viparyayo mithyā-jñānam atad-rūpa-pratiṣṭham (I.8)
Error is false knowledge stemming from the incorrect apprehension of something. (Bryant p.38)
Citavṛtti overview
If you were asked to make a typology of your conscious thoughts (cittavṛttis), I wonder how your schema would compare to that of Patañjali. I think it’s fair to say that his classification of human thought into (i) instruments of knowledge, (ii) perceptual errors, (iii) verbal conceptualizations, (iv) deep sleep, and (v) memories is not an intuitively obvious way to cut the pie of human thought. Patañjali’s classification, however, reflects his connection to the broader philosophical landscape of his time, since the categories he describes are widely discussed in the Indian philosophical traditions beyond that of the Yoga Sūtras. You could say that they were a common currency in Indian philosophical thinking in his time, and a wealth of philosophical exploration of the human mind underpins each of these categories.
Having discussed the instruments of knowledge in the first of the cittavṛttis, Patañjali goes on to equate the next two categories of cittavṛtti with two different kinds of error. The first of these is the category of perceptually based errors (viparyaya), and the second consists of conceptual or verbal missteps (vikalpa). One might wonder why error plays such an important role in his classification of thought, constituting two out of his five categories. We tend to think of errors, such as perceptual illusions, as aberrations rather than as key categories of human thought.
Perceptual and verbal errors, however, were widely discussed amongst Indian philosophers at this time. There were several reasons for this, first and foremost among them being the belief that error was the fundamental cause of human suffering. This drove an investigation into the nature of error itself, an investigation that led Indian philosophers deep into the workings of human thought, revealing that error is much more pervasive in human cognition than we might think. This month, we will consider perceptual illusion (viparyaya), the second category of cittavṛtti. By coming to understand seemingly simple perceptual errors, such as seeing a rope in a corner as a snake, we gain insight into the subterranean workings of the human mind, and ultimately, how a deep, existential error at the heart of human thought leads us to a place of suffering.
Viparyaya
In the classical commentaries on the Yoga Sūtras, the commentators offer several different examples of what constitutes a viparyaya—seeing a mother-of-pearl shell on the beach as a piece of silver or seeing two moons, for example. The best known and most widely discussed example, however, is that of walking into a room and seeing a piece of coiled rope in a far corner as a snake. We will follow tradition and focus on this stock example to explore the nature of viparyaya, teasing out its distinctive features:
(i) Viparyaya and pratyakṣa (perception)
Viparyaya is perceptually based and therefore has an experiential component to it. It is not counted as a perception (pratyakṣa), however, because the very concept of perception has accuracy built into it. Remember that perception (pratyakṣa) is viewed as an instrument of knowledge (pramāṇa) so, for anything to count as a perception, it must accurately represent that which is being perceived. If it seems to me that I am seeing a snake in the corner of the room, then for that to count as a perception, there really does have to be a snake in the corner of the room. When our experience of the world is not accurate, it is counted as a viparyaya. Perception is given as a correct form of knowledge, whereas viparyaya is given as a mistaken form of knowledge (mithyā jñāna). Yet, while it is occurring, viparyaya feels like an authentic perception. This is why viparyayas can have such a powerful influence on us. When you see the rope as a snake, at that moment the snake is your reality, and you will feel the same fear as you would were there a snake present in the room.
(ii) Viparyaya and adhyāsa (mischaracterization/superimposition)
Viparyaya is essentially a mischaracterization of that which we are experiencing. The mind projects something onto the object appearing in our experience which doesn’t actually belong to the object. This is known as superimposition (adhyāsa). From (i) above we see that viparyaya is rooted in an actual experience of the world, so the error creeps in when we mischaracterize what it is we are experiencing. For example, when I see a coiled rope in the corner as a snake, I am experiencing a something that is in the corner of the room, but then I superimpose the idea of “snake” onto it, along with all that the snake represents.
(iii) Viparyaya and memory (saṁskāra)
Superimposition can happen for a variety of reasons. The mischaracterization is often triggered by an underlying similarity—a coiled rope, for example, has the same shape as a snake and mother-of-pearl has the same color as silver. The ways in which we mischaracterize objects, however, has much to do with our past experiences (saṁskāras). I may, for example, be primed to see coils of rope as snakes if I live in a place where snakes are a common menace. Prior experiences persist as latent influences in the mind, ready to spring out under the right circumstances. Viparyaya points to an important idea—namely, that our minds play an active role in how we experience the world. Our perceptual relationship to the world isn’t viewed as a passive process where the world is reflected in the mind like an object in a mirror, or imprinted on the mind like an object pressed into a piece of soft wax (metaphors sometimes used in western philosophy). Rather, our minds are engaged in a constant interpretive dance with the world, sometimes supplementing our raw experience with useful additional knowledge, but sometimes leading us astray with false projections emanating from the mind’s hidden layers. Either way, our experiences of the world are infused with the influence of the mind and its categories.
(iv) Viparyaya and sublation
There is a well-known expression in both the Indian and Western traditions of philosophy: “Truth cannot contradict truth.” This implies that when we say something is true, we are saying that it cannot be toppled by some new idea that comes along. Yet sometimes we think that something is true that turns out not to be true at all. Indian philosophers have a dynamic view of knowledge—we hold things to be true but sometimes may let go of these supposed truths in the face of new experiences. This is known as sublation, and it is exemplified in the situation of the rope and the snake. When I see a coiled object in the corner of the room, I may hold as my working truth that there is a snake in the corner of the room. This is the best I can do in that moment of time. We are not imprisoned in our beliefs, though, since we have the power to explore our environment further to gather more information. I can cautiously approach the corner of the room, maybe poke the coiled object with a stick, leading me to replace my initial judgment that there is a snake in the corner of the room with the new judgment that there is a coiled rope in the corner. In his commentary on I.8, Vyāsa gives a concise summary of this idea of sublation:
“Why is this [viparyaya] not a valid cognition? Because it is sublated by valid cognition. The object of valid cognition is a thing as it is, and the fact of not being valid cognition is shown by the fact that valid cognition cancels it. For example, seeing the moon as double is refuted by seeing that it is in fact a single moon.” (Vyāsa, Yoga Bhāṣya in Whicher, The Integrity of the Yoga Darśana, p. 110)
The pramāṇas therefore function as correctives to perceptual errors (viparyayas). We glean from this that the tradition has a dynamic, pragmatic view of knowledge. We act in good faith on what we think we know in the present moment, understanding that so-called current knowledge may need revision in the light of future events. As the rope/snake example teaches, we have to be open to the idea that there may be some future insight that will cause us to revise some of our current beliefs. Truth seekers do best to keep an open mind.
(v) Viparyaya and samādhi
Following from (iii) and (iv), we can get an insight into the nature of samādhi states, at least those samādhi states in which we are still in contact with objects in the world (sabīja samādhi). Even in pratyakṣa, that is, even when we are perceiving the world correctly from an empirical standpoint, the mind still inserts itself into our experience of the world. Often our perception is pervaded by afflictions such as desire and aversion, and the very experience itself is ego-oriented (“I am seeing the rope”). Thus, one way to view samādhi states is that they are states in which, as a result of training the mind, it becomes like a crystal in which the object is reflected as it is, without any conceptual or emotional interference/superimposition (see Yoga Sūtras I.41). Patañjali is therefore implying that having a mind that functions like a crystal is the exception rather than the rule.
(vi) Viparyaya and avidyā
In his commentary on I.8, Vyāsa specifically links viparyaya to the root kleṣa, avidyā, the fundamental error in which we misperceive the very nature of existence itself. This gives viparyaya a spiritual significance that goes beyond the domain of empirical corrections. Patañjali defines ignorance in the following way:
anityāśuciduḥkhānātmasu nityaśucisukhātmakhyātir avidyā (II.5)
Ignorance is regarding the impermanent as permanent, the impure as pure, the painful as pleasant, and the non-Self as the Self. (Carrera, p.106).
Thus, although viparyaya has an everyday sense in which it refers to perceptual errors, as in seeing the rope as a snake, in the context of yoga philosophy it refers specifically to the fundamental error in which we misperceive the nature of our very existence. In II.5 we can see how the conceptualization of avidyā is in accordance with the logic underlying viparyaya, seeing a thing as different from what it really is (seeing what is not eternal as eternal, for example), superimposing qualities onto a thing that do not belong to it. We superimpose qualities which properly belong to puruṣa, our deepest self, onto those material elements of our existence, investing them with an importance that they don’t actually have. Just as a person who believes they have found a valuable piece of silver on the beach will be disappointed to find that it is a mother-of-pearl shell, we too will be disappointed if we think that our possessions, our bodies, our egos, are going to be an eternal and a lasting source of contentment. Following the logic of the rope/snake example, confusion is most likely to occur when two things resemble each other in some aspect. Therefore confusion is most likely to occur in this case at the interface between the ego self and the Self.
Conclusion
One important feature of the mechanisms underlying viparyaya is that they are quick, operating beyond the scope of our conscious, rational minds. When I see the rope as a snake, it is not because I have undertaken some process of thoughtful reflection. Rather, it is an instantaneous response to my environment. In today’s parlance, we would say that viparyayas spring from the emotional or reptilian brain. This means that they are difficult to control, as are the strong emotions that may accompany these kinds of error. We have to undertake practices or therapies capable of reaching into the subterranean levels of the brain if we wish to change some of our instinctive responses to the world in which we live.
As it turns out, viparyayas constitute an important and pervasive category of human thought. We are constantly prone to mischaracterizing the objects and people we encounter. The traumatized war veteran who experiences every loud noise as a roadside bomb, or the person influenced by societal stereotypes who sees every young Black male as a dangerous presence, are two timely and poignant examples of the power of viparyaya in our lives. Time and time again, Patañjali’s insights into the human mind speak directly to us, arcing across the cultural divide that separates us from his world.
Joy Laine taught philosophy at Macalester College for over thirty years and teaches Iyengar Yoga around the Twin Cities.
Sources and Further Study
Bryant, Edwin. The Yoga Sūtras of Patañjali. North Point Press, 2009.
Carrera, Reverend Jaganatha. Inside the Yoga Sūtras. Integral Yoga Publications, 2006.
Whicher, Ian. The Integrity of the Yoga Darśana. D.K. Printworld, 2000.
