Ashtanga Yoga is not fun

I practice Ashtanga yoga six days a week and teach it almost every day to many students, but I’ll repeat my title: Ashtanga Yoga is not fun. Then why do I do it and why do I teach it? Because it is a powerful, invaluable, healing and enlightening practice. I can have fun in other ways. When I come to my yoga practice, I come to work. Hard. I recently heard that if Anusara is the yoga of “yes” then Ashtanga is the yoga of “no”, and I understand why someone said that.

Ashtanga yoga is certainly not something you choose to do if you are merely looking for entertainment, or for a social activity, or even for “Madonna arms”. Perhaps that’s why a lot of people (myself included) try it out for the first few times, but that is usually only the hook.

I am in the midst of teaching an ‘absolute beginners Ashtanga workshop’ and I make no qualms about telling them that Ashtanga is not easy and it is not necessarily fun. But it has the capability to allow so much self-discovery and self-improvement that it’s worth every drop of sweat and every potential tear and makes all of those nights where we tell our friends we can’t go out with them because we have practice the next morning all worthwhile. In these small group setting we move through sun salutations and the first part of the primary series very slowly, bit by bit, practicing the proper breathing, learning about drishti and bandhas and talking a bit of philosophy along the way. Despite the casual pace, these keen new students, of all ages and abilities, are practically dying. Of heat, of fatigue, of the thought “Oh my god I’ll never be able to do that”! This is when I explain to them why we are putting ourselves through this seeming agony.

I think of yoga practice like a microcosm of life. Something is always arising, something is always ending. Painful things happen, but they will pass. Joyful moments occur, but they also end. We can practice the observation and acceptance of that fact in our practice. In a posture that is very uncomfortable, you only need to take 5 or 10 breaths, and it will be over. Just in the way that in life you will get sick, but then better. You will become injured, but you will heal. People in your life will die and you will experience emotional pain, which will eventually fade and pass too. You may lose your job and experience financial trouble. You can climb out of that hole. On the other end of the spectrum, in yoga, the path is not linear. You might achieve comfort and ease in a certain pose and happiness because of this, only to ‘lose’ that pose later either because of injury, age and decline, or for unknown reasons. You may get it back, you may not. In life you may finally get that raise, only to have the company go belly up. You may meet the person of your dreams, only to have it crumble a few years later. You must learn to be ok with this and practice becoming unattached to those highs to avoid disappointment that will follow. In yoga, and in life. By staying through the lows, and not grasping desperately at the highs, we are bit by bit burning off all of our old typical reactions and habits and patterns and giving ourselves the option to be and act however we would like. Yoga can help us chip away at our past conditioning, dig up those weeds and lay down new soil and plant new seeds.

What else are we practicing when you can’t imagine why you should jump back again, or hold navasana and lift up one more time, or hold headstand at the end of a 90 minute grueling practice for 25 breaths, or not take a sip of water when you feel like you are surely going to faint and die any minute? We are practicing being comfortable in uncomfortable situations. We are building up tolerance to sensations that we normally do not like. We are not just strengthening the body, we are strengthening the mind. We can train ourselves, in our Ashtanga practice, to become less reactive. As soon as something happens that we do not find pleasing, instead of jumping up, or screaming, or running away, we can stay, observe, and then rationally choose how to act, while keeping our blood pressure down and avoiding making mistakes that we will later regret. We are becoming strong, calm, peaceful, mindful beings.

While yes, we are learning postures in the course, and proper alignment and where is the right place to look, I hope what I offer to my students beyond those things is the insight that if they are willing to work hard and come to practice not because it’s fun but because it’s so beneficial, then very good things will happen. I ask them not to loot at yoga practice as trying to get good at poses, but rather as working on the self in a much deeper way. I think they appreciate that little lesson up front so to avoid becoming frustrated right off the bat when certain poses are unavailable. I think it’s important for them to learn that that is not the point.

Out of the ten students who take the workshop, I believe about eight will pick up a regular practice for a short period of time, maybe three or four days a week to start. Maybe half of them will become long time committed practitioners. And this is ok. I don’t try to convince myself that Ashtanga is the best thing in the whole world, nor do I try to sell it to new students as something that must or should be done by everyone all the time. Even though Pattabhi Jois said that Ashtanga is for everyone, the old, the weak, the sick, the inflexible, everyone but the lazy, I realize that not everyone will come to the practice or stay with it. What I do know, is that those who do stick with it, and put in the effort out of faith that it is a good method, will have their bodies, their minds and their lives changes for the better.  They can go do other things, like go to the movies, if they want to have fun. Now despite my claim that Ashtanga yoga is not fun, of course you must enjoy the practice overall, otherwise you will not make it part of your life. What I mean is that there will certainly be moments that are not at all fun, I have cried many times and not wanted to unroll my mat some days, or quit half way through on others. But, I still believe in it and enjoy its fruits every day. I am thankful that Ashtanga found its way into my life and the least I can do is offer it up to others.

~Shareen Woodford 

www.manayoga.ca

For contentment, you must surrender.

The Yoga Sutras state that we must practice Santosha and Isvara Pranidhana as part of the eightfold path of Ashtanga Yoga. I love these two ideas and let's explore what they might mean. I believe that the latter leads directly to the former.

Santosha is sanskrit for contentment, and it is one of Patanjali's niyamas (observances). The idea is that you must be satisfied with what you have and whatever your lot is in life. You ought not desire more than you have, or to be different from who and what you already are right now. You don't need to go anywhere else other than where you are right now. Everywhere you go, there you are, anyways! This is the place, the time, and the person you are supposed to be. And you must become happy with those conditions, or else nothing else will make you happy. Practice gratitude and stay present. If I ever start to feel like I am lacking in any of those departments, I think of how much worse it COULD be. I am alive, can walk, I have food, shelter, work, family, etc. Although I am not free of afflictions, life is still very, very good. If you are reading this, the same is true for you.

Isvara Pranidhana means surrender to the lord. We are not supposed to talk about religion much anymore so I see how this concept might alienate some people if left at that. But, the 'lord' could mean anything, and does not need to be the same for each of us. For you, the lord might be Brahma, Christ, Buddha, Allah, Mother Earth, the universe, some unknown creator, or perhaps you do not believe in any of those. And that is good and alright. Although yoga is a Hindu practice and the Vedas and Upanishads (ancient texts) vacillate between the belief in one God, multiple gods and no gods (non-duality appears later in Vedanta), my studies of those have shown me that the proper definition of Isvara, or lord, seems to be: the one that dwells inside of us. The lord Isvara is the truest form of our self (Atman or Purusa), the unchanging, all knowing, purest manifestation of who we are. I think that version can work for anyone, despite what their other beliefs are. Surrendering ourselves to this meaning of lord, leads to contentment.

How do we surrender? We have to realize that no matter what we do, in the end, results are out of our control. No matter how hard we try to achieve something, the conditions may not exist for the object of our efforts to transpire. If we do get what we want, we still may lose it. We can put in as much work as we want, we can believe that we will succeed, we can have high hopes and lofty goals, but it is always the case that we may not attain what we set out to accomplish. Should we stop trying then? No! This is not a pessimistic viewpoint, but rather a realistic one. We need to continue on our paths and put forth our best work, because we are doing what we believe to be right, but... For real happiness we must give up those big expectations and desires of results. When we work without expectation and give without desire to get back, we can become engrossed in what we are doing, satisfied with the process and the pure intention, and hence we will never set ourselves up for disappointment. And here is where contentment comes in. When good things do come they are simply pleasant additions to the happiness we already enjoy. If they do not come though, we are not left sad because we avoided attachment to hopes and results in the first place.

So while you are moving along your path in life, or moving through your asana, pranayama and meditation practice, let go of expectations and results. Don't do yoga so you can show your friends a cool arm balance on facebook. Don't go to your job every day so you can buy a bigger house on a nicer street. Enjoy being where you are and doing what you are doing. Trust in your self, the lord within your heart, surrender to that, take a deep breath and watch contentment arise. Don't look outside for bliss, it's already inside.

The Yoga Sutras: Threads pulled from the fabric of the Upanisads

The Yoga Sῡtras of Patañjali are commonly thought to be the authoritative text on yoga (Singleton, 27) and are often believed to be the very first exposition of yoga. I will argue in this paper that they are not the first and certainly not the only, by showing that extremely similar and often identical ideas, lists, terms and descriptions, existed in previous texts. Upon studying the principal and yoga Upaniṣads, it becomes clear that the Yoga Sῡtras are merely a bringing together of previously offered philosophies and instructions pertaining to yoga, from the formerly written Upaniṣads. 

Patañjali is said to have authored the Yoga Sῡtras somewhere around the third century A.D. Or did he? Common sense might suggest that he may not have even existed at all. Although a Sanskrit grammarian under that name did live near that time, most tales tell that Patañjali came to earth as an incarnation of Viṣnu in the form of a tiny snake that landed in his mother’s hands, only to develop the body of a man from the waist up and thenceforth became of master of yoga and authored the Yoga Sῡtras. This unlikely legend, albeit mythologically divine and typically Indian, suggests unfortunately somewhat deficient credibility, at least in an accurate historical sense.

                               

Whether Patañjali actually lived and produced the Yoga Sῡtras or not, it still stands that the treatise was not the first to record, describe or present yoga in the way that it does. There were very preliminary mentions of yoga in the Ṛg Veda (yoking the mind to the highest truth, yuj being the word meaning to yoke, which the word yoga comes from) and in the Atharvaveda which talks about the eight mystic circles or wheels, which seems to be the start of the idea of chakras or the energy system within the body which yoga seeks to manipulate. Later though, in many, nay most of the Upaniṣads, the theory of yoga is outlined and formulated in full. In fact, the Upaniṣads offer yogic philosophy and instruction in more comprehensiveness than does the Yoga Sῡtras.

To demonstrate this point, I will explicate some of the central aphorisms from the Yoga Sῡtras and show where they existed previously in the Upaniṣads. The main points include the definition of yoga, the five afflictions of the mind, the centrality, meaning and proper usage of the syllable OM, the mandate of devotion to the lord and the description of ‘lord’, the eight limbs of yoga and the components of each and also the powers which are said to arise from the practice of yoga.

Patañjali’s Yoga Sῡtras (I will continue to refer to them as his!) define yoga as yogas citta vritti nirodha, or “yoga is the stilling of the fluctuations of the mind.” This description is given multiple times in the Upaniṣads. The Katha Upaniṣad tells that yoga is considered to be the steady fixing of the senses and reining in of the mind  and when this happens that is the highest state (6.10) and also that a wise man should curb his speech and his mind (3.13). The Taittirīya describes how sages should and could control their senses (2.4.1) and in the later Sandilyopaniṣad it is said that the ‘throbbing of the mind is suspended’ via yoga, which sounds even closer to Patanjali’s definition.

The fluctuations in the mind, Patañjali states, are caused by five kleśas, or causes of affliction.  These five are ignorance, ego, attachment, aversion and the will to live. The Mandala-Brahmanopaniṣad also talks about five inherent defects characteristic of humans (chapter 2) which is likely alluding to the same idea. But if we look more closely at each of the five outlined in the Yoga Sῡtras we will see how each of these appeared as an affliction and something to be overcome, in the Upaniṣads.

Avidya, or ignorance, is explained as the root of all of the other hindrances to spiritual growth. This lack of knowledge is seen as a head-shattering predicament that all must seek to conquer, both in the Yoga Sῡtras and in very many Upaniṣads. The Chāndogya Upaniṣad says that knowledge burns away karma and is transformative (5.24). The Taittirīya Upaniṣad invokes “May both of us obtain the lustre of sacred knowledge!” (1.3). In the Aitareya Upaniṣad it is said that “Knowledge is the eye of the world, and knowledge, the foundation. Brahman is knowing… with this self consisting of knowledge… became immortal.” (3.4) In the Kauṣītaki Upaniṣad we are warned that one who arrives at death without complete knowledge, will drown (in the mythological lake Ara). (1.4a) And in the Śvetāśvatara Upaniṣad it is said that “ignorance is the imperishable and knowledge is the immortal” (5.1).

Asmita, or ego, sometimes translated as I-am-ness, has to do with a wrongly established identity and sense of individuation. All throughout the Upaniṣads the argument is made that the self (Atman) is not separate from Brahman. It is shown in … that there is no ‘me’ to differentiate from everything else. We are told in the Tejo-Bindῡpaniṣad that we must curb egoism (among other things) to know the Brahman. It also teaches that egoism is false and that the mantra “I am Brahman” destroys the knowledge of the Atman and the misery of the knowledge of duality (ch3).

Raga, or attachment and sometimes lust, for material things is said to always lead to sorrow in the Yoga Sῡtras and is demonstrated as such in the Upaniṣads. In the Katha Upaniṣad the importance of non-thirsting for material things is made explicit in the lines “fools pursue outward desires” (4.2) and in the dialogue between Naciketas and Death, where the former says to the latter “With wealth you cannot make man content; will we get to keep wealth, when we have seen you (death)?”(1.27) The Tejo-Bindῡpaniṣad says that we must give up all attachments and all grasping tendencies. (ch. 1) In the Yoga Kundaly Upaniṣad it says that “a man longs for an object through passion” (2.3) but “he should abandon everything else that he thinks is favourable to himself.” (2.4)

Dveṣa, or aversion, is the repulsion to entities which provide unpleasant experiences. The Yoga Sῡtras teach that to overcome these aversion and also attachments, one must practice dispassion for pleasant and unpleasant sensations. The Tejo-Bindῡpaniṣad also suggests that one “must subjugate passions kindled by the senses” in order to perceive Brahman (ch 1). In the Nada-Bindu it is revealed that by continual practice one is freed from all states, does not feel heat or cold, and therefore neither joy (creates attachment) nor sorrow (creates aversion), and will then attain his true state (41-55).

Abhinivesa, is the will to live and likewise the fear of death, and the Yoga Sῡtras instruct that it must be overcome by meditative absorption to become free from sorrow yet to come. One of the main themes throughout the Upaniṣads is the dedication towards realizing Brahman, in which case one sheds off his karmic bondage and is thereby released from samsara into mokṣa and finally out of the wheel of continual rebirth. If one is pursuing this purpose, then it must be a pre-requisite that one must let go of the fear of death and the will to live, since in essence he is trying to escape both of those altogether. The very common talk in the Upaniṣads of becoming immortal is not to be interpreted as trying to stay alive forever and never die, but rather, to never be born again, and in that sense, to essentially ‘not live’.

The understanding of syllable OM is also in accordance in the Upaniṣads and the in Yoga Sῡtras. Patanjali offers the aphorisms that the lord’s symbol is OM and that if you recite OM and contemplate its meaning then your obstacles will be removed. These concepts exist in many of the Upaniṣads. Discussion of and reverence towards OM is a major part of the Chāndogya Upaniṣad. OM and the breath don’t only lead to Brahman, but this Upaniṣad teaches that they ARE Brahman, and are the essence of all. In the Chāndogya Upaniṣad it is stated that “A man who utters this syllable with that knowledge enters this very syllable, the sound that is immortal and free from fear. As the Gods became immortal, so will he.” (1.4.5) This sounds like the exact same idea, only in different words. To further demonstrate this equivalence, the Maitri Upaniṣad also teaches that meditation on the syllable OM creates awareness of Samadhi. The Katha Upaniṣad promises that when one knows this syllable he obtains his every wish (2.16). In the Yoga Cῡḍāmaṇi Upaniṣad it is stated that “Brahman is OM” (1.72) and “Because Om is the ethereal light, it has to be pronounced by words, practiced by the body and meditated upon by the mind.” (1.87)

Another of Patañjali’s precepts is that the lord (which he interprets ultimately as the truest form of the Self) is untouched by afflictions, and also that action and karma do not have consequence for this quintessential Atman/Iśvara. He says that Karma is neither black nor white for the Yogi (who has realized this true essence), whereas for others it is threefold. This means that while other have either good karma (white), bad karma (black), or a mix (grey), an accomplished Yogi, who has merged with the lord (gone inside to this deepest layer of his being) is beyond those three conditions. This very same concept exists as far back as in the first chronological Upaniṣad, the Bṛhadāraṇyaka. It states that “this immense unborn self, there in the space of the heart he lies, controller of all… He does not become more by good actions or in any way less by bad actions.” (4.4.22)

“The term Aṣtanga was first used by the sage Patanjali, the writer of a treatise on yoga sῡtras, over two thousand years ago.”(Sweeney) This common assumption is wholly incorrect. The term and the theory occurs many times throughout the Upaniṣads. Aṣta means eight and anga means limb or branch, signifying that there are eight essential components to Yoga. Patañjali’s eight limbs are yama, niyama, asana, pranayama, dharana, dhyana and samadhi. Each one of these concepts is proposed as a principal part of yoga in the Upaniṣads, and also this very same set of eight, together as a whole and sometimes in this exact order, exists in multiple Upaniṣads. The Yoga-Tattvopaniṣad give the same eight limbs, in the same order (24-27) as the Yoga Sῡtras. The same version of Aṣtanga Yoga is also outlined in the Tri-śikhi-Brāhmaṇopaniṣad (1.28-32). In the Darśanopaniṣad gives the same elements in the same order, however, has ten yamas and ten niyamas (1.4-5), compared to Patañjali’s five only of each. The Darśana also give much more detail of each of the limbs, than does Patanjali. The mention of eight subdivisions also exists in the Varāhopaniṣad (11-12) and in the Sandilyopaniṣad (Khanda 1).

Patañjali details that the ten ethical precepts which a yogi must follow include five yamas (restraints), five niyamas (observance). The yamas, which are explained in the Tri-śikhi-Brahmanopaniṣad as “detachment in relation to the body and the organs of sense” (28-32) are ahimsa (non-violence), satya (truth), asteya (non-stealing), brahmacarya (celibacy) and aparigraha (non-grasping). The five niyamas are saucha (cleanliness), santoṣa (contentment), tapas (heat or practice), svadhyaya (self-study) and Iśvara pranidhana (surrender to the lord). Each concept is presented in the Upaniṣads, prior to Patañjali’s inclusion of them in the Yoga Sῡtras. 

The concept of ahimsa or non-harming is promoted in the Chāndogya Upaniṣad whereby it is said that “he who refrains from killing any creature except a worthy person, does not return again” (8.15). By a worthy person, I interpret this to mean someone who rightfully brings harm upon himself in the form of self-defence or any situation comparable, and by saying one will not return again, it is meant that refraining from violence ensures that no bad karma is created which would bond one to life. This is a desirable effect since the goal of existence at that time and in this context was to shrug off the connection to the wheel of birth and death. The Darsanopaniṣad goes further to say one must practice “non-indulgence in violence by body, mind or word.” (1) Ahimsa is also one of the yamas as outlined in the Tri-śikhi-Upaniṣad (32) and in others as well.

Satya means truth and is expounded as a supreme virtue in nearly all of the Upaniṣads. The Chāndogya Upaniṣad states that “what prevents one from being burnt – truth, that is the self. That is how you are.” (6.15.3). This is asserting that truth is not just something you do or say, then, but something much more profound. It is something that you are and you must pursue the realization of that reality. This is a core idea in the Upaniṣad, that truth is Brahman. Since Atman is Brahman then it follows that ‘you are that’ (truth). Truth is also listed under the yamas of the Tri-śikhi-Brahmanopaniṣad (32). The Darsanopaniṣad states that only what is ‘seen, heard, smelt’ by the sense organs ought to be expressed as the truth (9). 

Asteya means non-stealing and is also listed as one of the ten yamas in the Tri-śikhi-Brahmanopaniṣad. The Darsanopaniṣad promotes this value as follows, “the total abstinence of the mind from the straw,

gem, gold and even the pearl belonging to others, wise men know that to be Abstinence from stealth.” (11-12)

Brahmacarya can be translated and defined in a great many ways, but most often as celibacy or chastity for the purpose of conserving sexual energy in order to increase vitality. In the Chāndogya Upaniṣad it is expressed that what people normally call sacrifice (formally and outward) is in reality the life of a celibate student (inward sacrifice by way of giving up sexual pleasures). It is also said there that “by way of living the life of a celibate student des not perish”. (8.5.1) Later in the same text it is described how one ought to be like his teacher, which is another possible interpretation of brahmacarya. If he lives that way, he attains Brahman. (8.15)

Aparigraha literally means non-grasping and refers to not being greedy or taking more than you need. In that Darsanopaniṣad this idea is present in one of the ten yamas, by way of temperance in food, which refers to only taking and eating as much as you need to survive, rather than all that you may want. (19) The renunciation of the desire for possessions is endorsed in the chat with Naciketas and Death in the Katha Upaniṣad, whereby Naciketas chooses not to make any of his three wishes for physical objects, but rather for knowledge, teaching that grasping at material things serves no purpose. (1.27)

The first or Patanjali’s niyamas is saucha which means cleanliness or purity, and in the Yoga Sῡtras both internal and external cleanliness is necessary. In the Darsanopaniṣad the same distinction is made between cleanliness of the mind and of the body. (1.20-23) The Kauṣītaki Upaniṣad requires mental cleanliness in its rendering of pride. It declares that if you do not succumb to pride, then you are worthy of teachings and the truth (1.1).

Santoṣa means contentment, or more precisely that one should be satisfied with whatever his fortune is, or isn’t, in life this time around.  The Tri-śikhi-Brahmanopaniṣad again lists this same value as one of its ten niyamas. The Sandilyopaniṣad explains it as “satisfaction at whatever chance brings in is what is termed as continence.” (khanda 2)

Tapas literally means heat or fire but is also interpreted as austerity, work, practice, burning intensity, mental fervour, dedication, self-application, sacrifice. Patañjali means this in the sense of perfecting the body and sense organs by way of burning off impurities through various different methods. B.K.S. Iyengar interprets this to mean that one must have an unflagging hardness towards oneself in order to have compassion and forgiveness towards others, as in the case of Gandhi. (light on YS 156) It is a theme in the early Upaniṣads that formerly external sacrifice to achieve gains by means of fire offerings, killing animals and other rituals come to be replaced by internal sacrifices (Tapir) such as brahmacarya, giving up society to become an ascetic, and other practices which rein in the senses and train the mind and body in order to attain Brahman.

The Chāndogya Upaniṣad says just that, “What people normally call a sacrifice (yajna) is in reality, the life of a celibate student” 8.5). Similarly, the Aitareya Upaniṣad also talks about how external sacrifice becomes internal sacrifice, “fire became speech”(1.2.4). In the Taittirīya Upaniṣad we are told straightforwardly to “practice austerities to perceive Brahman” (3.3), and in the Muṇḍaka it says that the true self can be known by tapas, svadhyaya and brahmacarya (3.1.5). The closing of the Kena Upaniṣad details that austerity (tapas), self-control and rites are the foundation of understanding Brahman (3.8).

Svadhyaya is self-study and refers to recitation, silent and aloud, and also meditation upon sacred Hindu texts. Patañjali supposes that penetration of these scriptures, mantras and readings mainly from the Vedas, will impart significant powers and insight. In the Taittirīya Upaniṣad there is a whole section about the importance of Vedic recitation. It is said there that, “Austerity, self-control, rites… (all) yes, but also the public and private recitation of the Vedas” (1.9), and, “do not neglect your private recitation of the Vedas” (1.11).  

The final of Patañjali’s niyamas is Iśvara pranidhana which means complete devotion to, or surrender to the lord. The entirety of the short Isa Upaniṣad is an exposition of this very contention, that all is made by, moved by, belongs to and is inhabited by the lord and that we must give ourselves over to Iśvara because of that. In the last line of this Upaniṣad it exclaims “O God, lead us to riches, along an easy path” (18) which presupposes giving up restraint and allowing oneself to be led (by God). Patanjali defines the lord Iśvara as the eternal, unchanging puruṣa (primeval self) who is the constant, is the knower of all and is controller of the mind, totally free from afflictions. The Bṛhadāraṇyaka Upaniṣad explains the lord in a strikingly similar way as, “this immense unborn self, there in the space of the heart he lies, controller of all… he does not become more by good actions or in any way less by bad actions.”(4.4.22)

After the yamas and the niyamas in the Yoga Sῡtras comes asana. The same order of angas is present in the Tri-Śikhi-Brahmanopaniṣad, whereby one must at first, gain control of themselves via the yamas and niyamas and only then can they move properly on to the practice of asana and pranāyama. Asana means seat, and refers to physical postures or poses. Patañjali states that by perfecting asana, making them comfortable, steady and effortless, then one overcomes pairs-or-opposites (heat-cold, pleasure-pain, etc). There is not much else said about the postures, as in which ones, how to perform them, for how long, or in which order, whereby many of the Upaniṣads give specifics about asana.

The Śvetāśvatara Upaniṣad states that “when he keeps his body straight with the three parts erect and draws the senses together with the mind into his heart a wise man shall cross the fruitful rivers”(2.8). This may be the first notions of posture relating to yoga. The Sandilyopaniṣad gives details of eight particular postures and how exactly they should be practiced: the svastika, the gomuka, the Padma, the vira, the siipha, the bhadra, the mukta and the mayura (khanda 3.3) , while the Darsanopaniṣad lists nine (1.2) along with exact mantras to perform during asana to increase concentration (3.3). The Varāhopaniṣad gives descriptions of ten postures and adds that asana practice leads to bodily strength and robustness 37). The Dhyana Bindῡpaniṣad gives not list but says there are as many postures as there are living creatures (42).

Relating to yogasana are various elements not mentioned at all in the Yoga Sῡtras that are certainly vital components of a complete understanding of what yoga is. Patañjali omitted any information about or insight into bandhas, chakras and nadis, which are included in the theory and practice of almost all forms of modern yoga.

Bandhas are physical and energetic locks within the body, performed during asana and pranayama. The Tejo Bindῡpaniṣad gives a detailed description of mula bandha (the root lock) (27), while the Yoga Kuṇḍaly Upaniṣad outlines the three which are now practiced in the ever popular aṣtanga vinyasa system stemming from Kriṣnamacarya and Pattabhi Jois: mula, uddiyana (the abdominal lock) and jalandara (the chin lock). (42-53) In the Sandilyopaniṣad we are told of the great necessity of performing the three bandhas for yoga (khanda 2, 11-12).

Cakras are wheels, or centers of spinning energy within the body and nadis are channels (literally rivers) through which that energy flows through and to various parts the body. The goal or most yoga is to move that energy upwards, away from the muladhara (root) chakra up the suṣumna nadi which is the central channel towards the sahasrara (crown) cakra. The Mandala-Brāhmaṇopaniṣad details nine different chakras, but he Yoga Cῡḍāmaṇi Upaniṣad explains them (3.5), including that the muladhara chakra has great radiance and exists at the seat of the genitals (6-11). The Katha Upaniṣad refers to the nadis and this yogic energy system when it offers the insight ‘one hundred and one veins to the heart. One of them runs up to the crown of the head. Going up by it he reaches the immortal. The rest, in their ascent, spread out in all directions (6.16). The Maitri Upaniṣad refers to the suṣumna nadi and the sahasrara cakra as well, describing it as the central channel or the subtle body where energy moves upward with the breath to form a union in the head (6.21).

Pranayama is the extension (ayama) of breath or life-force (prana) and is Patañjali’s fourth limb. The Yoga Sῡtras again give little definition or instruction of breath extension, except that it is regulated by place, time and number, and that it transcends the internal and external space. With pranayama, Patañjali says that the internal light is uncovered. In the Bṛhadāraṇyaka this idea is one of the central teachings. The breath is shown to be the superior among the bodily functions, “He (the central breath) is clearly the best among us (the vital functions)”(1.5.21). This idea continues in the Chāndogya Upaniṣad where the breath is shown to be so important that it is “the best and the greatest” of the senses (5.1). The Kauṣītaki Upaniṣad teaches that “a man who knows that breath is superior becomes immortal” (2.13).  The Śvetāśvatara Upaniṣad gives more detail than the others in that “by compressing his breaths and curbing his movements a man should exhale through one nostril when his breath is exhausted” (2.9). The Mandala-Brahmanopaniṣad teaches that pranayama is the dispeller of diseases yet should be brought under control slowly, because in the way a tiger may be gradually tamed, so too may the breath be, but if either is attempted to quickly it can kill the individual (116-119). This identical narrative exists in the Hatha Yoga Pradipika, which is a central text by which modern yoga practice is informed.

Next is pratyahara and it is the practice of obtaining supreme obedience of the sense organs, also known as sense-withdrawal. Patañjali states that this practice prepares the mind for concentration. The Katha Upaniṣad purports the same knowledge as it says that one ought to rein in his mind like wild horses, and that when his senses obey him his mind is controlled and then he can be mindful and pure and reach the final step. The Darsanopaniṣad also explains that the forcible bringing back of the senses equates to perfect control of the mind. (7.1-2)

The final three components of aṣtanga yoga are in another section of the Yoga Sῡtras than the first five, as they relate now to the inner quest and together lead to tranquility and changes in the consciousness. Dharana means concentration and Patañjali describes it as binding consciousness to a single spot. The Tri-śikhi-Brahmanopaniṣad refers to this as a steady abstraction of the mind (133-134), while the Sandilyopaniṣad calls it a stabilizing of the mind (khanda IX, 1). The Śvetāśvatara Upaniṣad warns that “a wise man should keep his mind vigilantly under control.” (2,9)

Dhyana is meditation. Patañjali articulates that meditation is a steady flow of attention directed towards one point or region. A method for this meditation is provided in the Sandilyopaniṣad where it is told that meditation may be on a deity or on atman alone, where all else is denied (khanda X, 1). The Tri-śikhi-Brahmanopaniṣad states that “all functioning of the mind of that meditating Yogin perishes,—of (the Yogin) who is engaged only in meditation” (152-153), and that “the liberation of that Yogin is on the palm of his hand,—(of him) who meditates on the imperishable lustre of consciousness seated in the middle of the lotus of the heart” (156-157). The Śvetāśvatara Upaniṣad dictates that those who follow the discipline of meditation know God (1,3) which correlates with the point Patañjali makes: that dhyana leads to samadhi.

Samadhi is Patañjali’s final limb of yoga and occurs when meditation absorbs the meditator and all self-awareness disappears, leading to a union of subject and object and a resultant state of supreme joy. The Yoga Kuṇḍaly Upaniṣad iterates this in the following way, “This state (of having pierced through the phenomenal world of differences and reached the form of the Brahma-vidya) alone should be known as the transcendent state of Videha-mukti and this alone is the cause of the manifestation of Supreme Bliss.—Thus.” (ch 1, 82-87) The Sandilyopaniṣad says that samadhi is a state of union between jivatman (small, individual self/soul) and paramatman (great, universal, true self) which creates a form of exquisite bliss (khanda X1, 1).

Another central part of the Yoga Sῡtras is the acknowledgement that through yoga one acquires siddhis, or supernatural powers and also that one should be careful not mistake these powers as the goal of his quest and in fact, renounce all powers that are attained. He states that one can attain knowledge of previous births, knowledge of other’s minds, knowledge of death, invisibility, power comparable to an elephant, and many more. The promise of powers is also stated in the Yoga Kuṇḍaly Upaniṣad simply with the statement that “Through this yoga, siddhi is mastered.” (2, 18) The Sandilyopaniṣad agrees that yoga leads to the acquisition of various psychic powers (VII, 45). The Yoga-Tattvopaniṣad says not only that such powers are possible, but adds that the power of moving through ethereal space is a potential. (72-81) The Yoga Tattvopaniṣad also says that great powers such as levitation are achievable but, like Patañjali’s warning, that one must not disclose these powers to others.

There are numerous other points in the Yoga Sῡtras, 194 aphorisms to be precise, than the ones I have described here. In order to demonstrate the claim I am making however, that the main ideas in the yoga text attributed to Patañjali were not original at the time of composition, nor are they the sole source informing yoga practice as we know it, the analysis of the specific aforementioned core philosophies ought to suffice. Although the Yoga Sῡtras are extensively studied, valued and respected, rightfully so, perhaps the text does not deserve quite as high a reputation as it presently does possess.

Body not stiff, Mind stiff

"Body not stiff, Mind stiff" is a great quote from Guruji, or Sri K Pattabhi Jois, the founder of Ashtanga Vinyasa Yoga. This so often exemplifies the case with Yogis today in our society. Everyone is working so hard on opening the body (or making it feel and look a certain way) but forgetting that the point of that is really to open and clear the mind. The Yoga Sutras tell us that "yogas citta vritti nirodha", or 'Yoga is the stilling of the fluctuations of the mind'. What fluctuations? How about mood swings, desires, habits, expectations, boredom, uncertainty, fear to name a few. Things that are not strangers to most of us.

I see so many students going to the ends of the earth to come to every class, to perfect their chatturanga, to breathe more slowly and with more 'ocean sound' than anyone else around them or get their to chin to their shin NO MATTER WHAT. But then those same people who seem so focused on being ardent yoga practitioners, have a breakdown when one little detail about the room, the class, the music or the teacher changes. *Alert! Alert! Stiff mind!!!*

As Yogis, aren't we supposed to be receptive to change? To strive for and allow for change? Since the only constant in this life, after all, is change? I think so. I purposely, as a student and a teacher, do things differently every now and then. I realize the importance of getting out of my comfort zone, of trying something new, allowing for a new experience that I may or may not enjoy, but that I will certainly always learn from.

A few weeks back, I saw on the online studio schedule, that the usual teacher of my favourite weekly class was away and that there was a sub. Honest first instinct? I'm not going. Moment of pause... Ok let's look into this other teacher. I did a bit of stalking (hehe) to check her out, her training, background, website, photos, and she looked excellent. Inspiring even. But still I wasn't sure if her class would be anything like his. I decided I would go and be open to whatever she had to offer. The usual 30-40 students was more like 8-10 that day. I felt a little bit bad for her since the energy of the big full class would be missing, but worse for the people that didn't pause and reflect on their own closed minds and as a result were missing out on this class this week.

She was quite different. Different poses, different pace, different wording, way different music. He plays none while she played random not-yoga music! I really liked her, which wasn't the point, but in the end I did. The class was challenging and I heard some of the usual poses and transitions described in different ways which I always enjoy.

Her class also sparked in me the idea to try something new that I know is trendy in some studios right now- playing crazy playlists during class. I am a bit of a traditionalist, seeing as how my own practice is Ashtanga, no music, chanting, etc. But for a creative, high energy Vinyasa class, why not throw in a little Macy Gray, Radiohead and Lenny Kravitz?! So me and my iTunes went to work.

I approached my class at the beginning to say today we were going to have some FUN and do a little experiment, just to see how it felt. I told them to focus on the music for energy, not to sing along to the lyrics, and to use it as a chance to practice concentration. I found it odd to think and count and correct over the beats and words, but all in all it was a good class. The feedback was great, they loved it, so energizing, fun to mix it up, etc. OH! I was surprised. They asked for it again the next week. So, I obliged for another go, and made another playlist.

This time they liked it, and I started to get used to it, but at the bottom of the attendance sheet that day in big ol' letters was "PLS PLAY YOGA MUSIC". Hmm. Yoga music? What exactly is that? (In your opinion!?) Of course I felt a twinge of guilt having let someone down. But at the same time... REALLY? This student has a stiff mind. You desire a specific style of music do you? Well I don't have to tell you that we can't always have what we want. You are used to something particular, I suppose, and you are relying on what you expect to happen in order to have a happy or meaningful experience. I'm sorry that you may have not felt as "relaxed" as my past music has made you feel, but maybe today's practice wasn't about relaxing. Perhaps it was about being open to something new. Something LOUD! Something FUN! Something UNUSUAL! I always suggest going with the flow and permitting things to come and go and to be as they are without judgment. I invite this person, myself, and all of you, in instances where a class or any experience might not be going exactly how we had "hoped", to focus instead on the breath, on the raw sensations in the body, and on the intention that our minds will open along with our bodies, so that we may ultimately experience peace in any situation.

I will go back to leading a class without music this week and for a while thereafter. Not for that person's satisfaction, but because I believe it is good and it suits my style of teaching. But maybe in the future, maybe once in every few moons, I'll throw something else at you. Will you be open to it?

108

The number 108 has great significance in the Yogic tradition. Malas (strings of beads), which aid Yoga and meditation practitioners in counting breath-work and mantra repetitions, are most often made of 108 beads, strung together as a necklace with one additional Guru bead. At the change of a season, many Yogis perform 108 Sun Salutations. I recently lead two groups of Yogis through this profoundly spiritual practice and decided to research the number 108 even further in order to properly explain to them the meaning of what we were doing and why. Here is what I discovered.

Ancient Yogis and Hindu Sages drew from a variety of sources and reasons to conclude that the number 108 is sacred. Indians are known for admiring structure and concord. Vedic mathematicians (The Vedas are early Hindu texts) looked to the stars to consider planetary relationships and worked out that the average distance of the Sun and the Moon from the Earth is 108 times their own particular diameters. It is also the case the water, when frozen, expands to 108 percent of its original volume. The numerological significance of the number 108 may also be the result of this precise mathematical operation: (1 power 1 x 2 power 2 x 3 power 3 = 108).

Medieval Vedic texts such as the Pranatosani Tantra state that there are 108 Pithas in India, which are Sacred Sites for Indian pilgrims to visit. The Matsya Purana, another Vedic text, states that there are 108 different names for the three main Hindu deities (a selection of these names are shown written in Sanskrit in the accompanying photo). There are also 108 Upanishads which are early Hindu philosophical texts originally passed down only orally to students, but were later also written. On top of this, the Indian science of life and health, Ayurveda, states that there are 108 marma points (pressure points) on the human body.

Another explanation of the importance of the number 108 lies in considering the Sanskrit alphabet. There are exaclty 54 letters, each having a feminine and a masculine form (Shakti and Shiva), and 54 x 2 = 108, once again.

Hindu numerologists also consider each number within the number 108 in and for itself. “One” stands for oneness with God and the Higher Truth. “Zero” represents emptiness, non-attachment and therefore completeness of spiritual practice. “Eight” is symbolic of infinity or a never-ending wheel of life. All together these three concepts contain the wholeness of existence.

108 is also significant in Buddhism, martial arts, various international literature, Chinese culture, and has been drawn upon in many modern instances as well, including the TV show “Lost”. I knew before that the number 108 was special, but I’ll admit that before all of this research, I wasn’t entirely clear why. It seems to me now that much thought and deep traditional meaning lies in the authenticity of this theory.

I have performed 108 Sun Salutations as part of a group for charity in the past, but I was newly excited and pleased to lead so many eager Yogis through 108 Sun Salutations as a result of my new understanding. We gathered to celebrate the 2011 summer solstice with this tradition, and dedicated our actions to our gratitude and love for the sun, for summer, to our loved ones, to bettering great causes in the world and to other individual ideas that made the practice even more meaningful to each practitioner. It was a challenging yet energizing accomplishment that everybody enjoyed and is looking forward to doing again in the future. To be part of such a sacred tradition is an honour. We are all connected and revolving, like beads on a mala: across the world, and also throughout time.

Setting Intentions

Often at the beginning of a yoga class, the teacher encourages the students to set an intention for their practice. I find this to be a very helpful tool for directing my energy and for creating purpose and meaning in my asana practice. What exactly is an intention in the context of yoga and how does one go about setting one?

Certainly this might have different meanings and applications for different people and in different styles of yoga, but for the most part when you are standing on your yoga mat setting an intention for your practice you are deciding how you want to be. Unlike setting a goal, you are not looking towards the future deciding something you want to achieve later, but rather committing to do something right now. Intentions are concerned with the present moment and often involve summoning a quality within yourself.

Setting a goal might be something like “I want to be able to do a handstand without the help of a wall”, while an intention might include “I will be patient with myself during my yoga practice”. At some point, the handstand will hopefully happen. The patience, however, begins the moment you set that intention and continues through the class and potentially through the rest of the day, week, month… Practicing intentions on the yoga mat can help us to set and follow intentions in other areas of our lives.

One helpful way to decide what your intention should be, is to think about why you are on the mat in the first place. Why did you decide to practice yoga today? What do you need? What matters to you the most right now? The answers are infinite…

Patience, strength, physical, mental or emotional healing, deep breathing, perseverance, humility, gratitude, grace, staying in the present moment, balancing power with ease, letting go of control, dedicating your energy to someone who needs it, offering up your practice to an important cause, etc.

By setting an intention you are choosing to give your external actions meaning and purpose by uniting them with your deepest inner values. You should keep reminding yourself of your intention throughout your practice and after you leave your mat as well. By doing this, your yoga practice can become a very different experience. Your practice will gain positive energy and a significance that will keep you coming back for more.

Personally, as a practitioner of Ashtanga yoga, my intention is set as I start with the opening chant. By performing this chant, I am showing my gratitude for, and faith in, the tradition and the lineage of the practice and committing to honour that through each pose, each breath and each vinyasa. When I am tired or want to give up, remembering this intention keeps me going with renewed appreciation and resolve. When I finish my practice with the closing Ashtanga chant I am promising to carry on the hard work that I have done on my mat out into the world where I can continue to do good and help others find peace and happiness as well. 

Namaste

What Ayurvedic type are you?

Ayurveda is the Indian equivalent to natural or holistic medicine as we know it in the west and it is the sister science to Yoga. Ayurveda is a Sanskrit word meaning the science of life. It is a traditional Indian health and lifestyle practice over 5000 years old, but is now appreciated all over the world. Ayurveda is strongly rooted in the idea that everything is composed of a combination of five elements: earth, water, fire, air and ether. Human beings are included in this model and from that comes three types, or doshas, which each person is classified under. Dependant on your dosha, Ayurveda tells you what and when to eat, what kind of yoga to practice or activity to undertake, when and how much to sleep, among many other things, in order to keep your elements in balance, and your health and happiness in an optimal state.

People with dominant earth and fire elements are pitta, earth and water are kapha, air and ether are vata. Most people are not strictly one, but a combination of two, or even all three. Although an Ayurvedic doctor goes through an extensive testing and interview process to determine your dosha, there are a few general rules that can give you an idea of which you fall under. Please don’t use the following to “diagnose” yourself!

Pitta dominant people tend to be very active, energetic, ambitious and fiery in temperament. They have strong metabolism and large appetites, are very perceptive, aggressive and intelligent and are prone to feel anger, hatred, irritation and jealousy. Their bodies are of moderate build; their skin is soft and warm but prone to rashes and acne. Pitta people make good leaders and appreciate luxury.

Kapha people are generally stable and grounded and find themselves easily attached. Their bodies produce a lot of oil and their digestion is slow, often resulting in extra weight being carried. They are tolerant and forgiving in nature and they are able to easily acquire and accumulate what they need in life, but also tend to be possessive and even greedy. Kapha dominant people tend to be strong, happy and peaceful.

Vata governed people usually have light, underdeveloped bodies prone to impulsive, flighty movement and have fast respiration and heart rates. Their digestion and hunger are variable and they tend not to be or feel grounded, having restless minds, short memories and common forgetfulness. They often experience anxiety, fear and emptiness. Vata people earn money with ease, but also spend it with ease. They talk and walk quickly, but are easily fatigued.

As far as food goes, Pitta dominant people should avoid heating or spicy foods (salt, oil, alcohol, tomatoes, garlic, refined flour and sugar, corn, egg yolk, vinegar, nuts). Kapha people should eat less cooling foods (cold drinks, dairy, oils, nuts, ice cream, yogurt, cheese, cooked oats, rice, wheat, sweet and juicy veggies). One with too much Vata should try to avoid dry and high protein foods (dry fruit, raw veggies, potatoes, barley, dry oats, pork). Not following these guidelines (they are much more extensive than these few examples!) will result in an aggravated dosha, an imbalanced bodily make up and ultimately poor health.

Along with these eating and health guidelines, Ayurveda tells each person, depending on their dosha, when to sleep and on which side of the body, what kind of personal and mental hygiene to focus on, what sort of daily routine to follow and for all types, to practice yoga. Ayurveda holds that yogic exercises cleanse the body, mind and consciousness in order to remove toxins and disease causing energy. There is a very lengthy chart of recommendations for each dosha of which asanas and breathing techniques are best, but here are some of the main ones.

Pitta people should practice yoga with deep, even breathing. The best poses are shoulder stand, fish, locust, bow, boat, and headstand for not more than one minute. Kapha Yogis should practice headstand, forward and backward bends, plough, lion’s breath and breath of fire (Bhastrika) and cobra. The best asanas for Vata are child’s pose, corpse pose, lotus, tree, yoga mudra, half wheel and knees-to-chest, all with deep, quiet breathing.

What I have blogged about here is just the most basic of introductions. As mentioned before, we are all a combination of all doshas, not strictly one or two. Our basic constitution or nature (prakrti) does not change, but can fluctuate throughout the lifetime. The key is keeping the three doshas in balance. Following the food, daily routine, yoga and lifestyle guidelines can help you stay in balance and in optimal health, giving you increased vitality and longevity. For more information or a proper determination of your constitution, contact an Ayurvedic practitioner or to learn more, pick up one of many books on Ayurveda.