In virtually all of Vedic wisdom, the ultimate goal is to realize the source of one’s internal nature. While this is said in slightly different ways, it’s like looking at variations of species of butterfly — all of which fly on beautiful wings, though the colors may express themselves differently. The yogic philosophical and mythological model is one of an internalized, mysticized nature, where the focus is turned within to find the source of our being, no matter what name we give to it. In fact, a popular phrase, and one of the most notable lines of the Ṛg Veda, is ekaṁ sad vipro bahudhā vadanti, or “The Truth is one, though the sages call it by many names.”
In the millennia-old Vedic texts, the idea of the internal source of truth — a notion that encompasses the numinous source — is encapsulated in three distinct sayings. The first, tat tvam asi, is found originally within the Sama Veda and is repeated in the Chāndogya Upaniṣad. The second, aham brahmāsmi, comes originally from the Yajur Veda and is also found in the Bṛhadāraṇyaka Upaniṣad. The third, so’ham, is found originally in the Īśa Upaniṣad. As with a clever teacher, Vedic texts drive the same point home by repeating it over and over again.
tat tvam asi
Thou art That
aham brahmāsmi
I am Brahman
so’ham
I am It
Each of these three “great sayings,” or mahāvakyas, are special in that they are said to be the simplest version of the truth, which is that we are essentially the numinous source of our being. As such, they can be said as quick reminders when we are in a moment of doubt or forgetfulness, or they can be used as part of a larger, more focused meditation or chanting practice.
The third mantra, so’ham, is a contraction of the phrase śiva aham. The Sanskrit aham means “I am,” and śiva, in this case, represents our highest self (see the Oṁ Namaḥ Śivāya mantra, page 181). Known as the ajapa mantra, or silent mantra, this mantra is built into our inhalation and exhalation. If we listen closely, we can hear the quiet hiss of the “ssssooooo” on the inhale and the “hhhhaaaammmm” on the exhale, particularly if we amplify the breath through ujjāyī breathing by slightly constricting the back of our throat, almost as if we are imitating Darth Vader as we breathe. This constant internal so’ham is like a reminder to the mind to remain attached to the still point of consciousness, which directs us to the source of our being.
The most important point of the teachings rooted in the Vedic tradition is that the essential source, the unexplainable mystery, lies within. Like a great drop from the mighty ocean, each of us has inside an element of the numinous. Though the Vedic tradition cloaks the numinous with many different multifaceted deities, all these images are simply masks of god, so to speak. The all-pervasive source described within the Vedic tradition is unknowable, unnamable, and undilutable — no tongue has ever soiled it and no words can ever describe it. As soon as we try to put thought forms around it, it is suddenly lost, like trying to look directly at a bright star in the night sky. One must look slightly away in order for the eye to catch the brightness of its light, which was sent to us long ago. So really, we are only seeing evidence of that star’s existence, just as we find evidence of the existence of the numinous through its many different aspects.
Rather than getting wrapped up in the various terms for “god,” which reflect our cultural and individual perspectives, with the help of these mahāvakya chants we can focus on the essence of what the many varied terms for god point to, which is beyond thought, precedes words, and is found within. These mahāvakya of the Vedic tradition suggest that everything we need to know is inside, rather than outside us in the form of an expert or a canon filled with rules and regulations. In the Bṛhadāraṇyaka Upaniṣad, the phrase aham brahmāsmi is used to explain this concept further as the “great unborn that dwells within the lotus of the heart.”13 This particular mahāvakya encourages us to let go of all outer trappings, to shed the fetters of all that is not the source of inner truth, in a method of spiritual negation (illustrated by the famous phrase neti-neti, “not this, not this”). When we’re thus stripped down, rather than seeking outward for the source of our own being, we focus inward to find the source of empowerment. This notion of the self-as-source is embodied in clear and concise ways with all three mahāvakya mantras.
Each of these mantras can be used to still the mind, which is said to be like a cobra being charmed by the snake charmer. Normally, the cobra is a dangerous animal, driven only by primal instincts, just as the mind (particularly the ego) is also driven by primal instincts and will do anything to preserve itself. The ego can be tamed through the one-pointed focus of the mind, which helps to keep the wild, errant thoughts at bay. As the cobra focuses on the sound of the snake charmer’s flute, the ego is captivated by the sound of the breath (as with the so’ham mantra). This is a primary entry point into the sacred practice of nāda yoga, which leads one to the source of the sacred sound that is said to flow from the heart.
Through focusing the breath, the mind will come to know the power of the highest truth, which resides in the heart. Long have spiritual traditions pointed to the heart as the internal location of the source of being. And while we might concede that every atom within our body is alive with the life-giving source (and that every atom everywhere is alive with it, too), many of us experience the measure of our highest, most connected experiences from the heart. Not only is this a lived experience for many of us, this is also reflected in the wisdom of the Veda and other various yogic scriptures that tell us that the all-pervasive sound of oṁ (
), the nāda, lies inside the abode of our heart.
The chant tat tvam asi comes from the Chāndogya Upaniṣad, which is one of the oldest principle Upaniṣad. It primarily deals with the realization of the self and the fact that the source lies within the heart of all things. One of the first lines of this Upaniṣad tells us that, “oṁ is the Self of all.”14 We are once again pointed to the nature of the source as all-pervading vibration. In the eloquent words of Joachim-Ernst Berendt, from his book The World Is Sound: Nada Brahma:
The world is sound. Not: the world is vibration. Of course, one could say that as well — it is true, and everybody says so. But it isn’t precise enough. From the standpoint of physics, there are billions of different possible vibrations. But the cosmos — the universe — chooses from these billions of possibilities with overwhelming preference for those few thousand vibrations that make harmonic sense.15
If ever we were to wonder “What is the nature of the all-pervading source?,” we have the answer from a multitude of mythologies that the most consistent quality of the numinous is sound. No wonder mantra works so well to connect us with that! Sacred sound can give us direct access to the source, and the Chāndogya Upaniṣad confirms this for us in a later line by saying, “Side by side, those who know the self and those who know it not do the same thing; but it is not the same: the act done with knowledge, with inner awareness and faith, grows in power. That, in a word, tells the significance of oṁ (), the indivisible.”16 What is it to know the highest self? The wisdom of the Chāndogya Upaniṣad tells us through a tale of a father and son that to know the self, to feel the vibration of the numinous as it exists within us and around us, is to know that we are that: tat tvam asi.
As the story goes, Śvetaketu was Uddālaka’s son, and when he came of age, his father told him that it was time to study with a venerated teacher because the spiritual life is important to explore. Śvetaketu went off to study with a teacher for twelve long years. During this time he learned the wisdom of the Veda, and he became very pleased with his intellectual knowledge of the spirit. But it is not enough to know about the spirit. One must come to know the spirit for oneself, as one’s self.
When Śvetaketu arrived home to his father, his father asked what he’d learned. Śvetaketu began to wax poetic about the wisdom of the sages and recite perfectly memorized lines from the Veda. His father shook his head and asked, “Did they not teach you the most basic of all the teachings? Did you not come to know the truth about the great spiritual wisdom? Though you are prideful of your knowledge, did you not ask your teacher about what will allow you to listen for that which cannot be heard?” Uddālaka then began to explain in simple terms the prevalence of the numinous within. He explained that it is like playing with a lump of clay, and so coming to know all things that are made from clay. Or it is like a bird on a tether that eventually settles on a branch, as the ego eventually settles into the highest self. Or it is like salt, that when placed in a bowl of water, cannot then be removed, but pervades and changes the water because of its dispersed presence. At the end of every metaphor, Uddālaka tells Śvetaketu, “Thou art that,” tat tvam asi.
In the translation by Eknath Easwaran, we find a gem from this part of the Chāndogya Upaniṣad:
In the beginning was only Being, One without a second. Out of this was brought forth the cosmos and entered into everything in it. There is nothing that does not come from it. Of everything, it is the inmost Self. It is the truth; it is the Self supreme. tat tvam asi.17
That’s pretty much it. ‘Nuff said. What we seek is within.