YS I.14 sa tu dīrghakālanairantaryasatkārāsevito dṛḍhabhūmiḥ
It [practice] becomes grounded firmly when dwelled upon for an extended time with dedication and without interruption.
Yoga means something akin to “yoking” or “joining.” It is derived from a Sanskrit word that was used in its early contexts as the term for joining a cart or chariot to an animal, such as a horse or an ox. Yoga, in this sense, is a discipline that brings physical and psychic (mental) life under control for the purpose of spiritual development. In ancient Hindu literature, the skillful control of a horse and chariot often served as a symbol for this type of spiritual discipline and as a metaphor for spiritual mastery. Just as a physically unskilled charioteer is at the mercy of the power and force of the horses, a person who is spiritually undisciplined will be at the mercy of habit and the senses. As a skilled charioteer is able to drive a chariot with grace and ease, so too the spiritually disciplined person masters his or her body and mind and is able to accomplish goals with grace and ease. This is accomplished not through brute force but through the force of the refinement of body and mind.
Following this, yoga can be understood as a solution to the timeless problem of the “gap” between will and action. Though we may have clear ideas of what we hope to accomplish in our lives, we often struggle internally with ourselves and in some cases act as if we were our own worst enemy. Habits and desires drive us toward patterns of thought and action that are unproductive and at odds with our values and goals, leading to harm, guilt, and despair. Though we may be committed deeply to our moral or spiritual development, we often find that we cannot swim against the tide of our own personal history and the pull of moment-to-moment impulses. Yoga proposes one possible approach to this perennial problem—a method for disciplining body and mind that provides the steadiness and strength necessary for self-transcendence and growth beyond the boundaries of our habitual ways of thinking and acting. This is described in Buddhist meditation traditions as developing a flexibility, or pliancy, of mind and body. What this means is that through disciplining the body and developing a contemplative practice, the thoughts and habits that impede our ability to act with integrity and purpose are weakened or suppressed, and we are given a window of opportunity to shift our thoughts and habits in new directions, a heightened locus of control. We break out of the scattered, frustrated mode of everyday living and enter into a mode of thinking and acting in which our efforts are more willful, fruitful, and powerful. In other words, yoga provides a method for building integrity and willpower that allows us to overcome the inner and outer pulls of destructive habit energy in our everyday lives, and it allows us to cultivate habits that are constructive.
In the Yogasūtra, yoga is presented as both the goal and the method of spiritual practice. Yoga is defined at the beginning of the text as cittavṛttinirodha, which is often translated as the “cessation of mental fluctuations.” It is also shown to be the method whereby this cessation (nirodha) is brought about. The eight-limbed yoga (aṣṭāṅgayoga) is the system of practice that brings a practitioner from purification to illumination and upward to a state of complete peace. A key commentator on the Yogasūtra, Vyāsa, asserts that yoga can also be identified with samādhi, or deep meditative contemplation. In other words, through the practice of yoga, there is the experience of deep serenity and clarity, an ability to rest in a state of self-collected peace without being swept up and caught up in the activity of the mind, body, or world. A popular Zen Buddhist saying relates this idea with respect to the reflection of the moon in water—when the waves of the lake have settled, the scattered reflection of the moon is drawn together into a coherent and clear image, and there is a reflection of undistorted reality. When the turbulence of the mind, manifested in various forms of mental activity, has settled down like the water’s waves, clarity and integrity manifest and there is an experience of freedom.
Cessation of mental fluctuation, according to Patañjali, is brought about by two complementary principles of spiritual life, namely, practice (abhyāsa) and dispassion (vairāgya). These two principles represent the dynamic relationship at the heart of yogic discipline. This dynamic is between the forces of effort and detachment, where some things are to be taken up and others given up. Most of us can recognize situations in our own lives where these principles are playing out or have played out—situations in which we find ourselves negotiating between active participation in making something happen and letting go and letting things run their course. As we have pursued athletic, literary, or musical interests or careers, we have recognized the ways in which physical and mental development are tied into our dedicated efforts and our willingness to make sacrifices in order to have the time and energy to accomplish our goals. On a more subtle level, many of us have also experienced the dynamic relationship between pushing ourselves to high performance and recognizing our limits—the need to counterbalance effort with restorative inaction for the sake of recovery. This dynamic of practice and dispassion might be one of the most valuable philosophical concepts in the yoga tradition with respect to the greater parameters of one’s life. We are subject to flux in our lives, wavelike rhythms of change that call for different responses at different times. The practice of modern postural forms of yoga creates familiarity with the cycles of energy, strength, and flexibility that encourage us to respond by practicing with appropriate degrees of vigor and patient ease. Meditative or contemplative practices may involve the conscious cultivation of particular meditation objects and attitudes one day, and a more receptive and dispassionate dealing with emotions or other experiences on another day. Yoga as such is not a singular approach but represents a range of responses to the changing conditions of mind, body, and environment. The basic dynamic of practice and dispassion demonstrates the validity and value of both activity and detachment as appropriate responses at different moments in practice and in life. This dynamic is intuitive for many people and is also found in various philosophical and religious contexts. The so-called Serenity Prayer encapsulates a similar way of approaching spiritual life—roughly as changing what one can change, accepting what one cannot change, and having the wisdom to know the difference. For Patañjali, practice becomes successful when it is applied consistently and energetically for an extended period of time, persevering through the ups and downs of life. Dispassion, or nonattachment, is considered perfected when no desire arises for either material or spiritual objects, a freedom from being bound to any worldly object of desire.
In yoga philosophy, practitioners of yoga are encouraged to cultivate faith (śraddhā), energy (vīrya), mindfulness (smṛti), contemplation (samādhi), and wisdom (prajñā), with the understanding that the more ardent and intense the level of practice, the closer the practitioner is to his or her goal. A technique that is highlighted as being uniquely fruitful in the practice of yoga is the “Dedication to the Lord” (īśvarapraṇidhāna), which refers to dedication and devotion to the ideal yogin or yoginī. Īśvara is portrayed as a master of yoga who has never been bound by the fluctuations of the mind and who serves as the archetype or model for the condition of spiritual realization. Commentators on this section of Patañjali’s yoga refer to īśvarapraṇidhāna as a form of devotion (bhakti), a passionate or emotion-infused attitude of reverence for this deity—a god, or even God, who exemplifies the nature of a person in the liberated state. The principal method of īśvarapraṇidhāna is the recitation of the mantra syllable OṂ, which is understood to be the representation of the sound, or speech, of Īśvara. Through meditation on the OṂ, the obstacles to concentration are removed, and samādhi is perfected in an accelerated fashion. It is not surprising, then, that OṂ should have a privileged place in yoga practice; it is understood to be the closest thing to a shortcut to spiritual development and realization in the yoga philosophy.
Contemplative practice, exemplified in the meditative state of samādhi, is understood in Patañjali’s yoga to be a progressive process. As serenity of mind and concentration develop, mental activity becomes progressively more subtle, and the obstacles to spiritual development—such as fatigue, torpor, confusion, emotional instability, and the inability to concentrate—wane. One might choose a particular meditation object that suits one’s mental temperament, such as the mantra OṂ, friendliness or compassion, the breath, or an inspiring spiritual figure. The various meditative objects have a common set of goals—reducing the effect of obstacles to spiritual progress and developing a deep and penetrating mental focus. According to Patañjali, as one develops the power of concentration, the mind becomes clear like a radiant jewel, and successive levels of deepening contemplation follow. These levels of contemplation move away from the intellectual or verbal modes of thinking toward a mode of concentration that is increasingly subtle, direct, and profound. As this deep meditative state reaches its limit, it is said that the fluctuations of the experience of the world, such as thought and sensation, become profoundly still, to the point at which a state of unshakable, mountainlike calm is achieved. According to Patañjali, the ultimate trajectory of such meditative processes is the attainment of a state of freedom in which no seeds of future suffering exist. In other words, as the process of meditation becomes perfected, the very roots of mental fluctuation are removed, and the practitioner enters into a state of self-sustaining peace, no longer subject to the highs and lows of embodied existence.
The Eight-Limbed Yoga (Aṣṭāṅgayoga)
The principal method for achieving the cessation (nirodha) of mental fluctuations, as illustrated by Patañjali in the second part of the Yogasūtra, is the practice of aṣṭāṅgayoga, or the “eight-limbed yoga.” The second part of the Yogasūtra is entitled sādhanapāda, which means the “section on practice.” Patañjali outlines a system of yogic practice that is characterized by eight parts, which represent a progression of yogic practice from the concrete and external to the subtle and internal aspects of human life. The limbs themselves are restraint (yama), observance (niyama), posture (āsana), breath control (prāṇāyāma), withdrawal (pratyāhāra), fixation (dhāraṇā), meditation (dhyāna), and contemplation (samādhi). Yama is further divided into five parts: nonharming (ahiṃsā), truthfulness (satya), nonstealing (asteya), sexual restraint (brahmacarya), and nongreed (aparigraha). Niyama is divided into five parts as well: cleanliness (śauca), contentment (saṃtoṣa), self-discipline (tapas), self-study (svādhyāya), and dedication to the lord (īśvarapraṇidhāna). The components of yama represent a reorientation to the social world, and those of niyama to the practitioner’s body and spiritual life. Yama and niyama, as we will discuss at length later, provide the larger frame of meaning in which the discipline of yoga is performed. The limbs of āsana, prāṇāyāma, and pratyāhāra represent a mastery of physical form, of energy, and of the senses. The limbs of dhāraṇā, dhyāna, and samādhi represent a progression from the very beginning of developing concentration to the deep meditative absorption or contemplation of samādhi. Together these last three constitute yogic mastery (saṃyama). The first five limbs together are referred to as the outer limbs (bahiraṅga) of yoga in that they represent a range of experience from the social world to the operation of the senses. The final three are referred to as the inner limbs (antaraṅga), which focus on the mind and culminate in the attainment of yogic mastery and, ultimately, liberation.
The progression from concrete to subtle moves from the experience of everyday life, including interactions with others, through the individual’s body and then ultimately to the most subtle aspects of mind. This notion of a progression of steps in this practice is sometimes likened to the idea of a ladder of yoga practices, or a series of steps that are sequential in nature. In this analysis, the yama and niyama practices establish the foundation—through cultivating a peaceful, detached mode of existence and a spiritual discipline, one prepares oneself for the physical and mental exertions of yoga. With the establishment of āsana, one has a level of comfort and stability in the body that is conducive to contemplation; likewise, the control of breath prepares a person energetically and mentally for contemplative practice. The withdrawal of the senses from their objects yields a fertile ground for developing concentration. The inner limbs of yoga—fixation, meditation, and contemplation—then focus and deepen concentration until it reaches a state of fruitful perfection.
Another valid way to look at the relationship between the limbs is as a sort of wheel with many spokes that mutually reinforce one another. From this perspective, every limb of yoga supports the others. Just as it might be said that the practice of ahiṃsā, or nonharming, and the peaceful life it entails provide for the development of the mental calm of meditation, it could be said that the mental calm of meditation might help dissolve angry thoughts that lead to harming others. Similarly, the development of a stable and comfortable posture and the regulation of breath might be said to contribute to both mental clarity and to a lessening of feelings of greed, craving, and so on. It is not uncommon for teachers of modern yoga traditions that focus on āsana to state that all of the eight limbs of yoga can be mastered within the practice of āsana. Or, alternately, some teachers will state that though āsana is the third limb of the aṣṭāṅgayoga system, it is in fact practiced first.
If we look at the issue of progression versus interrelation more closely, we can draw out a great lesson about the potential of this system as a dynamic mode of practice. One way to approach the eight limbs from a pragmatic point of view is to practice them sequentially. In other words, at any moment—dedicated to the practice of yoga or otherwise—one can use the eight-limb paradigm as a tool for self-reflection and the application of yoga practice. One can contemplate the ways in which the various limbs can be applied progressively to one’s present condition, beginning with restraint (yama) and working up to contemplation (samādhi). One might also set up a more formal spiritual practice, beginning by attempting to observe the practice of moral restraint in one’s life, perhaps especially in those places set aside for spiritual practice in the home or elsewhere. Building on this, a practitioner of yoga might dedicate him- or herself to the components of niyama through observing personal cleanliness, contentment, and self-discipline, through efforts to read and recite yoga texts, and through dedication to the personified spiritual ideal of yoga, Īśvara, either in abstract or concrete form. The practice of niyama as such might be further amplified through dedicating time and space to practicing its components, along with building relationships that help foster the practice of yama and niyama by means of the reinforcement of shared values. Āsana and prāṇāyāma are perhaps the most widely known and practiced of the eight limbs of yoga in the contemporary context, and so there are ample opportunities to study them with skilled teachers. Though there is less emphasis on meditation in many modern yoga traditions, it is a living part of some traditions, such as Transcendental Meditation, Satchidananda’s Integral Yoga, and the contemporary Krishnamacharya tradition of T.K.V. Desikachar. A number of contemporary Buddhist traditions teach meditation practices that are related to Patañjali’s system, as well, and they provide ample opportunities for both short-term and long-term meditation practice. When paired, home practice and formal institutional practice create a fruitful tension between personal and communal forms of engagement.
In addition to the establishment of a formal practice, in which one pursues the limbs over a relatively long duration of time, the eight limbs can be a touchstone for yoga within everyday life. In this respect, one can contemplate within any situation how the eight limbs would apply and how one might transform a given situation into an opportunity for spiritual practice. One might scan through the eight limbs sequentially, noting how a given life situation might call for the application of a particular limb. Likewise, the interrelated nature of the limbs means that whichever limb is appropriate, it will strengthen and provide for the practice of the others in their absence. The point here is that even the most mundane situations—such as grocery shopping, trivial encounters at work, taking kids to school—can be viewed as opportunities to practice yoga. The practice of yama, for example, has implications in virtually every social interaction. Likewise, one might note how breath and posture are affected by the spectrum of experiences of everyday life. Perhaps most profound of all are the ways in which the moments of our lives are potentially sources of deep insight and contemplation, springing out of discerning alignment with the response that the world is calling for from moment to moment rather than being driven unconsciously to respond in unprofitable ways. According to one interpretation of the yoga philosophy, the same world that binds us to pain and misery, if understood properly, is the catalyst for our spiritual transformation and liberation. In other words, the same experiences that potentially bind us to misery can produce liberating insights into the nature of things, if we can properly reorient ourselves to them.
Living the Eight Limbs of Yoga
The following chapters are focused on bringing nuance and detail to the eight limbs of yoga and their application to everyday life and spiritual practice. The goal is to provide a practical guide for applying the principles of yoga to everyday life, in both formal and informal ways. It is intended to be a short and focused guide, one that can be read and reread to deepen one’s understanding and experience of yoga as it applies to day-to-day existence and practice. It will serve as a reminder of what we have learned along the way and how we can keep that knowledge, and thus the practice of yoga, alive. Instead of focusing on the innumerable technical details of the philosophy of yoga, our focus will be on the pragmatic tools that yoga provides, which we hope will facilitate a new perspective on the world in a manner that unfolds naturally. We will encourage the reader to find ways to bridge the practice of yoga with other meaningful activities in life, allowing for a fruitful cross-pollination of the driving interests and commitments in one’s life. In drawing together the concepts that are represented in the verses of the Yogasūtra, Patañjali brought together in his time a range of ideas and practices that were both traditional and innovative. Likewise, we believe that a living practice of yoga should not be static and fossilized but rather a dynamic, malleable discipline that can be continuously adapted to and connected to our modes of being in our world today. We also believe that a committed practice of yoga, rooted in the eight limbs, offers tremendous potential for self-transformation, for peace, and for building a more just and harmonious society.