When the mind is without waves, like water without ripples

The nistaraṅga state—without waves—is not the flat, dead water of an abandoned pond. It is the ocean in deep calm, where the waves have not been suppressed but simply do not arise as a disturbance of the whole. The ordinary mind is cittavṛtti: the substance of mind as movement, as perpetual restlessness. Patañjali defines yoga as the nirodha of these vṛttis (I.2), but nirodha is not elimination; it is the cessation of identification with the movement. When the mind is nistaraṅga, it continues to function—it perceives, discriminates, acts—but without the whirlpool of compulsive self-reference. The Haṭha Pradīpikā (IV.4) compares this state to the flame of a lamp in a windless place: it is not extinguished, it does not flicker, it burns steadily in its own nature. A mind thus stilled is not insensible; on the contrary, it is the very capacity for genuine sensitivity, because the agitation of the vāsanās no longer distorts what is perceived with the projection of what is desired and what is feared.