by Christopher Key Chapple
Yoga has spread far from its home in India, yet its message has remained the same: there is a way of life by which one can experience freedom and spontaneity. In this article, a few of the many interpretations of yoga will be compared and contrasted with the meditation practices described in the Yoga Sutra of Patanjali (ca. 300 A.D.), the earliest systematic exposition of classical yoga.
Yoga has a long history in North America, beginning with the discussion of the Upanisads by the Transcendentalists. In later years, the Theosophists popularized their interpretations of India religious practice, and in 1893 an authentic Indian teacher, Swami Vivekananda, introduced Indian philosophy to the Parliament of Religions, held in Chicago. During the early part of the twentieth century, Indian philosophy proved very popular, particularly due to the efforts of the Ramakrishna-Vivekananda Mission and the Self-Realization Fellowship of Yogananda. Both these organizations continue their work at centers throughout the country.
During the past fifteen years, there has been a resurgence of interest in yoga, but with a difference. No longer are Americans at the mercy of third-hand accounts of yoga, relying on translations given through the medium of translators who rewrite texts extensively to make them comprehensible to the Judeo-Christian mind. Nor is the spectrum of teachings available limited to the Neo-Vedantic syncretism which captured the imagination of the masses in the ‘20s and ‘30s. philosophers, San-skritists, and a new wave of yoga teachers have enriched our interpretations and brought a new understanding of this ancient discipline.
Speculation, discourse, and worship characterized some of the early moments of yoga’s transmittal to the West. In more recent times, yoga teachers are exacting radical transformations in their students, requiring extended periods of serious sadhana and study. In some cases, neo-yogis undergo a phase of “Hinduization,” wherein the Indian mindset is rehearsed, recited, and embodied. In other cases, some Indian gurus in the West have “modernized” their teachings and tolerate behavior which would not be found in India. However, whether Hinduized or not, the New World followers of yoga have, for the most part, questioned their fundamental needs in life. The superiority of Western advances in science is no longer taken for granted; the horrors of chemical pollution, increased cancer rates, and rampant stress have soured the comforts brought by technology. Due to a number of cultural changes enacted in the late sixties and early seventies, the notion of progress and development is no longer seen as ultimately healthy or even worthwhile.
The taking-on of “Eastern” sensibilities has not gone unnoticed by social scientists and theologians. Two recent studies have been devoted to this phenomenon: Turning East by Harvey Cox1 and The Light at the Center: Context and Pretext of Modern Mysticism by Agehananda Bharati.2 The former is written by a Christian theologian; the latter by Austrian-born Hindu monk and professor of anthropology. Cox investigated a number of Eastern meditation techniques. He talked with members of the International Society for Krishna Consciousness; sat with a Zen Buddhist meditation group; lived and taught at Naropa, a Buddhist education center established by Chogyam Trungpa. Ultimately, he found peace in the company of Benedictine monks and pointed out, correctly, that the West has its own systems of worship and pathways for meditation. However, he fails to recognize that the background of most young Americans is not that of his generation; religious education does not play a prominent role in the upbringing of the “television” generation, whose imagination is captured more by superheroes (or supervillains) than by Biblical tales. For those who do attempt to make a connection with their mythic origins, quite often the exotic is the most appealing.
Agehananda Bharati, on the other hand, lived the life of the sixties a generation early. His early training in Indian languages and cultures opened avenues to the exotic for him long before discount airfare made India accessible to the masses. In some respects, he seems reluctant to accept the legitimacy of the new, Americanized meditation movements, preferring to lend credibility to the more Hinduized groups such as ISKCON. However, towards the end of his analysis he sees that America is ripe for the freedom which successful meditation produces, and predicts that yoga will wane in India, just as Buddhism and Christianity disappeared from the places of their origin.
In their analyses, both Cox and Bharati address the sociological implications of Westerners embracing Asian philosophies. Cox approaches the various groups with the naivete of the young Americans who prompted his initial curiosity. Unfortunately, he does not delve into the presuppositions which initially gave rise to the movements. Turning East is more travelogue than in-depth investigation. Similarly, although Bharati regards himself an insider of the Hindu tradition, he insists that his work is social science. Professionally, he leads two lives, that of the anthropologist and that of the mystic. Although willing to describe his encounters with the “zero experience,” he declines from drawing philosophical or theological conclusions. As Roman Catholic Modernist George Tyrrell has pointed out, religious experience includes affective revelation and its explication.3 Both impression and expression are required. Cox’s affective experience is somewhat limited, and is prompted best in a Christian environment. Bharati is well qualified in the affective realm, and explains it well, but does not seem to relate this experience on a “public” level; his revelation is exclusively private, and he implies that all such experiences are inherently private.
The purpose of theological and spiritual thought is to express clearly the mechanics of intimate spiritual experience so that others may follow, experience, and understand. A language is needed which demythologizes the esoteric and/or exotic and in some way humanizes it. Throughout history, several avenues have arisen to achieve this end, such as the many developments of the early Christian church, the discussion of the two levels of truth in Buddhism and Vedanta, the model of the dark night of the soul, etc. In each of these seemingly unrelated traditions, religious insight gained through meditation is explained without sacrificing its power. With such a tool, Bharati’s zero experience or Cox’s Buddhist breathing insight can be rendered intelligible and integrated into the overall fabric of human experience.
The Yoga Sutra of Patanjali, (ca. A.D. 300) is text that helps to bridge many of the chasms which are apparent in the discussion of meditation practices of the East and their transmittal to the West. Yoga deals explicitly with states of affective experience (samadhi), listing several varieties and diverse means to achieve them. For cross-cultural purpose, its emphasis on practice is extremely useful, as it discusses process, not doctrine or belief. Fundamentally, yoga explains how and why we hold beliefs and feelings; it does not dogmatically dictate what to believe, feel, or do.
Yoga regards life as a continuing relationship between two fundamental experiences, prakrti and purusa/atman. The atman or “true nature” is amply described in the Svetasvatara Upanisad:
Than whom there is naught else higher,
Than whom there is naught smaller, naught greater,
The One stands like a tree established in heaven.
By Him, purusa, this whole world is filled.
That which is beyond this world
Is without form and without ill.
They who know That, become immortal;
But others go only to sorrow. S. U. 3:9-104
In reading this or any other text describing the highest nature of man, it is important not to regard the self as a thing. When reified or objectified, the concept of self loses its dynamism and its existential appeal. The self is an experience, a body-feel, a state of utter absorption, not an ideal to be obtained in some external fashion.
The state of absorption, wherein the separation between subjective and objective breaks down, is referred to in the Bhagavad Gita as the “higher self.” Although this contrasts with the “lower self,” both are necessary for human life; their relationship is reciprocal, not mutually abnegating.5 The cause for the lower forms of embodiment rests in a fundamental misidentification. The seer (purusa-atman) is always a witness, always neutral and inactive [S.K. 19]. However, due to lack of discrimination, the seer (purusa) becomes identified with the seen (prakrti): drastr drsyayoh samyogo heya-hetuh [Y. S. II:17]. In this attribution of consciousness to an aspect of the non-conscious prakrti, the culprit is the finite, limited self-sense (ahamkara, literally, “I-maker”). The ahamkara erroneously claims experience to be its own and fixes the world as seen from its own limited perspective. The lower self elevates itself to the status of highest priority: all that matters is what relates to the “me.” Arjuna’s distraction in the first chapter of the Bhagavad Gita serves as a perfect example of this dilemma. With this attitude in control, a damaging rigidity arises, and the pain of samsara continues. With each action a seed for further action is planted; as these seeds mature and flourish, strengthening selfish motives, the primal, pure purusa mode of detached witnessing becomes concealed.
In such states, purusa and prakrti no longer interact in reciprocity; only prakrti is apparent. The antidote for this “disease” is found through meditation, during which the non-selfish, purusa state may be engaged and embodied. To achieve this goal, the Yoga Sutra prescribes many different paths, all aiming to effect citta-vrtti-nirodha, the suppression of mental modifications [Y. S. I:2]. The mental modifications, which comprise the play of prakrti, are five in number: cognition, error, imagination, sleep, and memory [Y. S. I:6]. When these are held in abeyance and the play of prakrti is suspended, the highest self gains ascendancy and the freedom of detachment is made present.
Essentially, yoga is technique. It does not describe experience for the sake of description; the elaborations on the means to knowledge and the causes of suffering (klesa) are important only in that they provide a conceptual framework, ultimately to be transcended through meditation. The system is not metaphysical or ontological: it does not posit entities or explanations of how “things” are. It is, however, a phenomenological investigation of suffering and its transcendence, its pole presupposition being that each person has the ability to reach a state of liberation. Furthermore, yogic liberation is given no embellishment; there are no dogmatic limitations placed upon moksa. The closest “definition” is dharma-mega, a beautifully metaphoric and appropriately vague term which lends itself to a variety of interpretations, including “cloud of virtue.”
How can yoga, a tradition steeped within an Indian culture and atmosphere, be translated for application by Westerners? Have the attempts made by various Indian teachers been at the sacrifice of yoga? Or can yoga be applied universally to enrich non-Asian religious practices? In order to answer these questions, the basic presupposition of yoga must be examined, to see if the needs which gave rise to yoga are also relevant in the post-modern, technological era. Along with virtually all systems of Indian philosophy, yoga is predicated on the supposition that humankind is plagued with discomfort and suffering (duhkha) and this suffering can be alleviated. The Yoga Sutra states “the pain of the future is to be avoided” (heyam duhkham anagatam II:16). To the extent that this analysis holds true, yoga can be applied by any individual seeking self-fulfillment of a spiritual kind. If someone has perceived a degree of suffering in life, yoga practice offers a means to transcend that suffering. Unless one shares the basic intent of alleviating pain, the suitability of yoga would be questionable. [I recall the experience of one individual who, after three years of graduate studies in Buddhism abandoned the field, primarily because he did not see life as inherently painful.]
All over the world, yoga and systems related to yoga are being practiced; discontented people are searching for viable paths of transformation. Part of the appeal of yoga lies in the many diverse means it prescribes. Patanjali offers the practitioner an abundance of practices. The student of yoga is told that the liberating suppression is achieved through well-cultivated practice and detachment [Y. S. I:12-14]. One who applies faith, energy, mindfulness, non-dual awareness, and insight (sraddha, virya, amrti, Samadhi, prajna), is said to gain success [Y. S. I:20]. Another way is to devote one’s meditation to the primal teacher, Isvara, who remains untainted by the ravages of change inflicted by association with prakrti [Y. S. I:24]. This teacher defies objectification as an external deity, being also identified with the recitation of the syllable OM, a self-generated vibration within the body of the practitioner. Appropriate behavior in interpersonal relationships is seen to be another tool for self-evolution: “One should cultivate friendship with the joyful, compassion for the sorrowful, gladness toward those who are virtuous, and equanimity in regard to the non-virtuous; through this, the mind is pacified” [Y. S. I:33]. The emphasis here is on flexibility, being able to recognize a situation and act as called for. Goodness does not suffice in all circumstances; at times, the best lesson is provided by restraint, as in the cultivation of equanimity among those who are non-virtuous (apunya).
Breathing is seen as a means to achieve the peace of nirodha [Y. S. I:34]. By recognizing the most fundamental of life’s processes, a closeness to self is achieved. The word atman is in fact derived from the verbal root √an, breathe. The Chandyoga Upanisad tells the story of a contest among the bodily functions of speaking, seeing, hearing, thinking, and breathing. Each respective faculty takes a turn at leaving the body and remaining away for a year. When speaking leaves, the body becomes dumb; when the eye leaves, blindness results; upon the departure of the ear, deafness follows; and when the mind leaves, a state of mindlessness sets in. But when the breath begins to go off, “as a horse might tear out the pegs of his foot-tethers all together, thus did it tear out the other Breaths (speaking, etc.) as well. They all came to the breath and said ‘Sir! Remain! You are the most superior of us. Do not go off!’” [C.U., V:1:12].6 Of all bodily functions, the breath is the most fundamental, without which life is not possible. In gaining control over the breath the yogin masters the other senses, including the thinking process [Y. S. I:34, II:49-53].
Other practices prescribed in the Yoga Sutra include directing one’s consciousness to one who has conquered attachment (vitaraga), or meditating on an auspicious dream experience, or centering the mind in activity, or cultivating thoughts which are sorrow-less and illuminating, or by any other means, as desired [Y. S. I:35-39].
The purpose of these various practices is to diminish the influence of past actions which have been performed for selfish or impure motives (klesa). These motives are five in number and catalogue pitfalls in the path. The first, non-wisdom (avidya), is seen to be the cause of the other four. Patanjali describes this klesa as “seeing the atman, which is eternal, pure, and joyful, in that which is non-atman, non-eternal, impure, and painful” [Y. S. II:5]. The “I” mistakes its limited experience for the ultimate reality, and life is pursued through combinations of the other four klesas: from the attitude based solely on self-orientation and self-gratification (asmita), or clinging (raga), despising (dvesa), or because of an insatiable desire to hold on to life (abhinivesa) [Y. S. II:6-9]. These influences, which color body-left experience, must somehow be lessened in order for the experience of freedom to take place.
The yogic process of transformation begins at the ethical level. Through the adherence to particular behavior practices, the yogin begins to erode the bank of past impressions which have bound him to a life of rigidity. In recent times, freedom has been equated with an ability to do whatever one wants. For the yogin, freedom is found through disciplined action. By restraint from violence, stealing, hoarding, and wantonness, and through the application of truthfulness, the influences of the self-centered past are lessened. Cultivation of purity, contentment, forbearance, study, and devotion to a chosen symbol (isvara-pranidhana) establishes a new way of life, deconstructing the old, pain-ridden order and constructing a new body of free and responsible action. Yama and niyama, although listed first among Patanjali’s eight limbs, are not to be seen as preliminary practices. As Feuerstein points out, “it would be quite wrong to interpret these ‘members’ as stages, as has often been done. Rather they should be compared with functional units, which overlap both chronologically and in their acitivity”.7
The world is intended and constructed through conditioned behavior, and the world created by the practitioner will continue to operate, even after the state of kaivalyam is reached. The Samkhya Karika states that even when the higher wisdom has been attained, and prakrti has displayed herself and retreated, the force of past impressions causes the body to continue to operate, just as a potter’s wheel spins on even after the kick of the potter ceases [S. K. 67]. Similarly, the state of dharma megha, so tersely mentioned in the Yoga Sutra, does not seem to imply that life evaporates. Rather, this may be seen as a cloud wherein the totality of the non-dual experience is made apparent, and all distinctions of “grasper, grasping, and grasped” dissolve [Y. S. I:41]. In conventional consciousness, the world stands against and apart from the experiencer. Through yoga, self unites with circumstance, and the ground of all possibilities is laid open. Life does not cease but is freed from the constraints of a limited perspective.
The system of yoga, which has been only briefly considered here, presents various avenues by which the pettiness of self-centered orientation may be overcome and the fulness of human potential may be realized. It is not explicitly theological, yet it is immensely practical. The notion of deity is suggested as an expedient means for entering meditation; emphasis is placed on the ista devata, the idea that the object of meditation is chosen by the practitioner according to his or her desire [Y. S. II:44]. This non-doctrinal, non-dogmatic approach is Hinduism at its best, and even defies the label “Hindu.” In fact, the same practices and closely related philosophies spread throughout Asia with Buddhism. In both Hinduism and Buddhism, the human condition is regarded in much the same manner. Two pathways are open to humankind, klista (associated with ignorance) and aklista (oriented towards enlightenment). By continually generating klista behavior or “worlds,” one is bound to misery. By cultivating the opposite, the practitioner of meditation builds a life of responsible freedom.
Given the basic thrust of yoga as practice, not belief, it has served as a bridge between cultures and diverse religious forms for millenia. At the beginning of this paper, Vivekananda was mentioned as a great bringer of Eastern truths to the West. He was certainly far from the first Indian to transmit Indian philosophy to foreign places. Bodhidharma took Zen to China (the Sanskrit word for meditation (dhyana) became transliterated a Ch’an in China, and Zen in Japan). Padmasambhava introduced Buddhist meditation techniques in Tibet. Closer to the Western world, major texts on yoga such as the Yogavasistha were translated into Persian during the 13th century. At even earlier times, Indian influence on Greek and Roman thinking through various trade routes is well documented.8
This dialogue between India and the world has not been a one-way street. Mughal rule greatly influenced large sectors of the population. British rule in India led to a new cultural and philosophical exchange. A sizeable group of respected English scholars held the native philosophies of India in high regard. Concurrently, Indians began examining European traditions. Ram Mohan Roy, partly due to his exposure to and exchange with Christian missionaries in Bengal, contributed greatly to the revitalization of Hinduism, incorporating some dimensions of church services into the meetings of the Brahmo Samaj. This in turn influenced later Hindu movements, and undoubtedly made Vivekananda’s message more easily understood during his lecture tours of the late 19th and early 20th century.
Since 1967, yoga has again caught the imagination of thousands, perhaps hundreds of thousands of Americans. Numerous swamis and yogis have formulated teachings which appeal to an almost exclusively non-Indian audience. What explains the success of Swami Satchitananda, Swami Prabhupada (A.C. Bhaktivedanta), Yogi Bhajan, Sri Chinmoy, Swami Rama, Amrit Desai, etc.? Much of their success is due undoubtedly to a sense of alienation which pervaded the youth of the West during the sixties and seventies; gurus from India offered a new sense of identity through which they could “find themselves.” Many have been disappointed, discovering what Harvey Cox refers to as the Orient which is “a myth that resides in the head of Westerners”.9 And although he surmises that the answers to life may be found on “the horse we have been riding all along,”10 others have found a new way of life through Asian religious practice, whether yoga, Tibetan Buddhism, or Zen.
If genuinely presented, meditation does not strive to create a new cultural – or cult – identity but provides the occasion for insight into the very presuppositions which determine the need for personality. Yoga does not require an identity crisis wherein a better self-image is sought; rather, yoga has as a prerequisite a desire to examine and overturn all notions which perpetuate clinging to self-identity. If yoga is to be effective in bridging cultural sensibilities, it must be divorced from popular psychology, from limited religious views, and from the charisma of its proselytizers. Yoga, in itself, is cross cultural; it requires no further embellishments or ornamentation. It can be used by Hindus, Buddhists, Christians, Sufis, and Sikhs, but the practice remains universal, not bound by the symbols chosen or the language used to convey its teachings.
As never before, Americans and Europeans are intellectually and spiritually prepared to benefit from Asian meditation techniques. However, unless the needs spoken to by the traditions are the needs motivating practice, the would-be practitioner runs the risk of self-deception and, perhaps, a few wasted years. Education about yoga must accompany education in yogic techniques, to ensure that the remedy suits the illness. Yoga is a cross-cultural tool for cultivating religious insight, and has demonstrated a universal applicability. Its effectiveness rests on a desire to transcend suffering; for one who shares this desire, yoga offers a way of release.
ABBREVIATIONS
C.U. Chandogya Upanisad
S.K. Samkhya Karika
S.U. Svetasvatara Upanisad
Y.S. Yoga Sutra
Footnotes
1. Harvey Cox, Turning East: Why Americans Look to the Orient for Spirituality – And What That Search Can Mean To the West (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1977).↩
2. Agehananda Bharati, The Light at the Center: Context and Pretext of Modern Mysticism (Santa Barbara: Ross-Erikson, 1976).↩
3. George Tyrrell, Through Scylla and Charybdis or the Old Theology and the New (London: Longmans, Green, and Co., 1907).↩
4. Robert Ernest Hume, The Thirteen Principal Upanisads (London: Oxford University Press, 1931), pp. 400-401.↩
5. Antonio T. deNicolas, Avatara: The Humanization of Philosophy Through the Bhagavad Gita (New York: Nicolas Hays, 1976), p. 269.↩
6. Hume, p. 228.↩
7. George Feuerstein, The Essence of Yoga (New York: Grove Press, 1974), pp. 71-72.↩
8. C.L. Tripathi, “The Influence of Indian Philosophy on Neoplatonism,” in Neoplatonism and Indian Thought, R. Baine Harris, editor (Norfolk, Virginia: International Society for Neoplatonic Studies, 1982), pp. 273-292.↩
9. Cox, p. 149.↩
10. Ibid., p. 156.↩