Vijñāna Bhairava: the 112 dhāraṇās

Bhairava said: Upward goes prāṇa, downward goes jīva; the supreme one, whose nature is visarga, utters herself. At the place where the two arise, by being filled, the state of fullness abides.

When the breath, within or without, does not turn back at the two spaces, then, O Bhairavī, the body of Bhairava is revealed through Bhairavī.

When śakti in the form of breath, expanded, neither goes out nor comes in, then through her, by freedom from thought-constructs in the middle, comes the state of Bhairava.

When the breath is held, or released, or drawn in, then at its end, through śakti, the one named the Peaceful shines forth as peace.

From the meeting of the two breaths, within or outside, at their end, the yogī becomes a vessel for the arising of the knowledge of sameness.

Let one contemplate her, shining like a ray from the root, subtler than the subtle, as she comes to rest in the dvādaśānta: Bhairava arises.

Rising in the form of lightning, from cakra to cakra, step by step, upward as far as three fists: at its end comes the great arising.

The sequence of twelve, rightly pierced by the twelve letters: abiding in the gross, the subtle and the supreme, letting go and letting go, at the end there is Śiva.

Having swiftly filled it up to the crown of the head, having broken through with the bridge of the contracted brows, having made the mind free of thought-constructs, above all comes the rising of the all-pervading.

Placing the mind within the skull and remaining with eyes closed, gradually, by the steadiness of the mind, one should discern the highest goal.

The central channel stands in the middle. Through that Goddess, in form like a lotus-stalk fibre, meditated on as the inner sky, the God shines forth.

With the hands as a weapon closing the eyes, by piercing at the brows, by shutting the doors: when the bindu is seen and gradually dissolves, in its midst is the supreme state.

For one who meditates on the bindu, shaped like a subtle mark of fire born of the stirring within the abode, at the top of the crest or in the heart, at the end of its dissolving there is dissolution.

With the senses dissolved in the space of the heart, gone into the middle of the closed lotus, with a mind on nothing else, O fortunate one, one attains the supreme good fortune.

Through the dissolution of the mind in the dvādaśānta, on every side of one's own body, the mark of reality, made firm, comes forth for one of firm understanding.

In whatever way and wherever, one should cast the mind into the dvādaśānta. For one whose mental activity wanes moment by moment, an extraordinary state arises within days.

Having meditated on śakti, thick and thin, in the field of the dvādaśānta, then entering the heart and meditating there, one is freed and attains independence.

By closing all the streams, with the prāṇa-śakti rising slowly upward, at the moment of a touch like an ant's, the supreme happiness spreads.

With the tongue in the middle and the mouth opened wide, placing awareness in the middle, and uttering the sound ha with the mind, one then dissolves into peace.

Through lack of power or lack of knowing toward objects, or through the dissolution of the mind, at the end of the agitation of the absorption into śakti that arises, is the form of Bhairava.

One who is immersed in the sound-Brahman, the unstruck, heard by the ear that is a fit vessel, the unbroken sound rushing like a river, attains the supreme Brahman.

By uttering the praṇava and the others, by contemplating the void at the end of the prolonged sound, through the supreme śakti which is void, one attains voidness, O Bhairavī.

Of any letter whatever, let one contemplate its beginning and its end. Through the void, that person becomes void, of the form of void.

In the long sounds of stringed and other instruments, sounding in sequence, one whose mind is on nothing else, at each one's end, becomes of the body of the supreme space.

Through the sequence of the gross letters of any compound mantra, ending in the half-moon, bindu and nāda, by uttering the void one becomes Śiva.

For one who repeats the sound A, without bindu and without visarga, a great flood of knowledge, the supreme Lord, arises suddenly, O Goddess.

Of a letter that carries visarga, set your awareness at the end of the visarga. With a mind that has no support, one would touch the eternal Brahman.

Contracting the ears, and likewise the lower door, meditating on what is without vowel and without consonant, one enters the eternal Brahman.

An additional verse: the Kashmir Series edition of 1936 prints it only as an addition and does not count it among the 112. It is given here whole.

He makes all resound with light, he gives all, he pervades the whole: through unbroken utterance of the word Bhairava in this sense, one becomes Śiva.

Eternal, all-pervading, supportless, omnipresent, lord of all: meditating on these words at every moment, one is fulfilled in accordance with their meaning.

For one who meditates on the five voids as the variegated circles of a peacock's feather, there is entry into the heart, into the unsurpassed void.

In just this sequence, contemplation anywhere at all, on a void, on a wall, on a supreme vessel, is itself absorbed and grants the boon.

In one's own body one should contemplate space, extending in all directions at once. For one whose mind is free of thought-constructs, everything becomes space.

One who contemplates at once the void at the back and the void at the root becomes void-minded through a śakti that does not depend on the body. One should steadily contemplate the void at the back, the void at the root and the void in the heart. Through being free of thought-constructs all at once, the thought-free state then arises.

Should one contemplate, free of thought, voidness alone in the region of the body even for a moment, one becomes free of thought and partakes of the thought-free nature.

O doe-eyed one, one should contemplate all the substance present in the body as pervaded by space. Then that contemplation of his becomes steady.

One should think of the layer of skin within the body as a wall, with nothing inside it. Meditating so, one comes to share in that which cannot be meditated upon.

O great Goddess, one should contemplate this universe as having become void. The mind too dissolves right there, and then one becomes a vessel of that dissolution.

One should cast the gaze into a jar or another vessel, leaving aside its walls. Entering its dissolution in that instant, through that dissolution one becomes one with it.

One should cast the gaze on a place without trees, mountains, walls and the like. When the mental state has dissolved, one becomes free of mental activity.

Gazing at the stainless sky, making the gaze unbroken, the self held still, at that very moment, O Goddess, one attains the form of Bhairava.

An additional verse: the Kashmir Series edition of 1936 prints it only as an addition and does not count it among the 112. It is given here whole.

Let one contemplate the whole sky, dissolved in the head, as Bhairava. Then all of it enters the essence of the radiance that has the form of Bhairava.

Let one meditate on one's own self as having the form of space, unenclosed by the directions. Then the supportless śakti that is consciousness reveals its own nature.

Standing at the top of a great pit such as a well and gazing into it, for one whose mind is free of thought-constructs, dissolution of the mind clearly occurs at once.

When some other object is being known, there is emptiness in all objects. Meditating on that very emptiness with the mind, even while knowing, one becomes tranquil.

What cannot be known, what cannot be grasped, what is empty, what reaches into non-being: all that should be contemplated as Bhairava. At the end of that, awakening arises.

Placing the mind in outer space, which is eternal, without support, empty, all-pervading and free of all limiting measure, one should enter the spaceless.

One should contemplate one's own city as burnt by the fire of time, risen from the seat of time. At the end, a state of peace then appears.

In the same way, having meditated on the whole world as burnt, through imagination, the person whose mind is on nothing else attains the supreme state of the Person.

When space is made many-coloured by the light of the sun, a lamp and the like, the gaze should be set right there. The form of one's own self shines forth.

Through the Karaṅkiṇī, the Krodhanā, the Bhairavī, the Lelihānā and the Khecarī, and at the time of seeing, the attainment of the supreme shines forth.

What is known in part brings duality; outer light, and darkness again. Knowing the universe and the rest as the form of Bhairava, one becomes a bearer of endless light.

In just this way, on a dark night, at the coming of the dark fortnight, contemplating the form of darkness for a long time, one will attain the form of Bhairava.

In just this way, first closing the eyes and spreading out the darkness before one, contemplating it as the form of Bhairava, one becomes one with it.

One should remember the whole world, or one's own body, as filled with one's own bliss. All at once, by one's own nectar, one becomes full of supreme bliss.

O doe-eyed one, by the practice of tickling, great bliss arises at once, by which reality shines.

One should cast the mind, full of happiness, into the middle between fire and poison, either alone or filled with breath. One is joined with the bliss of love.

The happiness that comes at the close of absorption in śakti, stirred up by union with a śakti, is the happiness of the Brahman-reality; that happiness is called one's own.

Even in the absence of a śakti, O Queen of the gods, a flood of bliss arises from the fullness of memory of the pleasure with a woman, of licking, rubbing and pressing.

When great joy has come, or when a kinsman is seen after a long time, having meditated on the joy that has risen, absorbed in it, one should become one with it in mind.

From the spreading of the joy of savour and the delight produced by eating and drinking, one should contemplate the state of fullness. From that, great bliss arises.

For the yogī who becomes one with the unequalled happiness of tasting objects such as song, through being absorbed in it, his mind rising into it, there is identity with that.

Wherever the mind finds satisfaction, there alone one should hold the mind. There and there, the nature of supreme bliss comes forth.

Through the obstruction and restraint of any sense whatever, for one who has entered the non-dual void, there the Self shines.

First piercing some part of the body with a sharp needle or the like, then joining awareness to that very spot, there is a pure passage into Bhairava.

Wherever, through the path of the senses, the consciousness of the all-pervading one is manifest, since that has this nature alone, through dissolution into consciousness comes fullness of self.

Seeing a desire that has suddenly arisen, let one bring it to rest. From the very place it arose, into that same place it dissolves.

When no desire or knowledge had arisen in me, who then was I? In truth I am that. Absorbed in that, one becomes of that mind.

When desire or knowledge has arisen, let one set the mind on it, regarding it as the Self, with mind on nothing else. Then comes the seeing of reality.

In the range of desire, anger, greed, delusion, pride and envy, making the intellect still, that reality remains.

Let one not cast the mind into pain, nor throw it into pleasure. O Bhairavī, let it be known what reality remains in the middle.

At the start and end of a sneeze, in fear, in grief, in a chasm, or on fleeing from battle, at the start and end of curiosity or hunger, there is a state filled with the being of Brahman.

The kind of understanding that arises in one who is dispassionate, through an overflowing of devotion, is the śakti of Śaṅkara. Let one contemplate it always; from that, Śiva.

Equal toward enemy and friend, equal in honour and dishonour, knowing that Brahman is wholly full, one should be happy.

One should not cultivate aversion toward anything, nor cultivate attachment toward anything. When one is freed from attachment and aversion, Brahman spreads forth in the middle.

Having meditated on the tattvas of one's own body or of the world, the subtle and the subtler, as dissolving, at the end the Supreme is revealed.

One should contemplate the whole, step by step, in the form of the path of worlds and the other paths, in its gross, subtle and supreme states, until at the end the mind dissolves.

Having meditated, by the procedure of the paths, on the reality of Śiva at the furthest bounds of this whole universe on every side, there is the great arising.

In the knowing of any two things, having meditated, one should rest in the middle. Abandoning both at once, in the middle reality shines.

When one thing is let go, the mind, held back, should not go to another thing. Then, through its middle state, the contemplation opens out greatly.

One should contemplate the whole body, or the world, as made of consciousness. With a mind free of thought-constructs all at once, there is the supreme arising.

Let one contemplate: within me there is no inner faculty such as the mind. Through the absence of thought-constructs, one becomes free of thought-constructs.

Māyā is by name the deluder; the work of kalā is to limit. Contemplating such properties of the tattvas, one does not remain separate.

Knowledge is without cause, without support, and deceptive in nature. In truth it belongs to no one. One who contemplates thus is Śiva, dear one.

The nature of consciousness is in all bodies; nowhere is there any difference. And so a person who contemplates everything as made of that conquers worldly existence.

For one who meditates on the universe as a magic show, or as scattered like a painting, or all of it as whirling, and who sees it so, joy arises.

Giving up attachment to one's own body, contemplating that I am everywhere, with a firm mind and a gaze that looks at nothing else, one becomes happy.

The knowledge of a pot and other things, or desire and the rest, is not within me alone; it has arisen everywhere. Contemplating thus, one becomes all-pervading.

Awareness of object and subject is common to all embodied beings. For yogis, however, there is a distinction: attentiveness to their relation.

Let one feel awareness in another's body just as in one's own. Setting aside regard for one's own body, one becomes all-pervading in days.

Making the mind supportless, let one not form thought-constructs. Then, the self being the supreme Self, there is Bhairava, O doe-eyed one.

The supreme Lord is all-knowing, the doer of all, and pervasive. I am he alone, of the nature of Śiva. By firmness in this, one becomes Śiva.

As waves belong to water, the play of flames to fire, light to the sun, so these waves of the universe, made distinct, belong to me alone, Bhairava.

Wherever the mind goes, outside or within, there, there is the state of Śiva. Since it is all-pervading, where will the mind go?

When things are being remembered, or in a place once seen, let one let go of the mind. Making one's own body supportless, the Lord spreads forth.

Placing the gaze on some object, let one slowly draw it back. That knowledge, together with the mind, O Goddess, would become an abode of the void.

The purity laid down by those who know only a little is, in the view of Śambhu, no purity; it is in fact impurity. Therefore one should become free of mental constructs and be happy.

Bhairava is the being in all things, perceptible even in ordinary things; and apart from him there is no other. Such is the non-dual way.

Wherever the mind goes, at that very instant one should give up each such thing by that very mind; by not letting it settle anywhere, one then becomes waveless.

On the occasion of notions such as I, mine and this, the mind goes to the supportless; impelled by that meditation, one becomes tranquil.

All this that stands here is without reality, like a magic show. What reality does a magic show have? Through firmness in this, one should go to peace.

For the self, which is changeless, where is knowing and where is action? External things depend on knowing; therefore this world is empty.

For me there is no bondage, and no liberation for me; these are terrors for the frightened. This is a reflection of the intellect, like the sun in waters.

All contact with pleasure, pain and the rest comes through the doors of the senses. Thus, having let go of the senses, one rests in oneself and abides in one's own self.

All things are revealed by knowing, and the self is the revealer through all things. Because they are of one nature, knowing and the known are contemplated as one.

Mind, awareness, śakti and self: when this fourfold, dear one, has wholly waned, then that is the form of Bhairava.

When sleep has not yet come and the outer world has vanished, that state is to be reached by the mind. The supreme Goddess shines forth.

On a soft seat, resting on one buttock, placing the hands and feet without support, through that the mind becomes supreme and full.

Sitting well on a seat, making the arms half-bent, and setting the mind in the space of the armpits, one comes to peace through dissolution in it.

Letting a fixed gaze fall on some object of gross form, and soon making the mind supportless, one should go to Śiva.

Seated on a seat or lying on a bed, contemplating one's own body as without support, when the mind wanes, in a moment one's latent impressions wane.

Or, for one seated on a moving seat, or by slowly swaying the body, when the state of the mind has grown calm, O Goddess, one attains the divine flood.

Whirling and whirling with the body, then by falling quickly to the ground, through the ceasing of the force of agitation, the supreme state arises.

Hear this traditional teaching, O Goddess; I tell it fully. Kaivalya arises at once when the eyes are simply held still.