Abhyasa and Vairagya: Returning from the scenery to the seer
Thousands of years ago, the ancient seers of India explored consciousness with astonishing precision, mapping the nature of mind, sleep, memory, and awareness. Patanjali’s Yoga Sutras reveal that true yoga is the return of consciousness from the changing scenery of life to the silent seer within. Through steady practice and dispassion, the restless mind settles, allowing one to abide in the Self—the source of lasting clarity and joy
Can you imagine, thousands of years ago, ancient seers of India went to this finest detailing of defining sleep, memory, and proof in the mind. Isn’t this mind-boggling? How the seer has to withdraw from the scenery in our consciousness and establish in the source, and that is the union of one self with one self, that is yoga. This is an amazing way of describing the most indescribable truth in the universe, the most indescribable phenomenon called consciousness.
Anything can change, any time, in any way. The whole world is filled with all sorts of possibilities. But your mind tries to fix everything – thoughts, people, ideas, and places — into definite items or quantities. The five modulations of the mind are: wanting proof for everything, lack of comprehension, imagination, sleep, and memory.
How can consciousness be established in the seer?
Patanjali Yoga Sutra, Samadhi Pada, Sutra 1.12: Abhyasavairagyabhyam tannirodhaha, says: These modulations of the mind are controlled by abhyāsa, practice, and vairāgya, dispassion.
When you are passionate, your mind is completely outside. You lose yourself. Yet you are not really in the object, person, event, or situation you are passionate about. You lose yourself and become totally identified with the scenery.
Dispassion alone can bring you back to the seer. What is practice, and what is dispassion? It is amazing the way Maharishi Patanjali has expressed it: tatra sthitau yatno’bhyāsah. Practice is the effort to stay in the state of yoga. The effort to stay with the seer, the effort to remain focused on the seer, is practice.
You may come back to the seer, but you lose it again and return to the scenery. You are drawn outward by the scenery. Again, when the scenery loses its charm, you come back to the seer. These moments happen in everyone’s life—now and then, here and there—but they are rare experiences. If you make an effort to stay in that state consciously, if you make an effort to maintain mindfulness, that is called practice.
Practice requires effort. It’s grounded firmly when it is done for a long period of time, uninterruptedly, with devotion. You must honour your practice. Often, we practise just because we feel we have to. That is not enough. Practice must be respected and given importance. Only then does it become well-founded in you.
If you have taken a mantra, you chant for two days and leave one day and then do another day. It’s not going to work. Practice must be uninterrupted. Even a few minutes every day is sufficient, but it must be regular. Only then does it become well established in you.
Along with practice comes vairāgya. Patanjali defines dispassion as having a say over the thirst for what is seen, what is heard, and what is experienced. Through the five senses—sight, sound, taste, smell, and touch—we experience many things. If these experiences create craving or aversion, the mind becomes restless; it is not dispassion. Craving rattles the mind. When you crave something, you are stuck with the object, not with the seer.
Craving means getting stuck in the scenery and moving away from the seer. Dispassion is gaining say over cravings born of experience and of hearsay. You crave good food because you have tasted it. You crave appreciation, recognition, and pleasure. There are also cravings for things you have not experienced but have only heard about—praise, status, heaven. People are often swayed by what they hear and what they crave.
Many conflicts and crimes in society arise from such cravings. Conflict is rooted in self-righteousness and selfishness. This is not the Self Patanjali refers to; it is the opposite. According to Patanjali, this is non-self-centric activities. Dispassion is reigning in these tendencies, having a say over these cravings.
This may seem difficult. But Patanjali gives a beautiful assurance: if you get even a glimpse of the Self, cravings simply drop off you, effortlessly. Just a taste of this inner experience is enough. You know, many people notice that after even one meditation, certain cravings automatically disappear. Purushākhyāte—means glory of the being. Just an interaction or encounter with the glory of the being diminishes your interest in all this material world. The Self is far more joyful, much more charming than any object of the senses. It creates alertness and awareness—a sense of WOW. When you are in this sense of WOW, it is not related to the scenery but to the seer. You can experience WOW with the scenery, where you are lost, but when you feel this WOW about the seer, about consciousness, it is a very different kind of experience altogether.
(Writer is a is a globally renowned spiritual leader, humanitarian, and peacebuilder. He is also the founder of The Art of Living foundation, according to the Art of Living)
