Previously we explored verses 24-27, and we decided that those four verses were describing the same practice (yukti #1). Possibly, the first two were prescriptive and the second two were descriptive, meaning to say the first two teach “here’s what you do”, and second two were describing “here’s what can happen spontaneously as a result of this practice”. If we’re right that these four verses constitute one yukti, then we have a very clear distinction where we begin the second yukti of the text. Verse 28 reads:
आमूलात् किरणाभासां सूक्ष्मात् सूक्ष्मतरात्मिकाम् |
चिन्तयेत् तां द्विषट्कान्ते श्याम्यन्तीम् भैरवोदयः || २८ ||
āmūlāt kiraṇābhāsāṃ sūkṣmāt sūkṣmatarātmikām |
cintayet tāṃ dviṣaṭkānte śyāmyantīm bhairavodayaḥ || 28 ||
Imagine the subtlest possible form [of prāṇa] as rays of light shining upward from the root [of the central channel] and peacefully dissolving in the highest center above the crown; then Bhairava (spacious awareness) arises. || 28 ||
Word-by-word breakdown: āmūlāt = from the root; kiraṇābhāsā = rays of light; sūkṣmāt = than the subtle(st); sūkṣmatarātmikā = consisting of the very subtle (agreeing with an unstated feminine noun, probably prāṇa-śakti); cintayet = one should/may imagine, visualize, or meditate on; tāṃ = it, that (fem.); dviṣaṭkānte = in the end-of-twelve (i.e. the dvādaśānta at or above the crown of the head); śyāmyantī = becoming quiescent, dying away, dissolving, becoming peaceful; bhairava-udaya = the arising of Bhairava.
This verse introduces some concepts that were relatively new at the time of the text’s composition in the mid-ninth century. While the mapping of the sūkṣma-śarīra or subtle body varied somewhat across Tantrik lineages, all those maps included certain elements in common, one of those being the central channel, frequently called the madhya-nāḍī or simply the madhya. There’s some confusion about the central channel in modern yoga and that’s because in the 19th century, people writing in English (both Indian and Western), were engaged in a process that some scholars call the ‘medicalization’ of yoga, in which there were attempts to reconcile yoga with modern knowledge of anatomy. As part of this, the central channel became identified with the spinal column. In fact, in Tantrik sources, the central channel is clearly not the spine. The spine curves one way and then the other; the central channel is perfectly straight. In our primary sources, when the exact location of it is described, it is said to span the vertical axis from the pelvic floor to the crown of the head. If you investigate some anatomical diagrams, you’ll notice that an axis running from the pelvic floor to the crown of the head is a little bit forward of the spine. So, it’s not coterminous with the spine. This is very important. This is not an academic point. Due to this misunderstanding, the coccyx or base of the spine is understood in modern yoga to be the lower terminus of the central channel. This is not correct in important ways. In the subtle body, the coccyx is a very different point from the pelvic floor. It was important for the original Tantrik tradition that the energy-center at the pelvic floor was indeed the base of the central channel, because it indicates that sexual energy is intimately related to Kuṇḍalinī-śakti—they’re not identical by any means, but they have an intimate relationship that’s not implied by saying the central channel is the spine and its base is the coccyx. It’s also important for the Tantrik tradition that in a woman’s body the baby grows in her central channel, or in an intimate relationship with her central channel, and is delivered out from the base of the central channel itself. Furthermore, there’s a different experience when you are centering awareness in the central axis of your body as opposed to the spine. Of course, the spine is a physical reflex of the central channel, which is a non-physical thing. The central channel is an energetic reality and the spine is a physical correlate of that energetic reality. But they’re not identical and they’re not coterminous. You can easily feel into the location of the central channel through a simple exercise: if you take the middle finger of your left hand and place it on your pelvic floor, then take the middle finger of the right hand and place it on the crown of the head, the fontanelle, where you had a soft spot as an infant. Then, sitting up straight, extending the space between these two fingers and relaxing the jaw, gently feel into the line of connection, the line of energy, between these two finger-tips. It might be very, very subtle, but you can feel it.
The default width of this central-channel, this madhya-nāḍi, is only the width of a finger. It runs through the middle of your body. It’s important to note that this is a subtle reality—it’s not an imagined thing. Sometimes in Tantrik Yoga we do work with imagination, but this is something very real. This is demonstrated by the fact that all the most important somatic, energetic and emotional experiences of your life occur along this axis. Whether we’re talking about the feeling of the heart opening, or the experience of heartbreak, or getting ‘choked up’ in the throat, or gut-instinct, or excitement (butterflies in your stomach), or sexual energy, or a flash of insight (that feels associated with the third eye center), or even simple concentration, which for most people feels associated with the third eye. Or the light of mystical experience occurring at the crown of the head. All of the most significant embodied experiences of our lives occur along the axis of the central channel, so getting intimately in touch with it is absolutely crucial in Tantrik Yoga. It’s one of the things that distinguishes Tantrik Yoga from other forms. Note that in pre-tantric forms of yoga there’s either no central channel or it’s barely mentioned in an off-hand comment (e.g. the mention of the kūrma-nāḍī in the Yoga-sūtra of Patañjali), whereas in Tantrik Yoga and Haṭhayoga the teaching of the central channel becomes, well, central.
Having given this introduction, let me also note and respond to a student’s comment. Somebody said, “As soon as I made the connection—felt the central-channel between those two points—it started to undulate. It was slowly dancing.” You can have many different experiences of the central channel, including an undulation, which is kind of like kelp gently swaying in the movement of the water of the ocean. It can be very still also. The experience can manifest in many ways.
People who have deep trauma can sometimes experience the central-channel as not straight, but rather as fragmented or fractured, with ‘pieces’ of it that are not aligned. Usually that’s a sign that there’s trauma in the body that will need to be digested. After that, the central channel will naturally come back into full alignment. (To clarify, it can’t actually be fragmented, but it can feel as if it is.)
So there are many different ways the central channel can manifest. If you’re not in touch with your central channel yet, then it’s perfectly valid to work with it on the level of imagination. In fact, the tradition enjoins us to work with the power of imagination until we have a more palpable sense of this subtle reality.
Let’s look at verse 28 once again. It says, “Imagine the subtlest possible form [of prāṇa].” We know from the Sanskrit commentary that it’s prāṇa-śakti that’s being described here even though it’s not explicit in the verse. The subtlest possible form of prāṇa—what is that? The later tradition will call that kuṇḍalinī, however, at the time of the Vijñāna-bhairava-tantra, kuṇḍalinī still meant “phonemic power” or “sonic power” or “mantric power”, especially the experience of a vibrating mantric energy that coils up at specific points in the body, such as the heart or the low belly, then uncoils and lengthens again. Indeed, the Vijñāna-bhairava-tantra itself describes this very yogic experience towards the end of the text. But the term kuṇḍalinī was, at this time, only used when this energy was thought to be connected with mantric resonance and vibration, and not in the more general sense that came into use a century or two after this text. The word kuṇḍalinī is not here, but it does say the subtlest possible form of prāṇa. We understand that to be kuṇḍalinī-śakti, which indeed resides in the central-channel, whether it’s activated or inactivated.
The verse says in the Sanskrit cintayet, which means “imagine” or “meditate upon”. If you’re not experiencing it yet, then you imagine it. If you’re experiencing it, then you meditate on that experience. Imagine the subtlest form of prāṇa as kiraṇābhāsa: as rays of light, or as a ray of light. That light is shining upward from the root, āmūlāt, which the commentator glosses as janmādhārāt, meaning the pelvic floor, literally, “the locus of birth” or “the generative center” (note that it wouldn’t be appropriate to call the coccyx the locus of birth, but it’s perfectly appropriate to call the pelvic floor that). So you imagine this ray of light, or multiple, parallel rays of light, shining up from the pelvic floor. Kind of like those giant spotlights at major cultural events that shine up into the sky and slowly fade out. Similarly, this ray of light fades out above the head and dissolves into the space above the crown. More specifically, this ray of light shines up from the root and peacefully dissolves in the highest center above the crown. As the next verse will specify, this highest center is again the dvādaśānta (discussed in Yukti #1), which is about twelve finger-breaths above the head. That’s where the ray of light is fading out and becoming nothingness: at the upper-limit of the subtle body (which is of course larger than the physical body—some people use the term ‘aura’).
Then the verse simply says, “then, Bhairava arises”. Spacious awareness: bhairavodaya. We’re understanding Bhairava here to be the spacious, open, and yet full state of awareness, as the text previously specified. Bhairava is not to be understood as a deity per se. Of course, mythologically speaking, he’s a character with fangs, and he’s naked, and he has a dog companion, etc. But this is not the Bhairava we’re talking about. We’re talking about Bhairava as the experience of God, the experience of intensified, expanded, spacious, open awareness.
Alternate translations:
* Meditate on the Śakti arising from the mūlādhāra cakra, scintillating like rays (of the sun), and getting subtler and subtler till at last she dissolves in dvādaśānta. Thus does Bhairava become manifest. (Singh)
* One should think of the light of the rays (of the energy of the vital breath that shine) from the Root, more subtle than subtle, coming to rest within the End of the Twelve (wherein) Bhairava emerges. (Dyczkowski)