09/10/2025
I have no doubt that, historically, there once was an oral tradition where a wise teacher defined mantra to be ‘that which protects you from the mind’. And our culture, increasingly aware of the suffering our mind can bring, has embraced this interpretation, which reassures us, and offers us hope of inner refuge.
And yes, mantra does have the capacity to protect the mind from damaging, self destructive, and heavy thoughts.
But even if we pronounce a mantra with absolute precision (which is essential), mantra has its own wisdom: one that doesn’t always bend to our desires of how we want things to turn out.
And if our wish is for a technique that guarantees we can shift our state from that which we judge as ‘bad’ into that which we judge as ‘good’, then we will miss the true essence within mantra.
It is not until we see that this desire itself is the trap, that we can break out of the need for mantra to do something for us, and allow its deeper ground to open up.
This is where looking into how Sanskrit words are formed can open something deeper.
While we often regard mantra as the tool or instrument by which we attain something, there is no ‘instrumentality’ found in the make up of the word mantra. Instead, mantra is the state of ‘pure being’, fused with ‘that which is secretly uttered all around’.
This nuance invites us to shift our attitude away from seeing mantra as something we say to make things unfold the way we want them to.
Instead, it guides us towards a deeper listening of what is already present.
Over time, I realised that beneath the diverse insights that each mantra offers, there is a unifying orientation that connects them all: an orientation that extends beyond the meditation cushion, allowing mantra to become present not only in the sounds of Sanskrit, but in the stillness and the drama of everyday life.
mantra, then, is not confined to a specific tradition or soundscape.
It is that which is always present: always quietly uttering.
It is for us, only, to listen.
