Chapter 7: Invoking the Divinity of Japa Sadhana

When we say a name, the form connected with the name comes to our mind spontaneously. In the Yoga of meditation, we try to invoke some kind of form into ourselves, but it is not always easy to directly visualise any form without defining it in some manner. It appears that a definition, which is actually the name that we give to the form, is not only very intimately associated with the form, but is also a great help to the sadhaka in calling that form into the mind for the purpose of meditation.
We can never think anything without thinking of its qualities. The name is actually a designation of the qualities of the object. In ancient tradition, the naming of a person was done according to their nature, so that the person is described by that name. But if the nature of the person is not clear, and therefore a correct naming cannot be conducted at the very outset, at least such name is chosen to suggest a nature that we wish that person to have in his life. If we go on calling a person, day in and day out, by the characteristics with which we would like that person to identify, that person may feel that these characteristics are part of his or her nature.
This is the psychological background and philosophical foundation of mantra sadhana, japa Yoga, or even meditation with a concept attached to the object of one's choice. As a matter of fact, this system of invoking a name, which is what is known as japa of a mantra, is also the method followed in any kind of thought process, because the japa spoken of is only the repetition of the qualities of something indicated by what is known as the name of that particular thing or object. Independently, minus any kind of such association of a defining characteristic, it will be difficult to invoke any picture before oneself.
When we want to think a thing, we think it in terms of certain characterisations. Name and form go together, and such a name is chosen for the purpose of recitation as would enable the disciple to carry on meditation along those lines. The disciple is initiated into this formula by the teacher.
To take the specific instance of mantra sadhana or japa Yoga, we have to consider certain particular kinds of importance attached to it, apart from japa being merely the calling out of a name for the sake of invoking the form. The mantra is holy. It is not merely a secular name attached to an object, and not just anything and everything that we may consider as a name of something. The mantra is sacred because of various other factors involved therein. That is to say, there is definitely an object connected with it. Inasmuch as this object is the sole reality before us, it is our god. We have already bestowed sufficient thought on this aspect. Because it is our god, it is called devata. Therefore, there is a god behind a mantra. The godliness of that particular object consists in its being the sole reality before us and the only thing that we require.
The second aspect of the mantra is that it is a vision of a great rishi or sage. In deep contemplation and mystical union – Yoga samapatti, or Yoga samadhi – this seer, rishi, had intuition of this object which is the god or the deity of the mantra. The power of the sage's mind associated with this mantra cannot be separated from the mantra, just as we cannot forget the author's name when we read a book. The contents of a book are connected with the mind of the author who wrote that book. We will be continuously remembering the person who wrote the book, invoking that person's presence, and admiring the author's ability if the book has appealed to us. Similarly, we can never associate ourselves with the mantra minus association with the rishi. Just as the thought of the author is in the wisdom of his writings, the power of the mantra in which the deity, the devata, is embedded is augmented by connection with the power of the mind of the rishi who saw the mantra. Actually, during the initiation into mantra japa sadhana, we are instructed that the presence of the rishi should be invoked before we start reciting the mantra. Due respect has to be given to the author of that mantra who visualised it in his deep mystic meditation.
Thus, there is a divinity in the mantra, which is the devata spoken of; there is the mantra itself, which is the name or the designation of that divinity; and there is the rishi or the seer, whose mind is at the back of the mantra. There is also something more.
A mantra is a combination of certain letters, or it can be a combination of certain words. The speciality of a holy mantra, whether it is of the Vedic type or the tantric type, is in the manner of the juxtaposition of the letters or the words or phrases of the mantra, which, when combined, produce a new effect. Just as when different chemical elements are brought together and combined a chemical action takes place, two letters combined create a third effect that is much greater than the capacity of both letters to produce that effect. We have examples galore in our daily life of compounds of this kind.
Hence, when we start resorting to japa sadhana or mantra purascharana, we bring to the focus of our attention first of all the deity that is the object of our worship and meditation, the rishi who is the source of all the blessing for our success in the mantra japa, and the mantra itself which is going to be recited continuously. The chandas, or the metre of the mantra, is what is known as the way in which the letters of the words or phrases are compounded into the form of that mantra. Then last but not least, there is the thought of the sadhaka. Sadhana shakti, mantra shakti, devata shakti and chandas shakti all join together to produce a total shakti in the process of mantra japa.
It is a great sacrifice that we are carrying on in japa sadhana. It is a yajna itself. That is why Bhagavan Sri Krishna says in the Bhagavadgita: yajñānāṁ japayajño'smi (Gita 10.25). Of all the yajnas, havanas, sacrifices, homas, yagas, nothing equals japa, because there is no need to collect material for the performance of this japa. We do not require any object outside our own thought for carrying on japa sadhana. We do not require ghee, firewood, a special place, or any other such appurtenances as are necessary to perform a sacrifice in the ritualistic sense. We need not spend one penny if we want to carry on this great yajna, or sacrifice, of japa. It is a mental sacrifice. There were saints and sages who carried on this yajna in the mind, such as Agastya Maharishi who is mentioned in the Mahabharata as having conducted a tremendous yajna for years together merely through his thought process. As we know very well, the mind is stronger than material elements in the world, and all the materials used in yajnas assume an importance because of the mind or the thought that is connected with the actual performance – else it would be just empty ritual, minus life in it. No prana will be there if the mind is not associated.
While considering all these five aspects of mantra japa, even the thought of this wondrous combination will infuse a new energy into our system. If we think of how powerful a great rishi was, power enters us. Even when we go on gazing at an elephant for a long time, we slowly feel some energy entering into us. Our strength increases when we perceive an elephant for a long, long time. Energy enters us because of the energy of the rishi of whom we are thinking, energy enters us when we think of the power of the devata, or the god who is before us, energy enters us by the contemplation of the mantra itself, which is a mini-capsule of energy potential, and energy immediately enters us when we are sure in ourselves that we have taken to the right course of action and we are going to succeed in achieving the desired result.
Calling on the name again and again, in the form of a formula, or a mantra, or a prayer brings you to the proximity of that object. If you go on calling something continuously, it shall be near you as much as possible. Things are really not distant in space, as you would have gathered from the wisdom communicated to you during this sadhana period. There is no spatial distance between even remote things. The distance between things is an illusion created by an artificial curtain of space. Therefore, when you call out a thing, it shall listen to your call. People say if you cry in the wilderness, nobody will listen to you. Actually, this world is not a wilderness. Even the trees will listen to what you say if you cry out loudly in the forest. Vana-devata, the deity of the forest, will listen to what you say; the leaves will respond, and the trees will vibrate. Hence, calling out a name which is the recitation of the mantra actually brings the so-called remote powers of the cosmos near us.
Mantras are of different kinds. There are small ones and big ones, connected with small things and with more important, wider things. There are nicha devatas and uccha devatas, as they are called – petty deities and higher deities – reference to which is made by Bhagavan Sri Krishna in the seventh and ninth chapters of the Bhagavadgita.
Yajante sāttvikā devān yakṣarakṣāṁsi rājasāḥ, pretān bhūtagaṇāñś cānye yajante tāmasā janāḥ (Gita 17.4) A tamasic approach also is possible in japa sadhana. We can have siddhi or power over an inferior deity, a kind of mesmeric effect that we produce on lower entities by which we gain some power to materialise thought – produce effects materially – as we might have heard of in many cases. But here in our case, in the context of devotees of Gurudev Swami Sivanandaji Maharaj who aspire for spiritual perfection, the ideal of mantra japa sadhana is not contact with an inferior deity in order to obtain any particular power materially construed in this world, but it is contact with God Himself.
Such being the case, believing in the words of Bhagavan Sri Krishna that japa is the greatest sadhana – yajñānāṁ japayajño'smi – and also believing that it is the most effective of all types of contemplation and meditation, and is the easiest to practise, involving the least effort on our part, we need not stand on our heads or put ourselves to the torture of extreme austerity of any kind, and focus on the mental process only. Here in japa sadhana, the only sacrifice we have to make is in the mind. As we are not poor in our mental process though we may be poor in other ways, and we are not poor in our words as we may be poor in material things, there should be no difficulty in taking resort to this highly wonderful, most powerful method of meditation, japa sadhana.
How does japa lead to meditation? They are intimately connected, as name is connected with form. As name is incapable of dissociation from the form, japa cannot be dissociated from meditation. What we recite is the mantra, the japa. What we think at that time is the dhyana, the meditation. Here is the relationship between japa of the mantra and meditation on the deity. They go together, inasmuch as one process is vitally connected with the other. Japa sadhana becomes a potent force, leading us into higher meditation.
What kind of mantra, what kind of formula are you to take up for the purpose of this practice? If nothing is clear to the mind, it is up to you to approach someone who is competent in this kind of sadhana – a Guru or a master – and be initiated into whatever is suitable for your purpose. But if you have some clarity in your own mind and you know what you are seeking – who your god is according to your liking, who is your Ishta, your beloved, the deity whom you love most for any reason whatsoever – and you also know its name, you can take to japa sadhana of that particular name. As I mentioned, it can be one single compound letter such as pranava or omkara, it can be two or more letters if the mantra is constituted of so many ingredients, or it can be still more lengthy if many phrases or words are associated with it. It is up to you to choose. Once you take to the name it should not be changed, and you should continue chanting only that name.
Abhyāsa vairāgyābhyāṁ tannirodhaḥ (Yoga Sutras 1.12). The mind is controlled by renunciation and steadfastness in practice. The mind is very impetuous and hard to control, but it can be restrained by continued practice. Anything done continuously produces a powerful effect. As is the case with the meditational techniques that we considered earlier, so also is the case with the technique to be adopted in japa sadhana. A particular place, a particular time and a particular method – this system applies to japa sadhana also.
When you take to japa assiduously, tenaciously, with great method, symmetry and system, it becomes what is known as purascharana. Purascharana means a concentrated attempt to carry on japa for as long a period as possible, with as much concentration as it is practicable. To assist in this effort, certain accessories are taken into consideration, such as only one particular place for japa. In purascharana, or this specialised form of japa sadhana, the place, the seat, is equally important. If you sit in the same place every day, that little spot on which you are sitting will have its own vibration. The place where you sit for japa produces a vibration of its own because of your seatedness. Therefore, if you desire a quick result from doing purascharana mantra, it would be good to sit in the same place every day and not change the place. Also, the same time should be the occasion for starting and concluding of japa. If you have started doing japa at a particular time of the day, let it be the time for every other day also, and not at different times. Else, the thread of energy, the continuity of the practice, will break. If a person takes medicine to cure an illness in a slipshod manner – one capsule or a tablet today and the next ten days later, then another the following day and another after a long gap – it will not produce any beneficial result. Similarly for concentration in the practice of purascharana, the seatedness should be in the same place, and at the same time. It need not be emphasised that the mantra should be the same. You should not experiment with different mantras, else the continuity of producing an effect in the form of a force of japa will be broken.
The direction which you face is also important, and should not be changed. It is said that facing either the east or the north is best while being seated in japa sadhana because of the special energy emanating from the east due to daily sunrise, and the special effect being produced from the north due to the magnetic force that runs from north to south, as we all know. These two directions are supposed to be most conducive to face while seated for japa sadhana.
The posture, the place where you sit, the time, the direction, the continuity of the mantra – and lastly, the most important thing is the purpose for which you are doing this purascharana. The purpose should be very justifiable. You should not do mantra japa to harm or destroy someone. While the worst kind of practice is where there is a negative intention or motive to destroy, even a selfish intention to gain some material end by japa sadhana is not considered very praiseworthy. God may give you a sword if you want a sword, but what will you do with it? Our askings are sometimes not well conceived. We do not know what is good for us. According to the ancient story, King Midas wanted that whenever he touched anything, it should turn to gold. He thought he would become very rich, not knowing what tragedy would befall him because of the blessing that he received. The mind is so mischievous that even when it gets what it wants, it may come to ruin by the very acquisition of that want.
I heard a story of a sadhaka going to a great siddha and begging him, "Please bless me with the power to materialise whatever I think. If I think something, it should be there in front of me." If that blessing is given to you, you will think that you are the most blessed, but do you know the consequences of an uncontrolled mind wanting to materialise whatever it thinks? Anyway, that blessing was given. "All right, take it," said the siddha purusha. "If you think something, it will be there in front of you." This wonderful devotee suddenly became elated with the prospect of becoming a master of everything, not knowing that he had no control over his mind. He walked into a forest, sat under a mango tree and thought, "Let there be mangoes." Immediately mangoes appeared in the tree. "Let the mangoes drop," and they dropped. He started eating. Then immediately a thought came to him, "It is a forest, and a tiger may come." Immediately a tiger came, jumped on him and ate him. Whether it is King Midas or this wondrous disciple, if there is no restraint over the mind process, what is the use of having the power of materialisation?
Prahlada's instance is an example before us. When Lord Narasimha offered a boon to Prahlada, he replied, "Don't tempt me, my Lord, with this question. Give me what is best for me." Then the ball is in the other court. How can God give us what is not best for us? If we choose what is best for us, it could be something like Midas or the other gentleman about whom I mentioned just now. Therefore, the intention behind the japa sadhana should be self-purification, purgation of all sins, repentance for whatever mistakes one has committed in the past and, ultimately, grace itself with the blessing of God.
After some months of practice you will feel the result in yourself, just as when you take a good meal every day you will feel the energy in your system after some days, and when you continuously take medicine you will see how you are being cured and your health improves gradually, stage by stage.
While all this is clear to you, one last point to be mentioned is that this process of the practice of japa sadhana should be carried on every day. As the same place, time, method and direction are advised, it is equally important to see that it is done every day because daily continuous practice produces a cyclic effect. At the particular hour of the day succeeding the day on which you started the japa, a force will be waiting to receive you. If you are not present at that time, there will be nobody to receive you and assist you. Somebody is waiting for you at that particular moment of time the next day itself, because of the time you chose for sitting on the previous day. That somebody is some invisible superhuman being, and if you miss it, you will not find it again.
It is said that the latchet of the door of spiritual practice is inside and not outside. At any time there may be a knock from outside, but if you have locked the door from inside, the mistake is not on the part of the one who knocked. At midnight the call may come and the hour may be at hand. This friend who is ready to receive you at that particular time of the day when the japa has been started will be your guardian angel on successive days. There are guardian angels in everyone's life. "A divinity shapes our ends, rough-hew them how we will," said the poet. The divinity is shaping our ends. Even if we ignore it, forget it any number of times, that devata, the guardian angel, is ready to guard us, protect us in times of agony, distress and insecurity.
This mantra devata will guard you wherever you go. In the thick of the jungle, in the depth of the sea and the heights of the skies, throughout this world you will find this guardian angel behind you, protecting you wherever you go, and you are perfectly secure with this divinity that shapes your ends, provided that your japa sadhana is consistent, sincere, honest, and is carried on with the pious aim of the realisation of spiritual perfection.

Chapter 6: Merging into Universality

As the path of Yoga is a way of salvation, great caution is to be exercised in maintaining this awareness as to why we are engaged in meditation. The practice of Yoga is not a religious exercise in the sense of one's wishing to be holy, sanctified or respectable in society. It is a super-social longing arising from a super-individualistic essence in every one of us. It is the whole of creation shaking itself at its very root for recognising itself as it originally was, as it really is, and as it ought to be.
A brief introductory note was struck yesterday concerning the methodology adopted in the system of Yoga practice while engaging in meditation. The object of meditation was regarded as very crucial because its presentation before the mind, and its relationship with oneself, have much to say about any tangible success in our practice.
In the sutras of the Yoga System, the detailed processes of gradual ascent through the evolutionary stages of the cosmos are explained, and in these guidelines and instructions care has to be taken to note that we take only one step at a time, and never take a second unless the earlier step has been firmly placed. Ashtanga Yoga is the name of what is otherwise known as Raja Yoga. Yama, niyama, asana, pranayama, pratyahara, dharana, dhyana, samadhi are the eight limbs, and we know very well how the earlier limbs of these rungs of the ladder of the gradual rise into the meditational culmination are stepped over by gradual transcendence. Ethical and moral discipline, self-restraint, control of the sense organs, stabilisation of the breathing process, and restraining the operation of consciousness itself in respect of its sensory relationship with things are known as pratyahara. Dharana, dhyana and samadhi are the quintessence of the whole practice. Everything that precedes them is a preparation.
The large final onslaught commences with the attention of the mind to the exclusion of any secondary thought. The necessity to entertain any other thought than that of the chosen object or ideal will not arise. As has been seen in our earlier sessions, we convince ourselves that whatever we need is before us in our object of concentration and meditation. A falsehood of attitude, and suspicion and doubt surreptitiously creeping in saying that the object, the ideal, is not adequate enough, will be our obstacle. A hundred times we may strike our head with our hands and tell ourselves that this is not the case. "What I have chosen as my ideal is all in all. If it is not all in all, it is better to give up the practice rather than pursue what is impracticable." The devilish whisperings of the sense organs will confront us from moment to moment, telling us constantly that something is wrong with us, that our ideal is shaky and our aim is not justifiable.
The identification of consciousness with this all-consuming ideal is, in the language of Patanjali's Raja Yoga Sutras, samapatti – the attainment, the acquisition, and a comprehension, identification and unification of oneself with the ideal. Yesterday I mentioned how this unification can be established with the object of meditation in its essentiality, divesting it of what has been allowed to grow around it like moss, which does not form part of its being. The name-form complex of anything whatsoever is not the essence of the object. The name-form complex of even the five elements – earth, water, fire, air and ether and everything above – is not the essence thereof.
Meditation expands its dimensions gradually when deeper concentration is called for in the attainment of samapatti. In the initial stages it is any object whatsoever in the world. Anything and everything is good enough, because all things cannot be brought before the mind at one stroke in the initial stages, due to the mind's habit to be continuously engaged only in one thing at a time, and not more. Yet, there is a difference between an ordinary engagement of the mind in one thing in our workaday world and the engagement of the mind in one thing in spiritual meditation. The one thing in which we are engaged in ordinary worldly life is just a petty, finite thing, excluding many other equally good things in the world which we can take care of later on when the time for it comes. But in spiritual meditation, where we have taken one thing for the purpose of meditation, that thing is not one among the many possible entities available in the world, but it is the thing which can take us to all things in the world. A desire for other things lurks even when attention is paid to one thing in the ordinary working process of our life; but here, while concentrating on the ideal in Yoga, desire for another thing will not be permitted. It will not even arise, because that other thing, so called, which is likely to distract our attention and call for further consideration, longing and promise, is also included in this very ideal or object that has been chosen for meditation. Even supposing that there are many other goodies in this world that are attractive and worth having, they are also concentrated in this very ideal, in this object that we have chosen. Our Istha-devata is our God, and there cannot be another God before us. There is only one.
The finite God that is before us in the form of the object of meditation is not finite, really speaking, because into that so-called apparently finite presentation, the whole universe of forces converges and impinges with a force capable of the whole creation. This is how we can accommodate ourselves to the fact and conviction within that any object that we choose for meditation is all objects, because anything is everything in the context of the structure of creation.
The samadhi technique rises into higher and higher reaches when the object becomes expanded in dimension into the area of the five elements themselves. Here, you are not concentrating on one particular thing, but the entire physical cosmos. You have to train your mind to some extent in contemplating in this manner. How would you be able to think of the whole world at one stroke? All the earth, the whole world, all that you see in the sky, all space and time – you have to roam your mind from one corner of this concept of the universe to another corner of it, until you reach the summit of impossibility to go beyond the horizon of your thought. Take the mind above the skies, rise above, go further up, higher and higher, higher and higher into the topmost pinnacle of the roof of the heavens, until the mind is unable to feel anything beyond. Go down below into the nether regions; go to the right and the left and in all directions of space. Imagine that you are two or three thousand miles above the Earth in a rocket where the gravitational force of the Earth does not operate, and you can walk in space at that distance because there is no gravity pulling you down to the Earth. What do you see there? There is no light nor darkness, east or west, north or south, top or bottom; in that pinnacle of the centre of space, direction ceases. There are no events taking place. The sun does not rise or set; there is no day and night, and time cannot be calculated. You are in a menstruum of melting your personality itself. You have become all space – all the stars that are studded in the sky, everything that you can imagine as contained in this vast space. The whole time process melts together into a single compound of indescribable expanse in which you are located, into which you are entering, wherein you are melting down, and you do not know what it is.
This is one suggestion among the many other possibilities whereby you can contemplate the whole physical universe at one stroke, or beyond the earlier stage of taking one object only for your meditation. Here, in this technique mentioned, you are in union with the entire structure of your environment, physically and astronomically. There is such a unity, such an identification, that you feel that the hills and dales, the stars, the sky, and all things have gone into your body, and you have entered into them. If this state, this stage, this experience, can at least be imagined with your strength of thought and power of will, that cosmical experience taken in a physical essence is regarded as savitarka, a technical term used by the sage Patanjali. You need not go into the meaning of all these Sanskrit words. Suffice it to say, it is a so-called logical argumentative process whereby you comprehend in your expanded thought dimension all that can be grasped at one stroke simultaneously, without anything left out.
This technique can be extended further into the higher potentials of the physical cosmos. You need not think of space, time and distance, right and left, top and bottom, and the dimensions, directions, etc. You can persuade your mind to contemplate on the essence of this situation which is just a sea, a vast ocean of energy. There are no stars, no sun, no moon, no mountains, no Earth. You are floating, as it were, in the sea of incomprehensible force. You have to know what a force is. It is a scientific term which means anything and everything to students of science. A force is that which is not a solid object. It is a pressure. It is an exerting, a commanding, an interfering, a possibility, a probability, fading away into mere thought finally, because there are no things to be thought by the mind in that condition – not even the starry heavens, not even the vast creative physical universe.
This is an attempt in imagining the tanmatra condition of the universe. Hard is this way of thinking. The egoism of human nature will not permit any such adventure. You will be kicked back with a blow from something which you cannot know, like Indra kicking Trishanku because he attempted to go to heaven when the gods felt that he was not fit for that, so he fell headlong, with legs up and head hanging below. This is Trishanku Swargam, as it is called.
Any attempt at this kind of practice with desires lurking in the mind, with emotions boiling, with loves and hatreds creeping into the heart and subtly telling you that they are also there – any attempt at meditation of this kind without purifying oneself of all the psychological dross of loves, hatreds, egoism, and such features will land you in a danger equal to touching dynamite, which may explode in your face. Many a meditator trying the impossible on the foundation of a weak beginning, not knowing his or her weaknesses, has come to sorrow. There will be the possibility of developing complexes in the mind, and you will not gain what you expected to gain. You may even lose what you already had before you started the practice. You may become an abnormal, crazy person if your ethical and moral nature has not been properly trained. If you are a lover of things and a hater of things at the root of your mind, and your emotions have not been subdued, and you are still Mr. or Mrs. so-and-so, this person or that person, if you attempt to go skyrocketing along this tremendous technique which is meant only for superhuman natures, God forbid this attempt, and the Guru is to be your guide here.
You should do this practice; I am not saying that you should not attempt it. Everyone should be after God, and everyone should obtain salvation, and this difficult task should be undertaken by everyone. If one has achieved it, another also can achieve it – provided the same training and discipline is undergone.
A goodness which is the characteristic of godliness is to be the foundation of your spiritual practice. Perhaps you are trying to think as God would think. You can imagine how God thinks. If this outlook can be developed in yourself, you can go along these lines of prescription of Patanjali's Yoga Sutras – the vitarka, vichara, ananda, asmita samadhis that he speaks of. These stages of savitarka, nirvitarka, savichara, nirvichara, sananda, sasmita, and the other nomenclatures associated with this gradual ascent signify the rising of consciousness to the comprehension of the categories of the Sankhya evolutionary process mentioned by these philosophical guardians.
Yesterday I mentioned what these categories are. The Yoga System of Patanjali is a practical application of the philosophy adumbrated in the Sankhya, as mentioned. The consciousness widens its comprehensiveness as it slowly rises, and also becomes deeper and deeper. It is wider because its object expands in the area of its comprehension. In the beginning it was one pinpointed object, an ideal chosen as something located somewhere, and then it expanded itself into a larger area of many things, including the whole Earth; further on it entered into the still larger area of the tanmatras, the pure potentials, etc. This is the way it expands its width or dimension. It also becomes deeper at the same time. There is a quantitative expansion, and also qualitative deepening in the process. We not only become larger, but also become greater, deeper, more profound. Our quantity increases, and our quality also increases, so that in these gradual ascents we seem to be nearing the possibility of the grasp of all that can be conceived as contained in this world but, because of the qualitative intensity involved, this grasping will not be just like the grasping of the treasures of the Earth which we can lose also at any time, but a permanent grasp.
A grasp by the sense organs is impermanent. The senses cannot unite themselves with the object of their contact or grasp. They stand outside. If a fragrant rose garden is near our house and we have enclosed it with glass walls, honey bees hovering around to collect nectar from the roses may hit their heads against the glass, not knowing that there is an obstruction which prevents them from actually coming in contact with the flowers. Many a time the bees even die by striking against the object that obstructs their coming in contact with the flowers. The senses reap this fate in their trying to contact objects of sense. They see something and want to grasp it and own it, but they cannot because the glass screen of space and time debars any kind of vital unity of the sense organs with the objects present outside.
As I mentioned previously, we have a camouflaged perception of these objects. We seem to be seeing them, but we are actually seeing only the obstacle giving a shape to the so-called real object. The senses do not come in contact with objects, though we are trying in this world only to achieve this contact of the senses with objects. Our life begins and ends with the search for an impossibility. Grief begins our life, and grief ends our life, and we live with grief. But in samapatti this Yoga contact, wherein our dimensions expand quantitatively and also we are qualitatively becoming fit for this grasp, we are not in contact with anything; consciousness grasps consciousness.
In fact our mind, our consciousness, can grasp only itself. We cannot grasp another thing. The otherness involved in the object prevents our actual grasp of it. We regard everything as 'other', and then want to make it our own. What we can grasp is only ourselves, and what we can possess is also ourselves. We cannot get anything more than ourselves in this world. But to the extent the world has become us, to that extent the world has ceased to be; and to the extent that an external object has permeated into our seeing, visualising, knowing consciousness, to that extent the world is ours.
Tasya lokaḥ sa u loka eva (Bri. Up. 4.4.13), says the Brihadaranyaka Upanishad: In this state we not only own the world, we are the world. Tasya lokaḥ: This becomes the world. Sa u loka eva: He himself is the world. In the beginning it looks as if the world is entering us, embracing us, surcharging us with its omnipotent existence; later we become the universe itself. This is achieved gradually through these samapatti's mentioned by Patanjali in his sutras as vitarka, vichara, ananda, asmita. That is to say, in a grasping of consciousness of the reality of creation through these categories of the evolutionary process, the physical universe is first divested of its association with name and form, then the tanmatras, the pure potentials, are divested in a similar manner, freeing them from even the concept of getting involved in the space-time process.
The world appears to be inside space and inside time. Even Newton, a very great scientist indeed, thought that the world is inside space – that space envelopes the whole physical universe. But science has advanced, and modern day physicists tell us that the physical world is not inside space, that space is a part of the physical world. The physicality, the solidity, the extendedness of the so-called visible world is a condensation of space itself, so the world is not inside space.
I mentioned yesterday that there is a way of thinking in terms of four dimensions, and not merely in terms of the three dimensions of length, breadth and height. Thinking in four dimensions includes thinking not only in terms of time and space, but also includes a merger of the linear forces of time, in which condition the world ceases to be something inside space and time. That is to say, you also are not any more inside space. You are not in India, you are not in Europe, you are not on this Earth, you are not in space; you are in this immeasurable expanse of indescribable something. You are not anywhere, but everywhere. You are not at some time, but at all times. You are not connected to something, but are related to all things. Space, time and causation converge into a single unitary awareness.
So, this world, this universe of perception as described through the evolutionary processes of the Sankhya, gradually becomes the objects of meditation. To repeat, first a single object, an ideal is placed before you for the purpose of meditation and worship, then all objects, then the whole physical universe of earth, water, fire, air, ether, then the tanmatras – sabdha, sparsha, rupa, rasa, gandha – then space and time itself. Here the concept of the world ceases. You cannot go beyond this in your thought process. Any attempt to go further than the concept of space and time would take you inward into your own self, and your scientific adventure of probing outwardly into the mysteries of the universe will cease; science will not work anymore. As some people say, here science ceases and turns inward in a mystical contemplation of the scientist himself. The scientist no longer beholds the objects of observation and experiment, because the scientist is no more there to observe or experiment anything. The scientist has to probe into himself.
Here the outward pursuit reaches its limit of possibility, and directs its attention to the inward profundities of the beholder himself. If beauty is in the beholder, the world of scientific perception is in the scientist himself. The scientist is seeing his own mind finally when he attempts to behold the world outside in his laboratory equipment. When you delve deep into yourself, turning the attention inwardly from the outward experiments that you have been carrying on up to this time, you cease to be a physicist, a mathematician, a chemist or a biologist. You become a psychologist. You become a philosopher. You become a mystic. You become a Yogi.
What do you find when you divert your attention within? These findings within will be commensurate with those higher realities mentioned in the Sankhya categorisation process – Ahamkara, Mahat-tattva, Prakriti and Purusha. They cannot be contemplated upon in the way you did earlier, because they involve you also. How could a scientist experiment with himself through the tools or instruments available in a laboratory? In a similar manner, how would you contemplate on the cosmic Ahamkara-tattva or the conscious principle which is Mahat or Prakriti when you are not anymore something that can be seen with the eyes, or even thought by the mind?
Inasmuch as it is not even capable of thought in an externalised fashion, it becomes a universalisation process. Meditation inwardly becomes a process of universalisation. Earlier it was an outward contemplation, and now it becomes an inward meditation leading to a merger of the outward and the inward in a universality far from any kind of rational comprehension. There is no need for the operation of the mind and the reason here. These are only ambassadors of the great government of the Universal Spirit, who are recalled into their original souls, and the Centre reigns supreme. Here you contemplate yourself not as somebody, but the potential of all things at the same time: I am what I am.
Well said; but caution here again is the watchword of the seeker. Take time; do not be in a hurry, and do not go beyond your limits. When you feel exhausted and your mind is telling you, "Thus far and no further," it is time to rest.
There was a king who announced to the public that whoever ran the farthest distance would be gifted the land that he had covered in the race. People thronged to participate in the race for the gift of land that was being offered by the king. One person ran several miles, and he was gasping. He felt like he was going to die. His legs would not move. His breath refused to operate. He felt, "Let me go a little further. I can get a little more land, a little more land, a little more land." This person who wanted more and more land without the readiness to actually compete in the ordeal of running the race fell down dead, and he lost not only the land, but he also lost himself. No one, even Yogis, should commit this mistake.
A swami met me many years ago. His head was shaking perpetually. He was a very learned, educated, qualified person. I asked him why his head was shaking perpetually in all directions. He said, "I came to you to find a remedy. I tried to feel myself present everywhere in everything, and it has landed me in this condition." Anyway, I said something to him regarding where the mistake lay.
When we are after great things, we should not use even the small things that we have, because of our unprepared manner of asking for great things. We can have great things if we are also great enough. A small comprehensive mind cannot go beyond its limitations. We must become large in order that we may obtain the large. The difficulty before us is simple; we are not totally free from sidetracking desires which will subtly tell us that there are good things in this world.
For this purpose, you must keep a diary, because all things cannot be remembered by the mind always. You have heard many things being told to you here, many interesting things of a beneficial nature. How many things can you remember even if you have taken down some titbits in your notebook? So, have your diary wherein you write what are the possibilities of committing a mistake in the future, one of the mistakes being the fact that there are other things also that are good enough for you. Let them be there. Accept this voice of the mind. "I agree with you that there are good things in the world, but they are included in this very thing, this ideal that I am pursuing. When I have my Ishta, I also have all things." Seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things will be added unto you.

Chapter 5: Communion with the Object through Yoga Meditation

A standard way of conducting meditation is according to the well-known system of what is called Ashtanga Yoga, known also as Raja Yoga. Here is a highly scientific technology before us, whereby we are enabled to strike a coordination and a final unity between the world and the individual.
The world stands before us as an object of our perceptional consciousness. We are the seers of the world, and the world is there before us as the seen object. The whole problem of life is in the dissocia­tion of the seer and the seen, and an erroneous coordination esta­blished in perception itself between the seer and the seen. While it is perfectly true that the world has nothing to do with us and what happens to the world does not vitally affect us – if a mountain collapses, we do not feel the pain of it, proving thereby that the world of Nature is dissociated from our consciousness – this is not the whole truth. There also seems to be a simultaneous association of the world with consciousness, without which we would not even know that there is a world in front of us. How do we come to know that the world exists if it is totally cut off from our conscious being? Confusion seems to be operating continuously between us and the world outside, and this confusion has to be understood in its depth. How is it that we seem to be connected with the world in some way, and yet not connected in some other way? This self-contradictory position obtaining between us and the world is to be probed threadbare, analysed and solved.
This system of Yoga takes upon itself the task of solving this great cosmic problem. The Yoga system referred to is based on another system, called Sankhya, which enumerates the categories or the degrees in terms of which the evolution of the world takes place, or has taken place. Where is this world located? On what does it stand? The composition of the world of matter seems to reveal the fact that it is made up of internal components and it is not a solid mass, which is another way of saying that it is of the nature of the effect, rather than a final cause by itself. The changing character of things in this world proves that they are an effect of something which stands above them as the cause.
The Sankhya tells us that this world of physical elements is constituted of earth, water, fire, air and ether. This world of material composition is of a changeful character, and it must have a cause in terms of which it is undergoing a transformation in the evolutionary process. The cause behind the five elements is something like the causative factors behind matter that have been investigated by modern science. Behind the apparently solid masses of material substances before us, there are molecules which are also material in their nature but which are the inner components of the so-called material substance. Molecules also are not hard compounds; they are capable of further dissection into atomic particles. Once upon a time atoms were considered as the ultimate principles or building bricks of the cosmos, but today we are told that they are not ultimate in their nature. Atoms are pressure points of electrical charges surrounded by an aura which fades away beyond the horizon of their visible existence. Investigations in physics tell us that the aura of an atomic particle extends beyond itself to such an extent that it seems to be touching the highest heavens. A little particle here can touch the stars, and the events in the world are cosmic events. The vibrations within a particle of sand on the bank of a river are motivated by a vibration emanating from the centre of the cosmos. According to the Sankhya doctrine, these vibratory backgrounds of the physical elements – earth, water, fire, air and ether – are known as tanmatras, or subtle potentials. They are more subtle than electricity, and fade away into vitality, prana, energy quantum, which are not merely material in nature.
Above the physical world of the five elements, there are the tanmatras, known as potentials of seeing, hearing, touching, smelling and tasting, producing reactionary effects in the form of sound, colour, taste, smell and tangibility, which are the essences behind the physical objects and not capable of direct physical perception. These potentials are not isolated particles of matter; they are super-matter, we may say. Electricity is material, but it is more subtle than any ordinary solid object such as a brick or a table in front of us.
But these potentials, tanmatras, are also effects of something beyond them, that something being the cause of all causes. Both Sankhya and modern science tell us that space-time in a unified form may be regarded as an ultimate cause of things. The causation of things – the feeling that something comes from something else, that one thing is the cause and another thing is the effect – arises on account of the action of space and time, which is continued existence. They call it the space-time continuum. We are accustomed to speak of space and time. Nowadays, people say space-time, a blend of both together – not a three-dimensional space and a one-dimensional time, but a four-dimensional total, which is incomprehensible to the mind. We can think of length, breadth and height, and a linear movement of past, present and future as duration, but we cannot imagine the coming together of these two at the same time. A four-dimensional thinking is beyond our capacity. But there seems to be such a mysterious existence – a space-time complex and compound, a continuum – which gives rise to these potentials known as the tanmatras, which again give rise to the five elements – space, air, heat or fire, liquid or water, and solid or earth – and our physical existence cannot be separated from the existence of these mentioned categories. Our body or the body of anything in this world, whether material or living, inorganic or organic, is constituted of the same five elements of earth, water, fire, air and ether as the world.
Questions arise here in this context: How is it that we see the world as something placed outside us, while the constituents of the world seem to be the very constituents of our body also? What is the reason for our feeling that the world is placed externally when it is not true? How could it be externally placed before our eyes, when the very eyeballs, the very sense organs, the entire organs of the body are constituted of the same matter as the world outside?
The Sankhya and Yoga systems tell us that egoism is the cause of this unwarranted feeling of the external placement of the world in front of our consciousness. Egoism is the archvillain in the life of all people. What is egoism? The Sankhya takes us beyond the space-time continuum, which is the last point reached by modern science. Modern science cannot go beyond space-time because it cannot analyse egoism or even understand what that principle means at all. Egoism is self-consciousness of a particular nature which asserts itself as being distinguishable from everything else.
The Sankhya, which is the basis of the Yoga practice of Patanjali, tells us that beyond the space-time continuum, which is the physical ultimate available for our perception, there is a principle of cosmic self-affirmation – the Universal ahamkara, the whole cosmos feeling “I am”. If the whole world, including ourselves as a part thereof, is to know that it is, that would be the universal ‘I’ asserting itself. Our I's are all fractions of this Universal I.
How could there be two I's? There cannot be two subjects in one sentence. Here is the clash before every one of us. As you are an I and I am also an I, how would we tolerate each other? We cannot be friends even for a second, for the reason that you are an I and I am also an I, and they clash. I can somehow get onwith you for some time by bringing you down from the level of your I-ness to the object content that I consider you to be. Unless I force myself into the belief that you are not an I but a ‘you’, I cannot get on with you for a moment. Otherwise, there will be a war between two I’s, and nobody knows what will be the consequence thereof. And unless you feel that I am a ‘you’ to you, you will not be able to say anything to me or get on with me. The world is a clash between I's, but it does not dismember into smithereens because each I struggles to consider and convert every other I into a you, he, she or it – otherwise, why should there be words like ‘you’, ‘he’, ‘she’ or ‘it’? These words have no meaning, because you never regard yourself as a he or a she. You always say ‘I’. If you are an I, why should I call you ‘he’ or ‘she’? Here is the problem before us.
This cosmic ahamkara, the Universal I, has no he, she or it before it. It is neither ‘I’ nor ‘you’; all things are blended in that Universal menstruum, the melting pot of all possible contents. This Universal I is, as Sankhya tells us, ahamkara-tattva. Those who have studied the six systems of Indian philosophy know what Sankhya is and how it enumerates these categories in this fashion. The Sankhya also tells us that above this principle of cosmic self-affirmation, there is a cosmic consciousness called Mahat. These are technical terms used in some of the Upanishads and particularly in Sankhya philosophy. Cosmic consciousness is distinguishable from the cosmic I, meaning thereby that cosmic consciousness is a general pervasive awareness of all things without any special emphasis on the I-ness attached to it. For us at the lowest level of Earth consciousness now, all this is only an absurd story and nobody knows what it all means. Anyway, even an absurd story has some entertaining effect; otherwise, we would not listen to it. There is something behind it which satisfies us. Later on, it will become a reality when we actually enter into it by our consciousness.
Mahat-tattva, or cosmic consciousness, is prior to and superior to the Universal I or ahamkara. The Sankhya goes beyond still, because it is not satisfied by tormenting us with these theories. It wants to crush us with the weight of this complication of the arrangement of these categories, so that we escape from it as early as possible. There is something called Prakriti, the material original of all things – the matrix. We do not know what it means. It is supposedly not a substance. It is a pervasive background, a dark screen, as it were, a liquefied universe, we may say, subtler than the liquids we think of in our mind, constituted of three forces. Science knows only two of these forces; it does not know the third. Dynamic and static are the two forces that science knows – rajas and tamas, as Sankhya calls it. The power of isolation, separation, activity, dismemberment, movement, motion, force, energy, action is rajas or dynamic. When motion is absent, things are in static condition; that is tamas. These two forces are known to scientists, but there is a third force which Sankhya posits, called sattva – equilibrium. We have never seen anything in the world that can be regarded as an equilibrium of forces. There is always separation, isolation – one thing here, another thing somewhere else.
Prakriti is a balance of these three forces known as sattva, rajas and tamas – staticity, dynamicity and equilibrium of these forces. It is only in the state of equilibrium of these gunas that consciousness can manifest itself. It is only in the cosmic sattva predominant at the time of creation, at the beginning of things, that it became responsible for Universal consciousness being reflected through a medium called Mahat, bringing thereby into existence what is known as cosmic consciousness, and so on.This is to state briefly the evolutionary process of this universe – how the world has come to be, what it is. Let it be what it is. We have understood this is the position. Now, what is the trouble with us?
The trouble is mentioned in the very beginning itself. We cannot reconcile ourselves with any one of these categories. Everything is outside – the tanmatras, earth, water, fire, air, space, and colour, sound, and so on. And about the higher states such as Mahat, the less said the better. We know nothing about it. What are we supposed to do with these things that are apparently outside? The outsideness of things is the problem before all mankind. Wars have taken place. History has been a succession of conflicts from day to day. Things come and things go. There is birth and death, and the drama of life is perpetually drawn before us with picturesque screens. What do all these things mean to us?
The meaning is simple. There is a perpetual irreconcilability between what we are here and what is happening in what we consider as the world. When we speak of the world, do we for a moment imagine that we are also included in the process of the world? No. When we say that the world is so bad, do we mean that we are also a little bad? We cannot stand outside the world, but never for a moment do we imagine that we are part of it. When we say, “Oh, what has the world come to?” we are unwittingly saying, “What have I come to?” Are we condemning ourselves, criticising ourselves when we criticise the world? Even in this criticism,we keep the world outside and we want to go scot free. The Sankhya tells us this is not possible.
The Kingdom of God will be revealed before us if a rapprochement between us and the world can be established. All problems will cease in a flash, this second; and, as great saints, sages and masters sometimes say, heaven will descend on Earth and the Earth will melt into heaven. This is the function of the Yoga system of Patanjali. The ahamkara-tattva in us, the fractional ‘I’ in us, the ego that creates a chasm between ourselves and the world has to be eliminated by deep meditational techniques.
Meditation is the art of communion with that which appears to be outside us, and yet, on deeper analysis, is seen to be somehow connected with us. Everything in the world – anything and everything – is of equal importance from the point of view of this method of meditation. Everything is a god for us, if the Sankhya and the Yoga systems are to be followed as our way. How it is so? Because every atom is connected to every other atom and, as it is said, touching even a flower in our garden disturbs the stars in the heavens. This poetic expression, startling in its effect, deeply touches the recesses of our hearts. If a flower that we touch in the garden can communicate its message to the stars in the heavens, we can imagine our relationship to the world! Our very skin is touching the black holes and the white holes, the Milky Way, the solar system, and the entire space-time complex of creation.
Techniques of meditation along these lines have been prescribed by the great sage Patanjali in various sayings known as the Yoga Sutras. Yathabhimatadhyanatva (1.39): We may take any object for our meditation. Any object – even this microphone, or a pencil, a candle flame, a flower, a dot on the wall, a diagram, a picture, an idol or a concept can be the object of our concentration. Anything may be taken as the object of concentration and meditation because of this system of the universe clearly placed before us.
How do we start meditation according to this system? Why does the object appear to be outside? One of the reasons is our incapacity to accept the existence of the objects as part and parcel of our existence due to the intense operation, the flint-like action of our egoism. The other reason is the very structure and composition of the object itself. When we behold an object, says the Yoga System, we are not actually seeing the object as it is, nor are we thinking properly. It is a camouflage of the object that is presented before us; in philosophical parlance, this way of camouflaged perception of an object, chameleon-like in its nature, is called representative perception, secondary perception – not primary in its nature. The primary qualities of an object are not visible; only the secondary qualities are seen. We see the colour, the dimension, the structural pattern, the height and weight, but none of these is the object by itself. The thing as it is, is not merely weight, dimension, or colour. It is none of these. Minus these adjectival associations, what is the object? You are in front of me, and I can see you as a physiological arrangement of bodily parts. Bones and flesh, marrow, nerves, heart, lungs, and brain put together – do they make you? You will resent this definition of yourself, and feel that you have an importance that is different from the so-called importance attached to the physiological complex; yet I can see only this much in you, and nothing more.
The definition of the object in terms of these qualities and the notion that you have about the object act in coordination to prevent you from knowing what the object is in itself. The composition of the object, with its defining characteristics as mentioned, gives the impression that this object is nothing but a medley, a formation of these characteristics. Only the qualities are seen; the substance is not seen. Can you isolate these qualities and look at the substance? With the effort of concentration, let the name and form associated with the object be isolated. When I see you, can I see you without knowing that you have this name attached to you? Forget this name, and also this form which is given to you by this physical personality. As you know very well, this formation of the physical personality is not really you. Can you take that person for what that person is, minus the notion that you have adopted in terms of the qualities? Then you will be in a position to establish some kind of correct relationship with that object. Would you regard yourself as a bundle of anatomical structures or chemical components? If you are not that, another is also not that. So who sees whom in perception?
Sankhya tells us that “Who sees whom?” is a difficult question. There is a mixture of Purusha and Prakriti taking place here. Consciousness, which is not to be identified with anatomical or physiological parts in the seer, beholds only consciousness – which is also the background of the object – which is also not to be identified with physiological and anatomical parts. Consciousness is consciousness, truly speaking, if you dispassionately envisage this situation. But when you see an object, it is not consciousness seeing consciousness. “I am seeing you.” Again this devil comes in and obstructs you from knowing what is actually taking place.
This attempted communion with the object is called Yoga union; finally it is called samadhi. Samadhi is complete union with the object, which is made possible only if you are able to unite yourself in your essence with the essence of that which you regard as the object, dissociating both your delimiting conditions and the object of these delimiting conditions. It is not some individual trying to come in contact with another individual. Meditation is not the establishment of friendship in a social sense with the object of meditation. It is not just shaking hands with the object in a roundtable conference. It is anattempt at total merger of one with the other: this thing which appears to be there in front becomes you – you in a larger, enlarged fashion, because of the entry of the object into you – and you enter into the object so that the object becomes the subject, the subject becomes the object. In that condition of union, one will not be able to say whether it is the seer seeing the seen, or the seen seeing the seer. Whether the object is beholding the subject, or the subject is beholding the object, whether I am seeing you, or you are seeing me, both mean the same thing. There will be no ‘you’ at that time – it will be only ‘I’ – both in the context of the so-called object outside and the seeing subject.
This requires a Herculean effort on our part. We casually talk about people and things. You are so-and-so, and I am so-and-so; this is like that, and that is like this; the world is such and such. None of these statements we make about anyone or anything has any sense, finally. They are a slipshod way of definition, a meaningless comment absurdly made in utter ignorance, at least from the point of true Yoga. As seekers of Truth, we have to understand this situation.
Therefore, the Yoga System tells us our attempt at meditation should go deep into the essence of the object behind these categories mentioned according to the Sankhya description of the evolutionary process, which involves us also at the same time. Deep concentration of this kind is also known to people who are accustomed to telepathic communication. This is an enrapport that people establish even with distant objects. We can look at a photograph of a person who may be five thousand miles away from us, and concentrating with a sense of total identity on the parts of the person in the photo with our own existence will communicate a message to that person, whatever be the distance.
Even if that person is in the other world, that message will be conveyed, like messages conveyed to us by radio. When someone speaks into a microphone in a radio station, a sound vibration is produced; but what actually travels through space is not sound. A particularised vibration which is the sound process created through the microphone in a broadcasting station becomes transmuted into a pervasive electronic charge through space by which it travels not as a sound, but merely as an energy and wave content, which gets retransformed into a sound process in the radio here. Likewise is the action that takes place in telepathy. Our concentration on the object, even through a photograph or a formation in front of us, is actually a mental action or activity taking place immediately in our physical location; but without our knowing what actually is happening, our thought is communicated through the wider mind that is operative throughout the whole world – the cosmic mind, which is like the space between the broadcasting station and the receiving set or radio somewhere else – and it retransmits our message to wherever that object is located, whether in London or New York or the high heavens.
It is a great blessing to us that such things are possible, but the tragedy is that we think that this is not possible; we have to dovetail things artificially, and speak to people, and establish artificial relationships with them in order that we may get on in this world. Getting on with things is different from actually becoming one with things. How long can we get along in an artificial manner? Unless we are one with a thing, neither can we get on with it, nor can we get any benefit out of it; finally, a great sorrow will befall us.
In this manner you can take any object for meditation, disassociating both subjectively and objectively from the characteristics foisted upon yourself as well as the object in terms of the notion that you have wrongly adopted about it and the outer complexity of formation that is before your eyes. This is called Yoga samadhi. When I see you, I should not see you, but I should see through your eyes. Then I can control you, and you will do whatever I think in my mind. But if I see you as someone seeing me, I can never have anything to do with you because you are what you are, and I am what I am. I should never see you as someone seeing me, but I should see you by seeing through you. I should see with your eyes, hear with your ears, speak with your tongue, think with your mind, and operate with your body. This is union.
I do not expect you to use this technique on any person, but to understand the science behind it – namely, that you can have mastery over anything from an atom to the cosmos if this identity can honestly be established by turning the tables around, as it is said. The object is turned into the position of the subject. The subjectivity in the object becomes the subjectivity in you, and it is no more an object. The whole point is this. The egoism of your nature prevents you from considering the other as an ‘I’. You always hammer into your mind that it is a ‘you’. “I am looking at you.” “I am concentrating on that.” Do not say you are concentrating on that. That has become you. You are concentrating on yourself only. A larger I emanates from you when the I of that thing on which you are meditating becomes you. Two I's become a larger I, and then many I's can come together, becoming a still wider I.
Finally, in this fashion the Yoga System will take us to the art of communion not merely with one person and one thing, but with the five elements earth, water, fire, air, space, time, and all that has been mentioned as the cause behind even these things. Finally, we are aiming at the supreme isolation of consciousness, kaivalya moksha as it is called, through the stages of identification known in this system as samapatti or samadhi.