Machinations on Meditation
There is no single direct translation in Sanskrit for the word “meditation”.
It’s an umbrella term in English that can refer to many different things, there are dozens of meanings. Some varieties facilitate simple stress reduction, some describe dissolution of personality into the formless void, and others take students on journeys beyond the ordinary through several stages of curious subtlety.
The Subtle Body
A rigorous understanding of meditation begins with the precept that while we are in possession of a physical body and brain, we are more accurately a much larger body of energy, which also contains a physical body.
The subtle body is known via terms like antaḥkaraṇa or sūkṣma śarīra, depending on school and lineage. Imagine it as a large sphere of fine-grained energy, and your skin-and-bones physical body is inside it.
Instruments of the physical body include our senses (jñanendriya) and the brain (manas). Sense organs convert physical vibration into electrical signals. The brain might be called our “thinking mechanism” or the “sense aggregator”. It receives and sends electrical signals to organs and muscles, stores patterns of behaviour, builds habits, and formulates language.
On the other hand, the subtle body is an apparatus that operates far more swiftly and with a longer range than the brain and its organs. It is helpful to think of your subtle body as a field spanning 100 metres in all directions.
Your physical body, the chair you are sitting on, and the nearby cat are all inside your subtle body. The person in the adjacent room is within your subtle body too, and you are within theirs. Even when the door is closed, our spheres of energy overlap one another.
Our subtle bodies contain not only cats and chairs, but our individual world of beliefs, moods, and perceptions are there too. Thought-forms, concepts, fantasies and strong memories all exist in the subtle body and may be silently shared with others.

From Yoga Samyama by Swami Gitananda.
Where does meditation come into this?
You are, in a sense, two people. You are a physical ego, represented by the brain, with specific skills and tendencies, and you are also a large subtle field with other talents and abilities. The two selves co-exist, but there’s a communication issue:
The subtle self doesn’t use language. It doesn’t do sentences. It operates with so much more information and such rapidity that monologue is insufficient by orders of magnitude. The subtle body communicates via impulse, flashes of intuition, and spontaneous ideas. It sends blocks of information that you may or may not decide to convert to sentences.
The communication gap can be closed – the common ground is feeling and emotion. Emotion is the prime mover in consciousness, but sometimes the human being is so well-practiced at filling all available time with internal monologue that thoughts can seem more fundamental. However, all thoughts start with an emotion, an urge, an impulse – and meditation reveals this by repeatedly pausing inner babble until our concepts and ideas, pregnant with information, are more obvious.
To meditate is to train the mind to remember or notice or even identify as the vaster reality, within which the material form sits. We chant or affirm things like “I am a large sphere of fine energy with my physical body sitting in the middle, having a very specific experience of materiality, featuring surprise and relief, cravings and aversions”. By frequently reminding ourselves of this structure, we interrupt our automatic and unthinking identification with the solid form and cultivate understanding of our total existence. We increasingly notice the stream of inner sensations and recommendations being highlighted by the subtle apparatus.
In childhood most people gradually adopt a mindset where feelings are subordinate to intellect. This aligns with conclusions reached by the (relatively young) sciences of psychology, psychiatry, and neurology. With this worldview installed, with this exclusive identification as the physical body, we dismiss subtle perceptions as random intrusions and become adept at ignoring them. When they persist, we often medicate or therapy them away.
This results in a very restricted life experience and people often begin searching for a way out. When a person discovers yoga and meditation, almost immediately they gain relief from confinement. They perceive notions passing through consciousness in a different light, as less serious, or as visitors passing nearby. Just like the breeze floating through a window. What a relief!
A Simple Definition
We could describe meditation as a task we give to the physical mind to help us stop talking and expand, to become aware of the broader perspective. We actually ask the brain to subordinate itself! This explains the resistance that is often felt, especially early on. It becomes a willing participant over time as life becomes more pleasant.
There are many techniques, but they all involve training the physical mind to do two things:
- Firstly, calm down and focus on smooth breathing, stop talking to yourself
- Secondly, focus on the broader structure, the vast self that you really are, or a representative symbol
Consistent practice results in the expression of high intelligence, eagerness, patience, optimism and humour. The burden of managing life via the senses is lifted and the fascinating space between thoughts becomes visible. This is realisation of the higher self. As Gregor Maehle puts it, “what I previously believed to be my limited ego can become a conduit through which cosmic intelligence can enact itself.”
So after we have calmed down via the breath, what is our object of meditation? In yoga, the object is usually the chakras, practiced in ascending order “up” the central channel (represented by the spine), with visualisation and concentration on their character, sound, appearance etc. This checks and bolsters each stage of conscious development, embracing the elements of life (pañca bhūta), leaving no stone, mammalian, or superhuman aspect unturned.
But what of those other meditation-centric practices from the subcontinent? They seem to share so much with yoga, but they often don’t quite mention yoga. Let’s explore a few.
Vedic Meditation
Vedic Meditation is a popular form that draws upon the same sacred texts as yoga. It is a spin-off of Transcendental Meditation, which was created by Maharishi Mahesh Yogi, and found incredible popularity over several decades. It is notable for numerous celebrity endorsements, an eagerness to engage with modern science, and a strong inclination for commercialisation. For a time the TM™ organisation even pursued political existence and had a few bouts with the law in various countries. At some point amongst all this, a few key teachers split from the movement and created Vedic Meditation, a somewhat more “open source” version.
In both VM and TM the practitioner uses a mantra as the object of meditation, and the mantra is issued by their teacher based on personal details such as birth date.
By repetition of the mantra, a rhythmic pattern of sound acts as an anchor for attention, encouraging a deepening beyond “spoken” thoughts and into deeper levels of awareness. With practice, the sound becomes more subtle and the mantra loses its specific meaning and transforms into an abstract sound vibration.
This helps the practitioner break from identification with the physical mind, and remember their real identity as the subtle body which contains the physical body.
The effectiveness of the technique has been demonstrated time and time again, with ample scientific evidence and the testimony of thousands of people.
Modern technology is tempting, and since Covid we have seen many people embrace practices via videos online. Can someone learn VM independently, or is a teacher essential?
“We strongly recommend learning VM from a qualified teacher. Your mind and consciousness are invaluable, and a professional ensures proper instruction and ongoing support. A key benefit of working with a teacher is receiving your unique mantra, tailored to your birth details—a crucial element only trained VM teachers can provide.”
Vipassanā
Vipassanā has been a favourite of many spiritual seekers for decades, popularised by (but not originating from) SN Goenka in the 20th century. It stems directly from Buddhism, itself rooted in Vedic tradition. The language of Buddhism is tantalisingly close to yoga at times, but it has morphed significantly through time and culture. Vipassanā translates as “insight” or “unbiased vision” and (depending on the tradition) it emphasises awareness of that which is temporary (the physical body and personality) and that which is permanent (pure witnessing consciousness).
In vipassanā, practitioners begin with śīla (giving up lesser pleasures) and then perform ānāpānasati (concentration on the breath). After that, awareness is held on the fickle fluctuations of body and mind as they arise. Physical agitation and mental anxiety is maintained in our sphere by avoidance, funnily enough. Paradoxically, our willingness to “call the bluff” and focus intensely on those distractions has the effect of wearing them down, which in turn increases awareness of the underlying nature of existence.
The subjective nature of translations can cause staggering departure from original meaning by the time verses find us in easy-to-read bedside books. The vast faculty of universal awareness which the yogis call ātman, the highest self, in some Buddhist schools ironically has come to mean “no self”. There may be internal consistency in such teachings, but the quirk of language can lead impressionable people to believe that extinguishing of identity and will (and responsibility) is a goal of spirituality. Buddhist methods are sometimes accused of skipping straight from physical existence to the ultimate state of void or emptiness. Words are always insufficient to explain transcendental teachings, and this is certainly not the only interpretation of the teachings. Nonetheless it is common, and scholars like our own Gregor Maehle often point out the implications of such a view, calling it a form of spiritual suicide.
Notable scholar David Frawley explains the difference in terminology:
“While Buddhism does technically reject the term ātman, it has similar terms like ‘Self-nature’ or ‘one’s original face before birth.’ Terms like ‘pure consciousness,’ ‘non-duality’ or the ‘absolute’ are common in both traditions. The Buddhist term Bodhicitta, like the Hindu ātman, refers to the enlightened consciousness which dwells within the heart. Both traditions thus revolve around a discrimination between the ego (Buddhist ātman or Hindu ahankara) and enlightened awareness (Buddhist Bodhichitta or Hindu ātman).
Yet both traditions agree that truth transcends all words, ideas and dichotomies of the mind and is best revealed by silence or by the negation of all names and terms.”
David Frawley, Spiritual Secrets of Ayurveda: Tantric Yoga and The Wisdom Goddesses
Put simply, there are subtle bodies (or planes) which overlap one another, and we can explore them. Each are fascinating and educational in themselves, and the search begins by muting chatter. Buddhist texts explain that coarse physical experience occurs on the kama loka, the plane associated with basic pleasure and pain. By strict concentration on physical fluctuations, one “sees through them” to become aware of their precursors on the subtle strata called rupa loka, also known as the “fine material sphere”. Conscious participation on this level becomes possible after concerted practice negating sensory stimulation and discursive rambling. The subtle layer sits between the gross physical and the formless absolute, arupa loka.
Both the yogi and the student of vipassanā perform single-pointed concentration so that the physical world becomes less dominant. As the source of material forms becomes more apparent, the result is happiness, insight, and action with discernment.
Zazen
Zen is a form of Buddhism which developed in Japan from the Chen school of Chinese Mayahana Buddhism. The word “zazen” means to sit in meditation, and the eventual effect is the experience of a non-dual state of being, made possible by remembrance and restful awareness of the subtle body.
Zen is “famously confounding”, says Registered Level 1 Teacher and Zazen exponent, Jacqui de Cleyre. “Zen emphasises that the truth of ourselves and our nature, is ineffable to the physical mind. Zen thus declines to elaborate using explicit language, preferring the use of metaphor and poem. Westerners often find this style of explanation difficult to penetrate.”
There are different schools of Zen, each emphasising different meditation techniques. Some teachers will give beginner students the instruction to count and then visualise the breath, following it in and out of the nostrils.
However, once the student becomes relatively adept and they attain a level of stillness, the technique will shift to remaining in the awareness of the pure self or nature of mind, which is said to be glimpsed between the thoughts.

Zen is known for the use of mindfulness not only when sitting in meditation. Great importance is placed on experiential learning, including samu, or temple work. Jacqui explains, “the practice of complete presence at all times can be performed while doing work, and the Zen tradition is very strong in promoting this. Mindfulness in action trains the physical personality to let go of various forms of grasping and aversion, instead becoming attentive to experiences within the moment. Buddhist concepts of impermanence and interdependence are absorbed in a granular fashion, rather than by explicit instruction.”
Zazen teachings emphasise non-duality and realisation of our true nature as a vast and super-physical entity which also contains the ordinary material bodies.
Of particular note is the concept of turning the light around (eko hensho). This is the process of becoming aware of awareness, rather like using practices of yoga to awaken kuṇḍalinī, who is mostly dormant by default, waiting for worthy students to let go of their obsession with the material world.
We turn her upward to face the universal light, so that she elevates the human into finer planes of existence.
Cease practice based
On intellectual understanding,
Pursuing words and
Following after speech.
Learn the backward
Step that turns
Your light inward
To illuminate within.
Body and mind of themselves
Will drop away
And your original face will be manifest.
— Dogen
The use of koan – perplexing poems, riddles, questions or statements – is unique to Zen. Jacqui notes that “koan share common features with Vedic mantra – they are given directly by teacher to student and are the object of contemplation until the mind merges completely with the koan, resulting in realisation. In some schools, the koan is distilled into a word or phrase which is then contemplated in a very similar fashion to the seed (bija) sounds of Vedic Meditation.”
Koan are deliberately paradoxical in nature, and often have the effect of shocking the monkey mind into silence. When it is silent, we catch glimpses of what is behind it, the non-dual substratum of existence that Zen masters call “original face”. Paralysis of the physical mind in this way is a hallmark of Zen, and in the Vedic traditions it is called acintyabhedābheda.
Sozan, one of the early masters of the Soto Zen tradition, describes the process:
“As a beginner, knowing there is something fundamental in oneself, when one turns the light around (shifts attention from sense experience to the essence of mind) one ejects form, sound, smell, flavour, touch, and phenomena, and attains tranquility. Then, after fully accomplishing this, one does not grasp the sense data but descends among them without being blinded, letting them be, without interference.”
The experience of the “original face” through “turning the light around” can be said to be the same as the experience of samādhi discussed in yogic texts, though samādhi is called satori which means roughly “awakening.” The realisation of the true nature of the self, as an expanded piece of the universe, is completely in line with nondual yogic philosophy.
Conclusion
Sometimes there appears to be conflict between traditions of the Far East. But many scholars and practitioners agree that even when texts seem to differ, there is great similarity in experience of the states. Gregor Maehle points out there is “an amazing overlap” between the eight jhana-s and the eight samadhi-s, even if there is a difference in interpretation after the event.
Even more generally, there can seem to be a difference between modern styles of meditation, regardless of their scriptural origin. Surely there is a limit to the useful application of intellect in honing a declaration of the right or preferred method, and the experts agree. Craig Hasset of Meditation Australia and Monash University’s Centre for Consciousness and Contemplative Studies said he enjoys “anything from the Shankara tradition, Nisargadatta Maharaj, Ramana Maharishi, Plato, Zen, Sufi writers and Shakespeare”.
There is far more common ground than what is observed on the surface.
In the midst of material existence, when diversity comes together, we find what is known as non-dual awareness. By reducing repetitive monologue, we find the larger part of ourselves that is quietly and joyfully confident, general in approach, eager, uplifting, and the source of inspired ideas that seem to come from nowhere.
About the Author
Josh Pryor is CEO of Yoga Australia and a Level 3 Registered Teacher. A specialist in Mysore Style yoga, Josh’s approach is light-hearted and enthusiastic. Josh is the author of two books, including The Seer Sets the Seen: Cosmic Keys to Manifestation, a new translation and commentary of Dṛg Dṛśya Viveka, a 14th century text on the nature of the subtle body.