The Yoga Aphorisms of Patanjali

My Penguin Classic edition of Patanjali’s Yoga Sutra begins with a long introduction, by translator Shyam Ranganathan, about the many challenges faced when translating philosophical texts, especially when you are trying to make them clear and accurate to an audience that comes for a completely different cultural background as the person who wrote the original text, many centuries later. While that 60 odd pages can seem boring at first glance, as a bilingual person (and as someone interested in very old Asian philosophy), I find this sort of thing fascinating, because the choice of words can affect the reader’s interpretation to an incredible level. It is, therefore, an incredibly daunting and nuanced task to try to bring the meaning to life in a way that will be understood by an audience that might as well be from a different planet as the person who came up with the original words.<br /><br />The translation and commentary on the Yoga Sutra I had read before this one were Desikachar’s, in “The Heart of Yoga” (<a target="_blank" rel="noopener nofollow" href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/3141447777">https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...</a>). His version was concise, but it also was simply meant as an introduction, and not a deep dive into the text. Ranganathan’s version, on the other hand, is much more fleshed out. And while a bit long and scholarly, his introduction is actually not be skipped, as it serves as a reading guide for the rest of the text. For each line of the Sutra, he offers the Sanskrit, the phonetic pronunciation, then several potentially correct English equivalencies for the Sanskrit words used in the original, followed by his rephrasing – and finally, his commentary and interpretation of the Sutra. Whew!<br /><br />His commentary is obviously the bulk of the book, and they are extremely informative, as he uses them to give the reader plenty of context (historical, social, philosophical) and to de-mystify the short sentences that make up the Sutra. But his tone and style is very academic, so while I found it clear and straightforward, I can see how it might be a bit ponderous to some readers.<br /><br />I was not surprized to find a fair amount of overlap between the philosophical and moral aspect of the Sutra and the Buddhist Precepts and Zen philosophy: the systems obviously run along very similar lines, though they are not identical.<br /><br />While I am not sure reading the Yoga Sutra is necessary for everyone interested in practicing yoga (I mean here the physical exercise version of yoga, which the Sutra actually refers to as tapa), they are a very interesting text of Indian philosophy, and for people looking to deepen their tapa/asana practice and approach yoga a holistic way, this translation is clear, accessible and the commentary informative and inspiring. I do plan on reading a few different translations and commentaries: I think this is the sort of text that definitely deserves multiple readings and perspectives.

Yoga is all the rage nowadays, as all of us in the modern world know. If I decided today that I wanted to start taking yoga classes, I could just head over to Bedrock Yoga, on Main Street in downtown Manassas, Virginia, and get started. And while that’s not likely to happen, I respect yoga – as physical exercise, and in terms of the philosophy that underlies the exercise regimen – and therefore I turned with interest to the <i>Yoga Sutras</i> as composed by Patañjali.<br /><br />As with many other philosophers of classical India, not much is known about Patañjali, except that he seems to have lived and written between the 2nd and 4th centuries A.D. Yet his influence on the modern world remains undeniable.<br /><br />The translation that I have before me is by Charles Johnston, an Irish writer and occultist who served briefly in the Indian Civil Service during the 1880’s, before health concerns caused him to leave India and emigrate to the United States of America. While his interest in Indian culture is clearly sincere and respectful, I can’t help wondering how his upbringing in the strongly evangelical Protestant culture of what is now Northern Ireland might have affected the way he translated the <i>Yoga Sutras</i>.<br /><br />Johnston writes, for example, that “The purpose of life, therefore, is…the unveiling of the immortal man; the birth of the spiritual from the psychical, whereby we enter our divine inheritance and come to inhabit Eternity. This is, indeed, salvation, the purpose of all true religion, in all times” (p. 5). "Salvation"? Really? That sounds more like something that one might hear at the Londonderry Free Presbyterian Church, than like anything that someone from within the tradition of Indian spirituality might say.<br /><br />Yet Johnston’s respect for the material that he is working with is unmistakable, and the commentary that he provides is helpful. When Patañjali writes that “the Seer comes to consciousness in his proper nature”, Johnston hastens to provide a gloss on Patañjali’s ideas: “Egotism is but the perversion of spiritual being. Ambition is the inversion of spiritual power. Passion is the distortion of love. The mortal is the limitation of the immortal. When these false images give place to true, then the spiritual man stands forth luminous, as the sun, when the clouds disperse” (p. 8).<br /><br />Patañjali lists the activities of the psychic nature as “Sound intellection, unsound intellection, predication, sleep, [and] memory”, and then goes on to describe each of these concepts in greater detail, as when he writes that “The elements of sound intellection are direct observation, inductive reason, and trustworthy testimony” (p. 9). Here, I thought I saw parallels with what other philosophers – Plato and Aristotle in Greece, Chuang Tzu in China – have said about the effort to arrive at a reasonably reliable perception of the truth.<br /><br />Later in the <i>Yoga Sutras</i>, Patañjali emphasizes the concept of renunciation – turning one’s back on desire and pleasure, moving toward achieving a state of mind that is beyond such things – in a way that I had rather been expecting. Pursuing that idea of the psychic nature, and linking it with psychic activities like intellection, sleep, and memory, Patañjali writes that “The control of these psychic activities comes through the right use of the will, and through ceasing from self-indulgence.” Johnston adds that “We are to think of ourselves as Immortals, dwelling in the Light, encompassed and sustained by spiritual powers. The steady effort to hold this thought will awaken dormant and unrealized powers, which will unveil to us the nearness of the Eternal” (p. 11).<br /><br />Johnston’s ideas complement those of Patañjali well in other parts of this translation of the <i>Yoga Sutras</i>. When Patañjali writes in Part I, Sutra 15, that “Ceasing from self-indulgence is conscious mastery over the thirst for sensuous pleasure here of hereafter”, Johnston comments on Patañjali’s ideas as follows:<br /><br /><i>Rightly understood, the desire for sensation is the desire of being, the distortion of the soul’s eternal life. The lust of sensual stimulus and excitation rests on the longing to feel one’s life keenly, to gain the sense of being really alive. This sense of true life comes only with the coming of the soul, and the soul comes only in silence, after self-indulgence has been courageously and loyally stilled, through reverence before the coming soul.</i> (p. 12)<br /><br />A bit of an oversimplification on Johnston’s part, perhaps, but still helpful food for thought.<br /><br />There do seem to be times when Johnston seems to find the Eastern philosophy of Patañjali an attractive alternative to the Western rationalism of the society within which he was raised. In response to Patañjali’s Sutra 21 of Part I (“Spiritual consciousness is nearest to those of keen, intense will”), Johnston offers a full-throated defence of trusting to intuition rather than intellection, writing that “The great secret is this: It is not enough to have intuitions; we must act on them, we must live them” (p. 14).<br /><br />It was similar when Johnston took Sutra 12 in Part IV – “The difference between that which is past and that which is not yet come, according to their natures, depends on the difference in phase of their properties” – and used that passage to comment on the classical Indian belief that “the division of time into past, present, and future is, in great measure, an illusion; that past, present, future all dwell together in the eternal Now” (p. 103). Johnston’s interpretation caused me to reflect on Saint Augustine’s ideas regarding the nature of time and eternity, and on Friedrich Nietzsche’s idea of the Eternal Return.<br /><br />I also enjoyed hearing Johnston’s reflections on the sacred syllable “OM” that is said to be the word of the Oversoul, the Teacher of All Souls. When Patañjali writes that the Oversoul’s “word is OM”, Johnston adds that OM is “the symbol of the Three in One, the three worlds in the Soul; the three times – past, present, future – in Eternity; the three Divine Powers – Creation, Preservation, Transformation – in the one Being; the three essences – immortality, omniscience, joy – in the one Spirit. This is the Word, the Symbol, of the Master and Lord, the perfected Spiritual Man.” The Western reader, seeing all this emphasis on sacred things occurring in threes, may start drawing parallels with the Trinitarian theology of Christianity – as, no doubt, did the Irish-born Johnston.<br /><br />Yoga is, of course, a discipline – one at which people around the world work very, very hard. It is a discipline both physical and spiritual, and in Part I, Sutra 30, Patañjali sets forth well what that discipline is meant to overcome: “The barriers to interior consciousness, which drive the psychic nature this way and that, are these: sickness, inertia, doubt, light-mindedness, laziness, intemperance, false notions, inability to reach a stage of meditation, or to hold it when reached” (p. 18).<br /><br />I also appreciated how translator Johnston tells the reader why he translated passages of Patañjali the way he did. For example, after presenting the first sutra in Book II of the <i>Yoga Sutras</i> (“The practices which make for union with the Soul are fervent aspiration, spiritual reading, and complete obedience to the Master”), Johnston explains that “The word which I have rendered ‘fervent aspiration’ means primarily ‘fire’; and in the Eastern teaching, it means the fire which gives life and light, and at the same time the fire which purifies” (p. 28).<br /><br />Similarly, when Patañjali writes in Sutra 44 of Part II that “Through spiritual reading, the disciple gains communion with the divine Power on which his heart is set”, Johnston follows up by differentiating between the meaning of the term “spiritual reading” in classical India and in the modern West. For Indians of Patañjali’s time, Johnston suggests, spiritual reading “meant, first, the recital of sacred texts, which, in their very sounds, had mystical potencies; and it meant a recital of texts which were divinely emanated, and held in themselves the living, potent essence of the divine.” By contrast, Johnston states, “For us, spiritual reading means a communing with the recorded teachings of the Masters of wisdom, whereby we read ourselves into the Master’s mind” (p. 50). It is the sort of thing that a modern reader from a different faith tradition might contemplate while reading, say, the King James Bible, or the Koran.<br /><br />Not knowing much about Yoga, I have a general sense that the sequence of exercises fundamental to the discipline is linked with centers of spiritual power in the human body – an impression that was reinforced when I read in Part III, Sutra 30, that “By perfectly concentrated Meditation on the centre of force in the well of the throat, there comes the cessation of hunger and thirst” (p. 76). That idea of being able to control the appetites of the body through diligent application of the powers of the mind must be one of the most attractive aspects of Yoga.<br /><br />Indeed, while I still have a great deal to learn about Yoga, I found that reading Patañjali’s book was a good beginning. I don’t think I’ll be signing up for yoga classes at Bedrock Yoga in downtown Manassas anytime soon; but henceforth, whenever I am driving by their office on Main Street, I will reflect with renewed respect on the discipline being pursued there.

Engaging translation but not the best commentary<br /><br />This book was first published in London in 1982 as Effortless Being: the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali. I assume the translation of the sutras is the same while Shearer, who is a disciple of the Maharishi Mahesh Yogi, has updated his Introduction. The text is presented in a sky blue color that is easy on the eyes and does not distract from the meaning of the words. The design by Barbara Sturman is indeed very attractive while the small size of the book (4.75 by 6.25 by 0.75 inches) makes for easy portability.<br /><br />The translation itself takes up about one-third of the book while Shearer's commentary takes up most of the rest. The translation is strikingly original and interpretative. Patanjali's famous first line, which I recall most agreeably as "Now, instruction in yoga" (which I have from Ernest Egerton Wood's Practical Yoga, 1948) is presented as "And now the teaching on yoga begins." B.K.S. Iyengar, in his Light on the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali (1993), which I highly recommend in addition to this book, has "With prayers for divine blessings, now begins an exposition of the sacred art of yoga."<br /><br />Clearly the differences with this first line are mainly stylistic with Iyengar emphasizing a spiritual and religious tone while Wood's aim was to reflect Patanjali's succinct style, with Shearer looking for lucidity and an affinity with the modern English expression. But let's look at the second sutra. Shearer's "Yoga is the settling of the mind into silence" is very pretty, and when one realizes that "silence" to Shearer is akin to godliness (he quotes Meister Eckhart on page 24: "Nothing in all creation is so like God as silence"), it works in a symbolic sense as well. Professor Wood's "Yoga is the control of the ideas in the mind" places a very different emphasis. But in Shearer's understanding, the idea of "control" is inappropriate. He sees instead that "Once pointed in the right direction, the mind will begin to settle down of its own accord. It needs no control or forcible restraint." (p. 68)<br /><br />From my experience (I began my practice of yoga in 1974) both of these ideas are correct; and indeed it is a synthesis of conscious control of the ideas of the mind along with a sense of falling away that leads to meditation and samadhi. It is a mistake to imagine that one makes no effort, since it is the very essence of yoga that one does indeed make an effort and uses technique in order to find liberation (rather than, say, faith or knowledge). Yoga is above all a practice and nothing in it can be fully appreciated without practice. But it is also a mistake to think that one can through force of will achieve samadhi. What is required is a controlled practice in which one leads the reluctant mind and body to a place of relaxed concentration in which meditation is allowed to take place.<br /><br />But let's now look at how Iyengar translates this famous second aphorism: "Yoga is the cessation of movements in the consciousness." He adds, "This vital sutra contains the definition of yoga: the control or restraint of the movement of consciousness, leading to their complete cessation." (Light on the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali, p. 46)<br /><br />While I think Shearer's translation is very much worthwhile, I am less enthusiastic about his interpretation. He devotes the last part of his Introduction to the famous "siddhas" (psychic powers). He attempts to justify and explain them in terms of quantum mechanics, averring that "the subatomic universe...reveals a reality that is every bit as strange as Patanjali's." (p. 79) He even compares the superfluidity of helium near absolute zero to what is possible in the "least excited state of awareness" (i.e., the self in samadhi). This sophistic suggestion, which has largely been discredited, at least in the scientific community, relies on the false belief that the human mind (a macro object all the way down to the molecular level) can in some way operate on the quantum level. This is "New Age" babble of the most annoying sort and does not in any way explain the so-called psychic powers. Anyone who has practiced yoga long enough and has become adept at meditation has experienced these psychic powers, but realizes that they are phenomena of the mind and have nothing to do with ordinary consciousness or ordinary experience. They are--and this is why they are valuable and why Patanjali mentions them--signposts on the way to samadhi. When one experiences a siddha, it is an indication that one has stilled the ordinary mind and is making progress. I don't think Shearer really understands this.<br /><br />I could also take exception to his interpretation of some of the limbs of Patanjali's yoga, or express my appreciation of some of his insights. For example, I think his translation of shaucha (sauca) as "simplicity" instead of the usual "cleanliness" or "purity" is very agreeable. On the other hand, I could disagree with his interpretation of brahmacharya as something more than celibacy. I think brahmacharya means exactly that, celibacy. Or I could find his idea that pratyahara is akin to William Blake's "closing the doors of perception" (p. 68) interesting and worth adding to the regular meaning of "withdrawal of the senses." But these fine distinctions would be beside the point. Note well that the sole purpose of Patanjali's yoga is liberation from the pair of opposites (pleasure and pain) that dominate our lives. The word "samadhi" (the goal of yoga) means both the highest level of meditation and something akin to the Buddhist "satori," or enlightenment. All of yoga is a means to this end.<br /><br />For anyone beginning their yoga practice this book can help, but it should be understood that reading this or any other translation and interpretation of Patanjali's yoga sutras is only the beginning and is actually worthless without the concomitant practice of yoga.<br /><br /> --Dennis Littrell, author of “Yoga: Sacred and Profane (Beyond Hatha Yoga)”

Until Patanjali wrote his original yoga sutras about 4000 years ago, there was no written record about yoga, even though it was already being practiced for centuries. Sutra in Sanksrit means a thread that holds things together. Each of Patanjali's short, sharp and succinct sutras is like a little knot in the thread, to be teased apart for its wisdom. So there are several translations and interpretations of his work, and I've read quite a few. All of them have something to say - with a different angle, for a different audience.<br /><br />I recommend Alistair Shearer's version, not just for his translation, but for the wonderful introduction to the Sutras that is almost necessary to understand the Sutras themselves.<br /><br />If you're interested in spirituality, philosophy, yoga, etc., join my Old Souls Book Club (<a target="_blank" rel="noopener nofollow" href="https://www.goodreads.com/group/show/182920-old-souls-book-club">https://www.goodreads.com/group/show/...</a>) for other recommendations and thought-provoking conversations!

Georg Feuerstein is in love with his words. How else to explain his needlessly flashy translation that renders perfectly well known Sanskrit terms such as samadhi with equivalents like "enstasy"? Eliade sets many excellent precedents in his "Yoga", but this is not one of them. <br /><br />Feuerstein's translation of Patanjali's indispensable and abstruse Yoga-Sutra is highly learned but obscured by this kind of showy jargon. Feuerstein is intelligent and articulate, but sometimes shows that his command of language is a little patchy, as when he uses "ultra-cognitive" when he clearly means "supracognitive" (above, not extremely). <br /><br />The Yoga-Sutra is dense but not unusually so for religious verses written in classical India. No one who has grappled with Nagarjuna, Vasubandhu, or Candrakirti will find him particularly difficult. Feuerstein gets carried away in his rhapsodic philosophizing in the commentary at times, and could show a little more restraint and humility in his interpretation. <br /><br />I feel on firmer ground reading translations of complex and elliptical material when the translator acknowledges that there are insurmountable enigmas in deciphering ancient and highly compressed material. I feel uneasy with he sweepingly declares that certain verses have been misunderstood by nearly everyone except himself, arguing that the internal logic that motivates his translations supersedes the perspicacity of fluent Sanskrit speakers who wrote near the time of Patanjali. Have a little humility, man. <br /><br />On the whole this is a solid and illuminating translation and commentary, but it's much more annoying than it needs to be.

There are about a billion editions of Patanjali’s <i>The Yoga Sutras</i>. The one I got was a free or very cheap on Kindle, and is, therefore, probably not the best edition. I don’t know that the Kindle version I got still exists because it included a supplemental essay by Swami Vivekananda that the version I linked to on Amazon doesn’t. However, the translation is the same, and is by Charles Johnston. <br /><br />For many old works, the edition might not matter too much, but for Patanjali’s Sutras it matters a great deal. First, there’s the issue of the quality of the translation. Beyond that, however, is the question of the analysis. <i>The Yoga Sutras</i> are extremely brief, consisting of only 196 aphorisms. Owing to the terse brevity of the Sanskrit language, many of these aphorisms are only a few words long. That means that there isn’t a high degree of precision in the language of the Sutras, and, consequently, there’s a great deal of room for misunderstanding and misinterpretation. It’s for good reason, therefore, that most editions are 90% or greater commentary on Patanjali’s words. <br /><br />The Sutras are typically divided into 4 chapters (this convention apparently came well after Patanjali wrote them.) The first section lays out the objective of yoga. The central notion is the need for <i>Chitta Vrtta Nirodha</i>, which basically means to transcend the fluctuations of the mind. Patanjali’s point is that the problem faced by mankind is that people’s minds are run amok. There is a need for some system to facilitate correction of all this monkey-mindedness. That’s where Chapter 2 comes in.<br /><br />The second chapter lays down an outline of <i>Ashtanga Yoga</i>, which is the eight-fold path of <i>Raja Yoga</i> (i.e. Royal Yoga). While modern-day people tend to think of yoga only as pretzel-like physical postures, that’s just one of the eight limbs of yoga. The eight limbs are: commandments (<i>yama</i>), rules (<i>niyama</i>), postures (<i>asana</i>), control of breath (<i>pranayama</i>), withdrawal of the senses (<i>pratyahara</i>), concentration (<i>dhanara</i>), meditation (<i>dhyana</i>), and liberation (<i>samadhi</i>.) <br /><br />It’s interesting to note that the limb that many think of as yoga, i.e. the postures, is one of the most briefly covered. Most famously, Patanjali says in Ch.2, Sutra #46, “<i>Sukham Sthiram Asanam</i>” (i.e. postures should be stable and effortless.) The massive body of <i>asana</i> that developed in <i>Hatha Yoga</i> were initially just a means to give one the ability to sit still for a long periods of time comfortably enough to get one’s mind in order. <br /><br />The third chapter talks a little bit about the last three of the eight limbs (i.e. concentration, meditation, and liberation.) However, the bulk of this chapter is devoted to the supposed magic powers that yogis claimed to have had as a result of their work on improving their minds. For skeptics and scientifically-minded individuals (e.g. yours truly), this is where the Sutras take a silly turn. The translation in question came out in 1912, and it’s clear that rationalism was already gaining hold and magic was getting to be a harder sell. I suspect that was the reason for the inclusion of Swami Vivekananda’s essay entitled “The Powers of the Mind”—to capitalize on the gravitas of the renowned yogi to convince people that chapter 3 isn’t bunk. <br /><br />The fourth chapter wraps up the book neatly--discussing karma and the liberation of the karmic cycle achieved through the state of higher consciousness called <i>samadhi</i>.<br /><br />If one has more than a superficial interest in yoga, it’s pretty much obligatory to read some edition of Patanjali’s <i>The Yoga Sutras</i>. I didn’t find this edition to be devastatingly poor, but there seems to be a consensus among reviewers that it’s not among the best translations / commentaries. <br /><br />I would recommend that one read some version of these sutras, be it BKS Iyengar’s <i>Light on the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali</i>, Swami Vivekananda’s edition, or Swami Satchidananda’s version. I don’t have any experience with these other editions, though I have read works by BKS Iyengar and Swami Vivekananda, and found works by both to be well-written and clear. Notwithstanding the parts about magical superpowers, the book does provide a lot of food for thought, and in nice bite-sized pieces. <br />

The amount of time I've spent rereading Asian scriptures in the past month is embarrassing, but its an obsession that always helps me pull myself together when I'm crazy and heartbroken. I spent a few weeks reading this one every single morning (don't panic - it's short and only takes about 20 minutes if you skip the commentary), and it cheered me up enormously. Shearer's translation is accessible, clean, and elegant -- but not particularly accurate. It is a good gateway translation to the text, or a good mnemonic device if you already know a great deal about Indian philosophy and just want a quick review/kick in the pants. Now I'm working through Barbara Stoller Miller's translation, which is considerably more scholarly. It's always fun to compare different translations of scripture if you don't know the original languages, which I don't.<br /><br />Here's some great quotes from Shearer's translation:<br /><br />"The mind becomes clear and serene when the qualities of the heart are cultivated:<br />friendliness toward the joyful,<br />compassion toward the suffering,<br />happiness toward the pure,<br />and impartiality toward the impure."<br /><br />"When we are firmly established in nonviolence, all beings around us cease to feel hostility.<br />When we are firmly established in truthfulness, action accomplishes its desired end.<br />When we are firmly established in integrity, all riches present themselves freely.<br />When we are firmly established in chastity, subtle potency is generated.<br />When we are established in nonattachment, the nature and purpose of existence is understood."<br /><br />

finito non è la parola esatta, perché questo testo- fondamentale per chi pratica yoga- si presta a infinite riletture e meditazioni. in pochi insegnamenti, niente affatto semplici, viene espressa una via da percorrere per superare l'illusione del quotidiano e rifiorire nella pratica e nell'unione. eccellente e sintetico l'apparato di commento.

A wonderful book to be read over and over again. Stiles includes a section providing word-by-word breakdown of the Sanskrit to accompany a translation meant to capture true meaning. A valuable addition to the bookshelf of any yogi.

I found the way the author wrote confusing. I got lost in his sentences and gave up paying close attention quickly so there may be value in his interpretation but not for me. I would read more on the sutras but not by Charles Johnston.