The body in early Hatha Yoga
by Ruth Westoby | 2024 | 112,229 words
This page relates ‘Dattatreyayogashastra: vessel, agent and beyond gender?� of study dealing with the body in Hatha Yoga Sanskrit texts.—This essay highlights how these texts describe physical practices for achieving liberation and bodily sovereignty with limited metaphysical understanding. Three bodily models are focused on: the ascetic model of ‘baking� in Yoga, conception and embryology, and Kundalini’s affective processes.
ٲٳٰⲹDzśٰ: vessel, agent and beyond gender?
Not at all reticent in its description of sex is the ٲٳٰⲹDzśٰ—or certainly the newly collated passages from Southern manuscripts. The instructions for DZī are directed first at the man as the agent then repeated with the woman as agent. My concern here is with the implications for conception of the instructions which involves a technical reading of such intricacies as whether the grammatical locative is stretching the penis over the vagina or into the vagina (stretched on it in ٲٳٰⲹDzśٰ 161). The instructions for the male practitioner involve external, non-penetrative sexual activity at least until after ejaculation (ٲٳٰⲹDzśٰ 164). Conception could not occur from non-penetrative sex. The text does not specifically enjoin penetrative sex after ejaculation. The passage instead instructs the male practitioner in the use of tubes to draw the fluid upwards (ٲٳٰⲹDzśٰ 165). However, bindu has clearly fallen onto or into (the locative can be taken either way) the vagina in the next verse: ‘The bindu that has fallen into/onto the vagina (bhage) should be drawn upwards. One should preserve one’s own bindu that has moved by drawing it upwards� (ٲٳٰⲹDzśٰ 166). Conception could result from semen ejaculated into the yoni if that is what is being described in this verse—but this is not specified in the text. In the section instructing the female practitioner, external sexual activity is prescribed before inserting only the head of the penis and then drawing up semen full of rajas (ٲٳٰⲹDzśٰ 171-173). In this context of drawing up semen conception could occur depending on the stage of the woman’s menstrual cycle.
As we saw in the last chapter, in the latest collation of the ٲٳٰⲹDzśٰ ṅg becomes a substitute for milk and ‘the second thing� is a woman. In the previous chapter I focused on the fluids. Here I focus on what is, according to the term used in the sources, the vessel (ś). The man �drinks�, either through his mouth or by drawing fluids upwards through his penis, the libation (ḍ�) (ٲٳٰⲹDzśٰ 156), the sexual and menstrual fluid of the women stimulated through non-penetrative sexual activity with the penis. The woman is the vessel (ś) to be drunk with an intensity verging on forcefulness (ṛśa)� (ٲٳٰⲹDzśٰ 157cd).
The pragmatic nature of the factual instructions compounds the sense of objectification and mere utility of the woman. The passage qualifies the type of woman to be used in this secret practice of DZī (ٲٳٰⲹDzśٰ 158d).
The trope of secrecy is repeated in the following instructions in which,
‘A man and a woman can easily obtain success. Having kept a very beautiful and sweet woman in secret, naked (ٲٳٰⲹDzśٰ 159), get naked yourself and get on top of her as she faces upwards. Lie down, having stopped the breath, stooping a little outside� (ٲٳٰⲹDzśٰ 160).
Presumably the man is hunched over the woman, in a position to perform sex without penetration as he stretches his penis on the yoni (ٲٳٰⲹDzśٰ 161). That the woman is kept in secret suggests deprivation of liberty, but the sense could be social concealment. This could be an acknowledgement that the practice is somewhat antinomian. However, many other yoga techniques are also to be kept secret. The trope of secrecy does set up a tension between the social acceptability of sexual practice, a counterpoint to the prosaics of sex motif I have been developing.
These practices are presented as done by the man to the woman in a manner which is not at all erotic but pragmatic and possibly harsh: one should have sex (yabhet) ‘roughly� or ‘forcefully� (Ծṣṭܰ) if the semen does not fall (ٲٳٰⲹDzśٰ 163cd). The term yabh for sex is both unusual and explicit with the sense of ‘fuck�. However, in its startling and unique passage the new collation moves from such unqualified objectification of the woman to flip the practice and describe not only how women should practice but uses the same rough terminology and objectification of the male partner.
The ٲٳٰⲹDzśٰ details the steps of the practice for women: ‘one should have sex roughly (yabhayenԾṣṭܰ�) outside the man until (yat) there is a result through the penis� (ٲٳٰⲹDzśٰ 171). Yat is being taken as a contraction of 屹, ‘until�, i.e. until there is the result of ejaculation. ‘One should combine the potent rajas [with] the semen of the penis. Having drawn the penis with both hands, enter just the tip� (ٲٳٰⲹDzśٰ 172). The tautological Sanskrit could be glossed as, ‘combine the potent rajas with the ejaculated semen�.
The tip of the penis is referred to as a jewel (ṇi):
‘When the tip enters then one should perform the practice. After that one becomes capable of drawing rajas upwards� (ٲٳٰⲹDzśٰ 173).
The passage explicitly mirrors the man’s practice, with the exception that penetrative sex is specified. Perhaps this is the sexual vampirism caricatured in the vedic source by DZ貹ܻ and resisted by the man in his own practice of DZī by not penetrating the yoni. But then we have an omission. Whereas the man was given an elaborate scaffolding for drawing the fluids up through tubes and phut-sounds, the woman is given no details on how to draw the fluids upwards beyond the mere statement that she should do so (ٲٳٰⲹDzśٰ 173). This lack of detail recurs in subsequent descriptions of the practice such as the Ჹṻī辱 considered below and the seventeenth-century Ჹṻٲ屹ī and Yuktabhavadeva of the same century.
The results of the practice are that her rajas is undoubtedly not destroyed and in her body 岹 becomes bindu (ٲٳٰⲹDzśٰ 174). Bindu and rajas become one (īūⲹ) in her body and all attainments (siddhis) arise (ٲٳٰⲹDzśٰ 175). It is not clear whether there is a transition from rajas to 岹 to bindu, but it is clear that rajas and bindu become one. How should we understand this possible transformation in the nature of rajas? Presumably rajas drawn upwards in this way is not released externally through menstrual blood or conjoined with semen in procreation. Thus, this practice reverses the depletion of vital essences that would otherwise be lost or destroyed. But what happens instead? Is this to be understood as the woman resorbing the menses of one cycle rather than releasing it? Or is this a temporary delay to the onset of menses such that the regularity of the menstrual cycle is influenced? Finally, could this be a more permanent cessation of the menstrual cycle such that menstruation is halted, i.e. voluntary amenorrhea?
The results stated for the female practitioner do not exactly mirror the results attributed to the man’s practice—of victory over death which arises through the fall of bindu and life from the preservation of bindu (ٲٳٰⲹDzśٰ 167). As well as treating the man as object, and forcefully so, this passage involves penetrative sex and the woman drawing up the combined fluids. Conception is thus a possibility unless the practice is undertaken in a non-fertile period of the menstrual cycle or if all the semen were understood to be drawn upwards.
The ٲٳٰⲹDzśٰ makes an apparently gender non-essentialising point in a variant reading in the western (π) manuscripts not collated in the critical edition: either the man or the woman will achieve success from practice irrespective of their gender, femaleness (ٰīٱ) and maleness (ṃsٱ), should they have nothing but their own purpose in mind (ٲٳٰⲹDzśٰ 155cd-156ab). ‘Irrespective of one another’s gender, whether male or female� (yad ԲDzԲⲹ� ٰīٱpuṃstvānapekṣayā) could be more idiomatically rendered as femininity or masculinity. However, doing so invites a contemporary critical analysis which is unlikely to have been in the minds of the redactors. The eighteenth-century ṛhٰīś makes the same point: they should undertake the practice with no regard to each other’s ٰīٱ or ṃsٱ (sādhayitvānyonya� ٰīٱpuṃstvāna-pekṣayā vidhim ārabhetām) (fol. 103v). That either man or woman might achieve success clearly includes the female practitioner as beneficiary rather than mere accoutrement to the man’s practice. But how should we take this instruction to not have regard to one’s masculinity or femininity? Does this simply mean that women as well as men are able to succeed regardless of whether they are biologically male or female? Or does it refer to the manner in which the practice is done, i.e. disregarding gender? Further, does this imply a disregard for sexual attraction or aversion towards the partner? The specification for the woman to be sweet and attractive (ٲٳٰⲹDzśٰ 159) suggestions that a man would not choose a partner for whom he felt aversion. The woman is advised to select a partner who is ṣṭ and who knows yoga (ٲٳٰⲹDzśٰ 177-178). ṣṭ can mean one who is desired, or simply a husband or lover. Even if it meant ‘one who is desired�, these two verses twice specify one who knows yoga, suggesting that criterion trumps desirability. Without regard for femininity or masculinity could be understood as regardless of attraction towards the other on the paradigm of sexual tantric practices which range from ecstatic to erotic to visualised to resisted, categories identified by Hatley (2016). Hatley studies the latter, resistance to sex, as ‘the razor’s edge observance� (屹ٲ) of texts such as the 峾 also known as the Picumata, ‘a practice in which the male practitioner exposes himself to various degrees of sexual temptation without fully consummating the act, maintaining sensory restraint� (Hatley 2016:5). The practice of 屹ٲ in the 峾, ś and Ѳٲṅg emphasizes erotic appearance in the description of the female partner’s desired qualities, ‘and there are no statements that she benefits from the ritual� (Hatley 2016:14). None of this particularly presages the instruction in the ٲٳٰⲹDzśٰ to disregard gender if that is indeed the purport of the latter’s instruction. Mallinson notes parallels in Tibetan sexual yoga practices where practitioners are required to disregard one’s gender (Mallinson 2024:59n96). These statements give no acknowledgment of non-heteronormative sexual orientations.
The ٲٳٰⲹDzśٰ sets out qualifications for practitioners (ٲٳٰⲹDzśٰ 176-179) that relate to sexuality which I will consider as part of the prosaics of sex in the last section of this chapter. Here I turn to the Ჹṻī辱’s passage on DZī.