Ratha Kalpanā
The Allegory of the Chariot
Yesterday I gathered with the Become You community to celebrate nine years of Become You.
It felt both like a celebration of what has been and the beginning of something new.
As Become You continues to evolve as the Shakti Yoga & Meditation School, I wanted to establish a rhythm of regular satsang — coming together in person for meditation, teaching, inquiry and conversation.
For our first gathering, we explored one of my favourite metaphors from the Kaṭha Upaniṣad: the Ratha Kalpanā, the allegory of the chariot.
We began with meditation and then listened together to Swami Sarvapriyananda unfold this ancient teaching. Partway through, we paused.
And the conversation began.
People shared what the teaching brought up for them. We asked questions. We explored the pull of the senses, the restlessness of the mind, the role of discernment and what it might actually mean to become the master of one's own chariot.
It reminded me of what satsang can be.
The Sanskrit word satsang is often translated as “association with truth” or “being in the company of truth.” Traditionally, it points to gathering in the company of those seeking and contemplating Truth.
For me, satsang need not mean one person teaching while everyone else simply listens. There can be listening, contemplation, questioning and shared inquiry. We can hold space for each person’s experience, perspective and understanding, recognising that we may encounter the teaching from different places along the path.
We do not need to arrive at the same conclusions or insist upon a single interpretation. Rather, we come together as seekers — listening deeply to the teaching, to one another, and perhaps discovering something more clearly through the inquiry itself.
This is the spirit in which our forthcoming satsangs at Become You will continue: gathering together, listening to respected teachers of the Vedānta tradition, exploring some of its foundational teachings, and allowing time for reflection and dialogue.
Yesterday, the Ratha Kalpanā gave us a wonderful place to begin.
The journey of the seeker
In many ways, this teaching also speaks to the journey of Become You itself.
At the heart of Become You has always been an inquiry into who we are and who we are becoming. As seekers, we may begin that journey for many different reasons. We may be searching for greater meaning, purpose, wellbeing or belonging. We may want to understand ourselves more deeply, change something in our lives, or simply sense that there must be something more.
Sooner or later, the deeper questions begin to emerge:
Who am I?
What am I really seeking?
What is it within me that changes — and what, if anything, remains unchanged?
These are not questions that necessarily give themselves up to quick answers. They are questions we can live with, practise with and return to throughout a lifetime.
This is why I have often described Become You as a journey of the self, through the self, to the Self.
We begin with the person we know ourselves to be — our body, personality, history, desires, relationships and experiences. Through yoga, meditation, self-inquiry and the experiences of life itself, we begin to know that person more deeply.
But the wisdom traditions eventually invite us further.
Vedānta asks whether the person we have spent our lives becoming is the entirety of who we are.
And this is precisely where the Ratha Kalpanā becomes such a powerful metaphor for the seeker.
The chariot
In the Kaṭha Upaniṣad, the human being is compared to a chariot travelling along a road.
The body is the chariot.
The senses are the horses.
The mind — manas — is the reins.
The intellect — buddhi — is the charioteer.
And seated within the chariot is the Ātman — the Self.
The roads along which the horses travel are the objects and experiences of the sensory world.
It is a beautifully simple image.
But the more we contemplate it, the more profound it becomes.
The horses — our senses
Imagine a chariot being pulled by five powerful horses.
One sees something attractive and wants to go towards it.
Another hears something and suddenly pulls in another direction.
Another catches a scent, another wants to taste, another seeks the pleasure of touch.
There is nothing inherently wrong with the horses. We need them.
Our senses allow us to experience this extraordinary world.
The problem arises when the horses determine the direction of the journey.
Much of modern life actively encourages this. We are constantly being invited to look, click, taste, purchase, consume, react and seek the next experience.
The horses are continually being stimulated.
And without guidance, they simply run towards whatever attracts them next.
The reins — manas, the mind
The reins represent manas — the aspect of mind that receives sensory information, responds, reacts, feels, doubts and moves between possibilities.
The reins connect the horses to the charioteer.
When the reins are loose, the horses are difficult to guide.
Our attention scatters. We become reactive. One thought leads to another. Desire pulls us here, fear pulls us there, memory takes us backwards and anticipation carries us into an imagined future.
This is why so many yogic practices involve learning to steady the mind.
Āsana, prāṇāyāma and meditation are not simply wellness practices.
They help us become more capable of holding the reins.
The charioteer — buddhi
But holding the reins is not enough.
Someone must know where the chariot is going.
The charioteer represents buddhi — the discriminating faculty of the mind.
Buddh is our capacity to discern.
To pause.
To see more clearly.
To distinguish between what is immediately pleasurable and what is ultimately beneficial.
To recognise:
This impulse is arising, but I don't necessarily have to follow it.
A skilled charioteer does not hate the horses or suppress them. The charioteer understands them, trains them and directs their considerable energy.
This is an important distinction.
Yoga is not a rejection of life.
It is learning how to participate in life without being continually pulled around by it.
And then there is the passenger
This is where the metaphor becomes distinctly Vedāntic.
Because the charioteer is not the Self.
Nor is the mind.
Nor are the senses.
Nor, ultimately, is the body.
The Upaniṣad asks us to look more deeply.
Who is aware of all of these?
I can notice my body.
I can notice sensations.
I can notice thoughts.
I can notice emotions.
I can even observe myself deliberating, deciding and changing my mind.
So who is the one who knows all of this?
The Ratha Kalpanā places Ātman — the Self — as the one seated within the chariot.
And with that, what initially appears to be a lesson about self-management becomes an inquiry into Self-knowledge.
Who is driving your chariot?
We can read the chariot metaphor at many levels.
At one level, it asks us to consider how we are living.
Are my senses running my life?
Is my mind sufficiently steady to guide them?
Is my buddhi — my capacity for discrimination — awake?
Am I living deliberately, or simply responding to whatever pulls most strongly at the reins?
These alone are valuable questions.
But Vedānta takes us further.
It eventually asks:
Who am I?
Am I the chariot?
The horses?
The reins?
The charioteer?
Or am I the one in whose presence this entire journey is taking place?
Perhaps this is why an image created thousands of years ago continues to speak so powerfully to us.
The vehicles have changed.
The roads have changed.
The distractions have certainly multiplied.
But the human predicament has not changed very much at all.
We are still learning how to hold the reins.
We are still learning how to discern.
And ultimately, we are still asking the ancient question:
Who is the one travelling?
Yesterday felt like an especially meaningful way to mark nine years of Become You.
Not simply by looking backwards at what has been created, but by sitting together as seekers and continuing the inquiry that has been at the heart of Become You from the beginning.
A Space to Be. A Path Become. A Place to Belong.
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Lifestyle of a Yogi
Avril Bastiansz
Become You | Shakti Yoga & Meditation School