If you are a fan of Patañjali’s Yogasutras, you know that yoga’s first definition is about the mind, not the body.
A snapshot of the 195 aphorisms shows that:
– the practice of postures (asana) is described in three sutras out of 195, and the word āsana is used only twice;
– the word kaya (body) occurs five times in the third chapter, interestingly in the context of deep meditation;
– two words for “mind” (manas, citta) occur a total of 25 times throughout the four chapters.
From the very beginning (I.2) Patañjali announces that yoga is citta vrtti nirodha, to stop (nirodha) the activities (vrtti) of the mind (citta). The message is loud and clear: teach your monkey-mind to sit still.
As our “organ of thought”, the mind’s job is to think, as the eye’s function is to see. This raises questions: how can the mind become quieter if it is meant to be thinking? Is movement not the essence of thought, since the mind is so skilful at jumping from one to another? If and when it eventually sits still, what happens next? Is it empty?
External stimuli are constantly fed by our sense organs into our mind, where these sensory “foods” (vishaya) are processed and digested into experiences perceived by the deeper part of our being. Unlike our eye, though, the mind is not a physical organ, so how do we know it exists? According to Patañjali it is on account of its five activities.
One of them may be described as non-activity: nidra (deep sleep, I.10) is like turning the car engine off and shifting into park. It is inert (tamas), doing absolutely nothing. Every other mental activity involves action of some sort: we get information, we reflect, dream, speak, act… all through these four operations: correct and wrong understanding (pramana, viparyaya), imagination (vikalpa), and memory (smrti, I.4-11).
So the mind wears several different caps: besides producing thoughts, it is the instrument filtering what is absorbed by the senses, in which quantity, and when. It is also the container where experiences and impressions are collected.
The problem is that with regards to controlling the senses, the mind often does not spontaneously do what it is meant to do. To paraphrase the Bhagavad Gita, it can be “our best friend or worst enemy”: when the mind is not regulating the senses, when it lets them run off in all directions like wild horses (a famous upanishadic parable), problems are bound to occur, because agitation creates confusion and suffering that we may not even be aware of.
But let’s not assume that the opposite of mental agitation is emptiness! Our mind always wants something to hold on to. With patience and constant work, using all of yoga’s tools (upaya), it is possible to sharpen the mind into one-pointedness (ekagrata). This work of meditation involves:
1) understanding how the mind works;
2) identifying a single positive object or orientation to focus on;
3) avoiding distractions;
4) filling the mind with the chosen object.
Indeed, the mind becomes full of the single thing it is fixed upon, but it must have emptied itself from distractions first. This is a lifetime’s work. However, this fullness is not the ultimate goal of yoga. Nirodha may open the door to the sharpest kind of mental focus, but that is merely (so to speak) an intermediate step, for yoga’s ultimate purpose is much higher.
We will discuss it another time. Until then, keep training your monkey-mind to sit still: you will not be wasting your time.
