shifted from one centre to another. The student might find himself in a fool's paradise, if proper caution is not exercised here. He might think that the affection has been snapped, while it is as hard as before, only fixed in another centre. The river has taken a different course and is inundating another village. When a tiger is being pursued, one does not know on whom it will pounce. 

The mind also can resort to another method, different from this common technique. If one is persistent in spotting out the desire wherever it goes, it might stop going to any outer object, but be internally contemplating on the desired end. There can be enjoyment of an object within, if all other avenues are obstructed. One can imagine the objects and acquire a psychological satisfaction when all other channels are blocked. If the best is not available, the mind gets satisfaction in the next best, and if nothing is given, it will enjoy its object in thinking. If the vigilance goes to the extent of observing even this, the mind will try to manipulate itself by projecting its negative characters on certain persons or objects. If a small monkey is pursued by a bigger one, the former will make a chirping noise and draw the attention and support of the other monkeys to someone nearby, and then the whole group will jointly offer an attack on the third party, so that the original skirmish is forgotten by displacement of attention. There are people who try to become virtuous by pointing out the defects of others. Small persons become great by casting aspersions on noble souls. Wonderful is the trickery of the mind. The desireful condition will find an evil spot in someone or something, to the dissatisfaction and disgust of the vigilant mind, and thus side-track the activity of the latter. One might here become more conscious of the defects of the outer environment than of what is happening inside. In the meantime the lower mind works its way. Dreams, phantasies, building of castles in the air, seeing defects outside, are some of the defence-mechanisms which elude the grasp of the vigilant intelligence. Whatever be one's efforts at subduing the mind, the same will never be too much before the impetuosity of the senses. The Bhagavadgita gives a warning when it says that the force of the senses may sweep over like a whirlwind and carry away one's understanding. The Manusmriti says that the senses have such power that they can drag away even a wise man's mind from the right course. The Devimahatmya says that maya can pull by force even the minds of those with much knowledge. 

In pratyahara, reactions are often set up and the student may get frightened about what is happening. Patanjali, in his Sutra, details out the difficulties. Apart from the positive hazards mentioned above, there are certain other negative types of problems that come on the way. Illness (vyadhi) may come upon one due to indiscriminate eating, pressure exerted on the pranas in one's practice, undue exposure, over-exertion, etc. Sickness is a great obstacle in yoga. Sickness may be physical or psychological, engendered by one's disobedience to Nature or by reactions to one's practice. It can so happen that the student gets fed up with everything after years of practice and concludes that all things are useless. He gets into a mood of despondency (styana). He may start thinking that he is alone and there is no one to help him. This thought may become so intense that he may not be able to think of the ideal before him. Outwardly, there may be weakness, recurring head-ache and sleeplessness. He may not get sleep for days together. There may develop pain in the body and absence of appetite for food. The stomach may lose the strength to digest anything. These are temporary reactions from the prana and the mind under the process of control. These are passing phases of which one need not be alarmed. Due to concentration of mind on a particular line (not spiritual concentration but concentrated attention on a particular effort) one may have occasional irksome feelings. These are outer symptoms which may annoy the student for a considerable time. Pratyahara is, in a way, a tussle between the inner and the outer nature. This should explain the reason behind reactions. The inner war is as complicated as the outer and there are as many manoeuvres employed inside as in wars outside. The inner battles are more difficult to win than the outer ones, because in the outer several persons and tools can be employed, while in the inner no such things are available. The inner war is perpetual, without rest. A truce seems to be declared only in sleep, swoon and death. There may come about a languishing state of the body wherein one cannot sit even in an asana. The student feels tired even of meditation. Dullness that sets in may make all things slow and one starts taking things easy without the enthusiasm and vigour with which the practice commenced. This happens after a few years of effort. Styana is a condition of sluggishness of the body and mind. Also a kind of doubt (samsaya) may start harassing the mind because of there being no palpable progress in sadhana. One does not know how far the destination lies. The student trudges on but does not know the distance covered. There is no guide-map to indicate the distance yet remaining. The inability to know where one is standing creates uncertainty in the mind. Doubts may also creep in by study of too many books of a variegated nature written by different authors, each one saying something different from the other. It is with difficulty that one becomes a good judge of the multitude of ideas served through conflicting literature. Absence of a proper understanding of one's true position is a cause of doubt, on account of which one changes the place of residence, changes one's Guru, changes one's mantra, changes the mode of meditation, etc. These changes are done with the hope that some sizable result will follow from them. But in the changed condition one finds oneself where one was and feels a necessity to make a further change. It is not easy to realize where the real mistake lies. Such a dubitable character is an obstacle in yoga. The reactions that the mind and senses produce take many forms and the instability of the mind whereby one does not stick to any one thing or place is an instance. Stickability to one thing is also a great concentration of attention and hence the difficulty in its practice. The mind gets bored with seeing the same people, same place and the same things. There is desire for variety due to disgust for monotony. This is the outcome of doubting, due to which the student gets lost in the wilderness of life. The state of mind wherein it is unsettled and is confused by heedlessness (pramada) is another obstacle. Doubts arise on account of carelessness in thinking. The student has allowed the enemy an entry while in sleep and he wakes up when the enemy has already taken possession of him. Because of want of vigilance, the calamity has befallen him. Once we are convinced of the validity of the practice and the competency of the Guru, what need be there for a change? How did this happen? It occurred because one had no conviction even before. A faith that can be shaken up cannot be called a conviction; it is only a temporary acceptance without proper judgment. No success in any walk of life is possible without a correct assessment of values. It would be foolish to go headlong without considering a situation from all sides, with its pros and cons. It is not good to jump into a mood of emotion in yoga, for yoga is not a mood of the mind. yoga is steadfast practice in which one's whole being dedicated. The student should be firm in his views and substantial in the core of his personality. He should not reduce himself to a silly person who can be changed by the empty logic of people. The student's understanding has to be powerful enough to withstand and overcome the argumentation of the senses. Once he listens to the plea of the senses, he will believe in the reality of outer circumstances rather than the inner significance of yoga. Pramada, or carelessness, is verily death, says Sanatkumara, the sage, to Dhritarashtra. Heedlessness is death; vigilance is life. This is more true in the case of spiritual seekers. A kind of lethargy (alasya) in the whole system, bodily and mental, sets in as another obstacle. One will not be doing any meditation but only drooping heavy with idleness. This is the mohana-astra or the delusive weapon cast against the seeking mind in its war with desire. Lethargy paralyses the action of the mind to such an extent that the mind cannot even think in this state. The thinking power goes away, tamas creeps in, and one becomes torpid in nature. The Yogavasistha says: 'If it were not for idleness, the great catastrophe, who would not be successful in the earning of wealth or learning?' Lethargy puts a stop to onward progress. Again, this lethargic condition is not to be mistaken for a mere inactivity of the body and mind. It is rather a preparation for a contrary activity that is to take place after a time, and it is comparable to the cloudy sky, looking dull and silent, before the outbreak of thunder and lightning. Just as lack of appetite is only an indicator that the body is going to fall sick, lethargy is an indication that something adverse is going to happen. Keeping quiet, saying nothing, doing nothing, is dangerous to the student of yoga. One does not know when the bomb will burst. Torpidity is a breeding ground for the mischief of the senses and their coterie. They first paralyze the person by lethargy and then give him a blow by sensual excitement (avirati). It is easier to kill a person when he is unconscious. The student is put to sleep by tamas, and then there is a violent activity of the senses. The cyclonic wind has risen from the dusty weather. The mind jumps into indulgence of various sorts and this is what they call a 'fall' in yoga. Having fallen into this condition, to mistake it for an achievement in yoga is, indeed, worse. Such mistaking of delusion for success is the other obstacle, the illusion (bhrantidarsana) by which one thinks one is progressing higher while falling down. The senses whip one to dance to their tunes and one also gets induced to a hypnosis by the senses. Even if, by chance, one recovers consciousness from this unwanted condition into which one has been led, it is not easy to regain the ground that has been once lost. Losing the ground (alabdhabhumikatva) is a further obstacle in yoga. One cannot start one's practice again with ease, due to the samskaras created by the ravaging work of the senses during the state of gratification. The lack of ability to find out the point of concentration (anavasthitatva), even if the ground is to be gained with difficulty, is a serious obstacle, again. 

The nine conditions mentioned above are some of the major obstacles in yoga, in addition to the psychological complexities to which reference has been made already. They cause the tossing of the mind and its drifting from the path. Here the student has to be cautious. But there are certain other minor obstacles, of which at least five may be named as the chief ones. One of them is pain (duhkha) which takes possession of the seeker. There is a sense of internal grief annoying him constantly. 'Where am I, and what am I doing', is his silent sorrow. It is all darkness and there is no light visible in the horizon. This brings in an emotional depression (daurmanasya) and one becomes melancholy. One sees no good in anything and no meaning or value in life. Life loses its purpose and it is all a wild-goose chase. This becomes the conclusion after so much of effort in the practice of yoga. This is the point at which the seeker reaches at times, a condition well described in the first chapter of the Bhagavadgita. 'It is all hopeless' seems to be the cry of Arjuna. This is also the cry of every Arjuna in the world, of every man, every woman and everyone who rotates through the wheel of life. While one attempts at regaining strength by picking up one's courage, there sets in nervousness (angamejayatva). The body trembles and one cannot sit for meditation. The student is nervous about someone saying something about him, and so on. There is also an incapacity to tolerate anything that happens in the world. One develops sensitiveness to such an extent that even a small event looks mountainous in importance. There is tremor and uneven flow of the prana. Irregular and unrhythmic inhalation and exhalation (svasa-prasvasa) disturbs the nervous system, and indirectly, the mind.