Nirvitarka [samāpatti], “absorption without conceptualization,” occurs when memory has been purged and the mind is empty, as it were, of its own [reflective] nature. Now only the object [of meditation] shines forth [in its own right].

Bryant Commentary:

Vyāsa explains that when the mind has been purged of all saṁskāric memory in terms of any recognition of what the object of meditation is, or what its name or function are, smṛti–pariśuddhau, that is, when it allows itself to be colored exclusively by the object of focus itself without any cognitive analysis of the object’s place in the greater scheme of things and without the normal instinctive impulse to identify it and recall its name, then the yogī has attained the stage of nirvitarka–samāpatti, or nirvitarka–samādhi. In this state, the mind has also given up its own nature of being an organ of knowledge, svarūpa–śūnya, in other words, awareness is not even aware of the mind as being an instrument channeling awareness onto an object. In a sense, all knowledge of the object as conventionally understood has been suspended, and the mind has completely transformed itself into the object, free from any cognitive identification or self-awareness. The object can now shine forth in its own right as an object with its own inherent existence, artha–mātra–nirbhāsa, free from labels, categorizations, or situatedness in the grand scheme of things. Additionally, we can note that the object has in effect become the yogī’s entire universe, since awareness is focused exclusively on it and is thus unaware of anything else, even the cognitive process itself.

A brief discussion of the two stages of conventional perception as understood by a number of Indic philosophical traditions, including (with differences in vocabulary) Sāṅkhya, is useful here. In essence, when for instance, one ambles along the road and encounters an unexpected object, one first becomes aware of it in a vague sort of way, as raw sense data, without assigning a name or identification to it, like the preconceptual awareness of an infant. After this moment, the mind processes the data, and memory saṁskāras identify the object in terms of its specific name, the category of thing that it is, and its function in the grand scheme of things, for example, “This is a red clay pot for carrying water.” The first stage of indeterminate awareness is called nirvikalpa, and the second, savikalpa. Thus, in conventional perception, nirvikalpa–pratyakṣa, preverbal, preconceptual awareness, is followed by savikalpa–pratyakṣa, the recognition of name, category, and function of an object, the latter being considered a more exact form of cognition. In samādhi the reverse holds true—savitarka, when there is still awareness of an object’s name and function, is superseded by nirvitarka, where the object stands out freed from the mental clutter of naming, identification, and recognition. Thus, in contrast to mundane perception, in samādhi, nirvitarka is considered to be a higher level of awareness.

By definition, then, nirvitarka–samādhi is a state beyond the ability of words and concepts to describe (so a commentary on sūtras such as this is a priori somewhat oxymoronic). Vijñānabhikṣu adds that words and ideas are subject to error, and thus so are inference and scripture, since they are composed of words. Therefore, one must turn to a guru who has experienced such states. Even then, says Vijñānabhikṣu, despite the fact that the guru may have realized the true nature of things, it is not possible to give experiential insight into such things through words, any more than one can convey the actual taste of sugarcane and milk through words to one who has not experienced them. Therefore, ultimately, one returns to the yogic truism that one must experience these states for oneself. Analyses such as this are useful only insofar as they might inspire individuals to take up the actual practice of yoga.

When one has attained this stage, says Hariharānanda, one loses any attachment to wealth and family, etc., as one sees all such things as essentially combinations of elements and subtle energies.

Tapas (Austerity Or Sturdy Self-Discipline—Mental, Moral And Physical), Svadhyaya (Repetition Of Sacred Mattras Or Study Of Sacred Literature) And Isvara-Pranidhana (Complete Surrender To God) Are Kriya-Yoga (Yoga In The Form Of Action).

Yogic action has three components—discipline, self-study, and orientation toward the ideal of pure awareness.

The practical means for attaining higher consciousness consist of three components: self-discipline and purification, self-study, and devotion to the Lord.

Austerity, self-study and resignation to Isvara constitute preliminary Yoga.

Taimini Commentary:

The last three of the five elements of Niyama enumerated in II-32 have been placed in the above Sutra under the title of Kriya-Yoga. This is rather an unusual procedure and we should try to grasp the significance of this repetition in a book which attempts to condense knowledge to the utmost limit. Obviously, the reason why Tapas, Svadhyaya and Isvara-Pranidhana are mentioned in two different contexts lies in the fact that they serve two different purposes. And since the development of the subject of self-culture in Section II of the Yoga-Sutras is progressive in character it follows that the purpose of these three elements in II-l is of a more preliminary nature than that in II-32. Their purpose in II-32 is the same as that of the other elements of Niyama and has been discussed at the proper place. What is the purpose in the context of II-l? Let us see. 

Anyone who is familiar with the goal of Yogic life and the kind of effort it involves for its attainment will realize that it is neither possible nor advisable for anybody who is absorbed in the life of the world and completely under the influence of Klesas to plunge all at once into the regular practice of Yoga. If he is sufficiently interested in the Yogic philosophy and wants to enter the path which leads to its goal he should first accustom himself to discipline, should acquire the necessary knowledge of the Dharma-Sastras and especially of the Yoga-Sastras and should reduce the intensity of his egoism and all the other Klesas which are derived from it. The difference between the outlook and the life of the ordinary worldly man and the life which the Yogi is required to live is so great that a sudden change from the one to the other is not possible and if attempted may produce a violent reaction in the mind of the aspirant, throwing him back with still greater force into the life of the world. A preparatory period of self-training in which he gradually assimilates the Yogic philosophy and its technique and accustoms himself to self-discipline makes the transition from the one life to the other easier and safer. It also incidentally enables the mere student to find out whether he is sufficiently keen to adopt the Yogic life and make a serious attempt to realize the Yogic ideal. There are too many cases of enthusiastic aspirants who for no apparent reason cool off, or finding the Yogic discipline too irksome, give it up. They are not yet ready for the Yogic life.

Even where there is present the required earnestness and the determination to tread the path of Yoga it is necessary to establish a permanent mood and habit of pursuing its ideal. Mere wishing or willing is not enough. All the mental powers and desires of the Sadhaka should be polarized and aligned with the Yogic ideal. Many aspirants have very confused and sometimes totally wrong ideas with regard to the object and technique of Yoga. Many of them have very exaggerated notions with regard to their earnestness and capacity to tread the path of Yoga. Their ideas become clarified and their capacity and earnestness are tested severely in trying to practise Kriya-Yoga. They either emerge from the preliminary self-discipline with a clearly defined aim and a determination and capacity to pursue it to the end with vigour and single-minded devotion, or they gradually realize that they are not yet ready for the practice of Yoga and decide to tune their aspiration to the lower key of mere intellectual study.

This preparatory self-discipline is triple in its nature corresponding to the triple nature of a human being. Tapas is related to his will, Svadhyaya to the intellect and Isvara-Pranidhana to the emotions. This discipline, therefore, tests and develops all the three aspects of his nature and produces an all-round and balanced growth of the individuality which is so essential for the attainment of any high ideal. This point will become clear when we consider the significance of these three elements of Kriya-Yoga in dealing with II-32.

There exists some confusion with regard to the meaning of the Samskrta word Kriya, some commentators preferring to translate it as ‘preliminary’, others as ‘practical’. As a matter of fact Kriya-Yoga is both practical and preliminary. It is preliminary because it has to be taken up in the initial stages of the practice of Yoga and it is practical because it puts to a practical test the aspirations and earnestness of the Sadhaka and develops in him the capacity to begin the practice of Yoga as distinguished from its mere theoretical study however deep this might be.

Burning zeal in practice, self-study and study of scriptures, and surrender to God are the acts of yoga.

Iyengar Commentary:

For Patañjali, the practice of yoga is the ‘yoga of action’, kriyayoga, composed of tapas, self-discipline, svadhyaya, self-study and Isvara pranidhana, surrender to God.

Tapas is the blazing desire to burn away the impurities of body, senses and mind. Svadhyaya is the repetition of sacred mantras and the study of spiritual sacred texts in order to comprehend one’s own self. Isvara pranidhana is surrender of one’s body, mind and soul to God through love for Him.
Most commentators consider that this pada is intended for novices, and not for those who have already reached a high level of spiritual evolution. This is surely untrue, as sadhana is meant for both. The argument that it is only for those still roaming aimlessly in the world of pleasure does not take account of the fact that this wandering is merely a sign of a fluctuating consciousness, which may remain a problem even for evolved souls. By following the precepts of kriyayoga, all aspirants may learn to live in unshakeable serenity regardless of circumstances.

From this pada onwards, both beginner and evolved soul learn how to stabilize the mind. Its instructions enable the evolved soul to progress more rapidly towards the goal of purity and emancipation.

The disciplines of purifying man’s three constituents, body, speech and mind constitute kriyayoga, the path to perfection. Our bodies are purified by self-discipline (tapas), our words by Self-study (svadhyaya) and our minds by love and surrender to Him (Isvara pranidhana).

This sutra represents the three great paths: karma, jñana and bhakti. The path of action (karma-marga) is the discipline (tapas) of body, senses and mind. The path of knowledge (jnana-marga) is the study of the self (svadhyaya) from the skin to the core and back again. The path of love of God (bhakti-marga) is surrender (pranidhana) of all to God.

Sadhana pada identifies the source of all these paths. The first represents life, the second wisdom. The third, through the surrender of ego, brings the humility that leads to the effulgent, sorrowless light of Isvara, God.
”

Excerpt From
Light on the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali
B. K. S. Iyengar
https://books.apple.com/us/book/light-on-the-yoga-sutras-of-patanjali/id538108384
This material may be protected by copyright.

Accepting pain as help for purification, study of spiritual books and surrender to the Supreme Being constitute Yoga in practice.

Satchidananda Commentary:

Using the Sanskrit terms, Kriyā Yoga comprises tapas, svādhyāya and Īśvara praṇidhāna. Tapas is often misunderstood, because it gets translated as “mortification” or “austerity, ” when it actually stands for something different here. Tapas means “to burn or create heat.” Anything burned out will be purified. The more you fire gold, for example, the more pure it becomes. Each time it goes into the fire, more impurities are removed.

But how can this burning process be effected with our mental impurities? By accepting all the pain that comes to us, even though the nature of the mind is to run after pleasure. We will actually be happy to receive pain if we keep in mind its purifying effects. Such acceptance makes the mind steady and strong because, although it is easy to give pain to others, it is hard to accept without returning it. Such self-discipline obviously cannot be practiced in our meditation rooms, but only in our daily lives as we relate with other people.

Tapas also refers to self-discipline. Normally the mind is like a wild horse tied to a chariot. Imagine the body is the chariot; the intelligence is the charioteer; the mind is the reins; and the horses are the senses. The Self, or true you, is the passenger. If the horses are allowed to gallop without reins and charioteer, the journey will not be safe for the passenger. Although control of the senses and organs often seems to bring pain in the beginning, it eventually ends in happiness. If tapas is understood in this light, we will look forward to pain; we will even thank people who cause it, since they are giving us the opportunity to steady our minds and burn out impurities.

In the seventeenth chapter of the Bhagavad Gītā, Lord Kṛṣṇa [Krishna] talks about tapasya. He says, “Those who practice severe austerities not enjoined by the scriptures; who are given to hypocrisy and egoism, impelled by the forces of lust and attachment; who are senseless; who torture all the elements in the body and Me also who dwells in the body; know thou these to be of demoniacal resolves.” In the name of tapasya people sometimes practice all sorts of self-torture. In the East there are sādhus (ascetics) who lie on beds of nails or keep one arm raised in the air so the arm gets thinner and thinner and finally decays. These are all just forms of self-torture. Lord Kṛṣṇa himself says these people are demons because they disturb the pure Self who dwells within their bodies. Self-discipline is an aid to spiritual progress, whereas self-torture is an obstacle.

Lord Kṛṣṇa divides the true austerities into three groups: physical, verbal and mental. He classifies worship, purity, straightforwardness, celibacy and non-injury as the austerities of the body. Many people immediately come to the conclusion that physical tapasya is not suitable for them. The moment they hear the word “celibacy” they become dismayed. But brahmacarya, or celibacy, means control, not suppression, of the sex desire or sex force. If the mind can be filled with sublime thoughts by meditation, mantra repetition, prayer, study of scriptures and contemplation of the sexless, pure Self, the sex desire will be devitalized by the withdrawal of the mind. On the other hand, suppression of sexual desire will attach you to it again and again, producing wet dreams, irritability and mental restlessness. So the mind should be purified first; then it is easy to control the senses. Strict control over the senses alone will lead to difficulties instead of spiritual progress.

The next tapas is austerity of speech. Speech should bring tranquility and be truthful, pleasant and beneficial. As the Vedic teaching goes, “Satyam bruvat priyam bruvat.” “Speak what is true, speak what is pleasant.” And one should not speak what is true if it is not pleasant, nor what is pleasant if it is false. If something is true and unpleasant, we should make it more pleasant by presenting it in a proper way. And mental austerity is described by Śrī Kṛṣṇa as serenity of mind, goodheartedness, self-control and purity of nature.

Next comes svādhyāya, or study. This means study that concerns the true Self, not merely analyzing the emotions and mind as the psychologists and psychiatrists do. Anything that will elevate your mind and remind you of your true Self should be studied: the Bhagavad Gītā, the Bible, the Koran, these Yoga Sūtras or any uplifting scripture. Study does not just mean passing over the pages. It means trying to understand every word— studying with the heart. The more often you read them, the more you understand. For thousands of years, so many people have been studying the Bible. Every day, thousands of people read this same book. On the other hand, we have millions and millions of books that, after we read them once, we throw away as trash. We don’t exhaust the Bible even after reading it hundreds of times. Each time we read it we see it in a new light. That is the greatness of the holy scriptures. They are that way because they were created by holy prophets who experienced the truth. Each time we read these works we elevate ourselves to see a little more.

It is something like going to the Empire State Building. When you look out of a first floor window you see something. From the second floor, you see a little more; from the third floor, still more. But when you finally reach the hundred and first floor and look over the balcony, you see something completely different.

Similarly, in reading the scriptures, we slowly rise up, expanding and enlarging the mind. The more we elevate the mind, the better our understanding is. But only when we become prophets ourselves will we fully understand the scriptures. That is nature’s law. If you want to understand me fully, you must become me. Otherwise, you can understand me only according to your own capacity. In the same way, God cannot be understood by books alone. God can only be understood when you become God. A Tamil proverb says, “Only a saint knows a saint. Only a snake knows the leg of another snake.” You cannot exactly understand how a snake crawls unless you become a snake. We can hear things, study, form our own opinions, use our imagination, but nothing can equal experience.

Many people simply become walking libraries. They have thousands of books recorded in their brains like computers, but that doesn’t mean they have actually experienced the Self. The Self cannot be known by theory alone. By merely thinking, no one has ever understood the One that is beyond the mind. Only when you transcend the mind can you understand it. This is where Yoga differs from most other psychological approaches. They usually believe you have to understand everything with the mind and that beyond it you cannot understand anything. They stop there, but Yoga claims there is a knowledge possible without the mind. All that you know through the mind is limited and conditioned. How is the limited mind to understand the Unlimited One? Only by transcending it and getting into the unlimited.

Study is all right—but not for mere logic, quoting or fighting. Actually, it is only when you “quote” from your own experience that your words have weight. Sri Ramakrishna Paramahamsa used to say, “Forget all you have learned; become a child again. Then it will be easy to realize that wisdom.” Sometimes, learning becomes an obstacle if you don’t know what and how much to learn. So, limit your reading and put into practice what you read. Just select one or two books—anything that will remind you of your goal.

The last part of Kriyā Yoga is simple but great. It is surrendering to the Supreme Being. I understand this to mean dedicating the fruits of your actions to God or to humanity—God in manifestation. Dedicate everything—your study, your japa, your practices—to God. When you offer such things, God accepts them but then gives them back many times magnified. You never lose what you have given. Even virtuous, meritorious deeds will bind you in some form or other if you do them with an egoistic feeling. Every time you do something, feel, “May this be dedicated to God.” If you constantly remember to do this, the mind will be free and tranquil. Try not to possess anything for yourself. Temporarily keep things but feel you are just a trustee, not an owner.

Be like the mother who receives a soul, nourishes it for nine months and then lets it come out into the world. If the mother were always to keep the baby in her womb, what would happen? There would be great pain. Once something has ripened, it should be passed on. So dedication is true Yoga. Say, “I am Thine. All is Thine. Thy will be done.” Mine binds; Thine liberates. If you drop “mines” all over, they will “undermine” your life—or blow up in your face. But if you change all the “mines” to Thines, you will always be safe.

Let us all dedicate our lives for the sake of the entire humanity. With every minute, every breath, every atom of our bodies we should repeat this mantra: “dedication, dedication, giving, giving, loving, loving.” That is the best japa, the best Yoga which will bring us all permanent peace and joy and keep the mind free from the disturbances of the citta vṛttis.

The Samadhi called without reasoning (comes) when the memory is purified, or devoid of qualities, expressing only the meaning (of the meditated object).

Vivekananda Commentary:

It is by practice of meditation of these three that we come to the state where these three do not mix. We can get rid of them. We will first try to understand what these three are. Here is the Chitta; you will always remember the simile of the lake, the mind-stuff, and the vibration, the word, the sound, like a pulsation coming over it. You have that calm lake in you, and I pronounce a word, “cow.” As soon as it enters through your ears there is a wave produced in your Chitta along with it. So that wave represents the idea of the cow, the form or the meaning as we call it. That apparent cow that you know is really that wave in the mind-stuff, and that comes as a reaction to the internal and external soundvibrations, and with the sound, the wave dies away; that wave can never exist without a word. You may ask how it is when we only think of the cow, and do not hear a sound. You make that sound yourself. You are saying “cow” faintly in your mind, and with that comes a wave. There cannot be any wave without this impulse of sound, and when it is not from outside it is from inside, and when the sound dies, the wave dies. What remains? The result of the reaction, and that is knowledge. These three are so closely combined in our mind that we cannot separate them. When the sound comes, the senses vibrate, and the wave rises in reaction; they follow so closely upon one another that there is no discerning one from the other; when this meditation has been practiced for a long time, memory, the receptacle of all impressions, becomes purified, and wwe are able clearly to distinguish them from one another. This is called “Nirvitarka,” concentration without reasoning. 

“ Now,” — This word here denotes undertaking. A text giving a revised critical teaching of Yoga is to be understood as having been undertaken.

Yoga is contemplation (Samadhi, trance), and it is a characteristic of the mind pervading all its planes. The planes of the mind are : —

Wandering (Ksipta) ; Forgetful (Mudha) ; Occasionally steady or distracted (Viksipta) ; One-pointed (Ekagra) ; and Restrained (Niruddha).

Of these the contemplation in the occasionally steady mind does not fall under the heading of Yoga, because of unsteadiness appearing in close sequence. That however, which in the one-pointed mind, fully shows forth an object existing as such in its most perfect form, removes the afflictions, loosens the bonds of karma and thus inclines it towards restraint, is said to be the Cognitive Trance <f?ainprajh6ta Samfidhi). And we shall explain further that this is accompanied by philosophical curiosity (vitarka), meditation (vichara), bliss (Amanda), and egoism (asmita).

When however all the modifications come under restraint, the trance is ultra-cognitive (Asamprajnata Samadhi).

~ Rāma Prasāda translation.