Non-Dual Trinitarian: The Nature of Unity in Saivism

In Saiva Siddhanta, we speak of the three fundamental “substances”: God, Nature, and souls (the collective of all individuals). In this way, both dvaitins (dualists) and advaitins (non-dualists) see Siddhanta as false.  Samkhya sees at the base of all things the two: Nature and souls. Advaita Vedanta bristles at this dualism, and finds its resolution in the dependent natures of both, thus declaring them to be “illusory” — because not self-sufficient — and asserting that God is the only real entity.

But Siddhantins recognize the metaphysical problems with these two alternatives. Samkhya’s aim is not to explain or resolve, but to observe, and the mere observation of multiplicity and duality undermine any conception of undifferentiated unity. Advaita tries to resolve these observations by the brutal act of denying them. In the first instance, dualism points to an unresolved conflict, which everyone from Zoroastrians to Manicheanas to Cathars to Protestants eventually insisted on moralizing, with “spirit” standing in for good, and “matter” for evil (with modern satanism merely reversing the polarity). In the second case, the conflict is not resolved but merely ignored, returning to a static, womb-like unity wherein All-Possibility is denied in favor of Being. The Siddhantin sees God not only in still mountaintop meditation; God is also the Lord of Dancers, master of both movement and rest.

One of the greatest metaphysical difficulties for the advaitin is the simple question: Why did God create anything at all? In more philosophical terms, if the One is self-sufficient, what was the point of any sort of duality or pluralism?

The Christian and the Hermetist can well anticipate the solution. If one is static, and two is strife, three is the end of division and the establishment of a dynamic unity. A modern Hermetic illustration of this idea is that of the pendulum. True, the bob swings back and forth between two extremes, but it is anchored to a fixed point; by gradually tracing attention up the string, our eyes travel shorter and shorter intervals as we watch the swing, until fully coming to rest at the anchor point.

The non-dualist will see this as pluralism, and so reject it. But the esoteric eye sees that unity was never disrupted, and could not be in any case. The three — God, Nature, and souls — represent the three ontological hypostases of the Absolute. God alone is ontologically necessary, though we refer to the other two as fundamental substances and co-eternals insofar as everything persists in seed within its substrate between manifestations. The fact that Nature and souls must eventually go to seed does not make them illusory. As we are discussing a realm beyond time and temporal causation, we may thus say that God is ontologically prior to Nature and souls, but not chronologically prior, because chronological priority is meaningless at this level.

God’s Sakti — His Grace — acts upon Nature according to another threefold division, less fundamental but which corresponds to the three entities under discussion. The creative act corresponds to the souls, whose nature it is to imagine and to will; the preservative or upholding act corresponds to Nature, because of her characteristic persistence through constant change; the act of destruction is God’s alone, as He is the ground to which both souls and Nature go to seed. All these three graces — creation, preservation, and destruction — encompass divine activity in and through Nature herself.

There are, however, two remaining graces left entirely for God to act upon souls alone. The three dynamic graces are used upon Nature in service to these two intellectual graces: concealment and revelation. The duality of these graces is the metaphysical cause of humanity’s tendency to get bogged-down in binary thinking, but its also the cause of our occasional intuitive leaps of brilliance. As the souls stand metaphysically between God and Nature, it makes sense that we should be the way by which “two” makes itself known. God is One Consciousness; we are the division of consciousness into awareness of “self” and “not self”; Nature is the field of dynamic activity: 1 – 2 – 3.

123 pyramid

In Pythagorean fashion, if we add up the resulting pyramid, we get 1 + 2 + 3 = 6, which alchemists know as the hexagram representing God as found in the Height and the Depth. Add the graces, and we get 2 + 3 = 5, the pentagram of humanity’s capacity to master Nature through self-knowledge. Of course, the points of the pentagram each refer to one of the elements, and we may see in each grace the metaphysical root of an element, though I will not say more on that here, as it makes a very valuable meditation.

The purpose of this rudimentary numerology is not the common naive attempt at a “proof”. In the Inner sciences, no such thing could be provided, nor would it be desirable to do so. All models are tools, not the goal itself. And that’s just how Saivas view both Advaita and Samkhya: the non-dual realization is a goal for which we cannot skip over the intervening territory, while Samkhya gives us much of the map of that territory. Siddhanta is the Yoga of these facets as a single gem. There is herein no denial either of the fundamental unity of all things, nor of the variety of manifestation. Drawing all things to One (to paraphrase from The Imitation of Christ) is not a denial of “all things” any more than the fact of “things” is a denial of One.

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Dharma Obscured: A Brief Critical Response to “The Dharma Manifesto”

A Note of Introduction: The following essay was written in the winter of 2013, immediately after my reading of the book in question. I had originally intended it to run on another website, but it was not published there so as not to produce conflict. After that experience, among others, I have largely kept my opinion of the book and its impact to myself, feeling rather alone in my impressions. It was only after a friend and respected teacher of Dharma approached me for my thoughts on the topic that I showed him this article and he encouraged me to make it public. It is with his blessing and support that I do so now, and only in the hope of adding to a civil public discourse.

Politics is a difficult area for me. This is not because I have no political ideas, but because it is especially hard to draw out real, working solutions to complex problems from the myriad of possible approaches to any given situation. In large part, this is due to the fact that people tend to become very attached to their political labels, with more emphasis placed upon ideological purity than upon real, substantive strategies. So, I have been doing a lot of reading, lately, in order to try to broaden the scope of my own thoughts in this area. Śri Dharma Pravartaka Āchārya, in his recent book The Dharma Manifesto: A New Vision for a Global Transformation (2013, Arktos Media), is of particular interest for me. As a Western-born Saiva, I view Dharma as a model for finding solutions to even the most perplexing of difficulties. My initial impression of Āchārya-ji was largely positive; here is a man of spiritual trajectory, rational acumen, and moral passion putting in genuine effort to shape the socio-political world in accordance with Dharma. Whether or not I agree with each detail, his sincerity and dynamism cannot be denied or ignored. I excitedly ordered a copy of the book as soon as I saw reference to it. As it turned out, even flipping through the book raised in me many doubts on particulars. Though the volume is slim, it took me more than a month to complete, as I kept running across points which required much deeper thought on my part than a casual reading would allow.

It is an interesting fact that anyone would even attempt to pen a “manifesto” of Dharma. “Manifesto” is formally defined as a public decree of intentions by an institution, with the implication that the institution in question is an organization or activist bloc with fairly singular ideology, objectives, and methodology. And, certainly, such a united front is presented in The Dharma Manifesto, complete with bullet-pointed policy planks and a fully-fledged strategy for gaining real political power.

The amount of research which went into the project is honestly staggering, and the intellectual effort is beyond admirable. Āchārya-ji refers to, and draws from, sources as diverse as the Buddha, Alain de Benoist, Julius Evola, David Frawley, Lao Tze, Plato, Oswald Spengler, Bhaktivedānta Swāmi Prābhupāda, and G.K. Chesterton. And, just as importantly, at no point does he try to fit any of these thinkers into his own box, rather taking ideas and inspiration from them where he can.

His basic premise, however, deserves examination in light of his presentation. As I have previously observed, disparate sources aside, Āchārya-ji tries to display a unitary Dharma where, in fact, no such thing exists. It may be true that Dharma is ultimately one (or beyond division), but here on Earth it is necessarily seen from a myriad of directions. It is simply not possible — and not useful, in any case — to reduce, say, Samkhya to Vedānta, or Buddhism to Śaiva Siddhānta. To compare them can be very instructive, but to smear-out their distinctions in service to a rhetorical strategy serves only the ideologue.

Hindu Dharma and its close relations — Taoism, Shinto, Buddhism, Jainism, etc. — are neither equitable nor monolithic. Even within Hindu Dharma itself, there are the six āstikā darshanas and numerous schools of admixture, approaches to practice, sects, and lineages. All of these “are” Hinduism, and Hinduism contains them all without prejudice. It is true that certain schools and sects are more statistically representative than others, but that does not imply an institutional orthodoxy in a model similar to the Roman Catholic Church. While there exist many Hindu organizations, and while it may be desirable to have greater Hindu solidarity, it is contrary to the radical pluralism inherent to Dharma to insist upon ideological uniformity beyond a few points of commonality.

This “radical pluralism” is pluralistic in that it demands comfort with ambiguity and mutual respect amidst often irreconcilable differences; and it is “radical” in that it must resist any violence done against freedom of intellect, regardless of the source of the assault. Yet, there is a uniting or organizing function to Dharma in the form of what Rajiv Malhotra calls “integrative unity.” (See Being Different: An Indian Challenge to Western Universalism, 2011, HarperCollins.)

Integrative unity is the “unity of plurality”, or the conceit that everything which exists — including ideas — has its essence as a part or reflection of an underlying or inherent totality. The “part” may never be fully separated from the “whole”, but is so only as a contingency. This stands in contradistinction to “synthetic unity”, which begins from the “parts” and tries to form from them an artificial unit, often in spite of irreconcilable differences which inevitably lead to dissolution. In this case, the differences are either acknowledged only to subdue them, or else ignored entirely, whereas integrative unity begins with full awareness of differences and distinctions, but sees them as expressions of a profound indivisibility.

The vision expressed in The Dharma Manifesto is such a synthetic unity. Though I am loathe to say that a particular interpretation is not properly Dharmic — the aforementioned radical pluralism demands immense caution in making such declarations — on this particular point, I think it is warranted at least as a challenge. Simply, Dharma cannot be expressed by bullet points. This brings up an interesting question: either Śri Dharma Pravartaka Āchārya does not know this, or else he knows it and is intentionally ironing-out the nuances for rhetorical purposes. Quite honestly, the first possibility may be dismissed out of hand. Āchārya-ji is too obviously intelligent and well-studied for me to take such an idea seriously. The other possibility has the unfortunate implication of sinister motive, but I adamantly do not mean it in that way. I believe that Āchārya-ji is very sincere. However, that sincerity does not guard against the fact that oversimplification is often a natural part of constructing a political ideology.

It is true that Sanātana Dharma necessarily addresses the structure and functioning of a healthy society. Dharma is all-encompassing by nature, and so has lessons for every avenue of thought and activity. There are Dharmic law books with specific guidance for leaders and rulers, such as the famous Manusmŗti, but even these acknowledge that they cannot possibly apply equally to all places and times. In other words, Dharmic political thought is certainly possible, but Dharmic absolutism is a contradiction in terms.

Not that absolutism and relativism did not have their representatives in past ages, but the partisanship which now attends them is an outgrowth of modernism. As the dissolution that is relativism became the going cultural assumption throughout the industrialized world, the formerly dominant ideologies began to express themselves increasingly in terms of ideological purity. This sort of absolutism came to be seen as the only alternative to total relativism, so that even those who may have preferred a different solution had to frame their ideas in terms of either relativism or absolutism. To this day, “Progressivism” is generally an expression of relativism, while “Conservatism” is absolutist in nature.

Āchārya-ji, like most political thinkers influenced by Traditionalist thought, tries not so much to “steer a middle course” between these poles, but turns to possibilities well outside of them. That said, he applies an absolutist “hard line” approach which instantly petrifies the ideas and strategies into uncompromising dogma.

A good example is his discussion of atheism (pp 73 – 74). The typically Dharmic approach to atheism is to dispute its fundamental premise as an intellectual aberration, but to admit its necessity as a possible position for the sake of freedom of intellect and conscience. Āchārya-ji, however, paints atheists with the brush of false consciousness, implying that atheists are sub-human by default:

Inclusion in human classification is predicated upon the ability of the individual human entity to both understand, and to subsequently choose to conduct his life in accordance with, the natural ordering principles of morality and nobility.

[…]

Since atheism intellectually disputes the existence of Natural Law, atheism is itself, subsequently, an attempt to negate the morality, ethics and legal norms and behavior that are predicated upon Natural Law.” (pg 73)

So we have a two-part process of dehumanizing those with whom we disagree. We first say that one is only human who adopts a certain ideology, and then demonstrate in what way our opponents are not doing so. Of course, we leave a paragraph in between so that this dehumanization is not totally obvious and may be softened, but it is certainly still there.

And this turns us back to the problem of oversimplification, inherent as it is to absolutism of any sort. Āchārya-ji says as part of the same argument that “[the] existence of moral principles is a disjunctive proposition: morality either is or is not. There is no grey area. The unequivocal capacity of morality is rooted in its transcendent provenance.” (pp 73 – 74) All Dharmic thought is willing to agree with the latter proposition, but the former is a decidedly Abrahamic assertion. It is true that Dharma sees all true ethics and morality as arising from transcendence or absolute inwardness. But there is the key, and there is the contradiction. Frithjof Schuon makes the point thus:

The Hindus and Far Easterners do not have the notion of ‘sin’ in the Semitic sense; they distinguish actions not according to their intrinsic value but according to their opportuneness in view of cosmic or spiritual reactions, and also of social utility; they do not distinguish between ‘moral’ and ‘immoral’, but between advantageous and harmful, pleasant and unpleasant, normal and abnormal, to the point of sacrificing the former — but apart from any ethical classification — to spiritual interests. They may push renunciation, abnegation, and mortification to the limits of what is humanly possible, but without being ‘moralists’ for all that.” (Spiritual Perspectives and Human Facts, 1954, Faber and Faber, pg 58, as quoted in Evola, Ride the Tiger, 2003, Inner Traditions International, pp 74 – 75)

Of course, there are what we would recognize as moral and ethical considerations in Dharma, or else we would not have the yogic yamas and niyamas or documents like the Tirukural of Saint Valluvar, but even here the discussion is always centered in action and reaction, with consideration of others as persons who can be known as such, rather than the intrinsic value of a given thought or action. Dharmic ethics are founded in absolute principles, but are applied according to present need rather than abstractions. What is often referred to as “Hindu idealism” is thus more of a “metaphysically-oriented realism”.

Throughout The Dharma Manifesto, Śri Dharma Pravartaka Āchārya translates Dharma as “Natural Law”, not just linguistically but also conceptually. While this is one sense of the term, it serves as neither a full definition nor an accurate translation. “Dharma”, as a word, is strictly untranslatable; every translation of it, then, is no better than an approximation — a point which many writers and translators on Dharma not just admit, but actively point out for the sake of clarity and accuracy. Often, the same author will employ a variety of words or phrases by way of a translation in different contexts for maximal precision. But, at least in the present book, Āchārya-ji never deviates from the phrase “Natural Law”. I bring this up as another example of boiled-out complexity.

We may also bring into question Āchārya-ji’s assertion that practically all non- or pre-Abrahamic religions are inherently Dharmic in the same way. This, along with the artificially constrained definition of Dharma cited above, begins to take on the tenor of a rhetorical strategy more than an actual ideological plank. Without speculating any further into motive, we are still left with a drastic simplification. Can we really relate every single one of the many and varied Native American religions and say that they are the same as Taoism? And is the purely political state polytheism of imperial Rome in the same category as state-independent Hinduism? It is certainly true that an incredible variety of religious and philosophical practices and orientations already exist within Sanātana Dharma, but even then their distinctions and differences are every bit as important as their similarities. It is not enough simply to declare them allies in a common cause; they must recognize themselves as part of an integral unity which exists prior to them and persists after them.

Finally, for all the accusations made against the Abrahamic faiths’ regressiveness and inhumanity throughout the book, there are many examples of similar inhumanity in Āchārya-ji’s positions. The aforementioned dehumanization of atheists is a good example, but there is also a policy of downright cruelty toward homosexuals. To quote:

Both gay and straight citizens are encouraged to observe sexual fidelity and sexual continence as much as is within their power and within the confines of the law. [!] For straight citizens, this means that sexuality should only be expressed within the vows of marriage. For gay citizens, this means that sexual expression should only occur within the context of a monogamous and committed relationship, and from inside the closet. Sexuality is a purely private matter, and must not be intrusively displayed to the public for personal gain or as a social statement. (pp 124 – 125, emphasis added)

It should go without saying that Āchārya-ji is opposed to gay marriage.

More to the point, he seems to be missing centuries of history, especially recent decades. While acknowledging earlier (pg 124) that Dharma does not consider homosexuality to be chosen behavior — and thus, by implication, not immoral — he goes on to treat it as a disease and a source of shame. If homosexuality is natural and not sinful, of what social value is it to force homosexuals into secrecy? The only purpose such a policy serves is to socially isolate and psychologically alienate every single homosexual in the society. And the not-so-subtle accusation that the entire gay rights movement has been for personal gain is nothing short of crass cynicism, or at least the projection of crass cynicism upon a misunderstood minority. The attached notion that public admittance of one’s sexuality for social change is somehow not different from using it for personal profit crosses into the absurd. While I agree that sex is a private matter, many things best kept private must sometimes be discussed in public fora, not to become rich and famous but to ensure that oppression does not persist in silence. Āchārya-ji’s sort of “middle ground” approach to LGBT issues accomplishes nothing worth accomplishing, being an essentially Old Testament attitude with the overt threat of violence softened to a purely psychological threat.

All told, Śri Dharma Pravartaka Āchārya’s The Dharma Manifesto is impressive in the scope of the author’s ambition, and his evident sincerity. I cannot help, however, but be skeptical of any attempt at forming a political movement of whole cloth. In this particular case, my skepticism is only intensified by the use of Dharma to justify any number of policy planks and strategies which vacillate between the perfectly sensible, the terribly cynical, and the puzzingly absurd. Quite frankly, Sanātana Dharma has much more to offer even within the purely socio-political sphere.

The Aquarian Age & the Planetary Gods

Mercury and Venus are, of course, at home in any age. But what is often optimistically called the Age of Aquarius is ruled by Saturn. Once thought of as a “malefic”, at least in Western astrology, Saturn is unknowingly worshiped by those looking toward a “global consciousness shift” as the God of the Age, with our old friend and protector Jupiter left behind.

While Saturn, it is true, has traditionally been given a bad reputation which he has not fairly earned, it is fair that we should be wary of him. His ways are not ours; on the downward arc, Saturn enveloped us in the metaphysical crystal prison of matter, while on the upward arc, he looks like a fearful void or Nothingness. In the first case, we resent him, and in the second we are existentially terrified of him. But, either way, he holds the necessary position of determining when we take on form and when we are divested of it; when embodied, we are so afraid of a formlessness which we no longer recognize that we have trouble imagining it being anything but oblivion, yet it is an important and unavoidable transition. Saturn thus deserves to be honored.

We do indeed live in an age in which Saturn is ascendant, albeit in an unrecognized fashion. Decay runs rampant. This is not doom-saying; decay is not a bad thing, inherently, though intelligent creatures that we are ought to be able to find healthier ways of relating to it than we do at present.

This brings us to the New Age. There are people in this world who, in the name of rather ill-defined “metaphysics” worship the crystalizations of Saturn without understanding what they are doing. The ego itself has become the god enthroned in the Holy of Holies, with “laws of manifestation” and “self-actualization” being the highest ideals which many can imagine. With the loss or neglect of genuine Tradition at the impetus of a few centuries of  hardcore materialism (another unrecognized saturnine influence), the merciful focusing of Saturn’s ray through Jupiter’s kingship have all but disappeared.

Christianity today, instead of relying upon the genuine Tradition uncovered and passed down by the Apostles, Desert Fathers, and others of a jovial bent — including apophatic and mystical theologies, theurgic prayer, and the Sacraments — tries to defy the force of decay by interpreting Saturn’s Law through martial aggression, thus transforming it into harsh condemnation. Islam has chosen a similar course. On the other hand, those in the purview of New Age and New Thought ideologies have their eyes so covered by the false sun of ego and the ersatz moon of desire that they can only see in the process of decay a “liberating iconoclasm” opening the doors for more personally enjoyable manifestations.

The Law resides in Saturn, but it issues from Jupiter. Jupiter is the ruler who genuinely cares about us and our progress, but because he expresses the Law to us more or less directly, we target him with our immature and petulant need to be “free individuals” in every meaningless way, not understanding that the liberty which matters comes through comprehending the Reality behind the Law rather than trying in vain to defy it, turn it to selfish purpose, or merely pretend it isn’t there.

“Melchizedek” is the Great Jupiter, the High Priest who interprets and presides over the Law, but the Law is one of mercy. We are given a living metaphor in the physical planets themselves. Saturn is much further out from Earth’s orbit than Jupiter, so Saturn’s demesne looks like an icy chaos from which could come all manner of unknown and unimaginable threats; though “gravity” is a metaphysical property of Saturn, the physical planet of Jupiter is such a massive body that astronomers say his gravitational field sling-shots uncountable potentially dangerous objects back out of the solar system before they can even get within planetary shouting range. In Vedic astrology, Jupiter is Guru, the Preceptor and Initiator — literally “the one with gravity”.

Those of us who are serious about our spirituality in this Age of Aquarius must place especial focus on a healthy relationship with Jupiter. Taking seriously such  important factors as Tradition, Guru, High Priest, initiation, and so forth, is interpreted today as rank dogmatism. It is true that overemphasis on them to the exclusion of personal work and study is also unhealthy (being a solar rather than jovial neglect), but overbalancing to one extreme in order to avoid another is not a wise strategy.

Aum Drām Dattatreyāya Namaḥ