MEDITATION
Indian religions lay stress on meditation. It is not merely commended as
a useful exercise but by common consent it takes rank with sacrifice and
prayer, or above them, as one of the great activities of the religious
life, or even as its only true activity. It has the full approval of
philosophy as well as of theology. In early Buddhism it takes the place
of prayer and worship and though in later times ceremonies multiply, it
still remains the main occupation of a monk. The Jains differ from the
Buddhists chiefly in emphasizing the importance of self-mortification,
which is put on a par with meditation. In Hinduism, as might be expected
in a fluctuating compound of superstition and philosophy, the schools
differ as to the relative efficacy of meditation and ceremonial, but
there is a strong tendency to give meditation the higher place. In all
ages a common characteristic appears in the most divergent Indian
creeds—the belief that by a course of mental and physical training the
soul can attain to a state of bliss which is the prelude to the final
deliverance attained after death.
1
We may begin by examining Brahmanic ideas as to meditation. Many of them
are connected with the word Yoga, which has become familiar to Europe.
It has two meanings. It is applied first to a definite form of Indian
philosophy which is a theistic modification of the Sânkhya and secondly
to much older practices sanctioned by that philosophy but anterior to
it.
The idea which inspires these theories and practices is that the
immaterial soul can by various exercises free itself from the fetters of
matter. The soul is distinguished from the mind which, though composed
of the subtlest matter, is still material. This presupposes the duality
of matter and spirit taught by Jainism and the Sânkhya philosophy, but
it does not necessarily presuppose the special doctrines of either nor
do Vedântists object to the practice of the Yoga. The systematic
prosecution of mental concentration and the idea that supernatural
powers can be acquired thereby are very old—certainly older than
Buddhism. Such methods had at first only a slight philosophic substratum
and were independent of Sânkhya doctrines, though these, being a
speculative elaboration of the same fundamental principles, naturally
commended themselves to those who practised Yoga. The two teachers of
the Buddha, Âlâra and Uddaka, were Yogis, and held that beatitude or
emancipation consisted in the attainment of certain trances. Gotama,
while regarding their doctrine as insufficient, did not reject their
practices.
Our present Yoga Sûtras are certainly much later than this date. They
are ascribed to one Patañjali identified by Hindu tradition with the
author of the Mahâbhâshya who lived about 150 B.C. Jacobi[658] however
is of opinion that they are the work of an entirely different person who
lived after the rise of the philosophy ascribed to Asanga sometimes
called Yogâcâra. Jacobi's arguments seem to me suggestive rather than
conclusive but, if they are confirmed, they lead to an interesting
deduction. There is some reason for thinking that Śankara's doctrine of
illusion was derived from the Buddhist Śûnyavâda. If Patañjali's sûtras
are posterior to Asanga, it also seems probable that the codification of
the Yoga by the Brahmans was connected with the rise of the Yogâcâra
among the Buddhists[659].
The Sûtras describe themselves as an exposition of Yoga, which has here
the meaning not of union with God, but rather of effort. The opening
aphorisms state that "Yoga is the suppression of the activities of the
mind, for then the spectator abides in his own form: at other times
there is identity of form with the activities." This dark language means
that the soul in its true nature is merely the spectator of the mind's
activity, consciousness being due, as in the Sânkhya, to the union of
the soul with the mind[660] which is its organ. When the mind is active,
the soul appears to experience various emotions, and it is only when the
mind ceases to feel emotions and becomes calm in meditation, that the
soul abides in its own true form. The object of the Yoga, as of the
Sânkhya, is Kaivalya or isolation, in which the soul ceases to be united
with the mind and is dissociated from all qualities (guṇas) so that the
shadow of the thinking principle no longer falls upon it. This isolation
is produced by performing certain exercises, physical as well as mental,
and, as a prelude to final and complete emancipation, superhuman powers
are acquired. These two ideas, the efficacy of physical discipline and
the acquisition of superhuman powers, have powerfully affected all
schools of religious thought in India, including Buddhism. They are not
peculiar to the Yoga, but still it is in the Yoga Sûtras that they find
their most authoritative and methodical exposition.
The practice of Yoga has its roots in the fact that fasting and other
physical mortifications induce a mental state in which the subject
thinks that he has supernatural experiences[661]. Among many savage
tribes, especially in America, such fasts are practised by those who
desire communication with spirits. In the Yoga philosophy these ideas
appear in a refined form and offer many parallels to European mysticism.
The ultimate object is to dissociate the soul from its material
envelopes but in the means prescribed we can trace two orders of ideas.
One is to mortify the body and suppress not only appetite and passion
but also discursive thought: the other is to keep the body in perfect
health and ease, so that the intelligence and ultimately the soul may be
untroubled by physical influences. These two ideas are less incongruous
than they seem. Many examples show that extreme forms of asceticism are
not unhealthy but rather conducive to long life and the Yoga in
endeavouring to secure physical well-being does not aim at pleasure but
at such a purification of the physical part of man that it shall be the
obedient and unnoticed servant of the other parts. The branch of the
system which deals with method and discipline is called Kriyâ-yoga and
in later works we also find the expression Haṭha-yoga, which is
specially used to designate mechanical means (such as postures,
purification, etc.) prescribed for the attainment of various mental
states. In contrast to it is Râja-yoga, which signifies ecstasy and the
method of obtaining it by mental processes. The immediate object of the
Kriyâ-yoga is to destroy the five evils[662], namely ignorance, egoism,
desire, aversion and love of life: it consists of asceticism,
recitations and resignation to God, explained as meaning that the
devotee fasts, repeats mantras and surrenders to God the fruit of all
his works and, feeling no more concern for them, is at peace. Though the
Yoga Sûtras are theistic, theism is accessory rather than essential to
their teaching. They are not a theological treatise but the manual of an
ancient discipline which recognizes devotional feelings as one means to
its end. The method would remain almost intact if the part relating to
the deity were omitted, as in the Sânkhya. God is not for the Yoga
Sûtras, as he is for many Indian and European mystics, the one reality,
the whence and whither of the soul and world.
Eight branches of practice[663] are enumerated, namely:--
1. Yama or restraint, that is abstinence from killing, lying, stealing,
incontinence, and from receiving gifts. It is almost equivalent to the
five great precepts of Buddhism.
2. Niyama or observance, defined as purification, contentment,
mortification, recitation and devotion to the Lord.
Purification is treated at great length in the later treatises on
Haṭha-yoga under the name of Shaṭ-karma or sixfold work. It comprises
not only ordinary ablutions but cleansing of the internal organs by such
methods as taking in water by the nostrils and discharging it by the
mouth. The object of these practices which, though they assume queer
forms, rest on sound therapeutic principles, is to remove adventitious
matter from the system and to reduce the gross elements of the
body[664].
3. Âsanam or posture is defined as a continuous and pleasant attitude.
It is difficult to see how the latter adjective applies to many of the
postures recommended, for considerable training is necessary to make
them even tolerable. But the object clearly is to prescribe an attitude
which can be maintained continuously without creating the distracting
feeling of physical discomfort and in this matter European and oriental
limbs feel differently. All the postures contemplated are different ways
of sitting cross-legged. Later works revel in enumerations of them and
also recognize others called Mudrâ. This word is specially applied to a
gesture of the hand but is sometimes used in a less restricted sense.
Thus there is a celebrated Mudra called Khecharî, in which the tongue is
reversed and pressed into the throat while the sight is directed to a
point between the eyebrows. This is said to induce the cataleptic trance
in which Yogis can be buried alive.
4. Prâṇayama or regulation of the breath. When the Yogi has learnt to
assume a permanent posture, he accustoms himself to regulate the acts of
inspiration and expiration so as to prolong the period of quiescence
between the two. He will thus remove the veils which cover the light
within him. This practice probably depends on the idea which constantly
crops up in the Upanishads that the breath is the life and the soul.
Consequently he who can control and hold his breath keeps his soul at
home, and is better able to concentrate his mind. Apart from such ideas,
the fixing of the attention on the rhythmical succession of inspirations
and expirations conduces to that peaceful and detached frame of mind on
which most Indian sects set great store. The practice was greatly
esteemed by the Brahmans, and is also enjoined among the Taoists in
China and among Buddhists in all countries, but I have found no mention
of its use among European mystics.
5. Pratyâhâra, the retraction or withdrawing of the senses. They are
naturally directed outwards towards their objects. The Yogi endeavours
to bring them into quiescence by diverting them from those objects and
directing them inwards. From this, say the Sûtras, comes complete
subjugation of the senses[665].
6-8. The five kinds of discipline hitherto mentioned constitute the
physical preparation for meditation comprising in succession _(a)_ a
morality of renunciation, _(b)_ mortification and purification, _(c)_
suitable postures, _(d)_ regulation of the breathing, _(e)_ diversion of
the senses from their external objects. Now comes the intellectual part
of the process, consisting of three stages called Dhâraṇâ, Dhyâna and
Samâdhi. Dhâraṇâ means fixing the mind on a particular object, either a
part of the body such as the crown of the head or something external
such as the sky. Dhyâna[666] is the continuous intellectual state
arising out of this concentration. It is defined as an even current of
thought undisturbed by other thoughts. Samâdhi is a further stage of
Dhyâna in which the mind becomes so identified with the thing thought of
that consciousness of its separate existence ceases. The thinking power
is merged in the single thought and ultimately a state of trance is
induced. Several stages are distinguished in this Samâdhi. It is divided
into conscious and unconscious[667] and of the conscious kind there are
four grades[668], analogous, though not entirely corresponding to the
four Jhânas of Buddhism. When the feeling of joy passes away and is lost
in a higher sense of equanimity, there comes the state known by the
remarkable name of Dharma-megha[669] in which the isolation of the soul
and its absolute distinctness from matter (which includes what we call
mind) is realized, and Karma is no more. After the state of Dharma-megha
comes that of unconscious Samâdhi, in which the Yogi falls into a trance
and attains emancipation which is made permanent by death.
The methods of the Kriyâ-yoga can be employed for the attainment not
only of salvation but of miraculous powers[670]. This subject is
discussed in the third book of the Yoga Sûtras where it is said that
such powers are obstructions in the contemplative and spiritual life,
though they may lead to success in waking or worldly life. This is the
same point of view as we meet in Buddhism, viz. that though the
miraculous powers resulting from meditation are real, they are not
essential to salvation and may become dangerous hindrances[671].
They are attained according to the Yoga Sûtras by the exercise of
saṃyama which is the name given conjointly to the three states of
dhâraṇâ, dhyâna and samâdhi when they are applied simultaneously or in
immediate succession to one object of thought[672]. The reader will
remember that this state of contemplation is to be preceded by
pratyâhâra, or direction of the senses inwards, in which ordinary
external stimuli are not felt. It is analogous to the hypnotic state in
which suggestions made by the hypnotizer have for the subject the
character of reality although he is not conscious of his surroundings,
and auto-suggestions—that is the expectations with which the Yogi begins
his meditation—apparently have the same effect. The trained Yogi is able
to exercise saṃyama with regard to any idea—that is to say his mind
becomes identified with that idea to the exclusion of all others.
Sometimes this saṃyama implies simply a thorough comprehension of the
object of meditation. Thus by making saṃyama on the saṃskâras or
predispositions existing in the mind, a knowledge of one's previous
births is obtained; by making saṃyama on sound, the language of animals
is understood. But in other cases a result is considered to be obtained
because the Yogi in his trance thinks it is obtained. Thus if saṃyama is
made on the throat, hunger and thirst are subdued; if on the strength of
an elephant, that strength is obtained: if on the sun, the knowledge of
all worlds is acquired. Other miraculous attainments are such that they
should be visible to others, but are probably explicable as subjective
fancies. Such are the powers of becoming heavy or light, infinitely
large or infinitely small and of emitting flames. This last phenomenon
is perhaps akin to the luminous visions, called photisms by
psychologists, which not infrequently accompany conversion and other
religious experiences and take the form of flashes or rays proceeding
from material objects[673]. The Yogi can even become many persons
instead of one by calling into existence other bodies by an effort of
his will and animating them all by his own mind[674].
Europeans are unfavourably impressed by the fact that the Yoga devotes
much time to the cultivation of hypnotic states of doubtful value both
for morality and sanity. But the meditation which it teaches is also
akin to aesthetic contemplation, when the mind forgets itself and is
conscious only of the beauty of what is contemplated. Schopenhauer[675]
has well expressed the Indian idea in European language. "When some
sudden cause or inward disposition lifts us out of the endless stream of
willing, the attention is no longer directed to the motives of willing
but comprehends things free from their relation to the will and thus
observes them without subjectivity purely objectively, gives itself
entirely up to them so far as they are ideas, but not in so far as they
are motives. Then all at once the peace which we were always seeking,
but which always fled from us on the former path of the desires, comes
to us of its own accord and it is well with us." And though the Yoga
Sûtras represent superhuman faculties as depending chiefly on the
hypnotic condition of saṃyama, they also say that they are obtainable—at
any rate such of them as consist in superhuman knowledge—by pratibhâ or
illumination. By this term is meant a state of enlightenment which
suddenly floods the mind prepared by the Yoga discipline. It precedes
emancipation as the morning star precedes the dawn. When this light has
once come, the Yogi possesses all knowledge without the process of
saṃyama. It may be compared to the Dibba-cakkhu or divine eye and the
knowledge of the truths which according to the Pitakas[676] precede
arhatship. Similar instances of sudden intellectual enlightenment are
recorded in the experiences of mystics in other countries. We may
compare the haplosis or ekstasis of Plotinus and the visions of St
Theresa or St Ignatius in which such mysteries as the Trinity became
clear, as well as the raptures in which various Christian mystics[677]
experienced the feeling of levitation and thought that they were being
literally carried off their feet.
The practices and theories which are systematized in the Yoga Sûtras are
known to the Upanishads, particularly those of the Atharva Veda. But
even the earlier Upanishads allude to the special physical and mental
discipline necessary to produce concentration of mind. The Maitrâyana
Upanishad says that the sixfold Yoga consists of restraint of the
breath, restraint of the senses, meditation, fixed attention,
investigation, absorption. The Śvetâśvatara Upanishad speaks of the
proper places and postures for meditation, and the Chândogya[678] of
concentrating all the senses on the self, a process which is much the
same as the pratyâhâra of the Yoga.
A later and mysterious but most important method of Yoga is known to the
Tantras[679] as Shaṭcakrabheda or piercing of the six cakras. These are
dynamic or nervous centres distributed through the human body from the
base of the spinal cord to the eyebrows. In the lowest of them resides
the Devî Kuṇḍalinî, a force identical with Śakti, who is the motive
power of the universe. In ordinary conditions this Kuṇḍalinî is pictured
as lying asleep and coiled like a serpent. But appropriate exercises
cause her to awake and ascend until she reaches the highest cakra when
she unites with Śiva and ineffable bliss and emancipation are attained.
The process, which is said to be painful and even dangerous to health,
is admittedly unintelligible without oral instruction from a Guru and,
as I have not had this advantage, I will say no more on the topic except
this, that strange and fanciful as the descriptions of Shaṭcakrabheda
may seem, they can hardly be pure inventions but must have a real
counterpart in nervous phenomena which apparently have not been studied
by European physiologists or psychologists[680].
2
When we turn to the treatment of meditation and ecstasy in the earlier
Buddhist writings we are struck by its general resemblance to the
programme laid down in the Yoga Sûtras, and by many coincidences of
detail. The exercises, rules of conduct, and the powers to be
incidentally obtained are all similar. The final goal of both systems
also seems similar to the outsider, although a Buddhist and a Yogi might
have much to say about the differences, for the Yoga wishes to isolate a
soul which is complete and happy in its own nature if it can be
disentangled from its trammels, whereas Buddhism teaches that there is
no such soul awaiting release and that religious discipline should
create and foster good mental states. Just as the atmosphere of the
Pitakas is not that of the Brâhmanas or Sûtras, so are their ideas about
Jhâna and Samâdhi somewhat different. Though hypnotic and even
cataleptic phases are not wanting, the journey of the religious life, as
described in the Pitakas, is a progress of increasing peace, but also of
increasing intellectual power and activity. Gotama did not hold Jhâna or
regulated meditation to be essential to nirvana or arhatship, for that
state was attainable by laymen and apparently through sudden
illumination. But such cases were the exception. His own mental
evolution which culminated in enlightenment comprised the four
Jhânas[681]. Also in the eightfold path which is essential to arhatship
and nirvana the last and highest stage is sammâsaṃâdhi, right rapture or
ecstasy.
Jhâna is difficult for laymen, but it was the rule of the order to
devote at least the afternoon to it. We might compare this with the
solitary prayer of Christians, and there is real similarity in the
process and the result. It brought peace and strength to the mind and we
hear of the bright clear faces and the radiantly happy expression of
those who returned to their duties after such contemplation. But
Christian prayer involves the idea of self-surrender and throwing open
the doors and windows of the soul to an influence which streams into it.
Buddhist meditation is rather the upsoaring of the mind which rises from
ecstasy to ecstasy until it attains not some sphere where it can live
_in_ bliss but a state which is in itself satisfying and all-comprising.
All mental states to which such names as ecstasy, trance, and vision can
be applied involve a dangerous element which, if not actually
pathological, can easily become so. But the account of meditation put in
the Buddha's own mouth does not suggest either morbid dejection or
hysterical excitement[682] and it is stated expressly that the exercise
should be begun after the midday meal so that any visions which may come
cannot be laid to the charge of an empty stomach. Jhâna is not the same
as Samâdhi or concentration, though the Jhânas may be an instance of
Samâdhi. This latter is capable of marvellous extension and development,
but essentially it is a mental quality like Sammâsati or right
mindfulness, whereas Jhâna is a mental exercise or progressive rapture
passing through defined stages.
Any system which analyzes and tabulates stages of contemplation and
ecstasy may be suspected of being late and of having lost something of
the glow and impetus which its cold formulæ try to explain. But the
impulse to catalogue is old in Buddhism[683] and one important
distinction in the various mental states lumped together under the name
of meditation deserves attention, namely that according to the oldest
documents some of them are indispensable preliminaries to nirvana and
some are not. Buddhaghosa reviewing the whole matter in scholastic
fashion in his Way of Purity divides the higher life into three
sections, firstly conduct or morality as necessary foundation, secondly
_adhicitta_, higher consciousness or concentration which leads to
_samatho_ or peace and thirdly _adhipaññâ_ or the higher wisdom which
leads to _vipassanâ_ or insight. Of these _adhipaññâ_ and _vipassanâ_
are superior inasmuch as nirvana cannot be obtained without them but the
methods of _adhicitta_, though admirable and followed by the Buddha
himself, are not equally indispensable: they lead to peace and happiness
but not necessarily to nirvana. It is probably unwise (at any rate for
Europeans) to make too precise statements, for we do not really know the
nature of the psychical states discussed. _Adhipaññâ_ assuredly includes
the eightfold path ending with _samâdhi_ which is defined by the Buddha
himself in this connection in terms of the four _Jhânas_[684]. On the
other hand the doctrine that nirvana is attainable merely by practising
the _Jhânas_ is expressly reprobated as a heresy[685]. The teaching of
the Pitakas seems to be that nirvana is attainable by living the higher
life in which meditation and insight both have a place. In normal saints
both sides are developed: raptures and trances are their delight and
luxury. But in some cases nirvana may be attained by insight only: in
others meditation may lead to ecstasy and more than human powers of mind
but yet stop short of nirvana. The distinction is not without importance
for it means that knowledge and insight are indispensable for nirvana:
it cannot be obtained by hypnotic trances or magical powers.
The Buddha is represented as saying that in his boyhood when sitting
under a tree he once fell into a state of contemplation which he calls
the first Jhâna. It is akin to a sensation which comes to Europeans most
frequently in childhood, but sometimes persists in mature life, when the
mind, usually under the influence of pleasant summer scenery, seems to
identify itself with nature, and on returning to its normal state asks
with surprise, can it be that what seems a small distant personality is
really I? The usual form of Jhâna comprises four stages[686]. The first
is a state of joy and ease born of detachment, which means physical calm
as well as the absence of worldly desires and irrelevant thoughts. It is
distinguished from the subsequent stages by the existence of reasoning
and investigation, and while it lasts the mind is compared to water
agitated by waves. In the second Jhâna reasoning and investigation
cease: the water becomes still and the mind set free rises slowly above
the thoughts which had encumbered it and grows calm and sure, dwelling
on high[687]. In this Jhâna the sense of joy and ease remains, but in
the third stage joy disappears, though ease remains. This ease (sukham)
is the opposite of dukkham, the discomfort which characterizes all
ordinary states of existence. It is in part a physical feeling, for the
text says that he who meditates has this sense of ease in his body. But
this feeling passes away in the fourth Jhâna, in which there is only a
sense of equanimity. This word, though perhaps the best rendering which
can be found for the Pali upekkhâ, is inadequate for it suggests merely
the absence of inclination, whereas upekkhâ represents a state of mind
which, though rising above hedonistic views, is yet positive and not
merely the negation of interest and desire.
In the passage quoted the Buddha speaks as if only an effort of will
were needed to enter into the first Jhâna, but tradition, supported by
the Pitakas[688], sanctions the use of expedients to facilitate the
process. Some are topics on which attention should be concentrated,
others are external objects known as Kasina. This word (equivalent to
the Sanskrit kṛitsna) means entire or total, and hence something which
engrosses the attention. Thus in the procedure known as the earth
Kasina[689] the Bhikkhu who wishes to enter into the Jhâna makes a small
circle of reddish clay, and then gazes at it fixedly. After a time he
can see it as plainly when his eyes are closed as when they are
open[690]. This is followed by entry into Jhâna and he should not
continue looking at the circle. There are ten kinds of Kasina differing
from that described merely in substituting for the earthen circle some
other object, such as water, light, gold or silver. The whole procedure
is clearly a means of inducing a hypnotic trance[691].
The practice of tranquillizing the mind by regulating the breathing is
recommended repeatedly in Suttas which seem ancient and authentic; for
instance, in the instruction given by the Buddha to his son Râhula[692].
On the other hand, his account of his fruitless self-mortification shows
that the exercise even in its extreme forms is not sufficient to secure
enlightenment. It appears to be a method of collecting and concentrating
the mind, not necessarily hypnotic. All Indian precepts and directions
for mental training attach far more importance to concentration of
thought and the power of applying the mind at will to one subject
exclusively than is usual in Europe.
Buddhaghosa at the beginning of his discussion of _adhicitta_ enumerates
forty subjects of meditation namely, "the ten Kasinas, ten impurities,
ten reflections, four sublime states (Brahmâ-vihâra), the four formless
states, one perception and one analysis[693]." The Kasinas have been
already described. The ten impurities are a similar means of inducing
meditation. The monk fixes his attention on a corpse in some horrible
stage of decay and thus concentrates his mind on the impermanence of all
things. The ten recollections are a less gloomy exercise but similar in
principle, as the attention is fixed on some religious subject such as
the Buddha, his law, his order, etc.
The Brahmâ-vihâras[694] are states of emotional meditation which lead to
rebirth in the heavens of Brahmâ. They are attained by letting love or
some other good emotion dominate the mind, and by "pervading the whole
world" with it. This language about pervading the world with kindly
emotion is common in Buddhist books though alien to European idiom. The
mind must harbour no uncharitable thought and then its benevolence
becomes a psychic force which spreads in all directions, just as the
sound of a trumpet can be heard in all four quarters.
These Brahmâ-vihâras are sometimes represented as coming after the four
Jhânas[695], sometimes as replacing them[696]. But the object of the two
exercises is not the same, for the Brahmâ-vihâras aim at rebirth in a
better world. They are based on the theory common to Buddhism and
Hinduism that the predominant thoughts of a man's life, and especially
his thoughts when near death, determine the character of his next
existence.
The trances known as the four formless states are analogous to the
Brahmâ-vihâras, their object being to ensure rebirth not in the heaven
of Brahmâ but in one of the heavens known as Formless Worlds where the
inhabitants have no material form[697]. They are sometimes combined with
other states into a series of eight, known as the eight
deliverances[698]. The more advanced of these stages seem to be hypnotic
and even cataleptic. In the first formless state the monk who is
meditating rises above all idea of form and multiplicity and reaches the
sphere in which the infinity of space is the only idea present to his
mind. He then passes to the sphere where the infinity of thought only is
present and thence to the sphere in which he thinks "nothing at all
exists[699]," though it would seem that the consciousness of his own
mental processes is undiminished. The teaching of Alâra Kâlâma, the
Buddha's first teacher, made the attainment of this state its goal. It
is succeeded by the state in which neither any idea nor the absence of
any idea is specially present to the mind[700]. This was the goal of
Uddaka Râmaputta, his second teacher, and is illustrated by the simile
of a bowl which has been smeared with oil inside. That is to say,
consciousness is reduced to a minimum. Beyond these four stages is yet
another[701], in which a complete cessation of perception and feeling is
attained[702]. This state differs from death only in the fact that heat
and physical life are not extinct and while it lasts there is no
consciousness. It is stated that it could continue during seven days but
not longer. Such hypnotic trances have always inspired respect in India
but the Buddha rejected as unsatisfying the teaching of his masters
which made them the final goal.
But let us return to his account of Jhâna and its results. The first of
these is a correct knowledge of the body and of the connection of
consciousness with the body. Next comes the power to call up out of the
body a mental image which is apparently the earliest form of what has
become known in later times as the astral body. In the account of the
conversion of Angulimâla the brigand[703] it is related that the Buddha
caused to appear an image of himself which Angulimâla could not overtake
although he ran with all his might and the Buddha was walking quietly.
The five states or faculties which follow in the enumeration are often
called (though not in the earliest texts) abhiññâ, or transcendental
knowledge. They are _iddhi_, or the wondrous gift: the heavenly ear
which hears heavenly music[704]: the knowledge of others' thoughts: the
power of remembering one's own previous births: the divine eye, which
sees the previous births of others[705]. It would appear that the order
of these states is not important and that they do not depend on one
another. Iddhi, like the power of evoking a mental image, seems to be
connected with hypnotic phenomena. It means literally power, but is used
in the special sense of magical or supernatural gifts such as ability to
walk on water, fly in the air, or pass through a wall[706]. Some of
these sensations are familiar in dreams and are probably easily
attainable as subjective results in trances. I am inclined to attribute
accounts implying their objective reality to the practice of hypnotism
and to suppose that a disciple in a hypnotic state would on the
assurance of his teacher believe that he saw the teacher himself, or
some person pointed out by the teacher, actually performing such feats.
Of iddhi we are told that a monk can practise it, just as a potter can
make anything he likes out of prepared clay, which is a way of saying
that he who has his mind perfectly controlled can treat himself to any
mental pleasure he chooses. Although the Buddha and others are
represented as performing such feats as floating in the air whenever it
suits them, yet the instruction given as to how the powers may be
acquired starts by bidding the neophyte pass through the four stages of
Jhâna or meditation in which ordinary external perception ceases. Then
he will be able to have the experiences described. And it is probable
that the description gives a correct account of the sensations which
arise in the course of a trance, particularly if the trance has been
entered upon with the object of experiencing them. In other words they
are hypnotic states and often the result of suggestion, since he who
meditates knows what the result of his meditation should be. Sometimes,
as mentioned, Jhâna is induced by methods familiar to mesmerists, such
as gazing at a circle or some bright object but such expedients are not
essential and with this European authorities agree. Thus Bernheim states
that even when a subject is hypnotized for the first time, no gestures
or passes are necessary, provided he is calm. It suffices to bid him
look at the operator and go to sleep. He adds that those who are most
susceptible to the hypnotic influence are not nervous and hysterical
subjects but docile and receptive natures who can concentrate their
attention[707]. Now it is hardly possible to imagine better hypnotic
subjects than the pupils of an Indian religious teacher. They are taught
to regard him with deep respect and complete confidence: they are
continually in a state of expectant receptivity, assimilating not only
the texts and doctrines which he imparts, but his way of life: their
training leads them to believe in the reality of mental and physical
powers exceeding those of ordinary mankind and indeed to think that if
they do not have such experiences it is through some fault of their own.
The teachers, though ignorant of hypnotism as such, would not hesitate
to use any procedure which seemed to favour progress in meditation and
the acquisition of supernatural powers. Now a large number of Indian
marvels fall under two heads. In the first case Buddha, Krishna, or any
personage raised above the ordinary human level points out to his
disciples that wonders are occurring or will occur: he causes people to
appear or disappear: he appears himself in an amazing form which he
explains. In the other case the possessor of marvellous powers has
experience which he subsequently relates: he goes up to heaven or flies
to the uttermost parts of the earth and returns. Both of these cases are
covered by the phenomena of hypnotism. I do not mean to say that any
given Indian legend can be explained by analyzing it as if it were a
report of a hypnotic operation, but merely that the general character of
these legends is largely due to the prevalence of hypnotic experiences
among their composers and hearers[708]. Two obscure branches of
hypnotism are probably of great importance in the religious history of
the human race, namely self-hypnotization without external suggestion
and the hypnotization of crowds. India affords plentiful materials for
the study of both.
There is no reason to doubt that the Buddha believed in the existence of
these powers and countenanced the practices supposed to lead to them.
Thus Moggallâna, second only to Sâriputta among his disciples, was
called the master of iddhi[709], and it is mentioned as a creditable and
enjoyable accomplishment[710]. But it is made equally plain that such
magical or hypnotic practices are not essential to the attainment of the
Buddha's ideal. When lists of attainments are given, iddhi does not
receive the first place and it may be possessed by bad men: Devadatta
for instance was proficient in it. It is even denounced in the story of
Pindola Bhâradvâja[711] and in the Kevaddha sutta[712]. In this curious
dialogue the Buddha is asked to authorize the performance of miracles as
an advertisement of the true faith. He refuses categorically, saying
there are three sorts of wonders namely iddhi, that is flying through
the air, etc. the wonder of manifestation which is thought-reading: and
the wonder of education. Of the first two he says "I see danger in their
practice and therefore I loathe, abhor and am ashamed of them." Then by
one of those characteristic turns of language by which he uses old words
in new senses he adds that the true miracle is the education of the
heart.
Neither are the other transcendental powers necessary for emancipation.
Sâriputta had not the heavenly eye, yet he was the chief disciple and an
eminent arhat. This heavenly eye (dib-ba-cakkhu) is not the same as the
eye of truth (dhamma-cakkhu). It means perfect knowledge of the
operation of Karma and hence a panoramic view of the universe, whereas
the eye of truth is a technical phrase for the opening of the eyes, the
mental revolution which accompanies conversion. But though
transcendental knowledge is not indispensable for attaining nirvana, it
is an attribute of the Buddha and in most of its forms amounts to an
exceptional insight into human nature and the laws of the universe,
which, though after the Indian manner exaggerated and pedantically
defined, does not differ essentially from what we call genius.
The power of recollecting one's previous births, often mentioned in the
Pitakas, has been described in detail by Buddhist writers and
Buddhaghosa[713] distinguishes between the powers possessed by various
persons. The lowest form of recollection merely passes from one mental
state to a previous mental state and so on backwards through successive
lives, not however understanding each life as a whole. But even ordinary
disciples can not only recollect previous mental states but can also
travel backwards along the sequence of births and deaths and bring up
before their minds the succession of existences. A Buddha's intelligence
dispenses with the necessity of moving backwards from birth to birth but
can select any point of time and see at once the whole series of births
extending from it in both directions, backwards and forwards.
Buddhaghosa then goes on to prescribe the method to be followed by a
monk who tries for the first time to recollect previous births. After
taking his midday meal he should choose a quiet place and sitting down
pass through the four Jhânas in succession. On rising from the fourth
trance he should consider the event which last took place, namely his
sitting down; and then in retrograde order all that he did the day and
night before and so backwards month after month and year after year. A
clever monk (so says Buddhaghosa) is able at the first trial to pass
beyond the moment of his conception in the present existence and to take
as the object of his thought his individuality at the moment of his last
death. But since the individuality of the previous existence ceased and
another one came into being, therefore that point of time is like thick
darkness. Buddhaghosa goes on to explain, if I apprehend his meaning
rightly, that the proper recollection of previous births involves the
element of form and the mind sharpened by the practice of the four
trances does not merely reproduce feelings and impressions but knows the
name and events of the previous existence, whereas ordinary persons are
apt to reproduce feelings and impressions without having any clear idea
of the past existence as a whole. This, I believe, corresponds with the
experience of modern Buddhists. It is beyond doubt that those who
attempt to carry their memory back in the way described are convinced
that they remember existences before the present life. As a rule it
takes from a fortnight to a month to obtain such a remembrance clearly,
and every day the aspirant to a knowledge of previous births must carry
his memory further and further back, dwelling less and less on the
details of recent events. When he reaches the time of his birth, he
feels as if there were a curtain of black darkness before him, but if
the attention is concentrated, this curtain is rent and the end of the
previous life is recovered behind it. The process is painful for it
involves the recollection of death and the even greater pains of birth
and many have not courage to go beyond this point. It is not uncommon in
Ceylon, Burma, Siam and probably in all parts of the Far East, to find
people who are persuaded they can remember previous births in this way,
but I have never met anyone who professed to recall more than two or
three. There is no room in these modest modern visions for the long
vistas of previous lives seen by the earlier Buddhists.
Meditation also plays a considerable part in the Buddhism of the Far
East under the name of Ch'an or Zen of which we shall have something to
say when we treat of China and Japan.
As already indicated the methods and results of meditation as practised
by Brahmanic Hindus and by Buddhists show considerable resemblance to
the experiences of Christian mystics. The coincidences do not concern
mere matters of detail, although theology has done its best to make the
content and explanation of the experiences as divergent as possible. But
the essential similarity of form remains and there is clearly no
question of borrowing or direct influence. It is certain that what is
sometimes called the Mystic Way is not only true as a succession of
psychic states but is, for those who can walk in it, the road to a
happiness which in reality and power to satisfy exceeds all pleasures of
the senses and intellect, so that when once known it makes all other
joys and pains seem negligible. Yet despite the intense reality of this
happy state, despite the illumination which floods the soul and the wide
visions of a universal plan, there is no agreement as to the cause of
the experience nor, strange to say, as to its meaning as opposed to its
form. For many both in the east and west the one essential and
indubitable fact throughout the experience is God, yet Buddhists are
equally decided in holding that the experience has nothing to do with
any deity. This is not a mere question of interpretation. It means that
views as to theism and pantheism are indifferent for the attainment of
this happy state.
The mystics of India are sometimes contrasted with their fellows in
Europe as being more passive and more self-centred: they are supposed to
desire self-annihilation and to have no thought for others. But I doubt
if the contrast is just. If Indian mysticism sometimes appears at a
disadvantage, I think it is because it is popular and in danger of being
stereotyped and sometimes vulgarized. Nowadays in Europe we have
students of mysticism rather than mystics, and the mystics of the
Christian Church were independent and distinguished spirits who, instead
of following the signposts of the beaten track, found out a path for
themselves. But in India mysticism was and is as common as prayer and as
popular as science. It was taught in manuals and parodied by charlatans.
When mysticism is the staple crop of a religion and not a rare wild
flower, the percentage of imperfect specimens is bound to be high. The
Buddha, Śankara and a host of less well-known teachers were as strenuous
and influential as Francis of Assisi or Ignatius Loyola. Neither in
Europe nor in Asia has mysticism contributed much directly to political
and social reform. That is not its sphere, but within the religious
sphere, in preaching, teaching and organization, the mystic is intensely
practical and the number of successes (as of failures) is greater in
Asia than in Europe. Even in theory Indian mysticism does not repudiate
energy. No one enjoyed more than the Buddha himself what Ruysbroeck
calls "the mysterious peace dwelling in activity," for before he began
his mission he had attained nirvana and such of his disciples as were
arhats were in the same case. Later Buddhism recognizes a special form
of nirvana called apratishṭhita: those who attain it see that there is
no real difference between mundane existence and nirvana and therefore
devote themselves to a life of beneficent activity.
The period of transition and trial known to European mystics as the Dark
Night of the Soul, is not mentioned in Indian manuals as an episode of
the spiritual life, for such an interruption would hardly harmonize with
their curriculum of regular progress towards enlightenment. But mystic
poetry testifies that in Asia as in Europe this feeling of desertion and
loneliness is a frequent experience in the struggles and adventures of
the soul. It is apparently not necessary, just as the incidental joys
and triumphs of the soul—strains of heavenly music, aerial flights, and
visions of the universal scheme—are also not essential. The essential
features of the mystic way, as well as its usual incidents, are common
to Asia and Europe, and in both continents are expressed in two forms.
One view contrasts the surface life and a deeper life: when the
intellect ceases to plague and puzzle, something else arises from the
depth and makes its unity with some greater Force to be felt as a
reality. This idea finds ample expression in the many Brahmanic systems
which regarded the centre and core of the human being as an _âtman_ or
_purusha_, happy when in the undisturbed peace of its own nature but
distracted by the senses and intellect. The other view of mystic
experiences regards them as a remaking of character, the evolution of a
new personality and in fact a new birth. This of course need not be a
denial of the other view: the emergence of the latent self may effect a
transformation of the whole being. But Buddhism, at any rate early
Buddhism, formulates its theory in a polemical form. There is no
ready-made latent self, awaiting manifestation when its fetters and
veils are removed: man's inner life is capable of superhuman extension
but the extension is the result of enlargement and training, not of
self-revelation.