The Spandakārikā is an aphoristic commentary on the Śivasūtra which elaborates on the Doctrine of Vibration. Though attributed to Vasugupta, ‘author’ of the Śivasūtra, some believe it may have been written by an apprentice.

I would consider the following as an amateur exegesis of the text rather than a literal translation. Though it follows the translations reasonably closely in terms of structure and content, there is inevitable hermeneutic residue which deliberately deviates from what was actually written by Vasugupta. This is because, as is often the case with scripture, the texts are not readily understandable whether translated well or not.

As someone generally uninhibited by the sorts of things which would prevent it, I granted myself license to offer an exegesis of my own. There seems to me to have been a clearly interpretative angle in most translations, some of which conflict over key points in the text, vastly altering its essence. In order to engage with Vasugupta’s text, I have translated and re-written the stanzas at about a ratio of 2:1 (meaning for every 2 lines of translation, I added approximately one line of my own to clarify).

The following is not completely eisegetical, and based only on ‘what I think the text means’. Having consulted several translations and conducted a bit of my own linguistic and doctrinal research, I have simply made an effort to demystify some of the ambiguities. Exegesis and hermeneutic interpretation have been important to Trika Shaivism since its inception.

Naturally, it is subject to change as I get further into the world of Kashmiri commentaries on the Śivasūtra, so make of it what you will.

Spanda as One’s Own Nature

We praise Śiva, whose blinking and unblinking cause the dissolution and creation of the universe, ‘the power of the chakra’, the ‘wheel of energies’; he is the cause of all. Śiva is the source of all, on whom the universe rests, in whom it ultimately dissolves—including all consciousness. For this reason he is the unborn, the unmanifest.

Spanda1 is present whatever form consciousness takes, whether in the state of wakefulness or any number of others. Though these differentiated states are not exactly the same, they are pervaded by spanda. The principle of spanda is not—cannot—be omitted from these differentiated forms.

When we declare our present condition, by saying for instance, that ‘I am sad’, ‘I am pained’, or ‘I am attached’, we speak of the superfluous. These cognitions do not exist on their own; they are not foundational but superfluous, like the beads of a necklace which are woven together by something continuous. That continuous thing in this case is the vibration; spanda.

The grounds of these superfluous states are beyond them, in the way that it contains all but is none in particular. Spanda provides the grounds for happiness, or pain, but ultimately is neither. These states are real, but not Ultimately Real, since they are only superfluous or transient in comparison to that which they rest on. Spanda is the totality, whereas these differentiated states are mere emanations.

Where there is neither sorrow nor happiness, there is neither the beholder nor the beholden, beyond subjects and objects, where there is not even ignorance or delusion; then there is only Ultimate Reality.

This principle should be investigated with care and respect. It is from spanda—vibration—that the instruments of intellect, ego, mind, perception, and action arise. These instruments are not in themselves sentient though they believe themselves to be; for spanda is sentience itself. These instruments, combined with the senses, enter together into the states of external activity, stability, and dissolution, entertaining and enjoying themselves, demonstrating to themselves their freedoms to do so.

The sense of agency, of ‘seeing and knowing’, presented by the union of these instruments is limited and not the source of its own desires. In fact, it is the respondent to desires.

However, it is possible that, by acquainting itself with the ātman2, the ‘seer and knower’ may recognize that it too is ātman, and so become equal with it. The agent recognizes and becomes its true self—svabhāva3.

Desire is a source of impurity and hence a limiting factor to this act of recognition. In order to complete this acquaintance of the ‘seer and knower’ with ātman, the desire or impurity must be thoroughly dissolved. Once completed, access to spanda, the ground of all consciousness, is possible.

The results of having such access to spanda are the appearance of a knowledge and action capable of obtaining that which is desired by him. The knowledge, action, and desire, are of his true nature. This is akin to saying that an artificial dharma4 has been dissolved, and replaced with an innate one.

When one beholds his essential nature as the grounds of all being, who is to say he is wrong or right? It is not for others to judge his deeds; as he presides over himself smiling, he does only as he wishes.

Non-being does not exist. It logically makes no sense and is confirmed by observing those who enter into samādhi5 or perfect concentration on the topic, and on returning from that state, declare they had entered into a state of non-being. As observers, it is clear to us that no such thing occurred, and therefore, we must admit that the state of non-being is actually a state of stupidity.

We should say that this ‘nonexistent’ state is simply ignorance. It is a deep sleep in which one does not perceive Reality, nor recollect it afterwards.

Being svabhāva—‘in one’s own nature’—acts in two ways. It acts upon the character of both the ‘doer’ and deed; we could alternatively say it acts upon the agent and its object.

The object of the agent is temporal; it will perish. The agent, however, will not. The deed is impermanent, the ‘doer’ lives on.

He who believes in non-being is foolish enough to think that in completing his deed he ceases to be.

Perception alone does not qualify existence. It cannot be concluded that, because one cannot see the agent, therefore he does not exist. This is not to mention the fact that Śiva himself is boundless and therefore cannot simply be undone by entering into a particular form of empty concentration.

For he who believes that the superfluous is ultimately real, an experience of pure consciousness is a temporary cessation of his being. But true awakening is realization of the superfluity of ego, intellect, and perception, therefore when entering into a state of pure consciousness, the awakened does not perceive it as non-being, but understands it as a state of Ultimate Being. True awakening is being identified with spanda, and entering into spanda, the practitioner does not perceive a cessation of his existence, but its amplification.

All the universe is composed of Śiva and Śakti. The blossoming of Śiva-nature is the two states of waking and dreaming. The blossoming of Śakti-nature is of knowledge and the knowable. Their co-presence blossoms as consciousness.

One who obtains knowledge of his true nature, that pure consciousness, can never be fettered by its superfluous varieties, which range from simple sense awareness of the qualities of matter to that experience of svabhāva.

It is the case that these very same emanations of spanda are responsible for those unawakened individuals who, lacking knowledge of their true nature, fall into the terrible path of transmigration and worldliness, from which it is hard to return.

It is necessary that one becomes well acquainted with the principle of spanda, so that even in a waking state he is aware of his essential nature, identified with spanda itself.

Spanda is most acute during states of excessive anger, excessive pleasure, while contemplating ‘what should I do?’, or while running for one’s life.

A great practitioner is he who remains firm in the belief that he must pursue whatever occurs to him in that state.

In this supreme state, the practitioner brings to an end the Sun and Moon (of the subtle body); the in-breath and the out-breath meet at the channel of energy which runs along the spine, and, rising on the upward path, they leave aside even the crown, and finally dissolve. This is the act of the truly awakened.

The Emergence of Natural Knowledge

We have identified that the entire universe is composed of Śiva and Śakti, who, when conjoined, appear as spanda. While embodied beings participate in the many emanations of spanda, making use of the powers of perception and action, the mantras, too, are an emanation of spanda, and likewise full of the power of their various functions.

Mantras attain Śiva nature by means of their becoming tranquil and unblemished. By becoming free from their limitations and association with superfluities they may merge with the mind of the Yogi who has obtained access to pure consciousness, and obtain their Śiva nature.

It is impossible for a conscious form or embodied being to be other than Śiva. This is because all things emanate from him, and regardless of how they appear, must in essence be of him. Everywhere and always, Śiva is both beholder and beholden. The individual soul, therefore, does not really exist, since even if it appears so, it is composed of Śiva. Śiva is the name for the totality of the universe, the thing to which all things owe their existence. Nothing can be excluded from this category.

He who, fully identified with spanda, becomes constantly lucid and observing, inevitably views the world as a performance, a divine play. In viewing the world this way, he is truly liberated during his lifetime; of that there is no doubt.

With a firm will, a practitioner seeking awakening must identify that this is the objective of his meditation.

This alone is perception of ātman, the nectar leading to immortality, the initiation into the path toward Nirvana, and bestows the state of Śiva.

Supernatural Powers Originating from Spanda

The Creator (Śiva) is responsible for producing the contents of the heart of the awakened practitioner. These contents are granted on behalf of his capacity to maintain the state of the emergence of the Sun and Moon. Śiva, likewise, reveals the contents of his desire to him in dreams, so long as he honours the divine and abides in the central channel.

In other words, the practitioner becomes receptive to divine desires, but also becomes able to manifest his desires by virtue of their being divine. The practitioner's responsibility is to the subtle body (particularly the breath and the central channel), maintaining his devotion, and practising his invocations; Śiva takes care of the rest.

If this were not the case, manifestation would occur freely, according to the characteristics of common people in the mundane waking and dreaming states.

Manifestations of spanda can be brought into focus by an attentive mind. As with the sense of sight, which perceives most clearly when the observer makes an effort to behold its object, so too the varieties of spanda manifest best when attended to. Things can be brought into being by one with power and access to the cosmic force. The practitioner abiding in the spanda participates in creation.

The efficacy of having access to spanda is such that even the weak participate in creation by means of it.

When spanda is established in the body, qualities such as omniscience arise with regard to one’s body.

When spanda is established in the soul, supernatural qualities will manifest universally, since this is tantamount to saying that the limitations of worldly agency have dissolved.

This dissolution creates a space whereby identification with ātman is possible; and ātman is Śiva-Śakti, the Ultimate Reality. Spanda is the bridge between the manifest and the unmanifest.

Depression is like a plunderer in the body. Its source is ignorance. We may undo ignorance by ‘opening the eyes’—unmeṣa6—and therefore, undo depression, too.

A practitioner should pay attention to unmeṣa, or the ‘blooming forth’, which can occur when one has entered into a single-minded contemplation. He may perceive that a new awareness emerges out of the quieted, contemplative mind.

Unmeṣa brings with it divine light, divine sound, divine form, and divine taste. The emergence of unmeṣa can be disturbing, and disturbance is essentially movement of some sort where there had been none.

The practitioner will likely be very quiet when vibrating in his true nature. Why would he be talking when he can be experiencing, perceiving? Don’t be fooled by the lack of words; he is seeing things for what they are.

Afflictions are diminished by this practice of attentive perceptivity. While the practitioner is firmly within himself, he concentrates on beholding all things with knowledge and lucidity, and finds space outside the pressures and afflictions which others may bring.

He who remains in the state of limited agency is deprived of what he has by time, or Kalā7; that is, the white-noise of worldly powers.

To be in a state of limited agency is to enter into dependency. It is surrendering to the influence of the instruments (mind, intellect, ego). This limited existence, of being a dependent, is the waning of the supreme nectar leading to immortality.

Words, sounds, and ideas are superfluous. They, by nature, conceal as much as they reveal.

It is a very natural activity of the Śakti of Śiva to reside in, but tie up, the limited agent. It is the very same Śakti which bestows spanda to the practitioner.

Becoming a dependent is a consequence of five becoming eight; the subtle body is besieged when mind, ego, and intellect combine with it, and derive their pleasure and ideas from their union. Transmigration and the continuance of a worldly existence are a result of this union.

The practitioner, however, grounds himself in one place, and comes to take control of the creation and dissolution occurring in the subtle body. He then becomes the Lord of the Chakra8, that is to say, he becomes Śiva.


1 Spanda in the context of Kashmir Śaivism is the vibration, throb, or pulsation of the universe. It is a bridge of sorts, connecting the world of appearances/diversity and the Ultimate Reality, the manifest and the unmanifest.

2 I am using the term ātman (soul) in a transcendent, almost panpsychist mode, to convey the idea of a soul identified with Śiva. Sometimes this transcendent ātman is called a superego, but the text here speaks more in the sense of it being a de-identification with egoisms.

3 Innate self or character.

4 Order, ‘the way things are’.

5 A particular form of meditation, in which the meditator becomes one with the object of his meditation.

6 Unmeṣa can be translated as appearing, becoming visible, opening the eyes, coming forth, blooming, blossoming, winking, expanding, flashing, or opening. Here used in the nominative.

7 Time, fate, destiny, epoch.

8 Wheel, cycle.