The treasury which has the atmosphere as its inside, and the earth as its bottom, is never spent. The directions themselves are its corners, heaven is its upper opening. This treasury which is such, is the vault for wealth. In it is held all this.
The name of the eastern side is Juhuu, the southern is Sahamaanaa, the western is Raajnii, the northern is Subhutaa. Air is their son. He who knows this air as the son of the directions, he needs not cry for the loss of a son.
‘I have known this air as the son of the directions. May I not have to cry for the loss of a son.’
‘I take shelter in the indestructible treasury through this one, this one, this one.
‘I take shelter in the vital force through this one, this one, this one.
‘I take shelter in the earth through this one, this one, this one.
‘I take shelter in the atmosphere through this one, this one, this one.
‘I take shelter in heaven through this one, this one, this one.’
‘When I said, “I take shelter in the vital force”, I meant: “The vital force is indeed all this that exists. Thereby, I take refuge in that itself.”'
‘Then, when I said, “I take refuge in the earth”, I meant: “I take refuge in the earth, I take refuge in the atmosphere, I take refuge in heaven.”'
‘Then, when I said, “I take refuge in the atmosphere”, I meant: “I take refuge in fire, I take refuge in air, I take refuge in the sun.”'
‘Then, when I said, “I take refuge in heaven”, I meant, I surely meant: “I take refuge in Rig Veda, I take refuge in Yajur-Veda, I take refuge in Saama-Veda.”'
Chandogya Upanishad III, 15
The treasury (kosha कोष ) consists of the three worlds spoken of in the Vedas: bhu (earth), bhuvah (atmosphere) and svah (heaven). It is therefore “all this”, that is, the entire universe. "kosha" is a covering or receptacle and comes from a root word meaning "to embrace".
Interestingly, the word kosha later comes to be an important part of yoga philosophy, where it means a "sheath". There are said to be "five sheaths" (koshas) - food, breath, mind, intellect and bliss - that enfold the consciousness. It is a matter of interpretation whether the koshas are covering up the consciousness or embracing and supporting it; in this passage from the Chandogya, it is definitely the latter.
I don’t know the significance of the four names for the directions, but the crucial point, it seems, is that the air (vaayuh) is their son. Vaayuh is the god of the wind, the air. In these early Upanishads vaayuh is important because it is the cosmic equivalent to the life-force, the life-breath within the body, praana. The relation of vaayu to the universe is the same as the prana to the body: the most subtle essence, within or behind which is to be found the self (aatman आत्मन ).
This is why the knowledge of the air is the ultimate consolation. If one knows the air, one knows the praana; and if one knows the praana, then one knows the one that is beyond death. Even the death of a son (which in Vedic culture means that there is no-one to perform the death duties that carry the spirit of the father to heaven, and is therefore the ultimate misfortune) is no cause for mourning. The son does not really die, and nor does the father.
He takes shelter in the indestructible treasury that is this universe “through this one, this one, this one”. (Gambhiranananda translates as "for the sake of this one", but amunaa means "by means of/through this one").
It seems mysterious that shelter is taken “through this one”: it might be expected that he takes shelter in this one, and not in the universe. Perhaps the knowledge of this one (amunaa) is what allows someone to shelter in the universe. Unless the one is known, the all is a threat and a burden; but when it is known, then one can take a place within “all this” without fear.
The repetition "I meant, I surely meant" is a typical stylistic point of the final verses in the chapters of this Upanishad.
I don't know about anyone else, but for me this chapter has the characteristic savour of the oldest Upanishads. It has a unique poetic vision, apparently that of some sage whose name has been lost but whose words (in quotation marks here) have been preserved. The earlier and later verses may be written at a later date; it's hard to say. Is the son, who may or may not be lost, the "one"? Or is it the self, the spirit? Grief and the transcendence of grief each make their presence felt, and in the background is the holiest of the Vedic chants, the Gayatri mantra: "bhur bhuvah svah ..." ("earth, atmosphere, heaven ...").
I don’t know the significance of the four names for the directions, but the crucial point, it seems, is that the air (vaayuh) is their son. Vaayuh is the god of the wind, the air. In these early Upanishads vaayuh is important because it is the cosmic equivalent to the life-force, the life-breath within the body, praana. The relation of vaayu to the universe is the same as the prana to the body: the most subtle essence, within or behind which is to be found the self (aatman आत्मन ).
This is why the knowledge of the air is the ultimate consolation. If one knows the air, one knows the praana; and if one knows the praana, then one knows the one that is beyond death. Even the death of a son (which in Vedic culture means that there is no-one to perform the death duties that carry the spirit of the father to heaven, and is therefore the ultimate misfortune) is no cause for mourning. The son does not really die, and nor does the father.
He takes shelter in the indestructible treasury that is this universe “through this one, this one, this one”. (Gambhiranananda translates as "for the sake of this one", but amunaa means "by means of/through this one").
It seems mysterious that shelter is taken “through this one”: it might be expected that he takes shelter in this one, and not in the universe. Perhaps the knowledge of this one (amunaa) is what allows someone to shelter in the universe. Unless the one is known, the all is a threat and a burden; but when it is known, then one can take a place within “all this” without fear.
The repetition "I meant, I surely meant" is a typical stylistic point of the final verses in the chapters of this Upanishad.
I don't know about anyone else, but for me this chapter has the characteristic savour of the oldest Upanishads. It has a unique poetic vision, apparently that of some sage whose name has been lost but whose words (in quotation marks here) have been preserved. The earlier and later verses may be written at a later date; it's hard to say. Is the son, who may or may not be lost, the "one"? Or is it the self, the spirit? Grief and the transcendence of grief each make their presence felt, and in the background is the holiest of the Vedic chants, the Gayatri mantra: "bhur bhuvah svah ..." ("earth, atmosphere, heaven ...").
3 comments:
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Hello fellow treasures, from the air on the other side of earth (for one additional week). Thank you for this very intriguing reading/writing. I have now a better understanding about the wealth contained in this text, as a first hearing. I have just spent half an hour on more detailed comments, then found as I was not registered yet, all was lost, silly me. Now I have to go (with a lift) into town, that is, into central Sydney, where as a matter of fact I might have more luck finding a copy of this upanishad, than I had in Brisbane. so for now, I hope this weeks reading is as sweet. Love to all,Gaynor
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