“Yoga is a light, which once lit, will never dim. The better your practice, the brighter the flame.”
Dear Yogini,
As I give considerations to the context in which I use the term yoga, I find myself curious to know your take on this too. When talking about yoga, would you say something like “I do yoga,” “I study yoga,” or “I practice yoga?” This might help you clarify your intention behind the question, “Is teaching yoga for me or not?” There are, of course, many distinctions to be made with respect to the term yoga, but the point I am making is that it would be so easy to fall into a clichéd use of the word “yoga” and any and all the physical, spiritual, or other stereotypes and assumptions—true and false—associated with its common usage. So I ought not to assume but rather request clarification from you of what you understand yoga to be.
I keep returning to Patañjali’s opening aphorism, Atha yogānuśāsanam: Here and now begins the discipline of yoga, “the containment of one’s ways of thought.” Inherent in the methodology of the eight-limbed path of yoga described by Patañjali is the disciplinary aspect. Yoga is an engagement, a contract of sorts with your Self, a powerful way to change how a situation unfolds by the way you perceive it (and bring consciousness to it) or by the way you think about it (and bring intentionality to that thinking).
Instead of seeing life as simply happening to you, you have the option of being an active participant in the process of life, and yoga becomes an invitation to get off the sidelines, to stop being passive—a doormat or victim of circumstance or just plain playing small—and take action. Your participation creates the possibility of a different outcome, a shift in dynamics, transmuting weakness into strength, self-preoccupation into self-awareness, self-absorption into compassion. Your involvement affects how the “game” unfolds; you influence the outcome by your mere presence and intentionality of heart.
Do you recall the precepts I alluded to in my previous letter? While every religion, every dogma has their own version of such guidelines for moral behavior, I believe these to be neither doctrine nor dogma. My training is in the biological sciences so I take nothing at face-value, including the instruction and origins of the practice of yoga.
Vyasa, the original interpreter of The Yoga Sūtras, divided Patanjali’s compilation of Yogic Wisdom into four books, which some argue is “artificial and incorrect. (6)” I have alternated between contemplating Indian philosophy and applying its precepts to my life throughout the last two decades of my personal and professional engagement with this discipline of yoga. It is in this context I hope to frame for you, and for myself too, this profound and potent Yogic Wisdom.
And so we have a path that came to be known as asta-aṅga (“eight-limbed”) yoga (referenced in sutra II.29). The Sanskrit word for ashtanga (transliterated with the additional ‘h’ for pronunciation’s sake), is derived from the words ‘astha,’ “eight” and ‘anga,’ typically translated as “limb” or “facet.” While this ‘eight-limbed’ path of yoga gives the impression of linearity, it is in fact, evidenced by my own experience of the practice, an integrated system of tenets (yama, the five abstentions or restraints, with a focus towards minding our behavior in the world, and niyama, the five observances, with a focus towards caring for ourselves), physical activity, breath, sensory awareness and withdrawal, concentration, mind observation, and absorption. James Haughton Woods in his annotation of the sutras refers to these as the “eight aids of yoga (7)”—the first five facets as “indirect aids” to yoga (yama, niyama, āsana, prānāyāma and pratyahara) which, in my understanding, are loosely referenced as “hatha yoga” because they extend ways to balance the solar and lunar dynamics inherent in all our physiological and energetic systems; and the latter three facets—to do with mind control—as “direct aids” to yoga (dhāraṇā, dhyana and samādhi) which, together, are alluded to as “raja yoga,” the ‘royal’ path.
Thus, yoga is the practice of journeying inwards towards seeing and knowing Self more clearly without the camouflage of our unconscious conditioning, our arrogance and privilege, our perceived deficits, the veil of our ignorance, or our implicit socio-economic, cultural, and religious biases. Recall that the primordial instruction in the discipline of yoga is “the containment of one’s ways of thought. (8)” And as the “aids” of yoga are engaged, and when the “impurities” of the mind have dwindled, there arises “an enlightenment of perception reaching up to the discriminative discernment, (9)” as stated in sutra I.28 which describes the goal of the eight-limbed path of yoga.
So with regard to yama and niyama, the tenets of yoga—the first and second “indirect aids” to purify the mind and pave the way for enlightened perception—you get to fashion and re-fashion them according to what unfolds for you along your path; you get to revisit them at your leisure and as you see fit to do so, for there is no one single way to work with them. It is how you choose to live into these tenets that will clarify how your dilemma matures and finds resolution. Yama and niyama are the foundation of your yoga, and because yoga is not a linear process, you will tease them and defy them, work with them and refine them until you have scratched the last of the veneer off and can live these precepts as your ultimate truth.
Your personal exploration of the five inner precepts called yama will encourage you to live more at ease with yourself and then with others and then, God-willing, with the world at large:
Your personal foray into the five precepts called niyama allows you to continue your journey inward toward wholeness and discovering your destiny:
These tenets are vast and continuous practices that serve but a small purpose until your heart is ready to receive them. You will need the rigors of practice to see and dissolve whatever rules and regulations you adhere to that no longer serve you, and to reframe whatever principles and paradigms have directed you in unsuitable ways. And then, dearest yogini, any confusion, any doubt, any uncertainty that enshrouds your question and whatever else is getting in your way will fade. I have no doubt your answer will be revealed to you, as you perceive reality as it is and when the opportune moment arises.
The objective of Patañjali’s yoga, as detailed in his yoga sutras, is for us to recognize and realize the true nature of (Absolute) Reality—that which is not subject to change, death, and decay—and to touch the unchangeable witness within, lyricism incarnate in Rainer Maria Rilke’s Book of Hours: Love Poems to God. Just as you can see yourself in the mirror, dear yogini, so also, through yoga darshana (the yoga sutras, or any ‘system’ through which you see reality as it is), can you see the Self. This brilliant diamond of the Self is defined here as ‘pure consciousness’ (or purusha) and is distinct from mere matter (prakṛti) which includes the body, mind, thoughts, intellect, and temporal ego, all of which are subject to change and entirely impermanent.
I have found myself subject to the common understanding that yoga signifies “yoke” or “union.” In its classical usage, the Sanskrit word for ‘yoke’ is yuj and refers to a wooden crosspiece that is fastened over the necks of two animals (in the Indian tradition, horses destined for battle), and attached to the plow or cart that they are to pull. So ‘yoga,’ as a device, serves to control the frenzied nervousness of war horses, the “chomping at the bit;” as a technique, yoga serves to bring two elements together, two halves of a whole: the right hemisphere of the brain with the left; the brain with the body; the sympathetic nervous system with the parasympathetic nervous system; the yin with the yang; the female and the male; the individual consciousness (or atman) with the universal principle (or brahman).
In essence, dear yogini, according to Patañjali, rather than union or oneness with the world, you seek instead to liberate yourself from your attachments to the temperamental changeability of the world’s materialistic nature to become one with yourself. You and I change our minds on a whim; our thoughts come and go as they please, audacious and unbidden and too often impertinent, graceless, and of little service to our general wellbeing. Feelings arise like weather-systems, entirely out of our immediate control, supplanted by emotional interpolations that ride in on anything from the gentlest tide to the most daunting tsunami. And then, too often, we take these thoughts or emotions at face value. We begin to believe the stories we or others’ tell about ourselves; God forbid we take others’ perceptions and opinions and judgments of us to heart.
Instead, use the precepts, these tenets of yoga to guide you along the path of ashtanga yoga towards a clearer understanding of the question you have for yourself. May your practice of yoga serve to bring you back to the heart of You and who you wish to be in the world. Do not take others’ judgments and opinions of you personally—especially when you begin to teach your yoga; you will come to learn that this is the practice of asteya, to not indulge the tendencies of one’s ego-self or another’s to create division or hierarchy of less and greater than. May you find yourself inspired by some great purpose where you are free from fear and thus the ego, where your thoughts transcend their limitations, your consciousness expands in all directions. May you, through your yoga, live your quest into its resolution.
Peace and beautiful practice.
Sincerely yours,
Nicole
“The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.”