Commentary on the “Tripura Rahasya,” Chapter 10
How Hemachuda, through further instructions from his wife, attained samadhi and, despite his continued outward activity, remained in a state of liberation while still alive.
The First Samadhi and Its Limitations
“Hemalekha noticed that her husband had attained the Supreme Peace, and therefore she did not disturb him. He regained consciousness an hour and a half later, opened his eyes, and saw his wife beside him. Wishing to enter that state once again, he closed his eyes; Hemalekha immediately took him by the hands and asked him in a pleasant voice: ‘My lord, tell me what you determined to be your gain when you closed your eyes, or your loss when you opened them. My dear, I wish to hear your answer.’
In other words, the yogini Hemalekha asked, “Does your state change when you close or open your eyes?” This question was very important to her.
Likewise, if you receive instruction from a teacher who is guiding you, this question is also very important to them, because it can reveal a great deal about your practice.
“Tell me what happens when the eyes are closed, or when they remain open.”
“Compelled to answer, he looked as though he were intoxicated, and then reluctantly and languidly replied: ‘My dear, I discovered pure and unclouded happiness. I cannot find even the slightest satisfaction in worldly affairs, because suffering arises again when they come to an end. Enough of all this! They are tasteless to me, like a sucked-out orange chewed only by idlers, or like cud that cattle chew continuously.’
By this time, King Hemachuda had attained nirvikalpa samadhi. Thanks to his past merits and Hemalekha’s excellent instructions, he accomplished this in a very short time. And when he realized the empty nature of his “I,” all worldly things appeared meaningless to him, bringing suffering and delusion.
Disillusionment with Samsara as the Foundation of Practice
Until you acquire this initial understanding, further practice is impossible. In some texts, conditioned things are called “various activities” and are compared to a thorn chewed by a camel in the desert. When a camel walks through the desert, it is thirsty but sees nothing except thorns. It then approaches a thorn and begins chewing it in an attempt to satisfy its thirst somehow. While chewing, it injures its tongue and other soft tissues, causing saliva and blood to flow. It seems to the camel that this is liquid or moisture quenching its thirst, but in fact it is blood from the wounds inflicted on its tongue. It continues chewing the thorn, sustaining itself on the blood from its wounded tongue.
In the same way, when a person is occupied with trivial, conditioned, karmic things, it is an attempt to derive pleasure from such thorns. And the first thing a true yogin feels within is disillusionment with samsara. Disillusionment with samsara is the foundation without which further practice is impossible. And since you are here, it is assumed that you have already gone through this. But in fact, that is not entirely so, because disillusionment with samsara has many levels. The first level is becoming disillusioned with external activity.
Disillusionment with samsara should be understood more subtly. What is samsara? It is not any particular actions or social ties; first and foremost, it is unconscious activity. Any unconscious activity is disillusionment, samsara. In other words, samsara does not end beyond the paved grounds of “Divya Loka,” nor does it begin upon entering the city. Samsara is a state of consciousness. When you act while being aware of the nature of Mind, you are outside samsara. When you act having lost this awareness, you are in samsara. And when you repeatedly become disillusioned with unconscious actions, you come to understand the principle of detachment. A true yogin, master, or siddha fears nothing except one thing—losing awareness, because for them awareness is equivalent to life.
Having experienced this state, Hemachuda was very reluctant to emerge from it, since it seemed to him that he would lose this awareness once he began to speak.
Realizing the Illusory Nature of Worldly Pleasures
“What a pity that such people still do not know the bliss of their own Supreme Self! Just as a person begs for alms, knowing nothing of the treasure hidden beneath his house, so I pursued sensual pleasures, unaware of the boundless ocean of bliss within me. Worldly pursuits are accompanied by a burden of suffering, while pleasures are fleeting. Nevertheless, I was so enthralled that I mistook them for continuous pleasures and, although I was often overwhelmed by sorrow, I still did not cease pursuing them again and again. What a pity!”
When you analyze your actions or your consciousness, you can see how the mind strives either for unity with the Absolute or for worldly pleasures. What does it mean to strive for worldly pleasures? By and large, any act of thought or perception, if performed unconsciously, is a pursuit of worldly pleasures. For example, when you see someone you have not seen for a long time, you feel joy and a desire to approach and talk to them, put your hand on their shoulder, and ask, “So, how have you been?” Your senses become excited, you remember how you used to spend time and practice together, and you are already running toward them, forgetting yourself, forgetting contemplation, forgetting everything. This is what is called worldly pleasure. I am not opposed to close relationships, but no close relationship can replace contemplation of God. Or you go outside in the morning and see a marvelous sunrise, a beautiful sky that looks like a painting by a great artist, and you feel, “The taiga—amazing! Wow!” If you do this unconsciously, it is worldly pleasure. A true yogi would never trade God for any sunset or sunrise. Whether it is a sunset or a sunrise, God is more precious to him, and so he constantly directs his mind toward the summit.
If you pay attention, you can count a great many such worldly pleasures even in monastic life. And the first thing a yogi does is to remain extremely vigilant so as not to indulge even in such seemingly completely innocent worldly pleasures. And we cannot avoid looking, communicating, or perceiving, since we have a body and energy—at least while we are not in retreat, that is certainly the case.
How, then, can such worldly pleasures be avoided? By constantly keeping watch over your state of awareness. For example, if you have not seen a friend for a long time, first enter the state of presence, unite presence with this feeling of joy, and only then communicate consciously. Then it is no longer worldly pleasure, but the integration of presence and energy. Or, if you are looking at a sunset, first enter into meditation on the Supreme Source, and then, with your eyes wide open, contemplate the sky, the landscape, and the taiga, and feel joy, uniting that joy with this contemplation. Then it is no longer worldly pleasure, but an authentic spiritual practice called integration.
An experienced master always understands the difference between subtle worldly pleasures and genuine practice. Even in the most insignificant details, he does not allow himself to become lost.
Making the Great Decision
“People are fools, incapable of distinguishing pleasure from pain. They seek pleasure, but suffering is what they receive. Enough of these actions that increase the craving for such pleasures!”
When your awareness becomes sufficiently deep, you reach a threshold where you tell yourself, “Enough of these actions!” This threshold is called “making the great decision”; that is, you make a truly great decision within yourself: “I will no longer unconsciously fall under the sway of emotions. I will no longer unconsciously fall under the sway of the games of my mind and intellect. I will no longer be caught up in perceptions and the like. I will unfailingly bring the principle of awareness into them.” You resolve for yourself, “Enough of these subtle worldly pleasures.”
Question: So you make such a “great decision” for yourself. It lasts for a day at most, and on the second day this “great decision” disappears somewhere, and once again you think, “Either I did not really make a ‘great decision,’ or something went wrong.” You wait for the next retreat, trying to remain mindful until then. Something inside changes from one retreat to the next. But why is it so difficult to make this “great decision” and examine it in the way described in the book?
I think that this is simply not yet the “great resolve.” The “great resolve” can be made only by great yogis, which means that one must first cultivate the proper qualities within oneself. In fact, I may be expecting too much from novices. The “great resolve” is made only at a stage of great maturity, while for now we merely dream of it. We should at least know about it, attune ourselves to it, and gradually make decisions resembling it, because if we do not train ourselves to make even small decisions, how will we make the “great resolve”? The “great resolve” will be made once our awareness is firmly established. It is a certain turning point that arises as a result of repeated attempts, returns, and renewed attempts. It is not something we can simply declare: “All right, I am making the great resolve.” We must work sufficiently with our mind so that it becomes refined.
The Difference Between Nirvikalpa Samadhi and Sahaja Samadhi
“My dear, I implore you! Let me return once more to the peace of my blissful essence. I am sorry that, although you know this state, you do not abide in it, being always involved in meaningless pursuits.”
Hemachuda says, “Now I would like to return to that exalted state once again.” He criticizes Hemalekha, saying, “I feel sorry for you. Although you know about it, you remain caught up in meaningless bustle.” This shows that Hemachuda does not understand Hemalekha’s exalted state. She appears to him to be an ordinary worldly person, merely a little more knowledgeable.
Subtle levels of consciousness are very difficult to understand. In the same way, we too can often misjudge other people, failing to understand their exalted level and assuming that if they communicate in an ordinary way, their consciousness must also be ordinary. But in reality, this is not quite so, because subtle levels can be recognized only when you yourself have already become sufficiently refined.
For example, if we practiced martial arts, it would be very easy to determine our level. Someone with a black belt would differ greatly from someone with a green belt, and this could be established within three minutes. But in the spiritual sense, such things are very difficult to discern without a certain subtle vision. Even gods often err in assessing one another’s exalted qualities, because exalted beings engage in many such lilas in which some conceal their level. That is, they either do not reveal themselves at all or reveal themselves only partially, while others, observing this, fall into delusion, believing them to be at one level when in fact their level is entirely different. Mythology contains many such accounts in which even gods are mistaken about one another and fail to understand someone’s exalted state.
In the same way, Hemachuda was mistaken about his wife. She was not truly his wife at all, but a siddha at play; she was merely pretending to be his wife in order to give him teachings. He sincerely believed that she was simply an ordinary person, and only when she began revealing herself to him and giving him teachings did he begin to understand something.
Always be aware that someone near you may be pretending. Perhaps you do not know them fully, or do not know them at all; perhaps you will recognize them only when you yourself attain a certain level. Therefore, be very attentive within the monastic community.
Hemalekha’s Teachings on True Realization
“The wise maiden smiled gently at this and said to him: ‘My lord, you still have not known the supreme state of holiness, which is untainted by duality and upon attaining which the wise transcend duality and are never again confused. That state is as far from you as heaven is from earth.’”
Whatever Hemachuda may have thought, Hemalekha smiles at him and says, “You have not yet experienced even a slight ‘taste’ of nirvana; you are still as far from it as heaven is from earth, because your mind is in duality: for you, there is a difference between nirvikalpa samadhi (the state of meditation with closed eyes) and sahaja samadhi (the state of contemplation with open eyes).” Hemachuda thought that Hemalekha was at a lower level than he was, but it turned out to be exactly the opposite. What Hemachuda had realized only recently and with great difficulty was, for Hemalekha, something in which she already lived, naturally and playfully. Moreover, she lived in it effortlessly, like a fish in water, in such a way that no one could even suspect it.
It is precisely effortlessness that distinguishes a genuine practitioner from a beginner. A beginner is constrained and tense; he seeks but does not find. His search strains him and sometimes even others—you surely know how that can be. But a genuine practitioner is unconstrained; his search is entirely different: he is relaxed, light, playful, and empty. His search strains neither himself nor others, because he has, in principle, already become a different being.
Criteria of Genuine Realization
“Your small measure of wisdom is no better than the absence of wisdom, because it is not unconditional, but remains conditioned by whether your eyes are closed or open. Perfection cannot depend on activity or its absence, on effort or the absence of effort. How can this state be perfect if mental or physical activity can affect it, or if moving an eyelid by the width of a barley grain changes everything in it?”
Here Hemalekha says sarcastically, “Yes, your realization is great, but a single movement of your eyelid can take it away from you! Wow, what a great realization!”
In fact, genuine realization is very stable; it is not connected with any external factors: retreat, silence, closed eyes, activity or inactivity, a particular diet, high or low status, participation or non-participation, special living conditions, and so on.
That is, genuine realization is, first and foremost, unwavering steadfastness in presence, which remains unshaken even amid great transformations or obstacles. Genuine realization is like the ocean, which is salty at every point; in other words, absolutely nothing can shake it. It is precisely unwaveringness in sahaja samadhi that is the criterion of genuine realization. Siddhas often test their disciples by subjecting them to various trials in order to verify their realization. The following analogy may be drawn: if one blows ever so slightly on a candle flame or opens a small window, it will go out. The beginner’s (neophyte’s) presence of awareness is like such a candle flame, which can easily be extinguished by even a slight breeze. Such a state, of course, cannot be called genuine. But if we imagine a huge torch blazing like a pillar of fire and rising high into the sky, which even a powerful hurricane cannot extinguish, that is analogous to the state of a siddha, a truly realized being.
It is precisely such steadfastness in contemplation—unaffected by external factors, suffering, social relationships and ties, activity or inactivity, experiences, words of criticism or praise—that is the criterion of genuine realization.
There is a saying: “If your mind is unchanging, you are in sahaja samadhi.”
Now imagine someone becoming despondent even over trifles. For example, he sees that someone has taken his slippers and his mood changes at once; or someone has prepared prasada that is not very tasty, and a storm of indignation is already raging within him—he has entered an entirely different reality. This means that his candle is very easily blown out. Such trifles can literally “knock a person off course” if he is at a subtle level of awareness but has not yet become firmly established in it.
By contrast, a genuine practitioner is very flexible and can maintain such awareness one-pointedly even under the most extraordinary conditions. He is always light, joyful, and spontaneous. Such a person is called a sthita-prajna—one established in true wisdom.
The Knots of Ignorance and Overcoming Them
“Again, how can it be perfect if it is found only within? What, then, can be said of your confused wisdom! How ridiculous it is to think that your one-inch eyelid can conceal the space in just one corner of which millions of worlds revolve! Listen, Prince, to what I shall tell you. Until these knots are severed, bliss will not be found (thus, secondhand knowledge is ineffective). These knots number in the millions, and they are created by the fetters of delusion, which is nothing other than ignorance of the Supreme Self. These knots give rise to erroneous notions, the chief of which is the identification of the body with the Supreme Self, which in turn produces an unceasing stream of happiness and suffering in the form of the cycle of birth and death.”
Here Hemalekha goes on to give a very important instruction. First, she says, “How can this state be perfect if it is connected only with the inner space, if it exists only within?”
Integration of Inner and Outer Space
Many texts say, “God is within you” or “Happiness is within you,” but one could say that these are merely the first indications of the reality of awareness. And many people sincerely begin to practice precisely the sadhana of inner awareness, believing that immersing the mind solely inward and remaining fixed there is the true path. In fact, of course, this is not so.
But what, then, should be done with the external? What are we to do with black holes, galaxies, stars and planets, billions of kalpas, and so on? What are we to do with forests, the five elements, the earth, and the diversity of humans and gods? Does it follow that, if you are fixed within, all of this must either be cut off or simply despised as nonexistent, as an illusion? But if you are not ready to integrate this illusion, you will lose awareness as soon as you touch it, because it will instantly take hold of you. This is exactly what happens when outer space has not merged with inner space.
True contemplation, however, consists in being neither within nor without, but in uniting inner and outer space. The practices of shambhavi mudra (the space section) are concerned precisely with uniting inner and outer space. No yogi can be considered enlightened until they have learned to unite inner and outer space, until they have merged them and realized them as one.
For example, the sankalpa “Descending Power” is very important for uniting inner and outer space. Only by learning to unite outer space with inner awareness can one understand the principle of Anugraha and shaktipata and truly abide in the natural state. This is Hemalekha’s first observation.
True Realization and Integration with Circumstances
The second observation is that Hemalekha says, “How can your state be considered realization if thinking or actions (some physical activity) can affect it?”
True realization means that presence can unite and merge with any circumstances—with thinking, actions, movement, work, conversation, and so on—that is, it is not in conflict with anything. And if you feel that it is in conflict, then it is not the true state; it must be corrected and clarified again and again. Or, if it is lost, you must continue working again and again until you truly learn to integrate with every situation. Of course, this is very difficult.
Thus, Hemalekha says, “Your wisdom is still confused.”
At the initial stage of contemplative presence, we should not place too much trust in this confused wisdom; that is, we should trust it while constantly refining it by consulting the texts and instructions of the saints.
The Knots of Karma and Their Self-Liberation
Hemalekha then gives the following instruction: “Until you have eliminated the knots of karma in your subtle body, do not consider your realization complete. There are millions of these knots, and they are created by the fetters of delusion.”
What does “knots” mean? In modern terms, these are certain imprints or complexes—that is, those areas in which we are unconscious. For example, a person contemplates well in retreat; after leaving the retreat, they continue to contemplate well, but they cannot tolerate physical pain: someone steps on their foot, anger immediately arises, and in that situation they have already lost awareness. Another person may lose presence, for example, because of shame or embarrassment. They are told, “Come out in front of everyone and sing.” They immediately lose awareness; their hands begin to shake, their knees buckle, and they think, “Anything but that!” This is how some deep-seated knot manifests, a knot in which they feel unconscious. And a person has a great many such things.
When testing their disciples and subjecting them to trials, the siddhas deliberately placed them in various situations so that, within a single lifetime, all these knots could surface and awareness could be brought into them. Someone may lose awareness when given power, fame, material wealth, or godlike siddhis. For example, someone acquires siddhis (supernatural powers), and because of this pride begins to overwhelm their mind, so they completely lose contemplative presence and awareness. In other words, for some people the knot may be pride: after gaining a little experience, they become caught in their own arrogance. For others, such a knot may be an attraction to what is beautiful, sublime, divine—to sattva.
We encourage sublime sattva and diligently cultivate it ourselves, but we encourage it precisely from the state of nondual vision, rather than from acceptance and rejection. This is an important principle.
Thus, once the “great decision” has been made and the yogi is learning to contemplate, he must then focus specifically on identifying such knots within himself and allowing them to self-liberate. This takes the yogi’s entire life.
