The states of samādhi with “subtle awareness” and without “subtle awareness,” whose objects of focus are the subtle nature [of things], are explained in the same manner.

Bryant Commentary:

I should note again that terms such as “subtle awareness” are somewhat artificial attempts at finding English equivalents to technical Sanskrit terms. In point of fact, the Sanskrit terms themselves may also be something of an artificiality, since they are standard terms in Indic philosophical treatises that carry different meanings in other contexts but are appropriated by Patañjali as labels to point to supernormal states of consciousness (just as, say, we appropriate existing Latin terms to denote new and previously unknown species of flora we might discover). As the purport of terms such as nirvitarkā indicates, how can a term denote something that is by its very definition beyond word and meaning? Be that as it may, it is best, in my view, to retain the Sanskrit terms, rather than perpetuate clumsy English translations, which sometimes can be just as abstruse and incomprehensible and thus are of no greater usefulness to the reader than the Sanskrit terms they replace.

Vicāra–samādhi is the second of the four stages of samādhi in I.17, and, like vitarka, is here also separated into two subdivisions of sa-, with, and nir-, without. The overall difference between savitarka– and nirvitarka–samāpatti, and savicāra– and nirvicāra–samāpatti, as noted in I.17, Vyāsa reminds us, is that the former focus is on the gross physical elements that comprise an object, and the latter is on the subtle elements, sūkṣma–viṣayatvam, that underpin these gross elements in objects. Vijñānabhikṣu defines “subtle” as that which is the source or cause of something that evolves from it (recall that the gross elements are evolutes from the subtle elements, which are thereby their causes). Additionally, the subtle aspects of prakṛti cannot be perceived by the gross senses; as noted, subtler things can be perceived only by things even subtler than themselves.

The implication of this from the Sāṅkhyan perspective on this sūtra is that one can experience an object as consisting of the gross elements—earth, air, water, fire, and ether—as is the case in conventional perception, or one can penetrate this immediate and more physical nature of the object and perceive it as consisting of the essences underpinning these elements—the subtle essences of sound, touch, taste, sight, smell, which are the sources from which the gross elements evolve. This is the perception arising in savicāra–samādhi. Vijñānabhikṣu gives an outline here of the Yoga understanding of how aṇus, the smallest subatomic particles of gross matter, which form the basis of vitarka perception, are produced from their causes, the subtle elements. Vicāra, then, is when meditative focus becomes absorbed in the tanmātras, the subtle elements underpinning any object of meditation.

This process of penetrating into the subtle or essential nature of an object might be analogous to seeing a piece of ice as a hard chunk of solid substance, or perceiving its deeper nature as essentially the fluid element of water, or, deeper still, as solidified vapor. And one can go further in the analogy and see all of these as a combination of yet finer entities—hydrogen and oxygen molecules—and these can in turn be dissolved into their still finer subatomic physical constituents. As this principle that a gross object is in fact constituted of finer and then still finer energies and elements holds good in modern physics, so it does for Sāṅkhyan physics. One difference is that in modern science, the atomic or subatomic structures of matter can be perceived only by advanced mechanical instrumentation, or inferred as existing, whereas Patañjali and the Yoga tradition claim that the yogī can actually and personally perceive or, more accurately, experience with the mind the subtle essences of an object without any such props. They are directly experiential, since the subtle (and gross) elements are evolutes of a substratum of mind stuff, and the Sāṅkhyan principle is that subtler dimensions of prakṛti can experience grosser ones. In other words, since one’s mind is composed of the same substance as the buddhi substratum of any object, gross or subtle, it can blend with this substratum and thus percolate the object intimately from within, so to speak.

When the intensity of focus on the object of meditation deepens such that the yogī penetrates its gross externalization and experiences the object as consisting of subtle elements, the tanmātras, but subtle elements circumscribed as existing in time and space, then the ensuing concentrative state of awareness is known as savicāra. In other words, in savicāra meditation, an object is perceived as consisting of subtle elements, but the object is still experienced as existing in the present time, rather than in the past or future, and is still bounded by space, that is, it is taking up some distinct physical space in the presence of the meditator rather than being situated anywhere else. Briefly put, at this stage, the yogī still has some level of awareness of space and time. All this will become clearer when contrasted with nirvicāra below.

When, on the other hand, the yogī can focus on the object unconditioned by such dimensionality, when he or she can focus not just on the subtle nature of an object but can transcend space and time and perceive that these subtle essences pervade and underpin all things at all times, then the yogī has attained the state of nirvicāra. In this state, the yogī is no longer aware of dimensionality and temporality—the here and now. The object is no longer a distinct object taking up extension in a portion of space different from other spatial objects and existing in the present, rather than any other time, because the yogī experiences the subtle elements of the object as underpinning all objects at all times. In other words, the form of the object dissolves, as it were, under the power of the yogī’s focus, and the yogī now is simply experiencing vibrant subtle energies pervading all reality everywhere and eternally.

Hariharānanda uses the sun as a rough but useful example for the four types of samāpatti. Savitarka–samādhi is analogous to focusing without distraction on the sun, cognizing it as an object of a certain shape composed of fire atoms and situated at a certain distance, with some intuitive awareness of its name and function in the natural scheme of things. Nirvitarka–samādhi can be compared to the deepening of one’s focus until one sees the sun only as a luminous object in the heavens but without awareness of its name, size, distance, function, shape, composition, etc. Savicāra corresponds to perceiving that the fire element of the sun is actually the tanmātra, subtle element, of light, but one’s awareness is still circumscribed by the specific location of the sun in the universe and by the fact that it is perceived in the present, rather than the past or future. When, however, all awareness of Space and Time dissolves, and one sees the pure light, devoid of color, pervading not just the sun but all things at all times, in other words, one is aware only of omnipresent eternal light, then one’s meditative state is known as nirvicāra.

We can now return to Śaṅkara’s claim that the recitation of oṁ along the lines indicated in these sūtras culminates in a supersensory face-to-face encounter with Īśvara: “By the perfection of repetition [of oṁ] and meditation on the supreme Īśvara, the supreme ātman (paramātman) situated in the highest place (parameṣṭhin) shines forth for the yogī.” Given the centrality of the chanting (japa) of oṁ, it is important to bring the greater insight from the technical information of these sūtras to bear on the discussion of the recitation of oṁ initiated in I.28, following Coward (1985).

In the savitarka stage of chanting, oṁ is mixed up with the conventional meanings and ideas that we now know define vitarka meditation—perhaps a mental image of Īśvara derived from the deity in one’s local temple, or from some painting, or the sectarian tradition in which one has been raised or to which one has dedicated oneself. One’s mental notions of Īśvara will be molded by one’s saṁsāric background and saṁskāric makeup. Therefore, at the savitarka stage of samādhi, one’s chanting is obscured by these conventional notions of conceiving Īśvara. At the nirvitarka stage, these are eliminated, and Īśvara begins to manifest from the sound oṁ in his own pure nature, unobstructed by the concocted images and associations that the yogī has fostered. At the third stage of savicāra, as the citta’s focus on the recitation of the mantra deepens, one penetrates into the inner essence of the sound and actually begins to experience, that is, directly perceive, Īśvara in his pure sāttvic body. The yogī’s mind is now so completely absorbed in this vision of Īśvara that he or she has lost all self-awareness. One forgets one’s own self in the rapture of this divine vision (but, it is imperative to note, contra advaita Vedānta, one nonetheless always remains a distinct individual). In the final stage, one’s absorption in this vision of Īśvara is extracted from any notion of Time and Space, and Īśvara (and the sound of oṁ of which Īśvara is the seed) is experienced as the infinite and eternal Supreme Being.

There is some difference among commentators, both traditional and modern, regarding whether there are six or eight levels of samprajñata–samādhi. Vācaspati Miśra suggests that just as there are sa– and nir– forms of vitarka and vicāra, by a parallel logic there should be sa– and nir– forms of ānanda and asmitā. In other words, Vācaspati Miśra envisions sānanda and nirānanda as well as sāsmitā and nirasmitā, resulting in eight stages of samprajñāta–samādhi. Vijñānabhikṣu specifically disagrees with Vācaspati Miśra on this point, rightly in my view. First, he says, there is no authority for such a claim; in other words, neither Patañjali nor Vyāsa mentions any such subdivision of ānanda and asmitā. But in any event, ānanda means bliss and asmitā means awareness of consciousness, he says, and there simply are no states corresponding to nirānanda, without bliss, or nirasmitā, without awareness of consciousness, at this lofty stage of enlightenment.

Recent analyses, both scholarly and from the yogic tradition itself, have accommodated themselves around both sides of the issue. My own view is that it is a priori in Vijñānabhikṣu’s favor that neither Patañjali nor Vyāsa mentions such a taxonomy. Most obviously and simply, this sūtra specifically states that savicāra and nirvicāra are to be vyākhyāta, explained, in the same way; if Patañjali had intended sānanda and nirānanda and sāsmitā and nirasmitā to be explained in the same fashion, he would have specified this here. And if one argues that, out of sūtraic briefness, he chose not to do so, Vyāsa would have certainly been expected to fill in the gap. The difference of views, however, remains valid, and I acknowledge that I found Koelman’s speculative foray into what might possibly be the experiential constituents of hypothetical sānanda, nirānanda, sāsmitā, and nirasmitā states to be cogent as well as accomodatable within the metaphysical parameters of Yoga psychology.

In the higher stages of samādhi (which will be discussed next), Hariharānanda notes that the tanmātras are not the only subtle elements underpinning the metaphysics of an object—they themselves are evolutes from still subtler entities such as ahaṅkāra and buddhi. These subtler elements too can be the object of samādhi, as the next sūtra indicates.

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.

By this process (the concentrations) with discrimination and without discrimination, whose objects are finer, are (also) explained.

Vivekananda Commentary:

A process similar to the preceding is applied again, only, the objects to be taken up in the former meditations are gross; in this they are fine.

“ 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.