Mantra 6

In plain words

We've already explained how Brahman shows up in two conditioned forms — one with shape, one without — split into cause and effect, into the personal and the cosmic, both going by the name 'truth.' Now it's time to describe something else: the shape this same being takes as the subtle body, the bundle of inner instruments. This shape is woven entirely of impressions, born where formed and formless impression meets awareness — a shifting, many-coloured thing, like a picture painted on cloth or wall, no more solid than a magic trick, a conjurer's illusion, or a mirage. It's the one place every kind of confusion takes root. Some say this impression-bundle simply is the self — that's the Buddhist idealists, the nihilists, and it's exactly where they go wrong. Others, the logicians of Nyāya and Vaiśeṣika, say this same impression-form is just a quality, the way colour belongs to cloth, a property riding on the self as its underlying substance. And the Sāṃkhya thinkers say it exists for the sake of puruṣa alone — made of the three guṇas, independent, rooted in primal matter, set moving by nothing but puruṣa's purpose.

Close to the Sanskrit

Of Brahman, in respect of its two condition-adjuncts, the embodied and the disembodied — by the division into effect and cause — the division into adhyātma and adhidaivata, of the two denoted by the word 'satya,' has been explained. Now, at this point, we shall describe the form of that same person consisting of the instruments, the subtle body: a form made of latent impressions, produced by the conjunction of embodied-and-disembodied impression and cognition, variegated like a painting on cloth or wall, comparable to a magical illusion, a conjurer's show, and a mirage — the seat of all delusion. 'This much alone is the Self' — so say the Vijñānavādins, the nihilists, wherein they are mistaken. 'This very impression-form, like the colour of cloth, is a quality of the substance that is the self' — so the Naiyāyikas and Vaiśeṣikas have concluded. 'This, for the sake of the self, threefold in guṇa, independent, resting on the Pradhāna, operates owing to the purpose of puruṣa as its cause' — so say the Sāṃkhyas.

In plain words

Some people who like to think of themselves as authorities on the Upaniṣads build their own theory. They say there are three masses. One is everything formed and formless — the whole world of shape and shapelessness. Another, the highest, is the Supreme Self. And there's a third, a middle one, they claim — the one who acts and enjoys, the same conscious self that Ajātaśatru woke into awareness: a bundle made of knowledge, action, and the leftover imprint of both. Of this bundle, the karma-part does the using, and the old formed-and-formless mass is what gets used — the tool it works with. Here they try to make peace with the logicians too. Having said this bundle of karma rests on the subtle body, they suddenly get nervous — afraid of sounding just like the Sāṃkhya school — so they add: this whole mass of karma is like fragrance. Fragrance sits in a flower, but once separated from the flower it can still sit in a bottle of scented oil. In the same way, once separated from the subtle body, this karma-mass takes shelter in a fragment of the Supreme Self. That fragment of the Supreme Self, they say, is naturally free of qualities, but picks up qualities from karma that comes in from outside — and that very fragment, now called the cognitive self, becomes the one who acts, enjoys, gets bound, and gets free. With that move they're borrowing from the Vaiśeṣikas too. And this karma-mass, they add, is a stranger to the mass of physical elements — in itself unqualified, being nothing but a piece of the Supreme Self — while ignorance, though it springs up on its own and isn't a stranger the way karma is, still isn't a real property of the Self, any more than barrenness is a real property of soil. With this bit of invention, they end up following the Sāṃkhya line of thinking after all.

They find this reconciliation with the logicians very pleasing — but they don't notice that it breaks with what the Upaniṣad actually concludes, and with reason itself. Someone might object: why couldn't these very forms — the saffron cloth and the rest — belong to the vijñānamaya, the conscious self, since it's the vijñānamaya that's under discussion here, and the word 'his' clearly points back to it? The answer is no. The whole point of teaching about the vijñānamaya is to reveal it as formless. If these describable forms really belonged to it, then the teaching 'not this, not this' — which only makes sense for something beyond all description — couldn't apply to it at all. Someone might push further: maybe 'not this, not this' points to something else, not the vijñānamaya. But no — the passage's own conclusion settles it. It introduces the vijñānamaya with the question, 'By what could you ever know the knower?' — and answers, 'he is this: not this, not this.' And the earlier promise, 'I will reveal this to you,' would mean nothing unless it were a promise about the vijñānamaya itself. If what's meant is to reveal the vijñānamaya's own nature — untouched by everyday dealings, stripped of every last trace of adopted identity — then that promise finally makes sense. Through it, a person comes to know: 'I am nothing but the Self, I am Brahman' — and stands firmly on the ground the scripture gives, afraid of nothing, from any quarter. But if the vijñānamaya were one thing and 'not this, not this' pointed to something else, we'd end up with exactly the wrong idea: 'Brahman is one thing, and I am another' — instead of 'I have known the Self itself: I am Brahman.' So the phrase 'his, of this one' refers only to the person identified with the subtle body — these forms belong to him alone. And when it comes time to speak of the truth behind the truth — the real nature of the Supreme Self — the whole truth has to be told, nothing held back. The particular shapes the ordinary truth takes are exactly these latent impressions. And it's these very forms that are being described here.

Close to the Sanskrit

Some also, who fancy themselves knowers of the Upaniṣads, construct a theory: the mass of the formed-and-formless is one; the mass that is the Supreme Self is the highest; different from both of these is this third, the middle one, indeed — as agent and enjoyer, together with the vijñānamaya awakened by Ajātaśatru — the aggregate of knowledge, action, and prior cognition. The mass of karma is the user; the previously-mentioned mass of formed-and-formless elements is the thing used, and it is the instrument. And there they make a reconciliation with the logicians. Having said that this mass of karma has the subtle body as its support, then, trembling at that point out of fear of Sāṃkhya-hood, they say: the entire mass of karma, just as fragrance, resting on a flower, remains resting in the scented-oil packet even after separation from the flower, likewise, even upon separation from the subtle body, takes refuge in a portion of the Supreme Self. That portion of the Supreme Self, indeed, by a quality — karma — coming from elsewhere, becomes qualified, though qualityless in itself; that same one, as the cognitive self, is the doer, the enjoyer, becomes bound and becomes released — thus they follow the thinking of the Vaiśeṣikas as well. And that mass of karma is adventitious with respect to the mass of elements, being itself qualityless indeed, because it is a portion of the Supreme Self; nescience, though arisen of itself and not adventitious, is nonetheless, like the barrenness of saline soil, not a property of the Self — by this device they conform to Sāṃkhya thinking.

All this they regard as agreeable, together with the logicians, by a contrived reconciliation; they do not see the Upaniṣadic conclusion and the opposition to all reasoning [that this involves]. [Objection:] Why should these forms not belong to the vijñānamaya itself, since the vijñānamaya too is the topic under discussion, and because of the taking-up of the word 'tasya' referring to what is under discussion? [Reply:] Not so — because the vijñānamaya, by virtue of its formlessness, is that which is intended to be made known precisely as formless. For if these forms beginning with the saffron-cloth belonged to that very vijñānamaya, then the teaching 'not this, not this' regarding it, by virtue of its indescribable nature, would not hold. [Objection:] But surely that designation belongs to something else entirely, not to the vijñānamaya. [Reply:] No — because of the concluding summation at the end of the sixth chapter: having introduced the vijñānamaya with 'By what, O friend, could one know the knower,' it concludes 'he is this: not this, not this'; and because the promise 'I shall make known' would otherwise be meaningless. And if it were intended to make known the vijñānamaya's own true nature — not subject to transactional dealing, with every particular condition-adjunct utterly destroyed — then this promise would be meaningful, by which, once informed, he knows 'I am the Self alone, I am Brahman,' attains steadfastness in the scripture, and fears nothing from anywhere. But if, on the other hand, the vijñānamaya were one thing and 'not this, not this' were designated of another, then the inverted notion would be adopted: 'that Brahman is one thing, I am another' — not 'I have realized the Self itself: I am Brahman.' Therefore the phrase 'tasya haitasya' refers to the liṅga-puruṣa alone; these forms belong to him alone. And when the truth of the truth — the true nature of the Supreme Self — is to be told, the truth must be told in full; and the particular forms of that empirical truth are the vāsanās; of these, these forms are being described.

In plain words

These, then, are the forms belonging to this person we've been discussing — the one whose very self is the subtle body. What are they exactly? Here they are. In ordinary speech, 'mahārajana' means turmeric, and cloth dyed with it is called 'māhārajana' — the way we'd describe any dyed garment. In just the same way, when the mind comes into contact with something like a woman, or any such object, a colouring kind of impression rises up in it — and because of that we say the person is 'coloured,' 'tinted,' exactly the way we'd describe a piece of cloth. And in ordinary speech, 'pāṇḍvāvika' means wool from a sheep, pale in colour — and just as that wool turns pale, some impressions turn pale too. And just as the indragopa insect is a blazing red, some impressions blaze that same red — sometimes the intensity of the passion depends on the particular object involved, sometimes on the turn the person's own mind happens to take. And just as a flame is bright, some impressions, in some people, are bright. Just as the white lotus is white, some impressions, in some people, are pure white. And just as a single flash of lightning lights up everything around it at once, some impressions, as the light of understanding grows, arise the same way, all at once. None of these impressions can be pinned down to a beginning, an end, a middle, or a fixed count — no place, no time, no single cause can be assigned to them, because impressions are countless and their causes are endless. And this is exactly what will be said later, in the sixth chapter: 'made of this, made of that,' and on and on. So these comparisons were never meant to fix the exact number or shape of Brahman's own nature. They work the way any pointing-out works in daily life — 'this is that one,' 'look, that cow is moving,' 'the white one, the one with horns.' In just that rough, approximate way, Brahman gets pointed to through borrowed name, form, and action — through phrases like 'Brahman is consciousness and bliss,' 'the self of Brahman is one solid mass of awareness.' But the moment someone wants to point, not at a borrowed image, but at Brahman's own bare nature — every last trace of an adopted identity stripped away — no such pointing is possible, by any method at all. And that is exactly when the only option left appears: to point by taking back every pointer already offered. That is what 'not this, not this' actually is.

Close to the Sanskrit

Of this person under discussion, whose self is the subtle body, these are the forms. What are they? They are stated thus: as in the world, 'mahārajana' is turmeric; dyed by it is called 'māhārajana' — as with a garment, in the world. Similarly, upon contact with objects such as women, such a latent-impression-form having the character of colouring arises in the mind, by which that person is called 'coloured,' just like a cloth. And as in the world 'pāṇḍvāvika' means this — wool, 'āvika,' belonging to a sheep — and as that becomes pale, so is another latent-impression-form. And as in the world the indragopa insect is exceedingly red, so is this one's latent-impression-form — in some cases there is a gradation of passion depending on the particular object, in some cases depending on the mental disposition of the person. And as in the world the flame of fire is radiant, so in some case, for someone, the latent-impression-form is radiant. As the white lotus is white, so too, for someone, the latent-impression-form is pure. As a single flash of lightning — as in the world a single flash of lightning illuminates on all sides — so, depending on the increase of the light of knowledge, the latent-impression-form arises for someone. Of these latent-impression-forms, no beginning, end, middle, or number, nor place, time, or cause can be determined — because the latent impression is innumerable, and the causes of latent impression are infinite. And accordingly it will be said in the sixth chapter: 'made of this, made of that,' and so forth. Therefore these examples do not serve to ascertain the exact number of [Brahman's] own nature — rather, just as, so far as possible, one points out something in the world saying 'this is that,' 'that cow moves,' 'the white one with horns' — so Brahman is pointed out by means of superimposed name, form, and action, with words such as 'Brahman is consciousness and bliss,' 'the self of Brahman is a solid mass of consciousness,' and the like. But when it is [Brahman's] own true nature alone that one wishes to point out, with every particular condition-adjunct removed, then it cannot be pointed out by any means whatsoever. Then this alone is the recourse: namely, by way of negating whatever designation has been reached, the designation 'not this, not this.'

In plain words

This doubling of 'not' isn't accidental — it's there to cover everything, to reach in every direction: whatever gets proposed, that gets ruled out, and whatever else gets proposed after that, that too gets ruled out. That's what closes off the nagging doubt that Brahman has been left unpointed-to. If the two 'nots' only ruled out the two things actually named, then anything Brahman might be beyond those two specific things would remain unaddressed — the question 'well, what kind of thing is it, then?' would never actually go away. And in that case the whole teaching would be empty, because it would never lay the seeker's need to know to rest. Even the promise 'I will reveal Brahman to you' would be left hanging, unfinished. But once the longing to know about every direction, every moment in time, everything — is finally put to rest by clearing away every last borrowed identity, then what remains is like a block of rock-salt: one taste all the way through, a solid mass of pure awareness, nothing inside it and nothing outside it. 'I am Brahman, the truth behind the truth' — at that point, the wanting-to-know stops completely, on every side, and awareness simply comes to rest in the Self, nowhere else. That's why the doubled 'not this, not this' exists — to negate everything, exhaustively. But surely, by a great —

Close to the Sanskrit

And this pair of negatives serves the purpose of vīpsā (repeated, distributive emphasis) and vyāpti (comprehensive pervasion): whatever, whatever is proposed as a possible referent, that, that is negated. And this being so, the doubt of 'Brahman being left unindicated' is removed. Otherwise, indeed, if the pair of negatives negated only the pair of things under discussion, then whatever Brahman is, other than the negated pair under discussion, would remain unindicated — and the doubt 'of what sort, then, indeed, is it?' would not be removed. And thus that designation would also be pointless, since it would fail to terminate the person's desire to know. And the statement 'I shall make Brahman known' would be of unfulfilled purpose. But when the desire to know regarding all directions, times, and so forth has been terminated by means of the removal of every condition-adjunct, then — like a lump of rock-salt, of a single essence, a solid mass of consciousness, without interior or exterior, 'I am Brahman, the truth of the truth' — the desire to know ceases entirely, and awareness comes to rest in the Self alone. Therefore, the pair of negatives 'not this, not this' serves the purpose of comprehensive negation. But surely, by a great —