pratyakṣa 和 anumānā 是建立在对现实性的测量之上。除此之外,瑜伽和 Samkhya 哲学也指出了另一种方法,āgamāāgamā 是我们不能通过感觉,感官可以知道的。也不是我们可以通过部分的知道的现实情况,可以推论出来的。有一些现实,我们不得不参考资料与材料。

apta vākya pramāṇa 

apta: dependable 可靠的

vākya: sentences  句

pramāṇa: means of knowledge  知识的手段 


āgamā pramāṇa        是通过有可靠来源的材料获得正确的知识

anumānā pramāṇa    是通过影响而获得知识

pratyakṣa pramāṇa    是通过直接的感觉感官获得知识

有些时候,我们很难直接或者间接的获得知识,我们不得不通过一些可靠的人来获得知识,这种获得知识的方法,可以是简单的,也可以是高深,深厚,深刻的获得方法。比如,一位来旅游的游客,给你介绍在他的国家,某个事情是这样或者那样的,我们可能没有机会直接亲身去他的国家体会,或者受到什么影响而了解到,我们只能通过这位游客的介绍而了解到。这是一位来自这个国家的人,他是个可靠的人,我们可以相信他,我们可以从他的资料里或者知识。这是 āgamā pramāṇa  。

Patanjiali 为什么会讲到这条经文,正是因为,我们不是所有的时候可以直接的感受,或者通过部分的事实来推断,很多时候我们是通过从可靠的人口中,从资料当中获得知识。我们可以看到的事物是有限的,瑜伽或者Samkhya 哲学经常提及那些我们很难看到的事物。

Patanjiali 的这一条经文,是在证明瑜伽或者Samkhya 哲学,经常让我相信或者依存于一些我们一般感官,看不到的事物。一个经典例子就是 purusha 和 drasta。purusha 和 drashta 的存在就不是依存于感觉,是超越感觉的,purusha的现实性是自我揭示,你是证明不了了的,purusha 是自己揭示出来的。是超越感觉的,感觉感官是抓不到的。比如:狗可以听的东西,我们是听不到的,有一些声音是我们听不到,但是狗可以听到的。所以,虽然我们感知不到,但是不代表它就不存在。

同样的drasta 或 purusha,是超越感知范畴的,并不代表它是不存在的,并不是因为有些事物我们不能直接感觉,或者间接证明,它就不存在。并不是有些事物我们看不到,他就是不存在的。这个世界上有成百上千的人,我们都没有见过,并不代表那些人就不存在。所以,有些现实,像 purusha 对于瑜伽或者 samkya 哲学来说是很重要的,samkya 哲学说我们要依赖,信任purusha ,我们要明白,purusha 和 prakriti 的关系,瑜伽哲学还告诉我们,kaivalyam(自由,隔离的) 是当你消除 avidya ( 愚昧,无知),要明白purusha 和 prakriti 的不同点。purusha 就是 āgamā pramāṇa。

在samkya 哲学当中还提到了 zabda pramana,zabda 是 声音,话语的意思,也就是唱诵,有些时候,purusha 是通过唱诵的力量所链接的。有些现实性,有些事实是通过唱诵而被我们所认知的。自我认知的过程,是通过vedic 唱诵,或者通过  mantra japa, 当我们在唱诵的时候,身体的振动会改变,大脑变得安静下来,感知,感觉变得安静下来,会把自己带领到一个,自己很深的地方,在这个地方有一个反应会发生,那就是什么在你的心里,你会看到究竟是什么在自己的心里。 viedic chanting, Mantra japa 是开启自我觉醒,自我智慧,是一个走进自身当中智慧的一个方法,我们可以听到这个智慧的声音,意识到事物的存在。

āgamā pramāṇa 也可以被称为通过意识,领悟而被了解的现实。比如,很多时候,我们犯了一个错误,当别人指出来的时候,我们知道,但是自己意识不到。我们知道这是一个错误,但是我们始终还是意识不到,反反复复的重复犯错,但是在某个时候,在我们的生活当中,你真的自己觉醒过来,才意识到。是自我觉醒,告诉的自己,这个是不对的。不管我们看到什么,不管有什么影响,我们都认识不到,只有自我觉醒之后才能真正意识到。比如,有些人喜欢抽烟,在烟盒的上面明明白白写着,吸烟有害健康,但是人们意识不到,吸烟有害健康,仍然继续抽烟。很多年以后,到医院检查身体的时候,各种检查报告,医生都在告诉他烟草对身体产生的影响。但是他仍然意识不到,但是突然有一天,有些变化在他的自身当中发生,只有自己真正觉醒的之后,自己告诉自己的时候,才会放弃抽烟。

这就是 āgamā pramāṇa ,智慧不总是从外面的世界获得,也可以从自己自身的觉醒当中获得。

Night Poem by William Blake


Diane’s Story Time

The sun descending in the west, 
The evening star does shine; 
The birds are silent in their nest, 
And I must seek for mine. 
The moon, like a flower, 
In heaven’s high bower, 
With silent delight 
Sits and smiles on the night. 

Farewell, green fields and happy groves, 
Where flocks have took delight. 
Where lambs have nibbled, silent moves 
The feet of angels bright; 
Unseen they pour blessing, 
And joy without ceasing, 
On each bud and blossom, 
And each sleeping bosom. 

They look in every thoughtless nest, 
Where birds are covered warm; 
They visit caves of every beast, 
To keep them all from harm. 
If they see any weeping 
That should have been sleeping, 
They pour sleep on their head, 
And sit down by their bed. 

When wolves and tigers howl for prey, 
They pitying stand and weep; 
Seeking to drive their thirst away, 
And keep them from the sheep. 
But if they rush dreadful, 
The angels, most heedful, 
Receive each mild spirit, 
New worlds to inherit. 

And there the lion’s ruddy eyes 
Shall flow with tears of gold, 
And pitying the tender cries, 
And walking round the fold, 
Saying, ‘Wrath, by His meekness, 
And, by His health, sickness 
Is driven away 
From our immortal day. 

‘And now beside thee, bleating lamb, 
I can lie down and sleep; 
Or think on Him who bore thy name, 
Graze after thee and weep. 
For, washed in life’s river, 
My bright mane for ever 
Shall shine like the gold 
As I guard o’er the fold.’

Story 4:The Three Questions

It once occurred to a certain king that if he always knew the right time to begin everything; if he knew who were the right people to listen to, and whom to avoid; and, above all, if he always knew what was the most important thing to do, he would never fail in anything he might undertake.

And this thought having occurred to him, he had it proclaimed throughout his kingdom that he would give a great reward to anyone who would teach him what was the right time for every action, and who were the most necessary people, and how he might know what was the most important thing to do.

And learned men came to the king, but they all answered his questions differently.

In reply to the first question, some said that to know the right time for every action, one must draw up in advance a table of days, months, and years, and must live strictly according to it. Only thus, said they, could everything be done at its proper time. Others declared that it was impossible to decide beforehand the right time for every action, but that, not letting oneself be absorbed in idle pastimes, one should always attend to all that was going on, and then do what was most needful. Others, again, said that however attentive the king might be to what was going on, it was impossible for one man to decide correctly the right time for every action, but that he should have a council of wise men who would help him to fix the proper time for everything.

But then again others said there were some things which could not wait to be laid before a council, but about which one had at once to decide whether to undertake them or not. But in order to decide that, one must know beforehand what was going to happen. It is only magicians who know that; and, therefore, in order to know the right time for every action, one must consult magicians.

Equally various were the answers to the second question. Some said the people the king most needed were his councilors; others, the priests; others, the doctors; while some said the warriors were the most necessary.

To the third question, as to what was the most important occupation, some replied that the most important thing in the world was science. Others said it was skill in warfare; and others, again, that it was religious worship.

All the answers being different, the king agreed with none of them, and gave the reward to none. But still wishing to find the right answers to his questions, he decided to consult a hermit, widely renowned for his wisdom.

The hermit lived in a wood which he never quitted, and he received none but common folk. So the king put on simple clothes and, before reaching the hermit’s cell, dismounted from his horse. Leaving his bodyguard behind, he went on alone.

When the king approached, the hermit was digging the ground in front of his hut. Seeing the king, he greeted him and went on digging. The hermit was frail and weak, and each time he stuck his spade into the ground and turned a little earth, he breathed heavily.

The king went up to him and said: “I have come to you, wise hermit, to ask you to answer three questions: How can I learn to do the right thing at the right time? Who are the people I most need, and to whom should I, therefore, pay more attention than to the rest? And, what affairs are the most important and need my first attention?”

The hermit listened to the king, but answered nothing. He just spat on his hand and recommenced digging.

“You are tired,” said the king, “let me take the spade and work awhile for you.”

“Thanks!” said the hermit, and, giving the spade to the king, he sat down on the ground.

When he had dug two beds, the king stopped and repeated his questions. The hermit again gave no answer, but rose, stretched out his hand for the spade, and said:

“Now rest awhile – and let me work a bit.”

But the king did not give him the spade, and continued to dig. One hour passed, and another. The sun began to sink behind the trees, and the king at last stuck the spade into the ground, and said:

“I came to you, wise man, for an answer to my questions. If you can give me none, tell me so, and I will return home.”

“Here comes someone running,” said the hermit. “Let us see who it is.”

The king turned round and saw a bearded man come running out of the wood. The man held his hands pressed against his stomach, and blood was flowing from under them. When he reached the king, he fell fainting on the ground, moaning feebly. The king and the hermit unfastened the man’s clothing. There was a large wound in his stomach. The king washed it as best he could, and bandaged it with his handkerchief and with a towel the hermit had. But the blood would not stop flowing, and the king again and again removed the bandage soaked with warm blood, and washed and re-bandaged the wound. When at last the blood ceased flowing, the man revived and asked for something to drink. The king brought fresh water and gave it to him. Meanwhile the sun had set, and it had become cool. So the king, with the hermit’s help, carried the wounded man into the hut and laid him on the bed. Lying on the bed, the man closed his eyes and was quiet; but the king was so tired from his walk and from the work he had done that he crouched down on the threshold, and also fell asleep – so soundly that he slept all through the short summer night.

When he awoke in the morning, it was long before he could remember where he was, or who was the strange bearded man lying on the bed and gazing intently at him with shining eyes.

“Forgive me!” said the bearded man in a weak voice, when he saw that the king was awake and was looking at him.

“I do not know you, and have nothing to forgive you for,” said the king.

“You do not know me, but I know you. I am that enemy of yours who swore to revenge himself on you, because you executed his brother and seized his property. I knew you had gone alone to see the hermit, and I resolved to kill you on your way back. But the day passed and you did not return. So I came out from my ambush to find you, and came upon your bodyguard, and they recognized me, and wounded me. I escaped from them, but should have bled to death had you not dressed my wound. I wished to kill you, and you have saved my life. Now, if I live, and if you wish it, I will serve you as your most faithful slave, and will bid my sons do the same. Forgive me!”

The king was very glad to have made peace with his enemy so easily, and to have gained him for a friend, and he not only forgave him, but said he would send his servants and his own physician to attend him, and promised to restore his property.

Having taken leave of the wounded man, the king went out into the porch and looked around for the hermit. Before going away he wished once more to beg an answer to the questions he had put. The hermit was outside, on his knees, sowing seeds in the beds that had been dug the day before.

The king approached him and said, “For the last time, I pray you to answer my questions, wise man.”

“You have already been answered!” said the hermit, still crouching on his thin legs, and looking up at the king, who stood before him.

“How answered? What do you mean?” asked the king.

“Do you not see?” replied the hermit. “If you had not pitied my weakness yesterday, and had not dug these beds for me, but had gone your way, that man would have attacked you, and you would have repented of not having stayed with me. So the most important time was when you were digging the beds; and I was the most important man; and to do me good was your most important business. Afterwards, when that man ran to us, the most important time was when you were attending to him, for if you had not bound up his wounds he would have died without having made peace with you. So he was the most important man, and what you did for him was your most important business. Remember then: there is only one time that is important – now! It is the most important time because it is the only time when we have any power. The most necessary person is the one with whom you are, for no man knows whether he will ever have dealings with anyone else: and the most important affair is to do that person good, because for that purpose alone was man sent into this life.”