of that follow this stage of pranayama become something natural, not requiring
much effort, if this stage is properly grasped and brought under control, because the
difficulty experienced here will also be felt elsewhere. The other stages, which are
supposed to be higher, cannot be easily brought within the control of one’s
consciousness as long as there are impediments—hindrances which detract its
attention. These impediments are nothing but the movements of the pranas.
When one comes to a level of experience where this pranic energy is sufficiently
brought under control, there is an equivalent control of the mind, because the force
that impels the mind to work in terms of objects—the fuel required for the operation
of the mind in terms of its desires—is supplied by the prana. We may say, by an
analogy, that this pranic energy is something like the petrol that we put into the
vehicle which is this psychophysical organism, and its extent and potency also
determines the extent and the potency of the activity of the organism.
It is this distracting medium that prevents restful thought and an insight into the
essential nature of things, within as well as without, like turbid waters which prevent
a correct and clear reflection of things. The turbidity of one’s system, which is
indicated by the activity of the prana, prevents insight into the deeper nature, or the
reality of things. This reality is called prakasha, or light, in the sutra that follows.
The covering over of this light is called avarana—prakasha avarana. Like clouds
that may cover the brilliance of the sun in the vast sky, these turbid movements
within prevent a reflection of the light within, and naturally an insight into the
depths is prevented.
Tataḥ kṣīyate prakāśa āvaraṇam (II.52), says the sutra. Prakasha avarana is the veil
that is cast over the light of consciousness. This veil is not something made of matter
or a substance that comes from outside. It is a peculiar restlessness within—a kind of
tempestuous wind that blows inside us, so that we cannot even open our eyes and see
things properly when there is a cyclone. And we are perpetually in a cyclonic
condition, so that there is not a moment’s rest for any part of the body or the mind.
We cannot know rest because there cannot be rest as long as the prana functions.
Like gadflies that move from place to place without any proper aim or objective, the
pranic energy is directed hither and thither, in various ways, and we are tossed about
in the direction in which the prana moves. This is the most difficult thing to
understand, because the direction of the prana is determined by the direction of the
subconscious desires. This is another psychology that is behind even the activity of
the prana. They are not just mad movements or meaningless activities.
As it is not possible to determine the movement of an electron which is hovering
around a proton, on account of our inability to determine its movement, people have
come to a very peculiar conclusion these days—that there is what is known as the law
of indeterminism. This is a peculiar law in physics that everything is undetermined
and anything can happen at any time, and nobody can foresee the future. This
conclusion is arrived at by an observation of the movement and the velocity of the
electrons around the nucleus, which they say is indeterminable. The electrons run
about in any manner whatsoever, and we cannot predict the future location or
position of a particular electron by any amount of mathematical calculation. This has
led people to believe that the impossibility to determine the position or future
location of an electron should be really the revelation of the ultimate nature of
things—that everything is indeterminable. But the reason why these things are