Unlike all other living creatures, we as human beings are uniquely blessed with the ‘Knowing principle’ within us. It is this consciousness that distinguishes us from the rest of the natural world. Our ultimate human purpose is to discover this ‘unembodied Knower’ within ourselves (1.2.22, kaTha Upanishad).
In order to help us in this process, the Upanishad starts with a description of how the Self is spoken of as though It has “descended,” step by step, into the condition of the food-body. Having apparently identified with the food-body, It comes to be mistaken for the body itself. Shaṅkara illustrates this through the analogy:
मूषानिषिक्तद्रुतताम्रप्रतिमावत् । — Shaṅkara in his commentary on mantra 2.1.1, taitti.
[Meaning: (This ought to be figuratively understood), even as the molten copper is poured into a crucible. (Translation: S. Sitarama Sastri).]
The point is that the Self never truly undergoes any transformation. The teaching presents only an apparent, graded “descent” so that we may retrace our mistaken identification with the body back to its source. Shankara gives the example of casting different ‘forms’ of Gods using different molds, the material being the same molten copper.
A helpful modern illustration is that of sugar candies fashioned into various forms—birds, animals, coins, flowers, and so on. Though we may distinguish different forms, all of them are nothing but sugar. Similarly, aluminum extrudates may assume countless shapes, yet each is only aluminum. In the same way, the food-body is an AbhAsa, a mere fallacious appearance of the Self.
Thus, the description of creation as a gradual descent of the Self into the gross physical form is merely a pedagogical concession. It does not imply that the Supreme Self actually undergoes transformation or movement.
The Upanishad leads us thus inward by reversing the apparent order of manifestation. Beginning with the gross body, it progressively reveals the subtler layers that It (the Knowing principle) pervades.
The gross physical body consists of the organs of action and the other physical constituents. It is composed entirely of matter. Pervading it is the subtler vital sheath (prANamaya), associated with life-force and respiration. Still subtler is the mental sheath (manomaya), the domain of thoughts and emotions. Deeper than the mind lies the intellectual sheath (vijñAnamaya), the faculty of discrimination and understanding.
As we proceed inward through these sheaths, each successive layer becomes less tangible, subtler, and more pervasive than the preceding one. At the innermost limit of this analysis stands the intellect, through which the presence of the Self is recognized.
The purpose of the teaching is to reverse this error by systematically disidentifying (our) Self from each sheath.
A person absorbed entirely in external activity identifies with the physical body alone. One who becomes aware of vitality identifies with the life-force. One who recognizes both body and life-force may identify with the mind. One who is able to observe the mind as distinct from oneself rises to the level of the intellect. At this stage, one begins to recognize oneself as the witnessing awareness of thoughts and of the intellect itself.
The intellect is thus understood as the nearest reflection of the Self in the individual. Yet even here a subtler inquiry remains: Who is the Knower of this intelligence? One must ask, “Who is the ‘I’ that says, ‘I possess intelligence’?”
The notion, “I am the possessor of intelligence,” belongs to the sense of individuality (ahaṅkAra) associated with the bliss sheath. At this level, all distinct forms appear to dissolve. As long as identification persists with the physical, vital, and mental sheaths, individuality remains tied to form. But when attention reaches the causal or bliss sheath, ordinary distinctions disappear and cognition itself appears to subside. This apparent “not-knowing” is characteristic of the bliss sheath.
The food sheath constitutes the gross body, corresponding to the waking state. The vital sheath together with the mental and intellectual sheaths constitute the subtle body, corresponding to the dream state. The bliss sheath constitutes the causal body, corresponding to deep sleep.
All these identifications—with the five sheaths, the three bodies, the three states, and their cosmic counterparts—remain only up to the level of the bliss sheath. The Self, our true nature, lies beyond even this. Therefore, even the bliss sheath must ultimately be transcended in order to recognize our original source.
But how did this apparent descent, or gradual “grossification,” of the Self take place? The Upanishad indicates that it is not a mechanical process but one rooted in a deeper explanatory principle.
The teaching begins with a declaration of what is, expressed in the language of desire:
सोऽकामयत । बहुस्यां प्रजायेयेति । — mantra 2.6.1, taittirīya Upanishad
[Meaning: He (the Self) wished, “Let me be many, let me be born.” (Translation: Swami Gambhirananda).]
Here, the Upanishad employs the language of “desire” purely as a device. It should not be understood as implying a psychological modification in brahman. It is merely a means of explaining the appearance of manifestation from the standpoint of instruction.
A thought arises in the intellect, and that thought is called desire. Desire gives rise to action. Action produces results, and those results are experienced as pleasure and pain. Thus unfolds the entire field of worldly experience as a continuous chain of desire, action, and experience.
From this standpoint, saṃsAra is not an independently existing entity. It exists only in relation to an experiencer. Without an experiencing subject, there can be no experienced world. Thus, saṃsAra and the saṃsArin arise together as a single dependent appearance.
The Self, in truth, neither undergoes transformation nor enters into bondage. Yet, from the standpoint of ignorance, the appearance of becoming many is described as though it were real.
The Upanishad continues:
स तपोऽतप्यत। स तपस्तप्त्वा। इदं सर्वमसृजत। यदिदं किञ्च। तत्सृष्ट्वा। तदेवानुप्राविशत्। — mantra 2.6.1, taittirīya Upanishad
[Meaning: He undertook a deliberation. Having deliberated, he created all this that exists. That (brahman), having created this, entered into that very thing. (Translation: Swami Gambhirananda).]
The sequence of deliberation, creation, and entry should likewise be understood as a teaching device. Its purpose is to communicate the inseparability of the world from its source, not to describe a temporal sequence occurring in brahman.
After describing creation, the Upanishad says that the Self “entered” what was created. This does not indicate an additional act. Rather, it expresses the truth that the reality of the world is never separate from its source. Nothing exists apart from brahman.
The unique vision of the taittirīya Upanishad is that the apparent individual and the apparent world are not ultimately distinct.
(To Continue … Part 29 (taitti 4))