by robert birnberg

polishing the jewel: yoga, meditation and the mind

article 8 in a 10-part series

View a PDF of the entire series on the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali

Digging Our Roots
This series is based on T. Krishnamacharya’s translation of the Yoga Sutras as taught by his grandson, my teacher, Kausthub Desikachar. Krishnamacharya’s life’s work was to translate, practice and teach the Yoga Sutras in a way that was both technically correct and culturally relevant. He continued to refine his translation and interpretation as practice and experience revealed new truths in the dense, multilayered Sutras. My intention is for these articles to continue in the spirit of this gifted teacher of teachers.

One More Time
Repetition and review are the key to integration (ksema). If you’d like a more comprehensive version, download the complete series at yogitimes.com. (If you think you’ve already heard this enough, try teaching it.) So far, we’ve seen how yoga is a complete spiritual psychology derived from the ancient Indian Vedas. This 2300-year-old system is dualistic (things exist in relationship), and fundamentally different from Hinduism and its root philosophy, the non-dualist (all is one) Vedanta.

According to Patanjali, humans suffer because of the mind’s inherent tendencies toward self-delusion, fear, insecurity, control and addiction. These inclinations, or klesas, distort our perception, cloud our judgment and diminish the quality of our relationships. This is samyoga, a core confusion between what promotes joy and that which leads to sorrow. Yoga’s antidote is viveka, or discernment, the ability to distinguish between two similar objects such as love and lust, need and greed, spirit and form, gain and pain, choice and addiction etc. Viveka is only possible when the mind is clear, stable and balanced, or sattvic.

Why Yoga?
In simple terms, the goal of yoga is the cultivation of this sattvic mind. The astanga, (eight limbs) model presents tools for cultivating sattva in six areas of living: relationship, lifestyle, body, breath, senses and mind (three limbs are about the mind). The guidelines for stable relationships (yamas) are honesty, kindness and fairness. Balancing honesty with kindness and giving as much as we take is the key to sattvic relationships. As with ALL of yoga’s tools and strategies, a qualified teacher is essential in putting these principles into practice.
For the second limb, lifestyle (niyamas), yoga suggests cleanliness, a sense of sufficiency, or “enoughness”, and guided reflection. This leads to refining old habits, releasing and replacing those which no longer serve our ever-changing needs in an ever-changing world. For the physical body yoga defines asana as postures, which combine stability and comfort in equal amounts. Working with these two opposing qualities cultivates a body that is firm, yet soft, and a mind that is alert, yet relaxed. According to T. Krishnamacharya, only by sequencing and adapting postures for each individual and linking the physical movement with conscious breathing can we experience the deeply transformative effects of asana described in the Yoga Sutras.

The eight limbs progress from outer to inner, from gross to subtle. After asana we are ready for pranayama, refining the breath. As breath is the bridge between body and mind, pranayama is an essential preparation for yoga’s more subtle practices. By manipulating the quality, length and ratios, the breath becomes long and smooth, the mind sensitive and stable, and, according to the Sutras, an inner light shines more brightly.

The fifth limb, pratyahara, is de-linking the senses from distractions from our goals. Ordinarily, our senses are compulsively drawn to sights, smells, sounds and sensations that we have been conditioned to notice. In pratyahara, the senses are less attached and ready to be directed by the mind. Learning to consciously direct the senses is preparation for yoga’s crown jewel, meditation.

Am I Meditating Yet?
Although there is a growing interest in meditation, the modern presentation is often a murky pop synthesis of Buddhism, TM, hypnotism, new-age philosophy and relaxation techniques. The purported goals, often vague and abstract, include: stilling the mind, stopping thought, achieving altered states, contacting higher forces, just being present and disappearing entirely. The student-teacher relationship, a core component of all classical Eastern practices, is marginalized if mentioned at all. In the Yoga Sutras, however, meditation is clearly and concretely defined.

Classically, there are four purposes for meditation. First is power: we wish to become something we weren’t or attain something we didn’t have before. Second is healing: to undo an unpleasant circumstance or relieve ourselves of a problem. Third is knowledge or wisdom: to clarify values, gain insight, to see things in a better light. Finally, there’s meditation for its own sake: a dharmic necessity (think monks) with no expectations or concern for results. This is quite an advanced path and few, if they are honest, can undertake it. Truthfully, most of us would more effectively use meditation to improve our lives, solve a problem or help us find what we’re looking for.

Sutras 3:1 through 3:3 describe meditation as a three-step process. The first step is dharana, choosing the object. In fact, this may precede pratyahara. For only after we find something worth giving our attention to are we willing to turn away from the more familiar, albeit less important.

In Western culture, where more choice is linked with greater wealth and freedom (samyoga), choosing one thing, one teacher, one practice, one goal or even a single definition of success can be quite challenging. My teacher highlighted this fact once in a shopping mall (“America’s Temples” he calls them). As we walked among the overflowing racks, Kausthub observed, “The true test of a yogi is not in India, where simplicity (and poverty) is a way of life, but rather, here in the West, where there are so many wonderful things to choose from.”

Yes and No
Dharana, therefore, requires saying yes to one thing, and no to everything else. What we say yes to is based on our own reasons for meditating. Our object of meditation should reflect our needs, our goals or our dharma, the reason we are here. A good yoga teacher (if you can choose one) will help you to decide on an appropriate object of meditation.

A practical illustration of meditation is learning to play a musical instrument. Of all possible instruments, we must first choose one. We can learn others later, but for now, let’s choose a guitar. Drop the drumsticks, step away from the saxophone and pick one guitar to play. This is dharana.

The second step in meditation is dhyana, focusing on the object until, as Sutra 3:2 says, “there is a flow between the observer and the object”. In dhyana, the object shows itself to the observer. What was once hidden becomes apparent. Where we could only make crude, cacophonous sounds, we can now play rich chords and elaborate melodies. The instrument is revealing its secrets. Increasingly, we can see the object’s character and capabilities.

The third stage of meditation is samadhi, absorption resulting from a sustained focus over time. In samadhi, the observer and the object have become very close and deeply connected, almost like one thing. Although there is still a guitar and a person playing it, the player has given the instrument so much attention, it appears to be an extension of himself. He plays like a master, expressing his ideas and emotions on the instrument with ease and fluidity. As anyone who has experienced this can attest, sustained focus is the essence of intimacy, of real relationship. Real meditation results in two distinct benefits: the meditator is transformed and the object’s true nature is revealed.

Just What Do You Want?
Although a guitar is outside of ourselves, meditation follows the same course no matter what the object. One can meditate on the body (as in asana), the breath (as in pranayama), sound (as in chanting), nature, a symbol, another person (a teacher, or mentor), God, gods or any object from the grossest to the subtlest. Even nothing, which is an object in itself, may be an appropriate choice under the right conditions.

Whatever the object of meditation, the point is to choose something that has the qualities we desire, that we wish to absorb. A weak person would meditate on something (or someone) with great strength. A person with entitlement issues should meditate on their many gifts, or on someone filled with gratitude for what they have. Also, we must choose an object truly appropriate to the individual (ask your teacher for help) in order to achieve the desired results. There is no one correct object of meditation, and none are higher or lower than others. Yoga, a celebration of relativity, states, in Sutra 3:6, “tasya bhumisu viniyoga”, the best object of meditation is the one which suits the individual’s needs, goals and conditions.

By Any Other Name
Technically, meditation is dharana, dhyana and samadhi, the three limbs of astanga yoga that deal with the mind. In Sutra 1:2, however, yoga is defined as, “Citta vritti nirodha”, the ability to direct attention toward a chosen object and sustain the focus without wavering. Therefore the definition of yoga is quite similar, if not synonymous with that of meditation. Another definition of yoga is the ability to do something today, which we couldn’t do yesterday. Therefore, yoga and meditation both aim at a quality of mind needed to link with the new, be transformed and accomplish, achieve or become what was formerly not possible. I love this stuff.

Next Month: The Dynamics of Change