The Sacred AUM: From Sound to Silence

One of the most common questions students ask is whether we should chant A-U-M or simply say OM. The answer is not about one being right and the other wrong. As I often explain, it depends entirely upon the purpose of the practice. If we understand the intention behind the sound, we naturally understand how it should be used.

Mandukya Upanishad gives us the philosophical framework for this sacred syllable

It tells us that Akara represents the waking state (Jagrat), Ukara the dream state (Svapna), Makara deep dreamless sleep (Sushupti), and the silence that follows points towards Turiya, the transcendental fourth state of consciousness.

In our waking state we assume that the external world is absolutely real. Yet, when we dream, the dream world feels equally real until we awaken.

The Mandukya Upanishad gently asks us to reflect on this. Our perception is always limited by the state of consciousness through which we experience life.

The sound M represents deep sleep, but the teaching does not stop there. The silence after the sound is perhaps the most important part of the practice. Sound becomes the doorway that leads awareness towards silence.

Some use it as AUM, while others use OM.

Sanskrit grammar explains why. Through the rules of Sandhi, the vowels A and U combine naturally to produce O. Writing AUM reminds us of its three constituent sounds, but understanding the practice is far more important than simply reading the letters.

When we practise Pranava Pranayama, we consciously explore A, U, M, and finally the complete AUM, giving approximately equal emphasis to each sound before resting in silence. However, when OM appears within a mantra such as Om Namah Shivaya, it functions as a Bija (seed sound) and is chanted as a single unified syllable.

Both approaches are correct when their purpose is understood.

We can compare the chanting of OM to the striking of a temple bell. The sound begins clearly and gradually fades into silence. Or imagine dropping a stone into a still pond—the splash is brief, but the ripples continue before disappearing. Our chanting should follow this same natural movement, allowing the resonant M to dissolve into quietness.

During our all-night Pranava chanting at the Ashram on 2nd Febrary, we try to avoid any gap between repetitions. Later, I realised that many people had begun the next A before the previous chanter had completed the U and M.

The lesson was clear: mechanical continuity can easily replace mindful awareness.

Ultimately, Pranava is far more than a breathing exercise or a pleasant chant. It is a contemplative journey from vibration towards stillness, and from sound into silence. 

The real question is not whether we pronounce OM perfectly, but whether the practice deepened our awareness.