prātibhād vā sarvam
prātibhāt vā sarvam

“Or, from the flash of illumination, [vision of] the whole.”

In sūtras III.26-33, Patañjali has offered the sun, the moon, the stars, energy centers in the body, for contemplation–the macrocosm to the microcosm, the distant to the near. Sūtra III.34 takes a break from the pattern and leaves the ongoing emphasis on saṁyama (the threefold discipline of meditation, see III.4) with a short declaration.

Or, from prātibha, says Patañjali, sarvam (all, everything, the whole).

Prātibha derives from pra-, “forward,” + ati, “beyond,” + bhā, “to shine.” Literally, it is a shining forth and beyond and is translated by some as “flash of illumination.” Traditionally, translators have used the English “intuition,” which Merriam-Webster defines as “immediate apprehension or cognition.” We tend to relate intuition to feeling rather than reasoning, to insight in to something, to knowing though we don’t know how we know.

The Sanskrit prātibha suggests suddenness or completeness. Rohit Mehta describes prātibha as qualitatively different from analytical thought and from accumulated knowledge. It cannot be “ordered nor cultivated,” he says, but “arrives in the discontinuous interval of the timeless moment,” when “the thinker and the thought are not.” (See Mehta’s commentary on samādhi , which he says is a “moment of discontinuity,” Yoga, the Art of Integration, p.272.)

As I consider prātibha, I am struck by accounts of the creative process. Bob Dylan describes his early songs as being a kind of magic. You can’t “sit down and write something like that,” he says (60 Minutes interview, 2004, 2:20). And Mary Oliver, in an essay on writing, says, “the ideas in their shimmering forms, in spite of all our conscious discipline, will come when they will, and on the swift upheaval of their wings” (Mary Oliver, Upstream, p. 28).

Prātibha is not at our command, and so provides perspective on the twofold aspect of yoga: abhyāsa (effort) and vairagya (release), often called the “two wings of the bird” (I.12). This is such a beautiful metaphor. There is oneness in flight–but the two wings are opposed. There is ongoing tension that holds the whole. How much will-power do we use in practice? When and for how long and how well do we release? How hard do we fix our focus? What does the softening of non-attachment, perhaps a wider focus, give? Mehta describes saṁyama to be a wavelike flow, from setting intentions, to observation, to listening, to emptying.

I have been reflecting on effort and release, on concentration and dispersal. In recent years, I find I  have overused my will-power, taking on a job that demanded skills new to me, working for a good political purpose, and pushing myself to do a good job. It seems important to find a way to work that is sustainable. Our society does not give much support for that, for the softening, the letting go, the stopping.

Sūtra III.34 suggests extraordinary, marvelous, expansive possibility might come from doing less. Ch. 10 of the Tao Te Ching, here translated by Ursula K. Le Guin, likewise describes the mysterious power of not-doing, not-knowing:

Can you keep your soul in its body, hold fast to the one,
and so learn to be whole?
Can you center your energy, be soft, tender,
and so learn to be a baby?

Can you keep the deep water still and clear,
so it reflects without blurring?
Can you love people and run things,
and do so by not doing?

Opening, closing the Gate of Heaven,
can you be like a bird with her nestlings?
Piercing bright through the cosmos,
can you know by not knowing?

To give birth, to nourish, to bear and not to own,
to act and not lay claim, to lead and not to rule:
this is mysterious power.

—Tao Te Ching, ch. 10, translation by Ursula K. Le Guin

This week, Donald Trump was inaugurated for the second time. We have four years ahead of us of an administration that is prioritizing cruelty and domination, harming people already marginalized and vulnerable. How do those of us already tired re-commit to resistance?  I have heard many  movement organizers speak of the importance of finding political community, of making connections with others, grieving together–and finding joy.

The Tao Te Ching–like Patañjali here–tells us that the flash, the transformation, the knowing, does not have to be in our control, will not be ordered by us. There is a momentum, a movement, to social change. Be like the bird with her nestlings, the above passage says. Keep them warm. Be with them, and watch, one day they will break the shell and be born.

May we nourish, bear, and not own. May we act and not lay claim. May we know by not-knowing. May the flash of illumination come and charge through this world.

(Special thanks to Moriah Williams for wisdom and help. “This world is our home, and we deserve to live joyfully together.”)

—–

“Intuition is the emancipator–it is the forerunner of discriminative Discernment, as the Dawn is of Sunrise. On the appearing of intuitional insight, the Yogin comes to know everything.” –Gaganath Jha, translation of Vyāsa’s commentary for III.34, Yoga-Darshana, Sūtras of Patañjali with Bhāsya of Vyāsa, p. 196

“Intuition … is neither emotionalism nor the cold logic of the intellect. … It is not rapid thinking nor is it abstract thinking. Its arrival demands a complete cessation of thought as well as the thinker. It is believed that intuition is erratic and therefore undependable. It is not erratic but comes in flashes, because it arrives in the discontinuous interval of the timeless moment. It can neither be ordered nor cultivated. It comes when the mind is extremely sensitive, and the sensitivity of the mind can exist only in the interval where the thinker and the thought are not. The mind that expects or anticipates is not a sensitive mind, for such a mind is burdened by the past, anticipating a future.” –Rohit Mehta, Yoga, the Art of Integration, p. 345

Questions:
• What do you consider to be intuition? What is an example from your life of a “flash” of insight?
• How do certainty and not-knowing balance out for you? Are there things you know for certain? Are you over-confident in your knowledge or under-confident? Does “You know what you know about what you know” have meaning for you?
• In what ways do you experience the rhythm of focus and dissolution? Effort and surrender?
• How are you adapting to this political moment? How do doing and not-doing balance out for you? Knowing and not-knowing?