THE MOON, THE SUN & FIRE BY CONOR BYRNES

An essay by Conor Byrnes.

Tantralokā III.130

Devanāgarī

इत्थं प्रकाशातत्त्वस्य सोमसूर्याग्निताऽस्थितिः ।

अपि मुख्यम् तत्प्रकाशामात्रवत्त्वं न व्यपोह्यते ॥१३०॥

IAST

itthaṃ prakāśa-tattvasya soma-sūrya-agnitā sthitiḥ |

api mukhyam tat-prakāśa-mātratvaṃ na vyapohyate || 130 ||

MEANING

Consciousness appears as soma (nectar, soothing), sūrya (illumination), and agni (intensity, fire).

And yet its true nature as pure light (prakāśa-mātra) is never lost.

There is a verse I came across in the Tantralokā yesterday, and it struck me with its metaphorical depth and potency. It speaks of the three primary forms of light the ancients knew and that illuminated their lives: soma, sūrya, agni — moon, sun, and fire.

It's easy to muse on these wondrous lights: the rays of sun that catch heavy eyelids early in the morning; the billowing glow of a full autumn moon; the single candle at the center of an altar, bringing golden visages and deities to life. By these lights are revealed ten thousand textures and countless hues. Yet when all those varieties seem to speak of difference and division, we must recall their singular essence. Like following the rays of color back through a prism, we find their source; one shade remains: pure light. This is the essential tantric insight.

We experience infinite varieties of consciousness -  for every hue of color we can name, so too a mood: sweet sadness, mindless joy, mirthful anger, a spirited depression. These verbal designations fall infinitely short of consciousness’s true capacity. Yes, we can say “sweet sadness,” and maybe have some shared notion, but what is occurring now is this never-before-seen moment: the yellow of a leaf, the bark of a tree, a distant sound - the breaking of a twig, a wind that is cool but not unsettling.

To speak is to gesture toward experience, but speech alone can never match its infinite texture. In fact our linguistic and mental observations themselves are just another layer of texture, spices adding flavor, contributing to the never before tasted rasa of this moment.  The wonder is how all these infinitely unique experiences are composed of one essence, the miracle of the one playing as the many.

The variegated mind reveals its innate qualities in phases, in lights:

the moon: the soothing calm after a hard day;

the sun: the clarity of knowing exactly what must be done;

the fire: the pulsing focus of emails, lunch, workouts, relations, difficult conversations.

And yet all these experiences occur in the same eye,  like these three lights harken back to the single source. In spiritual practice, these lights illuminate different steps on the path, different stages of the breath. 

Moon — The Exhale, The Soothing Light

There is that moment of cool, nourishing calm when the weight of embodiment and responsibility begins to fall off. Through the meditative impulse to let go, we loosen the grip on everything that held us, tied as it were to the whipping post of our own ego’s expectations.

In that brief reprieve from the engineered obsession to do and be more, we may taste the nectar of simply being at peace with our own minds. This moon-light, this cooling softness, can be felt as the exhale, the easing out of effort and stress.

Sun — The Inhale, The Light of Realization

Then there is the sun: the realization that startles, rearranges, clarifies. When it rises, the shapes that once frightened us in the night reveal themselves in their true form. What we thought was a menacing figure, death over our shoulder, turns out to be a blossoming tree, a nourisher and protector grounding and guiding this life-force eternal.

This solar clarity allows us to see ourselves and our circumstances for what they are: a miracle. It shows us where we want to go and how to get there. And so we can associate this sunlight of understanding with the inhale — taking in the gift of a new breath, a new moment, a new day, a new life, full of wonder and possibility.

Fire — The Kumbhaka, The Transforming Flame

And finally, fire: the transformative flame. Sacred fire, stolen from the gods not only to guide the eyes but to transform whatever it touches. Fire brings out the essence of things, burns away impurities, and keeps alive the dream of warmth in all seasons.

In spiritual practice, this fire is indispensable, arising both by effort and grace. We may have inspiring insights and profound sighs of relief, but it is fire that harmonizes these forces and manifests them as our personified being. We sit in our own inner fire - the heat of austerity and devotion, the longing for merging, ecstasy, and peace. Through the courage to stay in the flame, we alloy ourselves into something of richer caliber, while our confusions and collapses into ignorance naturally melt away.

This fire corresponds to the pause, the kumbhaka, the sitting down in the center, the abundant emptiness that transforms.

One Light, One Breath

And yet the teaching insists:  all of these lights are truly one, prakāśa-mātra, pure light.

Just as all phases of the breath compose one breath, so too do the various lights of spiritual life compose one single process: awakening to the all-pervading, all-consuming radiance.

When we understand that every shade of experience expresses the universal Light, then we can allow ourselves to be illumined at every moment, regardless of emotional tone or energetic hue.

This is the never-ending story of self-realization:

the recognition that even your bones are made of nothing but Light.

Words by Conor Byrnes.

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