Of bodies that are forms of consciousness, this is the grouping that constitutes the established world. Of this grouping, the Self-Consciousness is the supreme.

The verse presents an unprecedented bodily ontology: bodies are not unconscious matter animated by consciousness, but forms (rūpa) of consciousness (cit). The aggregate (saṅghāta) of these forms constitutes the world—not as an emergence from the lower but as a condensation of the higher. This is the radical inversion relative to materialist ontology, and also relative to the dualist ontology of Sāṃkhya, where prakṛti is independent of puruṣa.

Here, prakṛti is prakāśa—luminosity—of cit, not a separate substance. Bodies are like waves: momentary configurations of a single substance. A wave is not water plus something else; it is water configured. The body is not consciousness plus matter; it is condensed consciousness.

This vision has consequences for the bodily practice of yoga. The Haṭha Pradīpikā works with the body not as a vehicle to pass through but as a microcosm to unfold. The nāḍīs, the cakras, the kuṇḍalinī: all are maps of how consciousness appears condensed into increasingly denser levels. The practice does not elevate something low to something high; it subtilizes what was always subtle but appeared as dense. “Paramārthataḥ”—in the supreme sense—is the reminder that this is not a theory but a description of what is seen when vision is no longer conditioned by the forms it sees.

The verse proposes an unprecedented bodily ontology: bodies are not unconscious matter animated by consciousness, but forms (rūpa) of consciousness (cit). The aggregate (saṅghāta) of these forms constitutes the world—not as an emergence from the lower but as a condensation of the higher. This is the radical inversion relative to materialist ontology, and also relative to the dualist ontology of Sāṃkhya, where prakṛti is independent of puruṣa.

Here, prakṛti is prakāśa—luminosity—of cit, not a separate substance. Bodies are like waves: momentary configurations of a single substance. A wave is not water plus something else; it is water configured. The body is not consciousness plus matter; it is condensed consciousness.

This vision has consequences for the bodily practice of yoga. The Haṭha Pradīpikā works with the body not as a vehicle to pass through but as a microcosm to unfold. The nāḍīs, the cakras, the kuṇḍalinī: all are maps of how consciousness appears condensed into increasingly denser levels. The practice does not elevate something low to something high; it subtilizes what was always subtle but appeared as dense. “Paramārthataḥ”—in the supreme sense—is the reminder that this is not a theory but a description of what is seen when vision is no longer conditioned by the forms it sees.