Parātrīṃśikā Vivaraṇa (Part 69): The Heart-Sky in Which the Universe Abides and Rests

Abhinava now says very plainly what this “in whom all abides” really is. It is śivaśaktyātmā eva — nothing other than the Śiva-Śakti reality itself. The final truth is not an impersonal blank, not a mute absolute beyond all selfhood, but the sovereign luminous aham itself. Not the contracted ego, of course, but the free, self-luminous “I” in which Śiva and Śakti are one.

Abhinava now takes the teaching out of the region of grand doctrine and brings it into a place where it can wound, loosen, and transform. The question is no longer only whether anuttara is the source of all, or whether all arises from it. The sharper question is whether this entire spread of life — mind, body, pleasure, pain, objecthood, multiplicity, even the sense of “mine” — can be recognized as abiding in one undivided Bhairava-consciousness without collapsing into confusion or cheap spiritual theatrics. Whether the scattered universe can really be seen as non-separate from the one awareness in which it shines. Whether the granthis that make things feel hard, cut off, and self-standing can begin to loosen.

Before that Abhinava described anuttara as the all-ground from which the Kaulika vidhi proceeds: the one source, locus, substance, and eternal all-form of the universe. But that still leaves an intimate and difficult problem. If all things abide in that one reality, what does that actually mean from within experience? What is this “heart-sky” in which the universe is held? How do “mine,” “I,” and the world itself return into that one unobscured ground?

This is the movement of the present chunk. Abhinava now unfolds yasmin sarvam inwardly. He says that the whole universe abides in one Bhairava-consciousness as an undivided form of awareness; that even the sense of “mine” is rooted in uninterrupted camatkāra; that the universe, once released from its separate self-assertion, becomes sky-like; and that through reabsorption even the contracted human pole is gathered back into the all-unbroken fullness of the primordial ground. The chunk culminates by identifying this as the true mama hṛdvyoma — the heart-sky from which the universe streams forth and in which it rests — and by naming that alone as the eternally unobscured, self-manifest, undeniable anuttara.

The phrase “yasmin sarvam” is now being unfolded further

yaduktaṃ

yasminsarvaṃ

iti |

“As was said: ‘in whom all [abides].’”

Abhinava begins by taking up again the phrase yasmin sarvam — “in whom all [abides]” — from the supporting verse cited in the previous chunk. The brevity here is important. He does not restate the whole verse, because the present movement is not starting from the beginning again. He is selecting one member of that doctrinal sequence and pressing into it more deeply.

The question now is no longer simply whether the supreme is the source of all, or whether it is all. The question is more intimate: in what sense does all actually abide in that reality? What does it mean for the many not merely to come from the one, but to be held within it now? So by isolating yasmin sarvam, Abhinava signals a shift from origin to abiding, from cosmological derivation to ontological containment.

This tiny opening therefore carries real weight. It tells the reader: now we are going to deepen the meaning of “in whom all.” The following lines will explain not merely that the universe depends on the supreme, but how the whole spread of entities is present within consciousness itself without true severance.

That reality is none other than the one Śiva-Śakti nature, one in itself though appearing as universal and particular, and only provisionally separated for the sake of instruction and entry into the means

tade tat śivaśaktyātmaiva sāmānyaviśeṣarūpamekātmakamapi parameśvareṇaiva
upadeśopāyapraveśāya pṛthakkṛtya nirūpyamāṇaṃ vastutaḥ punarekameva
svatantracinmayamahamityaiśvaryaśaktisāramanuttaram |

“That indeed is nothing but the Śiva-Śakti reality itself — one in essence, though appearing in the forms of the universal and the particular. Although it is being described by Parameśvara as if separated, for the sake of instruction and entry into the means, in truth it is again only one: anuttara, the essence of the sovereign power, the free consciousness ‘aham.’”

Abhinava now says very plainly what this “in whom all abides” really is. It is śivaśaktyātmā eva — nothing other than the Śiva-Śakti reality itself. That is the center. He does not allow us to imagine some neutral container in which the world happens to sit. Nor is this an abstract consciousness stripped of power. It is Śiva and Śakti together, one reality.

He then adds a very important qualification: this one reality appears as sāmānya and viśeṣa, the universal and the particular. That is, it can show itself as the common ground and as distinct determinations, yet it remains ekātmakam api, one in essence. So plurality of appearance does not mean plurality of source. The one can appear as general and particular without ceasing to be one.

That is why Abhinava says that Parameśvara describes it as though separated — pṛthakkṛtya nirūpyamāṇam — only for the sake of upadeśa and upāya-praveśa, instruction and entry into the means. This is crucial. The distinctions used in teaching are real as teaching-distinctions, but they are not final fissures in reality. They are pedagogical separations, not ontological rupture. The one is spoken as many so that the practitioner may enter the path; but what is thus unfolded remains, in truth, one.

So he closes the sentence by gathering everything back into a single formula: svatantra-cinmaya-aham, the free consciousness “I,” the very essence of sovereign power — aiśvarya-śakti-sāra — and that is anuttara. This is very strong. The final truth is not an impersonal blank, not a mute absolute beyond all selfhood, but the sovereign luminous aham itself. Not the contracted ego, of course, but the free, self-luminous “I” in which Śiva and Śakti are one.

So this point does a lot at once. It says that the reality in which all abides is one Śiva-Śakti essence. It says that universal and particular are appearances within that one. It says that instructional separation is necessary, but provisional. And it says that when all these distinctions are regathered, what remains is anuttara as the sovereign, free, consciousness-“I.”

Question: in what kind of own nature does this anuttara abide — “in my heart-sky”?

yatra kīdṛśe
svasvarūpe'vasthitaḥ mama hṛdvyomni

“In what kind of own nature does it abide — in my heart-sky?”

Abhinava now turns the argument inward by raising a more intimate question. He has just said that the reality in which all abides is the one Śiva-Śakti essence, provisionally unfolded for the sake of instruction but in truth the one sovereign aham, anuttara. Now the issue becomes: where, and in what kind of own nature, is that to be understood as abiding? This is the force of mama hṛd-vyomni — “in my heart-sky.”

At this point, however, Abhinava has not yet explained what that “heart-sky” is. He is not yet giving the answer, but preparing it. The phrase opens a new inward direction: the all-abiding reality is no longer being left at the level of cosmic doctrine alone, but is being drawn toward direct interior recognition. Yet the meaning of mama, hṛdaya, and vyoma is still to be unfolded. So this line should be heard as a threshold-question: in what mode does anuttara abide as “my heart-sky”? The next lines will answer that gradually and with great precision.

“My heart” means the heart as the abiding place and support of all entities; no object from blue up to worms has any standing apart from the knower

mameti yat etat hṛdayaṃ sarvabhāvānāṃ sthānaṃ pratiṣṭhādhāma nīlādīnāṃ hi antataḥ krimiparyantaṃ
cidaṃśāniviṣṭānāṃ na kiṃcit nīlādi rūpamiti pramātureva

“As for the phrase ‘my’: this heart is the place and abiding support of all entities. For things such as blue and the rest — down even to worms — being lodged within a portion of consciousness, have no independent form as ‘blue’ and so on; they belong only to the knower.”

Abhinava now begins to explain mama hṛdvyoma by first taking up mama — “my.” But he does so in a way that immediately breaks ordinary possessiveness. “My heart” does not mean a private inner chamber belonging to an individual ego. It means the hṛdaya, the heart as sthāna and pratiṣṭhādhāma, the abiding place and support of all entities. So the “my” here is not narrow ownership. It is the inward field in which all things find their standing.

That is why he gives the striking range: from nīla, blue, all the way down to krimi, worms. The point is total inclusiveness. Whatever appears as object, quality, creature, or thing is said to be cidaṃśāniviṣṭa, lodged within a portion of consciousness. Therefore nothing has an independent form simply as “blue” or “worm” on its own side. Such forms stand only in relation to the pramātṛ, the knower. Abhinava is not denying appearances. He is denying their self-standing objecthood apart from the conscious ground in which they are disclosed.

So this point begins the inward turn very carefully. The “heart” is not a sentimental symbol and not a personal possession. It is the support of all beings. And the “my” of that heart does not mean “mine as against others,” but the field in which all objecthood is already inseparable from the knowing consciousness to which it appears.

The sense of “mine” arises because objects are mounted upon an uninterrupted portion of camatkāra: “my blue appears” — that alone is their object-form

mameti avicchinnacamatkārāṃśopārohitvaṃ mama nīlaṃ bhātam iti tadeva
nilādirūpatvam

“The sense of ‘mine’ consists in being mounted upon a portion of uninterrupted camatkāra: ‘my blue shines.’ That alone is the form of blue and the rest.”

Abhinava now explains what mama, “mine,” really means here. It is not first of all possession in the ordinary sense. It is avicchinna-camatkāra-aṃśa-upārohitva — the fact that an object is superimposed upon, or carried by, a portion of uninterrupted wonder-consciousness. That is why one says, mama nīlaṃ bhātam — “my blue appears” or “my blue shines.” The object is not standing alone first and only later being claimed by a subject. Its very appearing already involves this intimate carrying within the field of consciousness.

That is why Abhinava can say: tadeva nīlādi-rūpatvam — that alone is the form of blue and the rest. The “blue” is not some self-grounded thing outside the knower, later attached to awareness as an accident. Its object-form consists precisely in this appearing-within, this being borne upon the uninterrupted camatkāra of consciousness. So “mine” here does not mean appropriation after the fact. It means the mode in which what appears is already inwardly situated within the living field of awareness.

The “heart-sky” of this ‘mine’ is that in which the entire universe, constituted as ‘mine,’ is pervaded, well held, and, having left its separate form, becomes sky-like and void-like

iti tasya mametyasya nīlādyanantasarvabhāvahṛdayasya yat vyoma yatra tat
mamakārātmakaṃ viśvaṃ vītaṃ [viśeṣeṇa itaṃ gataṃ vītam |] samyak dhṛtam ata eva
tyaktabhinnanijarūpatayā śūnyarūpaṃ vyoma yatra

“Thus, the sky belonging to this ‘mine’ — the heart of all entities from blue onward into infinity — is that in which the universe, constituted as ‘mine,’ is pervaded, fully held; and therefore, having abandoned its separate own-form, it becomes sky-like, of the nature of the void.”

Abhinava now deepens the meaning of mama, “mine.” He has just said that the form of blue and the rest consists in their being borne upon an uninterrupted portion of camatkāra: “my blue shines.” Now he expands that logic from one object to the whole universe. The heart of this “mine” is the heart of all entities, from blue onward without limit. And its vyoma, its sky, is the expanse in which the whole universe as “mine” is vītaṃ, pervaded through and through, and samyak dhṛtam, fully held.

That is the crucial turn. “Mine” here no longer means possessiveness in the ordinary egoic sense. It means that the entire universe is inwardly borne in one conscious field. Because it is thus pervaded and held, it no longer stands in its bhinna-nija-rūpa, its separately asserted own-form. That separative stance is left behind. And so Abhinava says it becomes śūnya-rūpaṃ vyoma — sky-like, void-like, open, unbounded. Not nonexistent, but stripped of hard separateness.

So this point is very beautiful and very exact. The universe does not become unreal; it becomes unsealed. Once gathered into the heart-sky of “mine,” it is no longer a collection of self-enclosed objects. It is held within one inward expanse, and in that holding its apparent separate solidity softens into sky-like openness.

Then the “heart” of this ‘mine,’ whose nature is the parāpara-consciousness of difference-and-non-difference, has its own sky; through the calculus of reabsorption, “ma ha a” shows the human level dissolving into bindu-śakti

tathā mametyasya bhinnābhinnarūpaparāparasaṃvidātmano yat hṛdayaṃ paryantapratiṣṭhādhāma ahamiti tasyāpi vyoma saṃhārarūpakalanena ma ha a iti narātmakaṃ līnaṃ bindvātmaśaktau

“And likewise, the heart of this ‘mine’ — whose nature is the parāpara-consciousness of difference-and-non-difference, the terminal ground of support — has its own sky as ‘I.’ And in that too, by the calculus of reabsorption, ‘ma ha a’: the human level is dissolved into the śakti of the nature of bindu.”

Abhinava now deepens the movement again. He has just unfolded the heart-sky of mama, “mine,” as the field in which the universe, once stripped of separate self-standing form, becomes sky-like and open. Now he says that this “mine” itself has a heart, and that heart is of the nature of parāpara-saṃvid, consciousness in the mode of both difference and non-difference. In other words, “mine” is not final. It too rests in a deeper interior support, and that support opens into aham, “I,” as its own sky.

Then the movement becomes explicitly reabsorptive. Through saṃhāra-rūpa-kalanā, the calculus or contemplative tracing of reabsorption, the sequence ma ha a is introduced. Abhinava is now reading the levels inwardly: the narātmaka, the human or limited level, represented here in the contracted pole, is no longer standing on its own. It is shown as līna, dissolved, within bindvātma-śakti, the śakti of the nature of bindu. So the movement is not from “mine” to a new object, but from possessive or relational consciousness inward into the more primordial pulse of “I,” and from there into the contracted human pole dissolving into its subtler śakti-ground.

This point is delicate and should not be flattened. Abhinava is not merely juggling syllables. He is showing how what appears at the level of relation and appropriation (“mine”) is traced inward to reflexive identity (“I”), and then, through contemplative reabsorption, the human-limited form is seen sinking into the more concentrated power-symbolized by bindu. So the line marks a real interior descent beneath the ordinary architecture of subject and object.

“Ma” enters the Kuṇḍalinī of the form of ha-kalā, and then enters the all-unbroken “a” of full unobstructed camatkāra

ma-iti kuṇḍalinī-ha-kalārūpāyāṃ praviśya paripūrṇanirargalacamatkāre

sarvāvicchinne a-ityanupraviṣṭaṃ tathā bhavati

“The syllable ‘ma,’ entering into Kuṇḍalinī of the form of ha-kalā, then enters into the ‘a,’ which is full, unobstructed camatkāra, utterly unbroken; thus it becomes so.”

Abhinava now carries the reabsorptive movement one step deeper. In the previous line the narātmaka, the human-limited pole, was said to dissolve into bindvātma-śakti. Here that movement is expressed more concretely through the syllabic sequence. Ma enters the Kuṇḍalinī identified with ha-kalā. So the contracted, individuated pole does not simply vanish into blankness; it passes inward into a subtler śakti-current.

From there the movement continues into a — and Abhinava characterizes this with great force: paripūrṇa, full; nirargala, unobstructed; sarvāvicchinna, wholly unbroken; camatkāra, wonder-consciousness. This is important. The process is not merely subtraction or erasure. It is entry into a fuller and less obstructed mode of awareness. What had appeared as contracted and separate is gathered into the unbroken field of primordial a. So this point seals the inner logic of the syllabic reabsorption: the limited “ma” is taken into śakti, and through śakti into the all-unbroken fullness of the primal ground.

This alone is “my heart-sky”: that from which this universe has streamed forth and in which it comes to rest

etadeva mama hṛdvyoma evaṃ yata idaṃ
prasṛtaṃ yatra ca viśrāntaṃ

“This alone is my heart-sky — that from which this universe has streamed forth and in which it comes to rest.”

Abhinava now gathers the whole inward movement into one direct statement. The “heart-sky” is no longer a question. It is now identified: etad eva mama hṛd-vyoma — “this alone is my heart-sky.” And what is this “this”? It is precisely that from which the universe has prasṛta, streamed forth, and in which it has viśrānta, come to rest.

This is a very important compression, because it binds together origin and repose in one and the same reality. The heart-sky is not merely the place where the world ends after some spiritual return, nor merely the source from which it once began. It is both: the point of emergence and the place of rest. That means the universe never truly leaves it in the radical sense. Manifestation is a streaming forth, but not a departure into alien space. Repose is a return, but not a travel back from true exile.

So this line quietly seals everything that came before. The universe, which had seemed spread into body, mind, pleasure, pain, object, and multiplicity, is now gathered back into one inward expanse. The heart-sky is the source of its arising and the field of its repose. That is why Abhinava can identify it so simply: this alone. Not another place, not a second reality, not a symbolic heart apart from the real — but this very ground from which all comes forth and in which all rests.

That alone is anuttara: eternally unobscured in nature, self-manifest, impossible to deny away

tadeva nityamanāvṛtasvabhāvaṃ svayaṃ prathamānam
anapahnavanīyamanuttaram |

“That alone is anuttara: eternal in its unobscured nature, self-manifest, and impossible to deny away.”

Abhinava now seals the whole inward movement with a very concentrated definition. The “heart-sky” just described — that from which the universe has streamed forth and in which it comes to rest — is not merely one sacred locus among others. That alone is anuttara. And he characterizes it through three very strong marks: it is nityam, eternal; anāvṛta-svabhāva, of an uncovered or unobscured nature; and svayaṃ-prathamāna, self-manifest, shining by itself.

The phrase anāvṛta-svabhāva matters a great deal. Anuttara is not something that becomes itself only when coverings are removed from outside, as though its real nature were absent and had to be manufactured. Its nature is already unobscured in itself. Covering belongs only to the side of contracted apprehension. That is why Abhinava can immediately add anapahnavanīya — it cannot be denied away, explained away, or nullified. One may fail to recognize it, one may live in fragmentation, one may superimpose division upon it — but one cannot abolish it.

So this is the right climax. Abhinava began by saying that the whole universe abides in one Bhairava-consciousness, then showed that mutual severance does not belong to the ultimate, then traced “mine,” “I,” and the heart-sky inward into reabsorption. Now he says plainly: the reality thus uncovered is not a passing state, not a mystical episode, not a product of practice. It is the eternally unobscured, self-revealing ground that cannot be negated. That is exactly why it is anuttara.

Supporting verse: all effects stand in that, emerge from that, and because its form is never covered, there is nowhere any true cessation

yathoktam

yatra sthitamidaṃ sarvaṃ kāryaṃ yasmācca nirgatam |
tasyānāvṛtarūpatvānna nirodho'sti kutracit ||

“As it has been said:

‘That in which this whole effect stands, and from which it has emerged —
because its form is uncovered, there is nowhere any cessation.’”

Abhinava quotes a verse that gathers the whole movement into one final seal. All this manifested world, kārya, the whole field of effects, stands in that reality and emerges from that same reality. The source and the abiding place are not two. What comes forth does not leave its ground behind, and what rests does not rest anywhere else. The whole argument of the chunk has been moving toward exactly this point.

The decisive phrase is tasyānāvṛtarūpatvāt — because its form is uncovered, unobscured. This is why there is na nirodhaḥ kutracit, no true cessation anywhere. Abhinava is not saying that empirical forms do not arise and subside. He is saying that at the level of the underlying reality, there is no absolute cutting-off, no real annihilation, no terminal disappearance. What appears may contract, unfold, withdraw, and repose, but it never falls outside the unobscured ground in which it stands.

So this verse is the right ending for the movement. The universe abides in one Bhairava-consciousness, streams forth from it, rests in it, and never truly departs from it. That is why the final truth is not destruction of beings, but their establishment in their own nature. Because the ground is never covered, there is nowhere a real rupture.