The Brihadaranyaka Upanishad

The Brihadaranyaka is the longest of the Upanishads and provides an in-depth account of how one’s innermost Self is identical with the Absolute as the one and only reality. Overarching the whole text with its three hundred-plus verses is the question: What is the nature of that knowledge which replaces our sense of individuality with the realisation that one is the All? In the words of the Upanishad:

Through the knowledge of Brahman we shall become all. Well, what did that Brahman know by which it became all? (1:4:9)

And the Upanishad goes on:

This (self) was indeed Brahman in the beginning. It knew only itself as ‘I am Brahman’. Therefore it became all…
And to this day whoever in like manner knows it as ‘I am Brahman’ becomes all this (universe). (from 1:4:10)

There is therefore a certain kind of knowledge that is different, that is not so much to be known as to be realised. The word ‘realised’ yields a hint that this knowledge is already with us, but somehow is overlooked, not recognised for what it is.

The issue here is momentous, concerning human purpose and destiny, and our place in the universe—or should we say, the universe’s place in us? The question is abstruse, and its resolution is not through reasoning, but by realisation of what is true in experience, and always has been the ultimate truth. Therefore when the verse uses the expression ‘in the beginning’, it is not a reference to the first day of the universe. ‘In the beginning’ means the true situation—the real nature of experience as it stands eternally. Truth will be revealed as it is, once all wrong ideas have been negated in the light of true knowledge. The question remains: ‘What kind of knowledge is that?’

Although this mystery of the true nature of experience—how we regard the All—cannot be fathomed by reasoning, nothing is more reasonable than the practical methods prescribed in the Upanishad to help us make progress in this inward-looking quest. For it is in this Upanishad that we are introduced to the technique for assimilating the teaching, and bringing it to life within us. This is the process known as shravana, manana and nididhyasana:

The Self, my dear Maitreyi, should be realised: should be heard of (shravana), reflected on (manana) and meditated upon (nididhyasana)… [Through these means] all this is known. (2:4:5)

The subject of our present enquiry is the knowledge of Brahman, the All, and this calls for a special kind of approach and under-standing if it is to lead to an awakening. Our listening needs to be free from preconceived ideas about the subject, however much we may have studied it up to now. Such a mind is like an empty cup, a purely receptive vessel, free from admixture or diversion caused by our habitual ways of thought.

Our listening has to be followed by deep, critical reflection on what has been heard and received. This means actively considering how far we have understood and assimilated the key points. It is this voluntary brooding on the teachings that will bring them to life within us. Our wish and will to fathom their meaning is thus constantly present in our thoughts.

The third stage of the process, nididhyasana, means continuous, undisturbed meditation on a single idea related to the principle of non-duality. This comes about either when manana matures into an intuitive certainty and recognition of the unchanging principle, or, in the early stages, during the special time dedicated to meditation practice, when, by an act of will, discursive thinking is restrained and the attention is held in one-pointed focus on the text or symbol that has been chosen for meditation.

The sage who appears in the role of the teacher in the Brihadaranyaka Upanishad is Yajnavalkya, a name well-known as an authority in all matters concerning the religious life of the day, as well as matters that transcend convention and shed light on what lies beyond appearances and rituals. When he says ‘my dear Maitreyi’, he is addressing his wife, who is herself a seeker of eternal truth. It is worth mentioning that such references to ‘real people’ are rare in the Upanishads, where narrative, when used, is often mythological, the chief players being drawn from the gods, rather than humans. For example, in the Katha Upanishad the expounder is Yama, the god of death, and in the Chandogya, we find Prajapati, king of the gods, teaching the equally mythological figures, Indra and Virochana. But in our present study, Yajnavalkya is depicted as very much a real character, now an elderly man, having life-like interchanges with other characters, and not lacking in a sense of humour.

On this occasion, Maitreyi is taught that the ultimate object of our love is our own true self, and that other people and things are valued insofar as their existence and proximity relate to ourselves.

It is not for the sake of the husband that he is loved, but for one’s own sake that he is loved….
It is not for the sake of the sons that they are loved, but for one’s own sake that they are loved…(2:4:5)

This is saying that what we really love is always our self. In our unillumined stages we identify with our mind and body and ‘love’ that which serves their interests. When we come to identify our Self as the unchanging principle of being-consciousness, then we recognise the same Self in all, and this is the deeper meaning of love. Yajnavalkya’s teaching conveys the essential point that at all stages, what we love is what we identify with as our Self. Therefore one should track down one’s true Self as the source of all attraction and sense of dearness.

Note the way that the sentences in this passage are repeated, apart from one word (husband, sons, etc.) This is a teaching method that makes the Upanishad more memorable than it would be had the teacher constantly rephrased the points.

In the course of his teaching, Yajnavalkya says to Maitreyi: ‘The Self has no more consciousness’. Maitreyi finds this hard to understand, so the sage explains, again with the help of repetitions, that non-duality, though transcending our everyday awareness of subject and object, self and other, does not entail the loss of anything real in experience, but is rather a seamless and perfect fullness.

While we are still seekers of Truth through Self-knowledge, this absolute reality seems to be concealed by the mind’s habitual response to the apparent spread of objects, and by the conviction that the multiplicity is absolutely real. Nothing seems more obvious than the dividing line between self and other, where Self means consciousness, and ‘other’ means all forms and experiences, inner and outer, that there is consciousness of. So long as ‘otherness’ is experienced, objects appear as independently real, and separate from the knower of the objects. The statement ‘The Self has no more consciousness’, means that on Self-realisation the apparent distinction between knower and known is transcended, revealing Self as the only eternal, ever-achieved reality. And so:

Because where there is duality, as it were, then one sees something, one hears something, one knows something… But when to the knower of Brahman everything has become the Self, then what should one see and through what…, what should one hear and through what, what should one know and through what? Through what should one know That owing to which all this is known? Through what, O Maitreyi, should one know the Knower? (2:4:14)

These verses remind us that the main aim of this upanishad is to shed light on what it means ‘to become all’. To advance in this way of understanding, we need to reflect on the light of our own awareness. Our consciousness seems to be mingled with the knowledge we derive from sense-experience, as co-ordinated by our intellect. But if we believe that consciousness is really involved in this fusion, we are overlooking a crucial fact. It is that the mental activity itself, as a whole or in detail, always appears under the light of that consciousness, which never changes and is not itself a participator in the events it reveals and witnesses. That consciousness, fully or partially, can never be objectified through being known or seen. Consciousness is indispensable to our empirical experience, but it never departs from its nature as ultimate subject. The Upanishad calls it, not the seer of objects but the seer of seeing; not an active knower, but the knower of knowing. ‘This is your Self, which is within all.’

Therefore, we have, or rather we are, that innermost awareness which is ever-present and which reveals no quality in itself, where every quality, however sublime, counts as a limitation. This denial of all qualities is encapsulated in the expression ‘Neti, neti’—‘not this, not this’, introduced in this Upanishad:

This Self is that which has been described as ‘not this, not this’. It is imperceptible, for it is never perceived; undecaying, for it never decays; unattached, for it is never attached; unfettered—it never feels pain and never suffers injury. (3:9:26)

This affirmation of a principle that never changes and is called truly real, casts doubt on the reality and authority of our ordinary experience in this changing world. Nonetheless, the upanishadic teaching allows for the common view that the outer world is unquestionably real and its countless demands have full play in the course of life. The advice is therefore to increase our recognition of the deeper reality underlying the inner and outer world.

To help us in this preparation, we find that the absolute is sometimes presented as if conditioned by the world-appearance. It is called the Immutable, yet ‘under the mighty power of this Immutable’ the whole cosmos proceeds with order, harmony and beauty. (3:8:9) The supreme Power is also referred to as the Inner Ruler, denoting its immanence in every detail of the phenomenal world as its real being. (3:7:1-23) In its apparent functioning as the life-force throughout the cosmos and in living beings, it is likened to the thread (sutra) of a necklace, which may be itself unseen, yet which holds the necklace together. (3:7:2) The Self is the ultimate light in human experience, the inner awareness that reveals the sun, the moon, day and night, all physical lights, and their absence. Finally this same great Self, this Brahman, makes possible the mutual helpfulness and nourishment that we observe in the world of multiplicity, so that:

This earth is like honey to all beings, and all beings are like honey to this earth. It is the same with the shining, immortal being who is in this earth, and the shining, immortal, corporeal being in the body. These four are but this Self. This Self-knowledge is the means of immortality; this underlying unity is Brahman; this knowledge of Brahman is the means of becoming all. (2:5:1)

The seeker is urged to develop a sense of the interconnectedness of all things. It could be said that the teachings not only stimulate a new understanding of what is meant by Self, but also of what is meant by ‘All’, our world view. If we can clean the inner glasses of the mind through cultivating qualities conducive to liberation, the inner vision will change. Our feeling of separateness, and our sense of the otherness of God and the universe, will be replaced by a sublime fusion and oneness. What this means in practice is indicated by Shri Shankara in his commentary:

By hearing of one’s own self as the Self of all from the teacher and the Upanishads, by reflecting on it through reasoning and by realising it at first hand, one becomes all. Even before realisation we have always been Brahman, but through ignorance we considered our self different from it; we have always been all, but through ignorance we considered our self to be otherwise. Therefore, banishing this ignorance through the knowledge of Brahman, the knower of Brahman, having all the while been Brahman, became Brahman, and having throughout been all, became all. (Commentary to 2.5.15)

Are there further instructions on how we might prepare our mind for this awakening? The Brihadaranyaka Upanishad includes passages that give guidance for students at any stage in their learning. One example concerns our need to cultivate the qualities known as the six treasures. The six treasures are particular qualities to do with turning the mind within to its source, rather than letting it range freely in quest of desired external objects. The treasures are: inner and outer control, the ability to withdraw our attention inwards, the power to concentrate on something abstract and impersonal in our own being, tranquil endurance of what life brings, and faith.

The interesting thing is that five of these qualities, as a group, are first found in the Brihadaranyaka Upanishad. But here they are not listed as rungs of any ladder to higher knowledge. They are declared to be the natural accompaniment of illumination and fulfilment. They occur at the climax of the teaching, which now sings of ‘the glory of the enlightened sage’(4:4:23). Part of the verse reads:

Therefore he who knows it as such becomes self-controlled, calm, withdrawn into himself, enduring and concentrated, and sees the Supreme Self in his own body. He sees all as the Self.

This shows that all the qualities we are invited to develop as enquirers are in harmony with the supreme goal, and are already innate. Realizing the ultimate truth, we naturally become tranquil, self-possessed and are at one with all, so that harming another is tantamount to harming ourselves.

Again, there is direct moral teaching at the start of the fifth section (though this ‘book’ is thought to be a later addition). Here the setting is mythological. We are told that the creator God, Prajapati, had three classes of sons: gods, men and demons. All three asked for instruction. Each group was told simply ‘Da’, and asked, ‘Have you understood?’ They all replied ‘Yes’, and correctly identified the meaning for themselves. Thus the teaching of the three Da’s has become a reminder to practice self-control (damyata in Sanskrit), generosity (datta), and compassion (dayadhvam). For one in whom these tendencies have been awakened, inner changes take place and create an attraction for the higher teachings as a reliable way to expansion and freedom.

In the light of these higher teachings revealed in the Upanishads, this realm of multiplicity, difference and movement is viewed as something superficial. The relative world is summed up as the realm of ‘name-form-action’ (1:6:1). This is a succinct formula summarising the fact that our experience of the world is built up from our thought-processes, our sense-perceptions, and our view from a particular place in space-time. It is this apparent plurality that conceals the true nature of Reality—that Reality which is nameless, formless and changeless. Therefore, when referring to the universe and its vibrant activity, the Upanishad often adds the little word ‘iva’, which means ‘as it were’, and has the sense of ‘not really’ (eg, 2:4:14, 4:3:7). This suggests that our present way of looking at things should not be taken as final, and that a deeper vision will emerge if we pursue our enquiry.

The further we explore the teachings of this Upanishad, the more we realise that its vision of Self and of ‘All’ goes deeper than the conviction of universal harmony and comradeship. What appears to separate us from Reality lies entirely within the limitations of our way of knowing, and is, in essence, a mistaken sense of identity with our individual inner world. Our true Self is ever established as that unseen but ever-present principle which pervades all and therefore each one of us is already the Self of all. This is the subtle doctrine at the heart of the Upanishad.

B.D.