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| this image visually suggests that first interior surge where Śakti is not yet gross creation, but the will-to-unfold — icchā as the first luminous urge of manifestation. |
The previous movement clarified why the teaching may proceed through sequence even though inward consciousness is non-sequential. As speech, the śāstra must unfold step by step; as saṃvid, the reality it reveals is whole. This allowed Abhinava to return to the Tantra’s order without becoming trapped by order: the designation beginning with a is valid as teaching, while the truth indicated by that sequence remains inwardly akrama.
Now Abhinava turns to the first letter itself.
The letter a is not merely the first sound of the alphabet. It is the first intelligible pulse of Parameśvara’s own icchā-śakti, the freedom-power as will. But this must be understood carefully. Icchā here is not ordinary desire born from lack. It is not a psychological wanting. It is the supreme’s free inward inclination toward manifestation before the object of manifestation has emerged.
At this point, the universe has not yet opened. The bhāvas, the beings or manifest states, remain anunmīlita — unopened, not yet expanded. Yet there is already a dense inner Vimarśa, a self-recognitive pulse inside Parameśvara’s own nature. This is why a is the sound of the first stir, the first trace of free will before the world becomes explicit.
This state is called icchā precisely because the wished-for has not yet risen as a distinct object. It is will before objectification, freedom before formed intention, outwardness before the “outside” has appeared. Therefore it remains an immediate recognition of Anuttara-sattā, unsurpassed being itself.
The chunk then becomes more subtle. Parameśvara constantly recognizes His own nature, even while touching the Akula-Śakti form and following Kula-Śakti. There is still a distinction between merely entering the Kula-current and being Bhairava as the possessor of Śakti. This is the living state of Bhairava-śaktimat-vimarśa — Bhairava not as mute light, but as light bearing Śakti, self-aware and capable of manifestation.
Finally, Abhinava unfolds this first icchā as spanda. Consciousness, moved by the delight born from its own nature, turns toward the possibility of diverse creation. At first this is only outward orientation, the bare will-to-create before the created object is defined. Later, when the object of lordship becomes specified, icchā becomes prayatna, effort, and takes on the fiery form of aiśvarya, lordly power.
So this chunk is about the first trembling of manifestation: a as the supreme’s free will before the universe opens. Not yet world, not yet object, not yet fully formed creation — but already Śakti, already Vimarśa, already the first pulse by which Anuttara begins to turn toward expression.
The letter “a” is Parameśvara’s icchā-śakti before manifestation opens
evaṃ parameśvarasya svātmani icchātmikā svātantryaśaktiranunmīlitabhāvavikāsā tathāvidhāntarghanasaṃvitsvabhāvavimarśasārā a ityucyate
“Thus, in Parameśvara Himself, the freedom-power whose nature is will — before the unfolding of beings has opened, dense inwardly with consciousness, and whose essence is the Vimarśa of that very nature — is called a.”
Abhinava now turns to the letter a, and he does not treat it as a mere phonetic beginning. A is the first utterable sign of Parameśvara’s own icchātmikā svātantryaśakti — the freedom-power whose nature is will. But this must be heard carefully: icchā here is not ordinary desire. It is not lack, craving, or a psychological movement toward something absent. It is the first free inward pulse by which the supreme turns toward manifestation without yet becoming divided from itself.
The phrase svātmani is important. This power is in Parameśvara Himself, not outside Him. The letter a does not mark a fall from the supreme into sound. It marks the supreme’s own freedom beginning to become expressible while still remaining in itself. The movement has begun, but the universe has not yet opened.
That is why Abhinava says anunmīlita-bhāva-vikāsā — the unfolding of beings has not yet opened. The bhāvas, the manifest realities, are still unexpanded, still inward, still not distinct. Creation has not yet spread into “this” and “that.” Yet there is already a pulse, a readiness, a pressure of manifestation inside consciousness.
And this inward state is antar-ghana-saṃvit-svabhāva-vimarśa-sārā — dense with inward consciousness, whose essence is the Vimarśa of its own nature. This is the key. The first pulse is not unconscious potential. It is not blank possibility. It is self-aware possibility. Parameśvara’s freedom knows itself even before the world unfolds. The universe is still unmanifest, but the power to manifest is already awake as Vimarśa.
So a is the first sound-symbol of living Anuttara turning toward expression. Not yet object, not yet speech in the gross sense, not yet creation — but the first inward throb of will. It is the supreme saying nothing outwardly yet, while already containing the power of all saying.
This state is called icchā because the wished-for has not yet emerged
sā cāvasthānena iccheti vyapadeśyā iṣyamāṇānudrekā
“And in this condition, it is designated as icchā, because what is wished-for has not yet arisen.”
Abhinava now clarifies why this first pulse is called icchā, will. It is not yet the will toward a defined object. The iṣyamāṇa, the thing to be willed or desired, has not yet emerged. There is no clearly formed “this” standing before consciousness. The universe has not yet opened into determinate form.
So this is not ordinary desire. Ordinary desire already has an object: “I want this.” It arises with lack, direction, and distinction. But here, in the first movement of a, the object of will has not yet appeared. This is will before object. It is the supreme’s own freedom turning toward manifestation, while still dense with undivided consciousness.
That is why icchā here is so subtle. It is not psychological wanting. It is not a movement from incompleteness toward completion. It is fullness beginning to incline toward expression. The desired has not arisen because nothing is yet separate enough to be desired. And yet there is already a pulse, a readiness, a first opening toward manifestation.
So the letter a marks this pre-objective will: the supreme not yet creating, not yet defining, not yet projecting, but already alive with the power to do so. It is the first trembling of freedom before the world becomes visible.
This state is the recognition of Anuttara-being itself
tata evānuttarasattāparāmarśātmikaiva
“Therefore, it has the nature of the recognition of Anuttara-being itself.”
Abhinava now seals the meaning of icchā at this first level. Because the desired object has not yet emerged, this will is not directed toward a separate thing. There is no “I want that” yet. There is no formed universe, no clear object, no distinct field of manifestation. Therefore this icchā remains nothing other than anuttara-sattā-parāmarśa — the self-recognition of unsurpassed being.
This is important. The first will of Parameśvara is not a movement away from the supreme. It is not lack. It is not need. It is not the beginning of bondage. It is Anuttara recognizing itself as free power before manifestation has unfolded.
So a is not just the first letter. It is the first vibration of unsurpassed being touching itself as the possibility of manifestation. The universe is not yet opened, but the freedom to manifest is already awake. The desired has not appeared, because the will is still identical with the supreme’s own self-presence.
This is why Abhinava’s understanding of icchā is so different from ordinary desire. Ordinary desire implies incompleteness. Here, will arises from fullness. It is not hunger moving toward an object. It is plenitude beginning to shimmer as creative freedom.
Parameśvara constantly recognizes His own nature and the Akula-Śakti form
eṣā parameśvaraḥ satataṃ svasvarūpāmarśako'kulaśaktipadātmakamapi rūpamāmṛśan
“This is Parameśvara, constantly recognizing His own nature, and also recognizing the form that consists of the Akula-Śakti state.”
Abhinava now shows what this first pulse of icchā, marked by the letter a, really is. It is not a desire arising in a limited subject. It is Parameśvara’s own self-recognition before the universe has opened. He is satataṃ sva-svarūpa-āmarśakaḥ — constantly touching, apprehending, tasting His own nature. This is not an occasional act of self-awareness. It is His very way of being.
This matters because the supreme is not first inert light and then later self-aware. Parameśvara is not a blank luminosity that must somehow acquire awareness afterward. His light is already self-touching. His being is already Vimarśa. The first a is the sound-sign of that inward self-recognition beginning to lean toward manifestation while still remaining rooted in itself.
Then Abhinava adds that Parameśvara also recognizes the form consisting of the Akula-Śakti state. This is the dangerous and beautiful point. Akula is the beyond of Kula, but it is not stripped of Śakti. The supreme is not “pure” because Śakti has been removed from it. The supreme is pure because Śakti is there as its own innermost freedom, not as something external or limiting.
So Parameśvara recognizes both: His own nature and the Akula-Śakti form. The beyond is already pregnant with power. The stillness is already carrying the pulse. The silence is already holding the first possibility of speech. This is why a is not a dead beginning; it is the first audible edge of living freedom.
Without this point, the whole doctrine would slide toward sterile transcendence. One could imagine Akula as a cold, unmarked absolute beyond the Goddess. Abhinava does not permit that. The Akula he speaks of is Bhairava alive with Śakti, consciousness aware of itself, freedom inwardly holding the power of all manifestation before anything has yet unfolded.
This is the subtle beauty of the passage: manifestation has not begun, and yet the possibility of manifestation is already being recognized. The universe is not yet visible, but the power that will become universe is already touched in the heart of Parameśvara. The first pulse of will is therefore not a movement away from the supreme. It is the supreme beginning to taste its own freedom as the possibility of all worlds.
Even if He follows Kula-Śakti, there remains a distinction from mere Kula-recognition
yadyapi kulaśaktīranuyātu tathāpi kulaparāmarśato'sya syādeva viśeṣaḥ
“Although He may follow the Kula-Śaktis, still there is indeed a distinction between Him and the recognition of Kula.”
Abhinava now protects the point from being misunderstood. Parameśvara recognizes the Akula-Śakti form. He may also “follow” or move with the Kula-Śaktis, the powers of manifestation, articulation, and embodied Śākta unfoldment. But even so, He is not reducible to Kula-parāmarśa, the recognition of Kula alone.
This is subtle. Abhinava has been insisting that Akula is not empty of Kula-Śakti. The supreme is not a blank beyond the Goddess. But now he also says the reverse: the supreme is not exhausted by the Kula-current either. If one says only “Akula beyond everything,” one risks sterile transcendence. If one says only “Kula, Śakti, manifestation,” one risks losing the unbounded source. Abhinava refuses both reductions.
So there is viśeṣa, a real distinction. Parameśvara can enter the Kula-Śaktis, recognize them, move through them, manifest through them, and yet His status is not merely the recognition of Kula. He is Bhairava as śaktimat, the possessor of Śakti — not Śakti as an isolated current, and not a Śiva stripped of Śakti. The fullness is their inseparable unity with functional distinction.
This is exactly why his vision cannot be flattened into either “transcendent Śiva” or “Śākta manifestation” alone. Akula contains Kula-Śakti; Kula shines because of Akula. But Bhairava’s recognition is wider than any one pole. He is not blank beyond the Goddess, and He is not absorbed into the Goddess as a limited mode. He is the living unity in which Akula and Kula are both intelligible.
This is Bhairava as Śakti-bearing Vimarśa
iti bhairavaśaktimadvimarśasatteyaṃ
“Thus, this is the existence of Bhairava’s Vimarśa as possessing Śakti.”
Abhinava now names the living core of the passage. The first pulse marked by a is not bare consciousness, not ordinary desire, not a neutral metaphysical principle, and not Śakti separated from Śiva. It is Bhairava-śaktimat-vimarśa-sattā — the very existence of Bhairava as self-recognition bearing Śakti.
This phrase should not be rushed. Bhairava here is not inert transcendence. Śaktimat means He is not without Śakti. Vimarśa means He is not mute light, but light that knows itself, touches itself, tastes itself, and is free to manifest itself. Sattā means this is not a secondary act added later; this is His very mode of being. Bhairava exists as Śakti-bearing Vimarśa.
This is the point where Abhinava protects the supreme from two opposite distortions. If we speak only of Akula, the beyond, we may imagine a sterile absolute beyond all power, beyond manifestation, beyond the Goddess — a silent blank mistaken for transcendence. If we speak only of Kula-Śakti, we may lose the unbounded source and absolutize manifestation. Abhinava refuses both. The truth is Bhairava as Śaktimat: the beyond that contains power, the light that is self-recognizing, the silence already pregnant with speech, the stillness already holding the first pulse of creation.
So the letter a is not a phonetic mark only. It is the first audible edge of this Śakti-bearing self-recognition. The universe has not yet unfolded. The desired object has not yet emerged. Kula has not yet expanded into its visible multiplicity. And yet the supreme is already not empty in the dead sense. It is alive with Vimarśa. It knows itself as freedom. It contains Śakti inwardly.
This is why Abhinava’s vision cannot be reduced to a shallow “Shaivism” where Śiva is supreme and Śakti is secondary. Without Śakti, Bhairava would not be living Bhairava. Without Vimarśa, Prakāśa would be mute. Without the self-recognitive power, transcendence would slide toward sleep-like blankness. Śakti is not an accessory to Śiva. She is His own freedom to be aware, to will, to manifest, to recognize manifestation as Himself.
At the same time, Śakti is not a second principle competing with Bhairava. This is not two gods stitched together. Śaktimat means the possessor of Śakti, but not in the crude sense of an owner holding something external. It means Śakti belongs to Bhairava as fire belongs to heat, as light belongs to shining, as awareness belongs to self-recognition. The distinction is functional; the reality is indivisible.
This is the living formula of the whole passage: Bhairava is not merely beyond the world, and Śakti is not merely the world. Bhairava as Śakti-bearing Vimarśa is the supreme before manifestation, already containing the power of manifestation without being diminished by it. He is Akula, but Akula with Kula-Śakti inwardly present. He is stillness, but not dead stillness. He is freedom, already trembling as icchā.
So this point is one of the keys to the text. The highest is not blank. The first pulse is not lack. Manifestation is not foreign. Śakti is not lower. Bhairava exists as self-recognizing power, and the letter a is the first sign of that inexhaustible fact.
This state is mutually oriented, Spanda-like, the upsurge of the Self
tādṛśyeva [tādṛśyeveti parasparaunmukhyātmikā spandarūpā svātmocchalattetyathaḥ |
“She is exactly of that nature. The gloss explains: ‘of that nature’ means that she consists of mutual orientation, has the form of Spanda, and is the upsurge of the Self.”
Abhinava now describes the texture of this Bhairava-śaktimat-vimarśa-sattā. It is not static. It is not a frozen metaphysical fact. It is spanda-rūpā — pulsation, throb, living vibration. The first a, as icchā-śakti, is the supreme beginning to stir within itself.
The gloss says paraspara-unmukhyātmikā — made of mutual orientation. This is subtle. Before full manifestation, there is not yet a clear split between subject and object. But there is already a kind of inward facing-toward: Śiva toward Śakti, Śakti toward Śiva; Akula toward Kula, Kula held within Akula; the supreme toward its own power of expression. It is not duality yet. It is the first intimacy of manifestation.
Then the gloss calls it svātma-ucchalattā — the upsurge of the Self. This is a beautiful phrase. Manifestation does not begin because something outside the Self pressures it. It begins as the Self rising from within itself. The first movement is not need, not lack, not compulsion. It is overflow.
So this point continues the previous one exactly. Bhairava as Śakti-bearing Vimarśa is not inert possession of power. It is power beginning to tremble. The supreme recognizes itself, and in that recognition there is a first inner surge toward expression. The universe is still not unfolded, but the stillness is no longer mere stillness. It has become pulse.
This is the first living shimmer of icchā: not yet defined creation, not yet object, not yet world — but the Self beginning to turn toward its own manifestation through Spanda.
The delight born from consciousness turns toward diverse creation
yadā tu tasya ciddharmaprabhavāmodajṛmbhayā |
vicitraracanā nānākāryasṛṣṭipravartane ||
“But when, through the blossoming of delight arising from the very nature of consciousness, there is a turning toward the diverse composition and creation of many effects…”
Abhinava now shows how creation begins from the side of icchā, and the first thing to see is that it does not begin from lack. This is not a poor being wanting something it does not have. It is not desire as hunger. It is not the restless movement of incompleteness. It is āmoda-jṛmbhā — the blossoming, swelling, expansion of delight.
And this delight arises from cid-dharma, from the very nature of consciousness. Consciousness does not create because it is lonely, deficient, or compelled. It creates because its own nature is so full that it flowers. The first movement toward manifestation is not wound, but overflow. Not need, but abundance. Not escape from emptiness, but the play of a fullness that can no longer remain unexpressed.
The phrase vicitra-racanā is important. Creation is not a crude emission of objects. It is a variegated composition, an intricate arrangement, a woven pattern. The universe appears as artistry: letters, tattvas, mantras, bodies, worlds, śaktis, senses, gods, beings, memories, desires, rituals, recognitions. Manifestation is not random debris thrown out from the supreme. It is racanā — composition.
Then Abhinava says nānā-kārya-sṛṣṭi-pravartane — the movement toward the creation of many effects. The one freedom begins to incline toward multiplicity. Not yet in the gross form of separate objects, but as the first turn toward the possibility of innumerable outcomes. The still, self-recognizing a begins to tremble toward worlds.
The supreme does not lose itself by turning outward. The delight of consciousness expands, and that expansion becomes the seed of creation. Icchā is therefore not the opposite of fullness. It is fullness beginning to taste its own expressive power.
So the universe begins, in Abhinava’s vision, not as a fall, not as punishment, not as ignorance first, but as the blossoming of conscious delight into vicitra-racanā, the wondrous architecture of many forms. Later, contraction and bondage may appear. But the first pulse is joy. The first movement is Śakti’s delight swelling inside Bhairava’s own self-recognition.
This outward-facing pulse is the first moment of icchā
bhavatyunmukhitā cittā secchāyāḥ prathamā tuṭiḥ |
“Consciousness becomes turned outward; this is the first instant of icchā.”
Abhinava now names the first precise moment of will. The delight born from consciousness begins to blossom toward diverse creation, and then citi becomes unmukhī — turned outward, facing manifestation. This is not yet creation in its full form. It is not yet the universe of objects. It is the first orientation, the first almost imperceptible leaning of consciousness toward display.
The phrase prathamā tuṭiḥ matters. This is the first instant, the first tiny break, the first pulse of icchā. But “break” here should not be heard as a fall into separation. It is more like the first tremor in still water before a wave appears. Consciousness is still itself, still full, still Anuttara; but now it has become inwardly inclined toward manifestation.
This is the beginning of outwardness before there is an outside. There is not yet a formed object, not yet a defined world, not yet “this.” But the possibility of “this” has begun to stir. The supreme has not lost itself. It has simply turned its face toward its own power of appearing.
So icchā is born as unmukhatā, orientation. Not desire for something lacking, but the first directionality of fullness. The stillness of Bhairava does not remain inert. It flowers as the first pulse of Śakti, the first movement by which the unmanifest begins to become capable of worlds.
This outward-facing pulse may be mere orientation toward creation not yet defined
iti spandātmikā bahiraunmukhyamātrarūpiṇī sraṣṭavyānārūpitecchāmātrarūpā vā syāt
“Thus, as Spanda, she may be merely of the form of outward-facing orientation, or merely of the form of will, while what is to be created has not yet been defined.”
Abhinava now clarifies the first mode of icchā. At this stage, Śakti is spandātmikā — of the nature of Spanda, the subtle throb of consciousness. But this Spanda has not yet become defined creation. It is only bahir-aunmukhya-mātra, mere outward-facingness.
This is a very delicate state. Consciousness has turned toward manifestation, but the manifested object has not yet been shaped. There is an inclination, a pulse, an opening, but not yet a clear “this.” The universe is not yet formed. The desired creation has not yet been specified. Śakti is present as the will-to-manifest before manifestation has received determinate content.
The phrase sraṣṭavya-anārūpita-icchā-mātra is the key: pure will before the thing-to-be-created has been outlined. This is not yet effort. It is not yet design. It is not yet the fire of lordly command. It is the first soft but immense turning of fullness toward expression.
So here a as icchā remains close to Anuttara. It is the beginning of creation, but still inward, still undefined, still almost indistinguishable from the delight of consciousness itself. The wave has not risen, but the water has begun to tremble.
Icchā may become effort when the object of lordship is specified
“Or, when the particular object to be governed is specified, she assumes the form of effort, whose nature is stirring, and takes on lordship in the form of fire. Thus this icchā has two modes.”
Abhinava now gives the second mode of icchā. At first, icchā is only outward-facingness, the first Spanda, the will-to-create before the created has been defined. But when tattad-īśanīya-viṣaya — this or that object to be governed, mastered, or manifested — becomes specified, icchā changes its texture.
It becomes prayatna, effort. Not effort in the ordinary strained egoic sense, but the stirring of power toward a definite field. The will is no longer only a soft orientation toward possible creation. It now has a target. Something is to be manifested, governed, brought forth. The vague shimmer of “may I create” becomes the focused current of “let this arise.”
That is why Abhinava calls it prakṣobhātmaka — having the nature of stirring, agitation, dynamic impulse. The still fullness has now begun to move more intensely. The power is no longer only inward delight turning outward; it is becoming charged, directed, operative.
Then he says it assumes vahnī-rūpatā, the form of fire, and attains aiśvarya, lordship. Fire is exact here. Fire transforms. Fire makes latent energy active. Fire is not merely warm; it cooks, burns, reveals, consumes, ripens. When icchā becomes definite effort, it becomes fiery lordship — the power not only to wish creation, but to command manifestation into form.
So Abhinava gives icchā two modes. First, the subtle Spanda-like outward orientation before the object is defined. Second, the fiery effort of lordship when the object becomes specified. The first is the trembling of possibility. The second is the fire of manifestation beginning to act.
Icchā has two modes: distant will and nearer effort
yaduktaṃ madhyāyāṃ sā kevalamicchāmātrarūpā sraṣṭavyasya viprakṛṣṭā kācit punaḥ prayatnatāmāpannā sannikṛṣṭeti tatreśānarūpatvamasyāḥ |
“As it is said in the Madhyā: in one case she is only of the form of mere will, distant from what is to be created; in another case, having become effort, she is near. There, she has the form of Īśāna.”
Abhinava now seals the twofold nature of icchā. First, there is icchā-mātra, mere will — not weak, but still distant from the thing to be created. The object has not yet been shaped. The movement is still a pure orientation, a first turning of consciousness toward manifestation. This is the subtle, Spanda-like pulse before definite creation.
Then there is the second mode: prayatnatām āpannā, icchā having become effort. Here the will is no longer only a general outward inclination. It has drawn nearer to the field of manifestation. The object of creation is more defined; the power becomes more focused; the first tremor of will begins to become operative force.
That is why this nearer form is called Īśāna-rūpa. Īśāna is lordly, directive, governing. When icchā becomes effort, it is no longer only the joy of possible creation. It is the beginning of command, the fire of sovereignty turning possibility into ordered manifestation.
So the movement of the whole chunk becomes clear. The letter a is the first pulse of Parameśvara’s freedom as will. At its most subtle, it is Anuttara recognizing itself before anything has emerged. Then, as delight swells, it turns outward as Spanda. First it is pure inclination toward creation; then it becomes focused effort, fiery lordship, Īśāna. The universe has not yet fully unfolded, but the supreme has begun to lean toward it with power.
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