Interpreting The Upanishads

Interpreting the UPANISHADS

Copyright © 1996 by Ananda Wood

First Edition: 1996

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Contents

Preface

‘This’ and ‘that’

Consciousness

Consciousness and perception

Creation

Underlying reality

Cosmology and experience

Creation from self

The seed of creation

Light from the seed

The basis of experience

Creation through personality

Waking from deep sleep

The creation of appearances

Change and continuity

Movement

The continuing background

Objective and subjective

Unchanging self

Continuity

Life

Energy

Expression

Learning

The living principle

The impersonal basis of personality

‘Human-ness’

Universal and individual

Inner light

Underlying consciousness

The unborn source

The unmoved mover

One’s own self

The ‘I’-principle

Self

Turning back in

Unbodied light

The self in everyone

The rider in a chariot

The enjoyer and the witness

Cleansing the ego

Detachment and non-duality

Happiness

Value

Outward desire

Kinds of happiness

One common goal

Love

Desire’s end

Freedom

The ground of all reality

Non-duality

The three states

The divine presence

God and self

The rule of light

Teacher and disciple

Seeking truth

Not found by speech

Learning from a teacher

Coming home

Scheme of transliteration

List of translated passages

Bibliography

Preface

Do we know anything that is plainly and simply true, without any of the ‘ifs’ and ‘buts’ that complicate everything we perceive through our limited and uncertain personalities?

And is it thus possible to find any common basis of knowledge on which we can always rely, no matter what particular conditions and uncertainties surround our little bodies, senses and minds in a much larger universe?

The Upanīshads are early texts that describe just such an enquiry into plain truth. However, there are two problems which complicate our understanding of these texts today.

First, they were composed at a time when knowledge was largely expressed in the imaginative metaphors of myth and ritual. Thus, along with their philosophical enquiry, the Upanīshads also describe an archaic mythical and ritual context. It is from this archaic context that the enquiry was made, in times that are now long passed.

And second, as the founding texts of a very old philosophical tradition, they are expressed in a highly condensed way: which leaves them rather open to interpretation and explanation. The condensed statements of the Upanīshads were called ‘shruti’ or ‘heard’; because they were meant to be learned by hearing them directly from a living teacher, who would recite and interpret the words. Having received such a statement of condensed philosophical teaching, a student was meant to think about it over and over again, through a sustained process of individual reflection and enquiry. Eventually, after passing through many stages of thinking and rethinking the questions involved, the student was meant to come at last to a thorough and independent understanding of the statement, in his or her own right.

In the two and a half thousand years or more since the Upanīshads began to be composed, their original statements have been interpreted and explained in many different ways, through many different schools of thought. Some schools have emphasized a religious approach to truth, through devotion to a worshipped God. Some schools have emphasized a mystical approach, through exercises of meditation that cultivate special states of experience beyond the ordinary limitations of our minds. And some schools emphasize a philosophical approach, through reasoned enquiry into common experience.

This book is focused on the philosophical approach. It follows Shrī Shankara’s Advaita Vedānta tradition, as interpreted by Shri Ātmānanda, a modern advaita philosopher who lived in Kerala State, India, 1883-1959.

The book asks how some ideas from the Upanīshads can be translated into modern terms. This is a somewhat different approach from directly translating the texts. For each idea, selected passages have been translated and placed alongside much freer retellings that incorporate a fair degree of interpretation and commentary.

The retellings have been reproduced from a companion volume, called From the Upanīshads. The abbreviation FTU refers to this companion volume, in page number references that show from where the retellings have been reproduced.

Hence this book and its companion volume form a pair, with cross-references between them. However, each volume can be read quite independently of the other.

Like the original texts, the book is perhaps best read as an anthology of collected passages. Because of their condensed expression, the Upanīshads are meant to be thought about selectively, concentrating attention on one passage at a time. In various different passages, the same fundamental principles are approached again and again, in various different ways. Thus, one is free to pick out a particular passage that suits one’s interests and one’s state of mind at the time.

The trick is to avoid confusing the differing approaches through which the Upanīshads ask different questions about one common truth. Then one can concentrate on those particular passages and those particular questions that hold one’s attention sufficiently for the hard thinking that the subject requires.

‘This’ and ‘that’

On the whole, the language of the Upanīshads is simple. The main problems of interpretation do not come from any excessive complexity of grammar, nor from overly long and technical words. Since the language used is an early form of classical Sanskrit, there is sometimes a little trouble with the occasional archaic usage whose meaning may not be fully remembered; but this is relatively minor and peripheral.

The more basic problem comes from the philosophical character of the Upanīshads. Their essential purpose is to stimulate reflection and enquiry. So they often raise questions about what words and concepts mean. This applies particularly to ordinary, common words like ‘know’ or ‘be’, or ‘true’ or ‘real’, or ‘self’ or ‘world’, or ‘this’ or ‘that’. While the meaning of such words is open to question, so too is the interpretation of the Upanīshads, which use these words in a way that puts them up for questioning.

In the peace invocation that is often placed at the beginning of the Brihadaranyaka and īsha Upanīshads, there is a striking example of simple language thus used to provoke thought. The language is so simple that it is possible to make a somewhat intelligible word for word translation of the relevant passage¹, with the order of the words unchanged:

Though just about intelligible, the translation is of course awkward. First, there is a problem of idiom. ‘The full, that’ is a common Sanskrit construction whose idiomatic equivalent in English is: ‘That is the full.’ Similarly, ‘the full taken back’ could be translated more idiomatically as ‘when the full is taken back’. Second, by translating the word ‘pŭrnam’ too narrowly, as ‘the full’, the philosophical implications are not quite rightly conveyed. ‘pŭrnam’ also means ‘complete’. In the context of the Upanīshads, this clearly refers to ‘complete reality’, which might be better translated as ‘all’. So to try making the translation less awkward, perhaps it could be modified as follows:

That is all. This is all.

All arises out of all.

Of all, when all is taken in,

what remains is only all.

This is still quite a literal translation, and it is now in fluent English; but it has a problem of tone. At worst, it could be read as silly doggerel, showing up the absurdity of mystical philosophy. At best, it could be construed to have a tone of mocking irony, using a light-hearted facade to say something more profound. In neither case does it convey the philosophical tone of quiet certainty that is found in the original.

The trouble is that cryptic utterances like ‘All arises out of all’ are no longer taken seriously, in modern philosophical discussion. In fact, they are held up as glaring examples of ‘trivial’ or ‘tautological’ or ‘woolly’ or ‘fuzzy’ language, which serves as a cover for half-baked ideas that have not been properly questioned and tested. If anyone makes this kind of cryptic statement today, the immediate response, quite rightly, is that the speaker should explain further and be more specific about what is meant.

How does one try to solve this problem of tone in translating the simple, but sometimes cryptic statements of the Upanīshads? There is a temptation to dress up the translation in strange or complicated language, to make it seem that hidden depths are lurking below; but this would be merely pretentious. The only way out is to make a specific interpretation; and to translate accordingly, perhaps adding some further explanation and commentary.

In the above passage from the peace invocation, the words ‘that’ and ‘this’ need more specific interpretation. So does the word ‘pŭrnam’, which is not quite adequately translated as ‘the full’ or as ‘all’. In the retelling reproduced below (from FTU, page 42), the word ‘that’ is interpreted as the known world; the word ‘this’ is interpreted as the knowing self; and ‘pŭrnam’ is interpreted as complete reality, which is both knower and known. Accordingly, the passage is taken to describe reality as non-dual consciousness: underlying all mentally created divisions of experience into ‘this’ which knows and ‘that’ which is known. From underlying consciousness, all appearances of objects arise: as they are perceived by body, senses and mind. And back to this same consciousness, all appearances return: as they are understood and assimilated into knowledge.

That world out there, this self in here,

each is reality, complete:

from which arises everything,

to which all things return again, in which all seeming things consist;

which stays the same, unchanged, complete.

However, there are other ways of interpreting this passage, as can be seen by comparing a few available translations. Many of them use the traditional concept of ‘brahman’: which can be thought of as all-inclusive reality, underlying the creation and appearance of everything in the universe.

In the Ramakrishna Math’s publication, The Brhadāranyaka Upanisad, ‘that’ is interpreted as ‘Brahman’, and ‘this’ is interpreted as the ‘universe’. ‘pŭrnam’ is translated as ‘infinite’. Accordingly, the passage is taken to describe reality as ‘the infinite (Brahman)’ from which the universe emanates and into which the universe is assimilated. The resulting translation is:

That (Brahman) is infinite, this (universe) too is infinite. The infinite (universe) emanates from the infinite (Brahman). Assimilating the infinitude of the infinite (universe), the infinite (Brahman) alone is left.

Swāmī śarvānanda, in Izavasyopanisad, translates ‘that’ as ‘the invisible’ and ‘this’ as ‘the visible’. ‘pŭrnam’ is translated as ‘the Infinite’. Accordingly, the passage is taken to describe reality as ‘the Infinite’: from which the visible universe ‘has come out’, while the underlying ‘Infinite remains the same’. The translation is:

The invisible is the Infinite, the visible too is the Infinite. From the Infinite, the visible universe of infinite extension has come out. The Infinite remains the same, even though the infinite universe has come out of it.

Swāmī Prabhavananda and Frederick Manchester, in The Upanīshads, translate ‘that’ as ‘the things we see not’ and ‘this’ as ‘the things we see’. ‘pŭrnam’ is translated variously: as ‘filled full with Brahman’, as just ‘Brahman’, and as ‘all’ or ‘all that is’. Accordingly, the passage is taken to describe reality as all-filling ‘Brahman’, out of which ‘floweth all that is … yet he is still the same’. The result is a relatively free and stylish translation, as follows:

Filled full with Brahman are the things we see,

Filled full with Brahman are the things we see not,

From out of Brahman floweth all that is:

From Brahman all – yet he is still the same.

R.C. Zaehner, in Hindu Scriptures, translates ‘that’ as ‘beyond’, ‘this’ as ‘here’, and ‘pŭrnam’ as ‘fullness’. The result is a relatively close, yet stylish translation, as follows:

Fullness beyond, fullness here:

Fullness from fullness doth proceed.

From fullness fullness take away:

           Fullness yet remains.

S. Radhakrishnan, in The Principal Upanīshads, makes a carefully literal translation and adds a short commentary. In the commentary, ‘that’ is interpreted as ‘transcendent’; ‘this’ as ‘immanent’; and ‘pŭrnam’ as ‘Brahman’, whose integrity is unaffected by the created universe.

Translation:

That is full; this is full. The full comes out of the full. Taking the full from the full the full itself remains.

Commentary:

Brahman is both transcendent and immanent.

The birth or the creation of the universe does not in any manner affect the integrity of Brahman.

Swāmī Sivananda, in The Principal Upanīshads, also makes a fairly literal translation. But he adds the word ‘all’ before ‘that’ and ‘this’. And he translates ‘pŭrnam’ as ‘the Whole’. The result is:

The Whole is all That. The Whole is all This. The Whole was born of the Whole. Taking the Whole from the Whole, what remains is the Whole.

Shree Purohit Swāmī and W.B. Yeats, in The Ten Principal Upanīshads, make a translation that is both graceful and nearly literal; by leaving ‘that’ and ‘this’ as they are, and by translating ‘pŭrnam’ as ‘perfect’. The translation is:

That is perfect. This is perfect. Perfect comes from perfect. Take perfect from perfect, the remainder is perfect.

What do these differing interpretations show? They show at least how one short passage of simple language can throw into question the meaning of concepts like ‘this’ and ‘that’, ‘full’ and ‘complete’, ‘creation’ and ‘dissolution’, ‘appearance’ and ‘reality’.

¹ Though often placed in the peace invocation at the beginning of the Brihadāranyaka and īsha Upanīshads, the passage may also be found in the Brihadāranyaka Upanīshad 5.1.

Consciousness

In the third chapter of the Aitareya Upanīshad, an enquiry is made into the nature of self. The conclusion reached is simple. The true nature of self is ‘prajnyānam’ or ‘consciousness’.

In Sanskrit, the word ‘jnyānam’ means ‘knowledge’. Used generally, it refers to all the various different kinds of knowledge: to all our various perceptions, thoughts and feelings, and to all the various expressions and instruments of knowledge that we interpret and use in the world. When the prefix ‘pra-’ is added, the meaning becomes more specific. In particular, the word ‘prajnyānam’