Sanskrit is a divine language why?

Sanskrit is a divine language why?

Language

By bhattathiri
February 26, 2004

Bhagavad Gita is originally written in Sanskrit.

There are many aspects by which a language can be said as sacred and
how we use it. If a language is used to discover the sacredness,
purity and spirituality of life, it becomes a sacred language.
Whether or not a language is sacred is determined by who is using it.
This in turn has a great deal to do with whether a language is being
used consciously or unconsciously, whether we use language as an
instrument to accomplish our real purpose in life, that is, wake up
and find out who we are; or we are unconsciously programmed by
language, to maintain patterns of a struggle for individual survival
established by previous generations.

People are always at the effect of the unconscious operation of any
language. Suppose a group of people listen to some very simple
Sanskrit sounds, sung in a rhythmic sequence, and then individually
duplicate the sounds, based upon what they heard many times.Everybody
will think that in "my turn" that there is little space left to
actually listen and enjoy the sounds. This overriding preoccupation
with getting it right is accompanied by an endless barrage of
strategies, evaluations, comparisons, judgements, expectations,
hopes, rationalizations and fears of consequences. By writing down
this list of what everyone was thinking, the unconscious operation of
language becomes visible. Most people are not aware they are thinking
all this until they see the language of it written on a flip chart.

But this is just peeling away the first layer. There's a still deeper
layer of the unconscious operation of language where we have
predefined who we are, based on whether or not we get it right.

We are given every opportunity to simply have a good time, improvise,
play with sounds. But instead we choose to take it as a test of
survival. In other words, it's more important to prove our capacity
to survive than it is to have a good time. The hidden unconscious
language that we base our lives upon, dictates to us that we must get
it right or we will be dominated by others, and that threatens our
safety, our well being and ultimately our survival. The first sign of
a non-sacred, survival language is that it refers to "getting it
right" as "smart", as "success" etc. Such a language defines a person
by the way he/she performs in a particular circumstance. The person
is always at the effect of the language. If I get it right, I'm
smart. If I get it wrong, I'm stupid.

The problems and conflicts that occur with a survival language are
myriad. To be happy, one must get it right all the time. And his
primary motivation for doing so is to prove that he is brilliant so
others won't control him .. The problem with "getting better" is that
he becomes programmed to always be getting better, but it's never
good enough. Getting better is an endless proposition. This survival
model of language has conflict and suffering woven into its very
fabric.

This particular phenomenon is defined in the Yog Sutras as avidyaa,
the fundamental lack of awareness which is the root klesha, or subtle
cause of all suffering. The definition of avidyaa is: anitya-ashuci-
duhkha-anaatmasu nitya-shuci-sukha-aatma-khyaatir avidyaa

"Avidyaa (ignorance) is an identity with a self which is not the
self; with happiness in what is actually suffering; with purity in
what is really impurity; and permanence in what is really
impermanent." Avidyaa perfectly describes the nature of a survival
language. A survival language is steeped in avidyaa. As long as who I
am, is defined by such a language, I remain the victim of an endless
vicious circle.

The question is -- why would we choose a language which keeps us in
perpetual self-judgement. The fact is that we never chose the
language. It has always been around, and as children, we were given
no other options. As long as we do not consciously redesign the way
we use language, we remain at the effect of the past, conditioned by
the very language of the past to repeat the patterns of the past,
again and again.

As long as this survival model of language is in effect, it seems
virtually impossible for people to learn Sanskrit. This is to a large
degree due to the fact that Sanskrit is a perfect model of a sacred
language, and a sacred language cannot be learned by means of a
survival language.

This is not to say that English or any other language could not be
used as a sacred language. In fact, it has to be, to begin the study
of Sanskrit. Conversely, Sanskrit could be used in a survival mode.
It's just that in the design of most languages, there is very little
safeguard against them being used as survival languages. And in the
design of Sanskrit, there is every conceivable feature built in to
keep it operating as a sacred language.

The single most outstanding difference between a sacred and a
survival language is the definition, orientation and usage in the
language of the word "I". "I" or its equivalent is the source of
language. Without I, there is no you, he, she or it. The evolution of
the word "I" into a complex language is a process of creation. In the
development of a sacred language, the process is a conscious one;
language is an emanation, a creation, an instrument of "I". In a
survival language, "I" is an effect of the cultural patterns already
unconsciously established by the language. In Sanskrit, even the
sounds which make the word for "I" are consciously selected. AHAM.
"A" is the first spoken sound, as well as the first sound of the
Sanskrit alphabet. It can be discovered by breathing, in and with the
mouth slightly open, releasing the breath with sound that requires
the minimal effort. It naturally arises in the throat before the
articulation of all other sounds. "HA" is the last letter of the
Sanskrit alphabet. After all the systematic patterns created by the
movement of the tongue and lips have produced in perfect order all
the other letters of the alphabet, the final sound is "HA". It also
is the only consonant sound that moves by the power of the breath
alone, and the only consonant in exact proximity to "A" . The final
letter "M" is the very last sound produced in the mouth, because it
occurs due to the closing of the lips. In Sanskrit, AHAM is the
beginning, the breath of life which brings forth creation, and the
end. And this is expressed not just symbolically by the letters A-H-
A-M, but physically, based on their location in the mouth.

The other most important attribute of a sacred language is that each
of its individual sounds are regarded as sacred. Anyone can feel this
by getting relaxed and repeating the AHAM, over and over, and while
doing so, feeling a complete all-encompassing expression of self.
Then, becoming silent, continue to feel "A" as the inhalation and HAM
as the exhalation. "A" is the only sound which is truly internal.
"HAM" is the most complete expression possible, arising directly from
"A", and closing after passing through all the positions of all other
existing sounds. The design of a sacred language is such that the
sounds perfectly express the vibrational essence of that which they
describe. In this way, words establish knowledge and understanding
directly.

The next stage of establishing a sacred language is an intimacy with
the other sounds of the language, becoming familiar with their exact
location, savoring their delicacy, feeling their force and power, and
the unique way they vibrate the body and atmosphere. This is simply a
matter of enjoying sound without inhibition, as we did when we were
children. In the process of learning the Sanskrit alphabet, one
discovers that all sounds are encompassed in "AHAM". As other words
are created, the sounds which compose them become the means by which
"I-AHAM" establish my relationship of unity with, rather than
separateness from, all existence.

Important characteristic of a sacred language is that the purpose for
which it's being used is discovering one's own true nature. Sanskrit
is so highly developed and refined as a tool for serving this purpose
that even the task of learning the language seems "difficult" --
unless the motive for learning is aligned with the function of the
language, that is, to know oneself. When Sanskrit is approached with
the humility and one-pointedness that is the trademark of a genuine
search for truth, it becomes revealed. There arises a simple joy in
all aspects of its study. Singing the alphabet is especially
inspiring even when one has become proficient. Shri Brahmananda
Sarasvati, although a master of Sanskrit, with more than 60 years of
study behind him, and his speech impaired by a stroke, still seems to
find his greatest delight in leading a group of students through the
alphabet. Perhaps, this says a much as anything about the nature of a
sacred language.

We seldom hear anyone over seven years of age singing the English
alphabet. Its not that these sounds aren't enjoyable to sing. We do
not have the same relation to the English language that adults and
children alike who have learned Sanskrit have with it. That relation
is a sacred one, based on the energy conveyed through sound, a love
for the unique characteristics of each sound in engaging the mind,
body, the breath, vocal resonance, the mouth, tongue and lips.

Because of the simplicity of life in ancient times, there was an
acute awareness that all changes in life took place as a result of
changes in language. As new discoveries occurred in language, there
was an immediate and very noticeable shift in human beings'
interactions and in the way that they perceived their environment.
The evolution of human awareness was inextricably linked to the
development of language. It was natural that more and more attention
should be given to its development as the single most important
factor in changing the quality of human life. This eventually gave
way to discoveries whose magnitude is inconceivable to us in modern
times, where language tends to be taken for granted.

The discovery, development and refinement of Sanskrit must have taken
place over millennia. Although Sanskrit along with its great power to
elevate human consciousness to sublime heights, is often attributed
to a divine source, we can also hypothesize that its properties were
discoveries that took place as a result of human beings actively and
intensively engaging in the discovery of their own divine nature. The
most significant question that must have arisen to the ancients was
how to continue optimizing the human instrument, the body and mind,
as a vehicle for the expansion of awareness and happiness. Knowing
that the operation of the instrument depends entirely on the language
with which it is programmed, they worked on the refinement of
language software. They scrutinized and experimented with the vocal
instrument and the structure of the mouth and then selected only
those sounds which had the greatest clarity, purity and power of
resonance. They then organized these sounds in such a way that they
could mutually enhance and brighten one another, and build upon each
other's resonance. They explored the factor of breath in creating
sound, and discovered that by minimizing the breath with certain
sounds and maximizing it with others, the language would induce in
the instrument a state of relaxed alertness that could keep it
operating efficiently and tirelessly for long periods of time, while
expanding and building prana-energy. And as they did this, they
became happier.

Furthermore, by coordinating the factors of purity of sound, enhanced
resonance and breath, there also developed an awareness of the entire
body as a resonating chamber through which sound could be
transmitted. With increased vibratory power, the concept of the body
as solid matter gradually became replaced by one of the body as the
center of an energy field. In the process of transmitting sound
energy, they observed subtle changes in the field and found they
could expand it by following the sound waves. They had discovered
that language has the capacity to convert the body and mind into pure
energy. They began to feel joy.

It was further discovered that certain combinations of sounds would
enhance the expansion of the field more than others, and this was
experimented with, until sound combinations which could bring about
this effect universally were revealed. Their joy expanded. These
particular combinations became useful words for describing as well as
feeling the state of consciousness they induced. In this way the
breadth and depth of all that exists was explored. They looked and
listened and experienced changes in the energy field, to see how the
language could be further refined, what new distinctions could be
made. Eventually, they fathomed creation and found their own identity
at the very source of it all. Their bliss was boundless. When they
spoke with one another in this language they established love and
harmony.

Over millennia, Sanskrit was refined as an instrument of Yog. By 500
B.C. it had reached a point where it was perfected, and ready to be
laid down formally. The genius Panini was born for that purpose. So
masterful, concise and comprehensive was his great work, Ashtadhyayi
in formulating the Sanskrit language, that to this day, two and a
half millennia later, no one has been able to improve upon his
original work. For 25 centuries, the language has not only survived
intact, but thrived through the love of countless enlightened sages,
yogis and scholars, basically unmodified. Just imagine a language
thriving with little change for 2500 years. In each century there
have been spiritual geniuses, who immersed themselves in the blissful
and timeless joy of Sanskrit. Many have elaborated or commented on
Panini's original work, but none have changed it or replaced it. Yog
has thrived side by side with Sanskrit, but through all the practice,
experimentation and discovery that has taken place in that science,
there has been little need to develop new language or modify the old
language in order to measure or inspire progress. Sanskrit had been
perfected by 500 B.C. as a tool for defining the ultimate pinnacle of
human aspiration.

Questions tend to come up as to why Sanskrit has not been used more
as a popular language, or why we are not now utilizing it more
widely. The primary obstacle, as I see it, is that we have had
difficulty in accessing Sanskrit in the way that it is designed to be
used. Because of the strong belief we hold that we are our body/mind,
our primary concern is what is going to happen to us individually. We
see the possibility of change, being happy in the future. And we try
to choose and do those things which will most certainly secure our
future happiness or enlightenment. This equation is almost
universally interpreted as "getting more and getting better". The
approach never works for learning Sanskrit, or for being happy.

The motivation for learning Sanskrit is the enchantment, inspiration,
peace and deep sense of spiritual connection felt when listening to
it. Or it may have been a pure childlike enjoyment in duplicating
those sounds. Most people would have no difficulty learning Sanskrit,
if they simply remained in the mode of what motivated them in the
first place, their enjoyment. But something else usually happens. The
desire to learn Sanskrit starts to be perceived as a future goal,
which, when and if achieved, will represent the securing of the
happiness which generated the desire to learn it in the first place.
The goal is usually accompanied by an expectation of mastering a
certain amount of material within a certain period of time. The
problem here is the old conditioning, all past memories of happiness,
present or future, being thwarted by difficulties and interruptions.
Greatest among these memories is the loss of the simple joy of being
a child and the pure direct perception of life we all experienced in
our childhood.

The nature of a sacred language such as Sanskrit is the direct way
that it models life, or accesses through the purity of its sound and
rhythms, the perfection and beauty of life that we all experienced as
children. On our first exposure to Sanskrit, we reconnect with that
purity and joy, and then with the desire to secure that again in our
lives, decide that we must learn the language. On a very deep level,
it's a decision to nourish our spirit, and reestablish our oneness
with life. But it also at the same time brings us face to face with
our existential pain, the entire sum of our conditioning, all that
has kept us in a state of feeling alone and separate for the greater
part of a lifetime, as well as our repeated failure in attempting to
regain that happiness.

Once the task of learning the language is conceived, the criteria for
achievement are unconsciously measured. Success is determined by
comparing what one has managed to learn with what remains to be known
and how much others know. Success also depends on the mastery of a
certain quantity of information in a certain period of time. The
universal question asked at the beginning, is "How long will it take
me to learn it?" But the Sanskrit language is so vast and distinctly
different from other languages and other learning tasks, that from
the very outset, it becomes apparent that it is going to be very
difficult to achieve the expected success in the expected period of
time. In addition, there are many Indian speakers and scholars, one
could never even hope to catch up with. This inevitably brings the
conclusion "Proficiency is further away than I had believed." Along
with this assessment -- automatically arise the words "too
difficult". Sanskrit is too difficult.

But the problem is not really the perceived difficulty based on the
amount of information that exists in the Sanskrit language. The fact
that there is more information actually represents more enjoyment. If
one were offered a large collection of the greatest music of all time
accompanied by a continuous flow of increasingly majestic and
panoramic visions, one would not be disappointed because it would
take too long to listen to. In other words, discouragement about
being able to learn Sanskrit has absolutely nothing to do with
Sanskrit. Sanskrit is an enjoyable experience at all stages. Working
with Sanskrit increases and develops energy and clarity of mind.
There are seemingly an infinite variety of euphonic sound
combinations and rhythmic patterns to be enjoyed. Experiencing them
expands the capacity of the mind to operate as the cosmic computer it
is designed to be.

The only real problem that arises with regard to learning Sanskrit is
forgetting why one decided to learn it in the first place -- to feel
the joy and purity one felt as a child. When the real purpose is
forgotten, we automatically default to concerns about success and
failure based on past programming. It is only in regard to this that
the idea "too difficult" can arise. Once "too difficult" takes root,
the usual result is giving up, because one's image of oneself being
proficient, seems too difficult to attain within the time limitations
calculated as a factor in producing the necessary satisfaction.

Although such resignation is based on the fact of long-standing pain,
it is not the truth. The truth is the original inspiration, the joy,
the play, the heightened awareness. If Sanskrit seems too difficult,
it's doing its job perfectly. A sacred language must teach us to
discover where the energy of being flows, and it becomes easy.

The obvious solution is to have no expectations whatsoever with
regard to time or quantities of information. This is an approach
which serves our original purpose -- to enter into that timeless
dimension. If concerns come up or it seems to be getting difficult,
it's merely an indication that we've forgotten our real purpose. The
moment the idea of getting or adding "more" arises, we lose the
direct absorption, the enjoyment, the sense of play. This is direct
bio-feedback

Sanskrit is a play, a dance of energy in the eternal now. It,
modeling life, is perfectly designed to take us beyond our
expectations, our self images, our programming. But we must be ready
to be in the role of a perpetual learner, a student of life, of the
ancient, eternal wisdom, miraculously encoded in this sacred
language. If we believe that by learning a sacred language, we will
gain knowledge and power, then we look to a future goal which is by
definition opposed to our true nature. The power of a sacred language
is to immediately mirror this back, as if to say, NO ACCESS. A sacred
language, is one which guides us to our own true nature, and every
time we derail ourselves, reminds us in some way that we're missing
out on its real nourishment. If we are going to engage, it must be
with our total being, one pointed awareness, free from the
distraction of where it might bring us, or rather, we might take it
in the future.

Sanskrit is the living heritage of great rishis who walked this earth
thousands of years ago. It presents us with an awesome responsibility
and a lifelong challenge, while it inspires us to remain fully
engaged in exploring what's possible for a human being. Learning
Sanskrit is an opportunity to know directly for ourselves what the
rishis discovered long ago. Most important, when approached as a
sacred language, it makes us happy.

From the perspective of Yog, all life ultimately merges into
samadhi. It could be said that samadhi is the essence of yog, In the
Yog Sutras, samadhi is defined, "tad evaathamaatraanirbhaasam-
svaruupa-shuunyam iva samaadhih" that (consciousness, engaged in
sustained focus upon a single object), reflecting the object alone,
as if empty of its own nature, is samadhi. Everyone has had the
experience of samadhi, whether in childhood, or some deeply absorbing
experience, such as listening to music. It's a period when our usual
identity disappears because our habitual use of language has been
discontinued.

Many teachers used to say "the body is a prison only when you cannot
come and go as you please". The experience of samadhi is the freedom
to come and go. Without samadhi we live in a prison of language,
whose walls consist of words, whose bars and locked doors are the
meanings and significance we unknowingly give to those words.
Unknowingly, because the meanings were never consciously selected.
They were programmed into us by prior generations. For example, when
people make a mistake, they tend to feel stupid or embarrassed. But
whoever (aside from lexicographers) really defined for themselves
what a "mistake" is? The great sage Shankar (in the famous

Bhajagovindam) wrote:

satsangatve nissangatvam nissangatve nirmohatvam |
nirmohatve nishchalatatvam nishchalatattvam jiivanmuktiH ||

In a state of satsanga, good company, (comes) non-attachment; in non-
attachment, a state beyond confusion; in truth beyond confusion,
motionlessness; in motionlessness, living freedom.

The verse could be used as a model of the necessary conditions for
making the shift from being at the effect of language to being at the
source of it. It all begins with satsanga, good company. The best
example of this that I know of is a group of people who have come
together to learn Sanskrit. It seems that on some level, perhaps
unconsciously, a person who has decided to learn Sanskrit, has
decided in some way to use this sacred language for that which it was
designed -- to be free. It is remarkably easy for such a group of
people to change their relation to language, to put themselves at the
source of language and then select and use language in a way that
gives them access to Sanskrit, with ease and enjoyment. Without the
mutual agreement of the group, satsanga, good company, it would be
highly unlikely that the shift could ever take place. We grew up in a
world where a mistake was a bad thing, enough so that most people
would not risk making one. This led to massive withdrawal. Though
people remained in a group, they were not really part of the group.
In truth, fear dominated nearly all groups. Natural unity was
shattered. The satsanga was lost. Groups were ineffective. Alone,
individuals were powerless. Everyone was hopelessly at the effect of
the language of right/wrong and smart/stupid. In effect, a "group"
could have been defined as a "body of people which has come together
to determine who is worthy and who is unworthy."

Fortunately, the Sanskrit language has given us the word "satsanga",
which could be defined as "a body of people who have come together
(sanga) to ascertain reality (sat)." The fundamental agreement of
such a group, such as the one which has come together to learn
Sanskrit, is that "I" am prior to language. I use language to direct
my attention to a full appreciation of the beautiful sounds of the
Sanskrit language, their harmonies and their organization, as well as
the truths expressed through the language. The language that makes
this possible is the language of yog, another gift of Sanskrit. The
satsanga agrees upon abhyaasa the selecting and sustained attention
upon a single focal point, for example, listening to the sounds of
the Sanskrit language. It's also agreed that there's nothing "wrong"
with being off the point. Becoming aware that I am off point, without
satsanga -- I might worry about what I missed that others got, I
might worry about being left behind -- "others are succeeding where I
fail." But in satsanga where the language of yog has been agreed
upon, there is vairaagya or non-attachment, "the full awareness of my
own mastery to not-attach myself to habitual experience and simply
return to the point, and even acknowledge 'I missed something --
could it be repeated?'". For the satsanga, if anyone missed anything,
it's an opportunity for it to be reviewed and clarified and enjoyed
again by everyone. It sounds too good to be true. Yet it happens
exactly this way by shifting our relationship to language. This would
not be possible without satsanga.

In the state of satsang (satsangatve) comes non-attachment
(nissangatvam). There is no more attachment to being right, and
concurrently the fear of being wrong. The real satisfaction derived
from the wholeness of group unity, the much greater capacity of the
group to focus together, enjoy sound together, appreciate the beauty
of Sanskrit together, all make the prior condition of being at the
effect of words such as right/wrong or smart /stupid or
success/failure seem totally irrelevant. Through satsang, there's a
complete shift in our relation to language -- we see through the
prison walls.

In non-attachment (nissangatve), there comes a state beyond confusion
(nirmohatvam). I'm no longer holding myself back because of the fear
of consequences. I am feeling my oneness with the group. It's safe to
put myself into it. There is no conflict over wanting acceptance,
while fearing rejection. My confusion over whether to participate or
not - will I be rejected if I do it wrong or isolated if I do it
right -- is gone. The illusion, and the confusion (moha) of being
separate from others dissolves. The truth that we are one emerges.
When we move as one, we go beyond success and failure and access our
natural ability to perfectly reflect whatever we perceive -- samadhi.

In the state beyond confusion (nirmohatve), is motionlessness
(nishcalitatvam). This happens in the Sanskrit satsanga. In the
absence of striving to be better, fearing getting worse, the old
language that raced through our mind stops. The mind becomes still,
sensitive. A state of listening is present, sam�dhi, in which we feel
the nuances of Sanskrit, its power, and the subtle way it resonates
in the heart of our being, like ancient and eternal music. There's no
more struggle to learn, to gain and accumulate knowledge. The words
of Sanskrit, through their sound vibration are like waves of pure
energy, which we enjoy as if watching a performance taking place
inside us -- while their meanings describe our own fathomless
perfection, as the seer of all, ancient, eternal.

In motionlessness (nishcalitatve), living freedom (jiivanmukti), The
prison walls, even the memory that they were ever there, has
dissolved. From beginning to end, from the first attempt to learn
Sanskrit to the direct experience of the meaning of its ancient words
of truth and power, Sanskrit generates and establishes an entirely
different relationship with language. It's the proper relationship,
the true one, establishing our real unity, freedom from the bondage
of the past illusions. It keeps us savoring the timeless enjoyment of
the universe of sound, and a perfect creation.

By studying this sacred language only, the soul of India can be
understood and a good example among foreigners, we can say, is Max
Muller a German Scholar.

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