WATCH NOW: Recording of Led Primary class, plus Conference

WATCH NOW: Recording of Led Intermediate class

Sharathji is undoubtably the foremost teacher of Ashtanga Yoga in the world today. If you’re unable to travel to India to study with him directly, these recorded classes are the next best opportunity to experience his teachings and the powerful benefits of the Ashtanga yoga practice under his guidance. You’ll get a chance to experience the atmosphere of his yoga shala in Mysore with the presence of many of his most dedicated students.

The Led Primary Class is followed by a conference in which this master of Ashtanga yoga answers questions from students from around the world. And the Led Intermediate recording offers a rare glimpse at one of Ashtanga yoga’s most challenging sessions.

WATCH NOW: Recording of Led Primary class, plus Conference
WATCH NOW: Recording of Led Intermediate class

If you plan to practice along with the recordings:

• For Led Primary, students should ideally be familiar with the Ashtanga Yoga Primary Series.
• For Led Intermediate, students should have been regularly practicing the Ashtanga Yoga Led Intermediate Series and be competent at least up until Dwipada Shirshasana.

“Everyone should practice yoga for their own well-being,” Sharathji says. “Once that happens, the whole planet becomes a spiritual place. The whole planet will become totally different. Everyone will realize their own responsibility in their life toward this planet, toward humanity. Yoga will give you that kind of knowledge.”

The post On-Demand: Watch Paramaguru Sharath Jois’s Recent Led Classes appeared first on Sonima.

Click here to sign up and reserve your spot. Class size is limited, so sign-ups are on a first-come basis.

This is a traditional counted Ashtanga Yoga Led Primary Series class. Ideally, students should be familiar with the Ashtanga Yoga Primary Series.

Hillam started practicing Ashtanga Yoga in 1994, and from 2001 travelled regularly to Mysore, India, to practice and study under Sri K. Pattabhi Jois and Sharath Jois. He continues to visit Sharath in Mysore whenever he is able. He has been the director of Jois Yoga since 2010. Hillam is also a long-term student of Sanskrit, yoga, and Vedic philosophy as well as Vedic chanting.

“At the beginning of the pandemic, the idea that I could teach yoga online seemed at best a short-term replacement for Iive classes,” Hillam says. “However, many students were able to practice more regularly, and those who did progressed nicely. Some were able to add the pranayama and meditation that they were unable to incorporate previously due to time constraints. I was also surprised how much I could perceive through the screen as the teacher. The lack of hands-on adjustments by me was replaced by more consistent and diligent effort by my devoted students, resulting in slow and steady progress.”

Sign up now for the next Led Primary Series class, which starts at 6:30 a.m. PT / 9:30 ET.

The post Online Ashtanga Yoga Led Primary Series With Andrew Hillam appeared first on Sonima.

Class will be live-streamed via Zoom at the following times:

• USA: Friday, February 11 at 7:30 p.m. ET / 4:30 p.m. PT
• India: Saturday, February 12 at 6:00 a.m. IST
• China: Saturday, February 12 at 8:30 a.m. CST
• Japan/Korea: Saturday, February 12 at 9:30 a.m. JST/KST
• Australia: Saturday, February 12 at 11:30 a.m. AEDT

Class size is limited, so sign-ups are on a first-come basis. Click here to sign up and reserve your spot, and follow @livesonima, @sharathjoisr, and @jois.yoga for updates.

This is a traditional counted Ashtanga Yoga Led Primary Series class. Ideally, students should be familiar with the Ashtanga Yoga Primary Series. Class will run for approximately 1 1/2 hours and will be followed by a one-hour conference, including question and answers with Sharathji about the Ashtanga Yoga practice and its philosophy.

“Everyone should practice yoga for their own well-being,” Sharathji says. “Once that happens, the whole planet becomes a spiritual place. The whole planet will become totally different. Everyone will realize their own responsibility in their life toward this planet, toward humanity, so that’s what we have to think about. Yoga will give you that kind of knowledge.”

Sign up now for the Led Primary Class and Conference with Paramaguru Sharath Jois.

The post Paramaguru Sharath Jois Livestream of Led Primary Class and Conference appeared first on Sonima.

The Hatha Yoga Pradipika and Yoga Yajñavalkya list 10 niyamas, which are also mentioned by Krishnamacharya in his Yoga Makaranda. Below are brief descriptions of these 10 niyamas.

1. Tapas is the effort that is required to bring about our personal transformation in yoga practice. It is also the effort required in adhering to one’s dharma. Dharma here refers to the duties that we need to do in relation to our position within our families, communities, and society. Traditionally, these included spiritual duties that were performed for the good of all. The word tapas can also be translated as heat, penance, or austerity, and implies that we apply continuous and focused effort in the direction of yoga. Without this focus, we are unlikely to progress.

2. Saṃtoṣa can be translated as cultivating a feeling of contentment in all aspects of life, regardless of the situation in which we find ourselves. Cultivating saṃtoṣa allows us to overcome many of the negative emotions that may otherwise impede our progress. This requires the effort of tapas, and will reach its fullest expression by following all 10 niyamas.

3. Āstikya. Krishnamacharya defines āstikya as deep faith and firm conviction in the Paramātman (supreme soul). It is very much like Īśvarapraṇidhāna (intense devotion to Īsvara) mentioned in Patañjali’s Yoga Sutras. Patañjali does not define Īśvara as a particular deity such as Śiva or Viśṇu, as these are all expressions of the same higher reality. Instead, he describes Īśvara as the source of all knowledge, without any reservoir of previous karma, untouched by any afflictions—the “guru for all gurus”.

For those who do not follow any particular spiritual path, āstikya is the cultivation of faith and devotion to a higher power with these characteristics. The existence of Īśvara is central to the philosophy of yoga outlined by Patañjali in his Yoga Sutras. And Krishnamacharya says in Yogavalli, his commentary on the first chapter of the Yoga Sutras, that Īśvarapraṇidhāna, or devotion, to Īśvara is essential to making progress in yoga.

Related: Finding Community Outside of Religion

4. Dānam is generosity or charity. It is the distribution to others of that which is gained through honest means, without any expectation of return (including the expectation of recognition). This is considered a very important upāya (method) for atoning for past karma and for the removal of impediments to spiritual progress.

5. Īśvarapūjanam is the worship or veneration of Īśvara. While āstikya means cultivation of faith in the existence of a higher power, Īśvarapūjanam refers to the act of worship. On a basic level, this can mean the performance of devotional rituals. At a higher level, when we recognize that there is a higher power behind everything, we can bring devotion to all aspects of life. Performing dānam (charity) with the attitude that we are serving the divine within those who receive our charity helps prevent the onset of pride and brings even greater transformational power to those actions, which now contain the essence of worship.

6. Siddhānta-vākya-śravaṇam means listening to the established doctrine on philosophical and spiritual texts, in this case related to the yoga system. For instance, studying texts such as Patañjali’s Yoga Sūtras and listening to discourses on the sutras is considered an important aspect of yoga practice. These texts should be studied with a knowledgeable teacher who has gained experiential knowledge of yoga philosophy through his or her practice. This helps us to gain perspective in our yoga practice so that we can pursue it in a meaningful way.

Krishnamacharya also mentions that siddhānta-vākya-śravaṇam “is practiced to know the secret of Dharma and often remind[s] ourselves of the good advice given by great people.” The Vedas, Ramayana, Mahabharata, Bhagavad Gita, and Bhagavata Purana are texts filled with stories that are both enlightening and inspirational for deepening our understanding of spiritual matters related to yoga.

7. Hṛī. The Monier Williams Sanskrit Dictionary defines hrī as “shame, modesty, shyness, or timidity.” In yoga, hrī can be best defined as humility. Without hrī, the ego increases and the attitude that “I know” becomes dominant, leading us to be less receptive to new ways of understanding. On the other hand, an attitude of humility results in an openness that is conducive to learning. The yogic mind has to become fresh like a child’s mind, able to see things clearly and in new ways that may challenge our previously held beliefs. In yoga and in all spiritual disciplines, this is extremely important for the purpose of spiritual growth.

Related: The Importance of Humility in Athletics

8. Matī means a discerning intellect. We should develop the capacity for spiritual discernment (viveka), which is the ability to differentiate between our spirit or soul (ātman) and the phenomenal world (prakṛti). Matī is also the ability to judge situations clearly and insightfully. The practice of the first four limbs of Aṣṭāṅga yoga (yama, niyama, āsana, and prāṇāyāma) brings about the conditions under which matī can begin to develop. It also follows that matī builds on the previous niyamas. In particular, matī becomes far more powerful when coupled with hrī.

9. Japa means continuous repetition of mantras. The best-known mantra is the sacred syllable Oṃ. Patañjali states that Oṃ is the word which is an expression for Īśvara. He says that we should perform japa with meditation on its meaning in order to reveal the “pure consciousness” within, as well as for the removal of all obstacles to yoga. It is said that mantra should only be taught directly to a student by a teacher who has mastered and understood the mantra, otherwise there will be no effect. Mantra japa is extremely powerful and should be approached with great respect and humility.

10. Hutam or homa means the performance of special ritual actions outlined in the Vedas. These are relevant for those who follow Vedic traditions, but for those outside of these traditions, hutam can also refer to internal sacrifice. The idea of internal sacrifice is presented in the third chapter of the Bhagavad Gītā where Krishna states:

“Yajñārthātkarmaṇo’nyatra loko’yaṃ karmabandhanaḥ. tadarthaṃ karma kaunteya muktasaṅgaḥ samācara.” (“This world is bound by action, except those actions which are sacrificed to the Supreme. Oh Arjuna, perform all actions perfectly, free from attachment, for the purpose of sacrifice alone.”)

And in chapter five, Krishna says:

“Yuktaḥ karmaphalaṃ tyaktvā śāntimāpnoti naiśtikīm, ayuktaḥ kāmakāreṇa phale sakto nibadhyate.” (“The karma-yogin attains peace of mind when he abandons the fruit of his actions, while one who does not know yoga, clinging to the results of action, becomes forever bound.”)

Taken together, these two ślokas tell us to surrender our ego and perform all our actions for the good of the world. We should maintain an attitude that everything we do is done for a higher purpose and as an offering to the Supreme. We should attempt to do our very best but without any expectation of recognition or return from our actions. This kind of wisdom put into action requires a highly discriminating intellect (matī) coupled with great humility (hrī). When done perfectly, hutaṃ contains the elements of all the preceding niyamas.

The post 10 Niyamas: Personal Observances to Deepen Your Yoga Practice appeared first on Sonima.

Yoga provides specific practices for this purpose: yamas (social observances) and niyamas (personal observances). Yama and niyama are the first two of ashtanga yoga’s eight limbs. When combined with āsana (the practice of postures) and prāṇāyāma (breathing techniques), they help to bring the mind and senses into a state of stable attention. This allows for progression in the later four limbs of yoga, which focus on attaining higher meditative states. Following yama and niyama is the foundation for a yoga practice that allows us to operate smoothly and easily in the world. It provides us with greater mental clarity, freeing up much of the energy that is otherwise wasted when we are out of sync with our physical, mental, and emotional surroundings.

Many people are familiar with the five yamas and five niyamas outlined in Patanjali’s Yoga Sutras, but other hatha yoga texts such as the Hatha Yoga Pradipika of Svātmarāma and the Yoga Yājñavalka include additional yamas and niyamas. These are also outlined in Krishnamacharya’s Yoga Makaranda, originally published in 1934.

Although the practice of the yamas will positively affect those around us, the main aim is for our internal transformation, which is essential for progression beyond the physical aspects of yoga practice. Additionally, by practicing the other limbs of ashtanga yoga, we will be able to bring greater perfection to each of the yamas, bringing greater clarity, peace, and joy in all our relationships. Below are six additional yamas not listed by Patanjali.

1. Kṣamā can be translated as patience or forgiveness. When we forgive, we relinquish the hold that past experience has on the mind and emotions. We are no longer bound by that experience. Kṣamā allows us to understand our situation from a broader perspective and to live more easily in the present moment.

Related: The Unique Power of Forgiveness on Your Health

2. Dhṛtiḥ means holding, seizing, keeping, supporting, firmness, constancy, resolution, will, or command. It can also have the meaning of satisfaction, contentment, or joy. In order to find success in any path, it is necessary to have a firm and unwavering conviction in what we do. When that steadfastness also has as an essence of satisfaction and contentment in the chosen path, the chances of maintaining our conviction, even in the face of obstacles, increase many times. Although dhṛtiḥ is not included in Patanjali’s list of yamas, he alludes to both its aspects in sūtra 1:14 when he states: “sātu dīrgha kāla nairantarya satkāra ādara āsevito dṛḍabhūmiḥ (practice becomes firmly established when it done for a long time, without interruption and with devotion and respect/enthusiasm).”

3. Dayā is sympathy or compassion. Being truly compassionate requires looking deeply into the hearts of others and trying to feel their experiences first-hand. We should try to see ourselves in others, and others within ourselves. Those great yogis who recognize that we are all an expression of the same consciousness and who experience unity within all beings are a perfect example of dayā. Patanjali’s sūtras on pratipakṣabhāvanam allude to dayā when he explains the importance of taking an opposing viewpoint in order to counteract our negative thoughts (vitarkas) and emotions.

4. Ārjava means straight, honest, sincere, or straightforward. We practice ārjava by aligning thought, speech, and action into one. The more we practice yoga and follow dharma, the more easily this process comes about. Ārjava is also described as meekness or humility. The mantra “idam na mama,” meaning, “This is not mine,” is uttered after making offerings during Vedic ceremonies. We should not gloat and say, ”Look what I have done,” but relinquish our ownership of any good results. Another smṛti text says, ”dharmaḥ kṣarati kīrtanāt,” meaning, “A virtue is spent by being made known through one’s own lips.” The attitude of a yogi should be that what we do is done happily for the good of all, and not for the purpose of recognition.

Related: The Power of Selfless Service

5. Mitāhāra means that one should not overeat, instead eating only the amount and types of food necessary to maintain good health and which are supportive of our sādhana (practice). Food should be simple, pure, and nourishing, but it is also very important not to become overly obsessed with diet. Food is sacred, it should be received with an attitude of reverence and thankfulness, and it should not be wasted. Regularity in eating is also very helpful for yoga practice. Consider the following śloka, which is mentioned as being quoted by Śrīdhara Swāmi in the Bhagavata Purana (Gita Press 1971): “dvau bhāgau pūrayedannaistoyenaikaṃ prapūrayet mārutasya pracārārthaṃ caturthamavaśeṣayet” (or “One should fill two-quarters of one’s belly with [articles of] food and one quarter with water. The fourth should be kept empty for the free passage of air”).

6. Śauca is cleanliness. External (bahir) or physical cleanliness refers not only to the body but also the surrounding environment, while internal (antara) cleanliness refers to a state of mental purity. Through external cleanliness, we become aware that the body is in a continual state of decay, resulting in a level of detachment from the physical body. At the same time, internal cleanliness results in an increase in mental clarity, greater control of the senses, and a vision or awareness of one’s own ātman or Self, the source of purity from within. Although there is indifference to the physical body, we will desire to maintain it in as pure state as possible in order to allow the full expression of the ātman.

Patanjali lists śauca as a niyama rather than a yama. He notes that attention to śauca will bring about saumanasya, or a state of gladness or cheerfulness in the mind. Therefore we should be careful not to become obsessive or puritanical in śauca.

The post Yoga Yamas: 6 Additional Yamas to Deepen Your Yoga Practice appeared first on Sonima.

After introducing the yamas and niyamas, Patanjali then states in sūtra 2.33, “vitarkabādhane pratipakṣabhāvanam,” which translates to, “One must cultivate a mental attitude that counteracts the doubts and uncertainties that trouble us.”

Here, Patanjali refers to doubts and uncertainties (vitarkas) that arise when we have begun to integrate the yamas and niyamas into our lives. These vitarkas result in thoughts and actions that contradict the yamas and niyamas. Although the same kinds of vitarkas had previously been present in our lives, now that we are following the path of yoga we must try to overcome them. At these times Patanjali says that we should cultivate an opposite mental attitude (pratipakṣa-bhāvanam) in order to counteract or annul (bhādane) those negative thoughts and tendencies as well as their resulting actions.

The next sūtra, 2.34, explains the kinds of vitarkas that arise and their consequences: “vitarkāḥ himsādayaḥ kṛta kāritā anumoditāḥ lobha krodha mohapūrvakāḥ mṛdu madhya adhimātrāḥ duḥkha ajñāna anantaphalāḥ iti pratipakṣabhāvanam,” or, “Those vitarkas such as violence etc., that we commit, condone, or enjoy vicariously are rooted in greed, anger, and delusion. They can be mild, medium, or excessive. Their consequences are endless suffering and ignorance. So contemplation on their opposites should be done.”

Previously we may have ignored these vitarkas, allowing ourselves to become caught up in the drama that they bring. But as we practice the yamas and niyamas and devote more time to yoga practice, we begin to become more sensitive to the presence of these negative mental influences. Patanjali tells us that the consequence of allowing them to go unchecked will be endless suffering and ajñāna, or spiritual ignorance.

It is not enough to curb the negative actions that result from these vitarkas, but we must also not condone those kinds of actions by others. Even vicarious enjoyment of the pain of others should be recognized and avoided. Yet the vitarkas can be very deeply rooted in the mind. Patanjali’s solution is to perform pratipakṣa-bhāvanam—to contemplate the opposite perspective or to produce a feeling that counters the current one.

Related: The Power of Our Personal Narratives

By taking the view of the opposite side in any situation, we gain a different perspective. For instance, when I am approached by someone in the street asking me for money, I may have a negative reaction. But if I meet the same person when volunteering at a soup kitchen and hear their story, I will most likely gain a very different perspective. In the second scenario, I have allowed myself to experience an opposite viewpoint, or a pratipakṣa-bhāvana, that is helpful in dispelling my vitarkas of prejudice.

In Sharathji’s recent article, he writes about the importance of this kind of seva, or service to others. The above example shows how seva not only benefits those that we serve, but also that it is extremely beneficial in helping us overcome our own mental obstacles.

Following the idea of pratipakṣa-bhāvana further, we can begin to explore another layer of meaning. When contemplating two differing viewpoints of the same situation, we may begin to experience in a tangible way that the relative truth of either side of an argument is simply part of a greater unity of the whole. That is, there is a bigger picture in which these differing perspectives are simply “two wings” of the same bird.

We have examples of realized people who have become established in this mode of being to such an extent that they continually experience this unity within all of life. Some perfect examples would be the Buddha, the Jain saints, or the Indian saint Ramana Maharshi. In sūtra 1.37, Patanjali recommends that we contemplate on such people in order to overcome obstacles in yoga: “vītarāgaviṣayaṃ vā cittam,” or “(Fix) the mind on a person (vītarāgā) that has abandoned attraction.”

The vītarāgas mentioned in this sūtra are highly spiritually-evolved souls who abandoned all attachments and were able to follow the yamas and niyamas perfectly. By focusing our minds on such people, we too are able to gain an insight into this ideal, which is extremely helpful for stabilizing our minds and overcoming our own vitarkas.

I was reminded of this sutra recently when I found myself increasingly frustrated and upset by the current political landscapes worldwide that are filled with so much division. At some point I decided to set aside listening to the news and instead to read the Rāmāyana. The protaganists, Rāma and Sīta, are both great souls filled with dharma who always follow the path of righteousness without any arrogance or pride. Both are perfect examples on which to meditate. Reading and contemplating their story was the perfect pratipakṣa-bhāvana, helping me to return my mind to a clear and stable perspective.

The post Pratipaksha-bhāvana: Overcoming Negative Thinking appeared first on Sonima.

These things I now know to be true, but I have come to realize that it is the ongoing physical practice of yoga that is necessary for the deeper insights of yoga to occur.

The Lineage of Aṣṭāṅga Yoga

In the early 1990s, when suffering from sporadic severe back and neck pain, I began practicing Aṣṭāṅga yoga in the Mysore class format, sweating my way through the primary series every morning. Although working in the physical realm, I became aware that I was also dealing with some subtle and more internal aspects of myself.

Yoga practice was like bringing a small, dim candle into an attic and beginning to find all sorts of unnecessary and potentially deleterious material that needed to be dealt with. Cleaning out the attic was (and still is) a slow and not always pretty process, but it is why I practice and what continues to sustain my yogic sādhana.

It was extremely helpful for me, especially in the early years of practice, to be surrounded by a community of teachers and students who were all dedicated to the same practice method. From my first trip 20 years ago to practice with Guruji and Sharathji at the Aṣṭāṅga Yoga Research Institute in Mysore to the many subsequent times practicing with them at KPJAYI, I always experienced a deepening of this transformational process. I recognize their profound influence on all of us in the room and have been humbled by the Aṣṭāṅga paramparā that has flourished under their guidance.

The Monier Williams Sanskrit-English dictionary defines paramparā to mean “an uninterrupted row or series, order, succession, continuation, mediation. Lineage or progeny. By tradition.” The broader meaning of “paramparā” implies far more than this simple definition. Paramparā is very important in many of the spiritual disciplines in India, and many individuals chant a daily mantra that lists their spiritual lineage, often reaching back a thousand years or more.

What has become clear to me from years spent studying yoga (and the related disciplines of Vedic chanting and Vedic philosophy) is that the profound nature of these kinds of experiential teachings does not come through books or videos. Those are only a support for learning. The teachings come full force when imparted directly from teacher to student within close physical proximity. Even the word upaniṣat (used as a moniker for philosophical texts in the vedas) implies receiving teaching when “sitting near” the teacher.

Transmission of knowledge is strongest when successive teachers within an unbroken lineage have been completely immersed in, and surrounded by, their discipline, especially when cradled in a culture and environment that supports their understanding and internalization of the subject. Such a teacher becomes drenched in experiential knowledge and cannot help showering his students with the authentic teachings of yoga.

Related: What It Means to Celebrate Guru Pūrṇimā

In the lineage of Aṣṭāṅga yoga, Ramamohan Brahmachari, Krishnamacharya, Pattabhi Jois, and now Sharathji are a line of teachers who have been fully immersed in yogic sādhana in this way. We should not quibble that there may have been changes to the exact methodology that they have used, since the method will always be adapted to suit the times. In yoga, maintaining a static and rigid methodology is not the purpose or result of true paramparā. Rather, it is how to support the continuation of the experiential understanding of the “state of yoga,” that eternal and unchanging condition, which is most important.

The Energy Within All of Us

In February I made yet another pilgrimage to practice at KPJAYI, and this time Sharathji asked me to come not just to study with him but to lead the primary led classes at KPJAYI while he was away in Rishikesh for a few days attending a conference.

Calling the vinyāsas of the primary series to a class of 350 of Sharathji’s dedicated students was extraordinary, but what struck me most while leading these classes was how strongly I felt the energy of both my teachers, Sharathji and Guruji, coming through the students. I did not feel as though I was teaching the classes but that I was simply holding the space for Sharathji. I was following the energy of my teachers that was already present within the students, allowing the practice to emerge and only assisting the process.

Having taken hundreds of led classes with them over the last 20 years, I also felt Sharathji and Guruji’s energy from within myself guiding me as I called the class. This was evidence of the profundity of the Aṣṭāṅga paramparā that we are all part of as students in this lineage. It reminded me that, as students, we are also an indispensable support of the Aṣṭāṅga paramparā and have a responsibility to devote ourselves wholeheartedly to understanding the practice so that we can support the journeys of those students who are just beginning.

Inspired by the Puruṣa Suktam, Viśiṣṭa Advaita philosophy teaches that we are all part of the body of the Paramātman. We are a part of the whole, and each of us fulfills a role. At the same time, the Paramātman also resides within our own ātman (soul) as the antaryāmin (inner controller), guiding and directing each one of us. As part of the Aṣṭāṅga paramparā, we all have our role, and through the teachings and by consistent practice over a long time, we are able to gradually remove the dirt that clouds our perception, leading us to connect inwardly to this antaryāmin, the source of pure sattva or light.

The post Following the Energy of the Guru appeared first on Sonima.

As Ashtanga yoga practitioners, we have a dedicated time in our day where we connect our mind and body together through the use of our breath and the subtle movement of internal energy. This practice gives us so much, including physical health, mental stability, and a deep sense of inner serenity. It is a part of the very fabric of our existence.

For many of us, it’s also a solo practice, often done in our living room with only our pets or children to keep us company. Sometimes we may be fortunate to have a dedicated school and teacher to guide us through the poses. But nothing quite compares to receiving the practice from the source.

No wonder the presence of Guru Sharath Jois teaching in the U.S. draws students out from all corners of the globe. It’s not only a more accessible option for those who cannot make the difficult and often costly trek to Mysore, India. It also brings the global community together in a spirit of oneness and devotion, while his teachings give new light to the practice and philosophy that we aspire to embody.

All of us come to receive the transmission that happens when we practice together in the presence of our teacher. These few days with Paramaguru Sharath Jois are a unique opportunity to share in the energy of the practice with hundreds of others who also share our passion and heart for the practice. This intensity creates the kind of focus that invigorates the old routine with new life and rekindles a spark where the enthusiasm may have dampened. It draws the community of students together, allowing old friends to catch up and new students to feel the excitement of being invited into the global family of Ashtanga yoga practitioners.

Related: Sign up to practice with Paramaguru Sharath Jois now!

Hearing Sharath Jois call out “Samastihi”, a sound many students have heard hundreds of times before, is an emotional moment filled with elation and anticipation. On the surface, the practice looks the same, but inside this group of students there is a heightened vibration of intensity that holds the power to perform this secret inner alchemy we call yoga.

There’s still an opportunity to take part in this transformational experience. Paramaguru Sharath Jois begins his 2019 U.S. teaching tour with a week in northern California at Stanford University. Then he will be in Miami for another full week of practice before returning to New York to complete his tour with five classes in Brooklyn.

Don’t miss your chance to attend class with Ashtanga yoga master Sharath Jois when he visits the U.S. this spring! Watch the video above to learn more, then click here to register.

Photo by Agathe Padovani; Video by Jesse Gordon

The post Why Nothing Compares to Paramaguru Sharath Jois’s 2019 U.S. Tour appeared first on Sonima.

In ‘Mysore class’, students work at their own pace, practicing whatever series or section of a series that is appropriate for their individual needs and ability. The class is mostly silent apart from a few words of instruction, with only the combined sound of breathing in the room as a backdrop. It requires a skilled and experienced teacher able to give individual attention as and when each practitioner requires and with as little interruption as possible to the continuity of their inner flow of experience.

This method is particularly powerful when a student dedicates themselves to a single teacher. The nourishing of a close student-teacher relationship allows the teacher to understand the idiosyncrasies of each student, and gain an insight into how to help their progression both in the short and longer term.

At one level the teacher’s role is to make sure that each student is practicing correctly, including their breathing, vinyāsa, alignment in each posture, dṛṣti, etc. However, the Mysore method allows the teacher to give students enough space to explore and experience the yogic process internally, without unnecessary interference. They should guide them toward self-discovery, rather than trying to define their experience. Much of the time the teacher’s role is simply to provide a supportive environment for the yoga to evolve while observing their practice, making corrections only when necessary.

In modern culture, we are used to paying for services and expecting a tangible return. In yoga, what is being taught is often very subtle and unfolds slowly over time. When a student has an attitude or expectation of paying for service, there is less of an opportunity for self-discovery and the process of yoga is less likely to take place. Mysore teachers must therefore educate students in the philosophy and methodology of Aṣṭāṅga yoga so that students will fully embrace the opportunity for supported self-learning to get the most out of their practice.

In the Mysore room, there exists the opportunity for complete silence. Often only a few words may need to be exchanged between a student and their teacher throughout the whole class. For some, particularly those who are used to being guided, the silence can be confronting. But just as silence in a library allows you to become immersed in the subject that you’re reading, silence in the Mysore room supports a focused and attentive practice.

Related: The Meditative Magic of Tristhāna in Ashtanga Yoga

I occasionally hear from a new student that they have come to yoga class in order to ‘switch off’, preferring to just follow along in a guided environment. Patañjali defines yoga as the ability to maintain stable and unwavering attention, thus ‘switching off’ is somewhat antithetical to yoga. Conversely, self-practice requires the development of greater focus and attention, and over time the result is a calmer and less scattered mind, resulting in the liberation of more energy. The memorization and self-direction inherent in the Mysore method are important in this process.

Breath is key, and it is essential to learn and develop the specific breathing technique required in Aṣṭāṅga yoga. Since the breathing of each student will differ in terms of capacity and quality, students need to be able to work on this independently. The Mysore method allows students to be taught slowly so that they can fine-tune the breathing for each new āsana and vinyāsa without forming bad habits that need to be undone later.

The consistency of the breath should be smooth and even, with inhales and exhales of the same duration. It should remain constant throughout all of the different āsanas and vinyāsa movements, from the first Sūryanamaskāra until laying down for rest at the end of practice. Attention should be focused on the initiation, movement, and completion of each breath; its synchronization with each vinyāsa; and with the internal form of the āsana. Breathing is also connected to the steadiness of the dṛṣṭi (gazing point). When all these elements are in tune with the breathing, āsana practice becomes a form of dhyāna or meditation.

It is important to understand some philosophy in order to inform the qualities of practice that lead you toward a yogic state of clear and stable attention. An obsession with outward form can lead to injury as a result of not listening internally, but it can also lead you away from the very of essence of where yoga seeks to take you.

In his Yoga Sutras, Patañjali says that āsana should have the dual qualities of sthira (stability) and sukha (comfort or ease). He does not describe any specific āsana, and many classical commentaries describe that āsana refers only to a comfortable seated posture for the purpose of meditation.

The sanskrit root of the word āsana, √ās, has the meaning to ‘sit or sit down’, but it also has the extended meanings ‘to be present, to sit quietly, to abide, to remain, or to continue’. One interpretation of this sutra is that the word āsana infers the embodiment of a particular state, rather than a particular posture. We should therefore aim to embody a ‘state’ of comfort and steadiness in our posture, breath, dṛṣṭi. and attention. You can apply this ‘state’ of āsana to all aspects of life. Practicing the Mysore method supports this aim, asking us to listen internally and cultivate stability and comfort that can be applied in every aspect of our spiritual practice and, indeed, every aspect of life.

Related: A Master’s Take on Why Yoga Is for Everyone

In Aṣṭāṅga yoga, the tradition has developed to finish each week with a led primary series class. This is an opportunity for each student to practice the correct vinyāsa and breathing while following the strict count of the teacher. It can be quite challenging to do, especially during more difficult āsanas and vinyāsas, and it is an opportunity to gauge where we are in our practice and to see how the mind and senses react. The once weekly led class provides a perfect balance to daily Mysore self-practice during the week, and together they are an extremely beneficial combination.

I recommend that anybody who is able to practice with Paramaguru Sharath Jois. If you cannot make the pilgrimage to the KPJAYI school in Mysore in India, try to attend his classes when he is on tour. He has experienced yoga very deeply through his own sādhana, from many years spent in the continuous presence of his grandfather and guru, and by teaching thousands of students over many decades. The result is a great depth of wisdom and understanding but with a very simple and accessible approach to teaching.

The post The Benefits of Practicing the Ashtanga Yoga Mysore Method appeared first on Sonima.

Nothing snapped, nothing tweaked, nothing I did out of the ordinary could be traced back to why my back began to act up. Hot to the touch, right above my iliac sacrum, overnight I couldn’t bend forward or backward without serious suffering. Staying in Mysore, India at the time and practicing yoga, which has been a normal routine of mine for over a decade, I engaged in a series of Ayurvedic treatments, but they didn’t make a dent in alleviating the pain.

As a former lawyer, I’d read countless medical malpractice depositions involving back surgeries that went wrong and had an appreciation that back problems had a high potential for serious longterm quality of life issues. The takeaway was to avoid any knife to my back, and so from the beginning, I knew I had to understand what was going on from a holistic point of view.

Continual questioning did not make the matter any better. My once-invincible yoga practice was now forever altered. I say that tongue-in-cheek, but the realization and process to physical downshifting overnight is to have a source of enjoyment be largely compromised. That news is never good. While I still had overall good health and all the good fortunes that I could be grateful for, the transition into attending to my back as a limitation (instead of a bendy thing of joy) had to be done with measure and calm. So I did what any modern human does, I took to the Internet.

Good grief. The more I read about the back, spine, L5s and S1s, the more pictures and diagrams and videos that I viewed, the more vertigo I got. The body is truly a code I can’t crack. Even most doctors can’t crack the back, and when reminded of my early legal beagle days and the harrowing back hacking that I read about in the medical malpractice depositions, a level of abject confusion overcame all noble intentions.

It crossed my mind a few times to blame the pain on something other than my physical limitations, and so, in these moments, the villain became yoga itself.

Never mind that up until the point of back arrest, I was still doing aggressive bending, grabbing my calves, sometimes a little higher up my leg, as I approached my fifth decade on this earth. Any rational person would tell you that’s simply unwise at that age, perhaps even reading this, you want to look away, like one would passing a car wreck on the highway. But so far, my body had played nicely and now I had to face that age could be a factor.

So I retreated. I did what I thought was the responsible thing and stopped attempting any pose that required the slightest bend. For five months, I laid off, yet my back didn’t get any better. In the mornings, I couldn’t get out of bed without pain; I bent down to pick up my shoes like an octogenarian, and the simple act of laughing, sneezing or coughing came with a thundering crash of lightning around the sway of my back that felt like an electrical jolt.

My MRI didn’t show anything that was near equal to the pain that I was experiencing: a slight disc bulge and some arthritis. But the torment that I felt seemed as though the spine had been cemented and then bulldozed. My doctor said never to do that when I showed him a picture of kapotasana, a deep backbend pose. Yet, strangely, my desire to return to that pose was one of the things that eventually healed me the most. Of course, it didn’t happen over night.

Related: Can You Be Too Flexible? Hypermobility, Explained

Edging into the dark behavior of disregarding my pain with what the doctor said to avoid happened incrementally, mostly due to fear and hyper-vigilance to avoid additional pain. Yet, in kapotasana, as I bent backwards and pushed through the pain, the remarkable result was that afterwards, it didn’t create more pain. In fact, it felt better. Not a lot better, but there was some relief the more I did the pose. This led me down another avenue of research. No longer did I back off of poses that I had previously steered clear of. They were not pain-free, but they were definitely, and inexplicably, minimizing the overall agony.

This new phase of empirical research arrived on the beginning of a different trip to India working with my teacher, R. Sharath Jois. Sharathji’s studied, careful assists in back bending allowed me to feel completely safe. As I released my fears, I drifted backwards as he placed my hands on my ankles through what had previously been an impossible proposition. When I left these practice days and did not suffer the same amount of pain, this spoke loudly: The back did not need to be shuttered.

Working with Sharathji gave me the confidence to hear and heal my body. Soon, I was no longer inadvertently adding to the stiffness, but working with what I had to re-engage that muscle movement that had been eschewed due to fear. In fact, laying off did nothing positive for my physical condition. By re-engaging, my pain had minimized by perhaps 10 to 20 percent, but the important note directed me down a different path of research: the mind.

When I was growing up, a neighbor down the street had a father who had a “nervous breakdown,” whatever that hushed term meant exactly. That was some time in the 70s and then, in the 80s, it seemed that no one talked about breakdowns anymore. Adults and people on television complained about ulcers, which didn’t carry a stigma and, therefore, had a higher acceptable decimal level and healthier national discussions around relief ensued, like better diets and exercise. In the 90s and onwards, people talked less about ulcers mainly because pharmaceuticals were zapping them to bits, but unfortunately, stress has never been completely eradicated. In fact, modern medicine has yet to dominate the will of the human body.

When we experience stress, the body will absorb it and find an outlet of some sort, be that a skin condition, through the gastrointestinal track, to depressing the mind, to list a few. No matter how hard we try, if stress remains, it will morph into and appear in different physical forms, leaving sufferers and the medical profession to shift into, and away from, evolving remedies and placating techniques, like fashion trends.

The ingenuity of ridding stress from our everyday life has exploded into a profitable industry of stress reducing diets, lifestyles, teas, exercises, books, spas, body oils, you name it. Though I was too young to have brushes with nervous breakdowns or ulcers, I have had IBS, or irritable bowel syndrome, which is most likely a descendent of the ulcer, as it deals with inexplicable digestive issues. Not to mention, I’ve experienced back pain that does not equal the register of results found on an MRI; mysterious aches and pains, I’m now convinced were stress-related. Ultimately, I figured whatever attempts I made to rid the body of stress, the body had the last word.

Related: The Simple Solution to End Chronic Pain

Unbeknownst to me, this budding hypothesis came prepackaged and delivered on a plate following a dinner with New York friends who have high-stress professions. They told me about the late John Sarno, MD, a professor of Rehabilitation Medicine at New York University School of Medicine and physician who diagnosed “tension myositis syndrome” (TMS), a psychosomatic illness which caused chronic back, neck and limb pain.

During his nearly 50-year-career at NYU, Sarno’s mission was to educate patients on the psychological and emotional aspects of their pain and symptoms, which are an unconscious “distraction” that represses unconscious emotional issues. Sarno believed that the mind will try to repress emotions that the unconscious can’t, thus, funneling pain to the physical body. When the stress is seen as what it is, the symptoms serve no purpose and (miraculously) go away. It’s like a sneaky deal the body makes with the mind.

On a long plane ride home from London to LA, I read Sarno’s book Mind Over Back Pain and decided to test out some of his theories. Namely, I talked to my body differently. For example, I decided that when I coughed, I wouldn’t wince in pain. Miraculously, the pain went away. Similarly, I had been bending over in a protective stance and stopped doing that. These tricks were attempted and preformed successfully in one go. There was no doubt that my back pain was partly, if not mostly, due to some emotional pain that I was experiencing at the time.

Yoga as the villain did not last long either—although, would I have had the back problems if I didn’t do crazy backbends? I can’t answer that but I do know that the remedy was to not fear pain serving as a distractor and not add tension. The moment that I understood how to communicate with my body and how to value or discard certain tension causing thoughts, the pain lessened.

Two years later, I continue to feel tightness in my back, but on a scale of one to 10, it’s a one, whereas before it was a nine. I can live with a one, and I continue to work in the fashion Sarno wisely advocated. I also take care to live a balanced, low-stress life when possible and try not to hold onto tension. Mostly, stress cannot be avoided for me right now as I’m not a fully realized person, but I do hope that my research on this earth continues to lend itself to breakthroughs.

Yoga and bending backwards has led me down an unimaginable series of questions and answers. Working through the pain got me to the other side, and now my back is again more flexible. Age is another inevitable kink. How long can the back reverse its course away from gravity’s pull forward? I have no idea, but the combo platter of choice seems to be understanding where insidious stress hides in the body and not be an age denier. Somewhere in the middle is a full-meal deal where my body is stretched and strengthened and stress sustained and maintained as best as it can.

The spirit is undeniably strong and despite the common phrase “mind over matter,” in the long run, the mind does not triumph over body, but the indomitable spirit can. When we continue to do what we love and do it with care and consciousness, avoiding traps of fear by listening to the body, we can minimize creating a cycle of tension and fear.

The post My Life As an Ashtanga Student in Mysore: Healing Back Pain with Yoga appeared first on Sonima.

In India, temples are ubiquitous odes to Hindu deities and can been found in front of homes, outside stores, at street intersections, on hilltops, circling roundabouts, embodied in a peepal tree, or just about anywhere; all contain a palpable pulse, and if I were God, I’d surely come a knocking here.

Never do I tire of this culture because parts have proven to be so much wiser than the comparatively young culture that I grew up in the U.S. India’s deep roots run like tunnels to the core of civilization and humanity. Over several trips, I’ve become an Indophile and the biggest take away from that is that there’s zero chance I’ll ever be bored on this earth again.

Over my adult life, having lost the appetite to identify with a particular religion, I oddly find myself in India in the early mornings or late afternoons kicking off my chappals, or sandals, parking them alongside a waist-high wall of fat, vertically painted stripes in alternating red and white, and entering a temple. My feet make contact with the dusty ground and, in high spirit, I ditch my Western suspicion that someone might be tempted to abscond with my $22 Havaianas. I bend down and respectfully touch the floor of the temple doorway to transcend, if only for mere moments, my normal, born into this world, self.

Perhaps that’s why we travel, or leave our fated life, to transcend. I certainly hope so, at least it’s a gateway. For if to transcend is to find a state of complete mental quietude, or silence, then we must plow through the chatter, or those elements which both attract and disturb our otherwise pure consciousness of the self, cosmic consciousness, the one that is the all, the atman, the internal principle which is also the mighty universal Brahman.

In the early aughts, I made a deal with my professional self that I may not ever make as much money as I made then as an expat lawyer working in a media company, but I promised to follow my interests and explore the corners of this life, near and far, internal and external.

Up to then, I’d steamrolled over aspects of who I was, or would have been, choosing a trade and a profession that would make me good money, if not great money, and along the way protect me from certain things that I feared, like being an abject failure. Money is not only quantitative and incontrovertible, but, today, money is a value set that supersedes almost everything: honesty, beauty, respect, dignity, for if you have a lot of it, there will always be someone willing to look the other way, complicit in fulfilling whatever desire that money was meant to fulfill or rationalize, muddying the path of discovering who we really are.

Related: Why Money (and Other Things) Can’t Buy Happiness

The one thing that money cannot supplant is consciousness. Consciousness is an elusive, wandering, element of existence that some humans, a fraction I’d say, have been toiling over, exploring its possibilities since time immemorial. In some respects, it’s a marker of humanity’s own peaks and valleys, our highs and lows.

Before I set over the cliff and left my job, along with the status, respect, money and position that it afforded me, I mostly promised to my deal-making self—the risk-taker, the explorer/adventurer, the seeker of liberation—that I wouldn’t pursue an interest unless I wholeheartedly believed it was my calling; that is if I could help it.

It hasn’t been easy, but by renouncing certain fundamental Western tenets, I’ve shed layers of errant desires and expectations. Yoga came to me as a solution to recovery following foot surgery, elective surgery to fix my feet, deformed from trying to physically reach a higher height in heels. (Funny that my shod of choice was my Achilles heel to being a professional.)

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Once my physical body got the blast of what it was like to feel really good again, I couldn’t help but follow that interest in a most wholehearted fashion. Lucky for me, it came packaged in philosophical texts on how to be human.

Those of you reading, who have also sipped from this cup, know it’s pretty powerful. It’s what has drawn me to invest this tranche of my life in yoga. It’s what makes me return to my choice of India’s simple accommodations, in search for the mental luxuries of self-exploration. It’s what allows me to ogle at arched leafy treetops, tall bobble-headed palm trees, miracle-inspired sunsets, low-rising full moon encounters. It’s what gives me joy in sipping chai with friends, loafing around after lunch, digesting food, humor and talk. It’s what allows me to rise early to touch my toes or put my leg behind my head, because it stretches my limbs and oils the engine to the vehicle that I’m hermetically sealed in for my material life. Oh to feel good!

It took a long time to realize I had jettisoned much of what I’d constructed consciously and subconsciously, and to understand the force driving this deal. All I knew was that my future, my life, seemed to be the future, and life, of someone else’s, who I didn’t know and who I didn’t want to know. I was simply mimicking someone else’s steps.

Related: My Life as an Ashtanga Student in Mysore: Heard on “The Yoga Trail”

Looking back, I still don’t know how I found the courage to abandon a career in law, renounce the edifice that I had built. But I knew I had to deconstruct and cobble together what was right for me for this lifetime.

Consciousness, I’m guessing, can be found just about anywhere. I happen to feel closer to it in India’s temples, something that tickles my fancy, inspires my interests, helps me find that equanimity of being fully at home in my body and ego, with all its humanly characteristics, doing the best I can do. Trips to India help to fill in the blanks to numerous questions I have about consciousness, but not in the way I might’ve expected. I cannot, and will not, attest to sudden life changing moments or an epiphany, or a religious overtaking. I will admit to clearer thinking, more patience, fewer reactions, and attributing contentment to continuing to go beyond what I know as me.

Photography by Steve Lawrence

The post My Life As an Ashtanga Student in Mysore: The Essence of Seeking Consciousness appeared first on Sonima.

Chanting this mantra before practice (see below), with awareness of the meaning, brings understanding to the purpose of practice as well as developing great śraddha, or faith, that is based on this understanding. This article offers some of my own thoughts about the power of this mantra.

वन्दे गुरूणां चरणारविन्दे
संदर्शितस्वात्मसुखावबोधे ।
निःश्रेयसे जाङ्गलिकायमाने
संसारहालाहलमोहशान्त्यै ॥

vande gurūṇāṃ caranāravinde
saṃdarśitasvātmasukhāvabodhe
niḥśreyase jāṅgalikāyamāne
saṃsārahālāhalamohaśantyai

I bow to the lotus like feet of the Guru,
which have shown us the bliss of our own Ātman
most excellent, acting like the forest doctor
removing the most deadly poison that produces
the delusion of saṃsāra (the cycle of birth and death).

The first line of the mantra lays the foundation for the relationship between Guru and student, stating “I bow (vande) to the lotus feet (caraṇa-aravinde) of the Guru.” (Gurūṇāṃ – plural is used as a respectful form.) For many years, I touched the feet of my Guru with only a limited understanding of its real significance. I focused my attention on my Guru as an individual with all his own qualities, along with a certain amount of attachment to him as a person. There is a lot of merit, of course, in the respect that we have for our teachers as people, but familiarity can easily get in the way of the teachings that we hope to receive.

When we state that we are bowing to the Guru’s lotus feet, rather than to the personality, we are really bowing to the spiritual knowledge that is held in the Guru’s heart, which we hope will transfer to us. The Guru’s lotus feet are synonymous with the Ātman, or soul, which is sat cit ānānda, the highest truth and the source of permanent joy within us. It is this spiritual knowledge that reveals (saṃdarśita.) and awakens (avabodha) us spiritually to the bliss (sukha) of our own Ātman (sva-ātma). In this way, the Guru’s role is well beyond the personal, guiding us toward a direct experience of something within us; something that does not rely on external relationship.

Related: Connecting to the Seed of Spiritual Knowledge through Yoga

The Bhagavad Gītā describes the Ātman as “indestructible, eternal and immeasurable as well as un-manifest, indescribable and unchangeable” (chapter 2). Without beginning or end, its nature is said to be permanent in all senses, transcending all conditions of time and place. In opposition to this, the corporeal or material world, including our own bodies and minds, are constantly changing, impermanent and subject to death and decay. This is referred to as saṃsāra and clinging to anything in this realm may bring short-term satisfaction, but, ultimately, results in suffering.

The true Guru, having directly experienced and understood the nature of the Ātman, attempts to bring the realization of that same knowledge within the student. This process has been described in some traditions as the Guru placing their lotus feet within the heart of the student. It is said that by touching the Guru’s feet, we are taking the dust from the path that he or she has traveled, leading to their own spiritual awakening. Placing the dust on our eyes symbolically opens them for our own illumination.

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There is a poignant verse from the Mahānārāyaṇa Upaniṣad describing this divine presence within us:

dahraṃ vipāpaṃ parameśmabhūtaṃ
yat puṇḍarīkaṃ puramadhyasaṃsthaṃ |
tatrāpi dahraṃ gaganaṃ viśoka-
stasmin yadanta-stad upāsitavyam ||

In the center of the city of the body, resides a small and sinless lotus of the heart, which is the residence of the Supreme. (And) in the interior of this space, there is a sorrow-less ether upon which one should meditate continuously.

Although the sanskrit word śraddha is often translated simply as faith, this is not an accurate reflection of it’s meaning. Breaking the word śraddhā down into its components śrat (satya – truth) and dhā (to hold or possess) helps us to understand it more accurately as holding satya within us. Śraddha is not at all blind and does not come from simply believing in something that we haven’t connected to, but instead comes as a result of a direct spiritual experience. It is this kind of experience that can lead to a firm conviction and determination that we are on the right path—the real meaning of śraddha in the context of spiritual practice.

The role of the Guru in developing śraddha is to give the student a glimpse of the divine within themselves, and to begin the process of opening the lotus of their own heart, inspiring them to move forward on the path of spiritual practice.

Chanting the opening mantra each morning with remembrance of its meaning has a profound effect on the quality of our practice, helping to subdue the unhelpful tendencies of the ego, and bring the focus back toward spiritual heart. Vande Gurūṇāṃ carṇāravinde!

Feature photography by Agathe Padovani

The post The Love for the Guru’s Lotus Feet appeared first on Sonima.

Patañjali’s Yoga Sutras open with three important statements defining the state of yoga. The first is that “yoga is controlling the activities of the mind.” Second, if that is achieved, we will then, “become established in our true nature,” which results in our liberation from suffering. However, if we are unable to control the mind, “we will instead mistakenly identify with the mind’s activities.” The uncontrolled mind is constantly drawn toward the external world, identifying with and seeking fulfillment from transient objects, which cannot bring lasting happiness. Only by controlling the mind and turning it inward will we discover our true nature or identity, which is a source of joy.

The kind of controlled mind mentioned in the first sutra is very rare and considered to be the outcome of many lifetimes of practice. In the second chapter of Yoga Sutras, Patañjali gives us the systematic practice of Aṣṭāṅga yoga as a method for obtaining that yogic state of consciousness. Aṣṭāṅga yoga practice requires sustained effort over a long period of time, but for one who is able to practice diligently and overcome any obstacles that inevitably arise, the result will be a controlled and steady mind that allows one to become established in their true nature.

Patañjali’s Obstacles

In chapter one of the Yoga Sutras, after presenting an outline of the nature of a controlled and balanced mind, Patañjali lists nine obstacles that are able to scatter the controlled mind and prevent its inward movement. The sutra (1:30) says, “Vyādhi styāna saṃśaya pramāda ālasya avirati bhrāntidarśana alabdhabhūmikatva anavasthitatvāni citta vikṣepāḥ te antarāyāḥ.” This translates to “Disease, mental torpor, doubt, inattentiveness, idleness, indulgence, illusory thinking, failure to proceed and unsteadiness are the obstacles causing scattering of the balanced mind and prevent its inward movement.”

These obstacles cause citta vikśepa, or a scattering of the mind, so that we are unable to focus it in a single direction. He also chooses the sanskrit term antarāya for “obstacles” inferring that they prevent the mind from moving inwards, the real goal of yoga. Hence, one can practice yoga for many years, but without overcoming these hurdles, there is no real yoga and the practice remains on the physical level only.

The nine obstacles are presented in an order that may commonly be encountered in practice over the long-term, from the very beginner student to one who is very experienced. The first obstacle is vyādhi, meaning disease and can refer to disease at any level. When we are sick, or unhealthy physically, it is not possible to focus the mind effectively on the path of yoga. To begin progressing in yoga, we must first overcome the most basic obstacle of our health. It is, therefore, essential to first develop a strong, healthy and vital system for the purpose of going deeper. Pattabhi Jois stressed again and again that without it, attaining any kind of meditative state of attention was impossible. I had even heard him advise one student of the need to practice āsana for a long time before being able to even contemplate the practice of yama and niyama. Otherwise, he said, these beginning limbs of Aṣṭāṅga would be too difficult to attempt.

The next obstacle is styāna, which is a mental state of languor or heaviness. Beginner students, in particular, may find it hard to overcome styāna in order to establish a consistent practice. Many days, they may chose to stay in bed and sleep rather than rise early and practice. If we are able to practice even a few times a week, we will start to realize that doing only a few Sūryanamaskāras each time is enough to refresh and infuse the body and mind with renewed energy. The result being that we feel much more mental clarity throughout the day, which, hopefully, inspires a change in attitude toward establishing a longer routine.

The third obstacle, saṃśaya, or doubt, is one that comes further along the path for many practitioners. After practicing for some time and experiencing the initial excitement of a new routine, it is common for some uncertainty to arise. This is a normal, natural tendency for most. However, it must be surmounted, otherwise, it can affect our ability to focus intention and energy in one direction. It can also be very debilitating and pervasive through other areas of life and can manifest in the physical body as a lingering pain or discomfort.

Related: 8 Years in a Yoga Rut Deepened My Practice

Like the other obstacles in yoga, doubt comes from being disconnected from our true Self. There is ambiguity how to move forward in life, being unsure of our personal dharma or how to manifest it. There may be a tendency to drift, start and stop practice, or to switch back and forth between teachers. The difficulties then tend to compound as you receive different advice about how to progress, which is often conflicting and may inhibit you from progressing in any direction. Conversely, one who maintains a consistency in practice with one teacher will tend to make steady progress over time.

One of the solutions that Patañjali provides for conquering these challenges in yoga is particularly apt here. He says, “Tat pratiṣedha arthaṃ ekatattva abhyāsaḥ,” which translates to “in order to prevent those earlier obstacles, repetition of a single principle.” This infers that by staying with a single teacher, practicing a single kind of yoga, and concentrating the mind in only one direction, those kinds of difficulties are less likely to arise and can be more easily overcome if they do.

There are several more obstacles mentioned by Patañjali that commonly present themselves on the path of yoga, and as one continues to practice, they are bound to appear at some stage or another. An insightful teacher has experienced the yoga path themselves and is able to work with a student consistently and over a long period of time will, hopefully, guide the student move beyond them.

Patañjali’s most important solution to overcoming obstacles to yoga is Īśvarapraṇidhāna. This means the depositing of Īśvara (or God) in one’s heart. Patañjali describes Īśvara as a special soul, who is untouched by any karma, contains the seed of all knowledge and who cannot be excelled. A non-sectarian explanation would be that we become aware of a higher power that is the source of all understanding, which we are able to surrender to and feel the presence of within our spiritual heart.

The early efforts that we apply in yoga practice often reveal glimpses of this kind of higher knowledge. We may not fully understand them at first, but they are what impel us to go deeper in practice. It is also the kind of experience that generates faith in our chosen path, liberating sustained focus and energy to proceed. Finally, when we have Īśvarapraṇidhāna, then “the goal is very near” since it is the wisdom that is gained by Īśvarapraṇidhāna, beyond intellectual knowledge, that provides a sharper focus and greater understanding of why we are truly practicing yoga.

The post Embracing and Overcoming Obstacles in Yoga appeared first on Sonima.

Many texts offer yoga as the remedy that will allow us to experience our spiritual nature while living in the material world. In several examples, including the Bhagavad Gītā, the Upanishads, and the Śrīmad Bhagavatam, the metaphor of a tree is used to describe the world and our relationship to it. Perhaps the most well known example is that of the Aśvattha tree found in chapter 15 of the Gītā.

The Aśvattha tree is very unique. Growing from a small seed, the Aśvattha begins with a single trunk. Its branches grow laterally from this trunk, sending aerial roots downwards, which attach to the ground. These roots develop and resemble the trunk. A single tree can continue to spread over a wider area with many aerial roots and lateral branches so that it looks like a small forest. One such tree, located in Sri Lanka, covers more than an acre and dates back to 300 BC. It is believed to be grown from a cutting taken from Buddha’s original Bodhi tree. Like this one, a well established Aśvattha tree has a complex network of branches and aerial roots, so much so, that it becomes very difficult to immediately locate the original trunk or source of the tree.

In the Bhagavad Gītā, saṃsāra is described as an Aśvattha tree, implying the complexity of which appears to us as “everlasting and indestructible with neither beginning nor end.” The seeming permanence of the world comes about as a result of our experience of the never-ending flow of samsāsra. As we get more entangled in it, we perform more and more actions and desire more and more of the fruits from its branches. Our actions, according to Hindu god Krishna, nourish its leaves, encouraging it to grow and become even more vast and complicated, alluding to our fascination and attachment to the external world.

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The author visits ‘The Big Banyan’ in Ashvem, Goa, India in December 2017. This single tree grows above a small backroad with aerial roots descending on either side and branches above.

One meaning of the word Aśvattha is “that which has no tomorrow.” This infers that we have become enamored with a reality that is only transitory. It is, however, possible to destroy its hold on us. In the Gītā, Krishna directs us to “cut down this tree of worldly attachment with the axe of dispassion,” turning the mind inward toward its true source to interrupt the seemingly endless flow of saṃsāra. In fact, it is only by turning away from saṃsāra that it’s hold on us can be brought to an end.

There is a deeper understanding of this metaphor. What we see in the external world and our entanglement with it has manifested from the creative potentiality of a single small seed: the eternal ātman present in each one of us. By identifying with and making the ātman the source of our actions, we begin to operate from a place of clarity and integrity and then act in harmony with the world.

The Muṇaka Upaniṣad also offers an example of a tree representing the material world. Once again the tree is saṃsāra, but this time two birds, everlasting friends, sit perched on the same branch. The first bird is completely enamored by what it sees, voraciously consuming the tree’s fruits, while the second sits unaffected, simply observing and enjoying the bliss of its own existence. For most of us, our experience is that of the first bird, caught up in the pleasures of the world. But the Muṇḍaka tells us that upon catching a glimpse of the second bird, the ātman, we can understand our true nature and find peace. Like the Gītā, this analogy is telling us to turn the mind inward as our supreme objective. This does not imply we should turn away from the world, but rather experience it through the purity of the ātman. To do this, however, requires the ability to control the mind, a skill that can be attained when yoga is practiced with correct intention.

Related: The Importance of Bhāvanā in Attaining the Purpose of Yoga

Pattabhi Jois (Guruji) taught that it was only by following the first four limbs of yoga (yama, niyama, āsana and prāṇāyāma) that we could develop sufficient stability and control over the mind to experience these higher realizations. When asked, “What is yoga,” Guruji would often quote the second sūtra of The Yoga Sūtras of Patanjali, which states that “yoga is (the action of) controlling the mind.” Despite the seemingly physical nature of the Aṣṭāṅga yoga method, it is this statement that should inform yoga practice.

Patañjali’s sūtras mention several different functions of the mind, including correct and incorrect perception, imagination and creativity, and memory, or more accurately, the impressions that are left in our system as a result of our experiences. He also lists deep sleep as a function of the mind and that we can overcome many obstacles to yoga through the realizations that come as a result of deep sleep and dreaming.

The mind is very complex and an incredibly powerful organ with seemingly unlimited capacity. It can be likened to a computer, holding many thousands of documents and programs, many that we have forgotten about, but which continue to affect us throughout our lives. Expressed as patterns, these influences bring about either positive or negative results and may cause us to perform inappropriate actions leading to the experience of sorrow.

While studying The Yoga Sūtras many years ago, my teacher and I were discussing ahimsa (non-violence), one of the moral disciplines of yoga (yamas) that are practiced with respect to the external world. He used this example: “Wars are born in the minds of people; they do not start on the battlefield. To avoid violent actions, we should abstain even from thinking violent thoughts.” His point was that with all activities of man, the impetus for actions begins in the mind. When there is incorrect perception, confusion, or influences that are not fully understood, the resulting outcome of our actions can be catastrophic and can bring great suffering not only to ourselves, but to others as well, as in the example of war.

Patañjali describes the kleśas, which categorize the ways in which the mind causes suffering, as avidyā (spiritual ignorance,) asmitā (egotism), rāga (desire), dveṣā (aversion) and abhiniveṣa (an unreasonable fear of death). All are forms of the first kleśa, ignorance, which refers to a misunderstanding of our true nature.

Like the first bird in the Muṇḍaka, spiritual ignorance leads us to see permanence in saṃsāra, the materiality of the world, even though it is constantly changing and, hence, impermanent. The example of the second bird is of one who has overcome ignorance and experienced the ātman (soul) as the ultimate truth and source of unlimited joy, and, therefore, no longer clings to the material aspects of life.

The purpose of Aṣṭāṅga yoga is to gradually reduce the effect of the kleṣas. As our fascination with saṃsāra wanes, we are able to turn our attention toward the seed of the Aśvattha, the light of spiritual knowledge from within.

The post Connecting to the Seed of Spiritual Knowledge Through Yoga appeared first on Sonima.

While the popularization of yoga is, generally, a positive thing, in many cases the meaning of yoga and the reason for practice may be lost or obscured. When yoga is practiced without understanding or the correct intention, it can lead you away from the yogic state rather than toward the bliss that is promised.

Ultimately, the word yoga refers to the union of the personal self (soul) with the Universal Self, also known as Paramātman or Brahman, considered as the highest form of God. While yoga is an experience, the practice is the vehicle used to bring about the conditions for this union to arise. It is this one state of unity, singular in nature, that many different methods of yoga practice aim to achieve. In order for yoga practices to be successful, however, it is necessary to understand not only what is yoga, but also to develop a state of mind conducive to fostering the ideal environment for this unity to arise.

The Sanskrit word bhāvanā is used to describe this mindset. From the Sanskrit root bhū, or “to be,” bhāvanā means the cultivation of a proper intention. In this context, it refers to creating the mental conditions and focus supportive of success in yoga. It also infers a feeling of faith and devotion in the process. Nurturing yogic bhāvanā from the outset is crucial for the practice to lead toward the final goal of yoga, that is, ‘to be’ or ‘to reside’ in the Self.

There are many sources of inspiration and knowledge for the cultivation of yogic bhāvanā. First, and foremost, is the direct connection to a teacher who has progressed on the path of yoga and attained sufficient experiential knowledge of the system while following an unbroken paramparā, or lineage. The direct connection and devotion to such a teacher has the potential to bring one’s practice to a new level of understanding. In some cases, this may be sufficient, however, for most students, further study of yoga texts and related materials is an important foundation in developing bhāvanā.

While Śrī K Pattabhi Jois, or Guruji, was often quoted as saying, “Yoga is 99 percent practice and 1 percent theory,” he did not mean that we should practice blindly and ignore the underlying philosophy of yoga explained in the śastras, the ancient texts that contain the authoritative teachings of yoga. He simply meant that we should understand and apply the theory of yoga through constant effort—both on and off the mat—incorporating those philosophies into our lives instead of just talking about them. Furthermore, he felt that we should study philosophy as much as possible to try to gain necessary insights into yoga.

Related: Sharath Jois On the Systematic Nature of Aṣṭāṅga Yoga

But how can we gain an understanding of what the yogic state entails without having experienced it directly? Guruji often explained that the method he taught was the Aṣṭāṅga Yoga of Patanjali and Patanjali’s text, The Yoga Sutras, are key to understanding both the method of practice and the state of yoga. Patanjali describes the different stages of yoga in great depth, including the objectives and outcomes of practice as well as the obstacles to practice and those things that are favorable to progression in yoga. It is the foundational text for Aṣṭāṅga yoga and is essential reading for all serious students of this method, though it can be very difficult to penetrate for the beginner, especially without the presence of a qualified teacher to explain it.

As an alternative to The Yoga Sutras, the Bhagavad Gita is a rich and descriptive literature that’s far more accessible, offering great insights into yoga, the yogic state, and the fruits of practice. In fact, when asked about The Yoga Sutras, Guruji felt that they were, initially, quite difficult for many of his Western students to comprehend and would often recommended they first read the Gita, as most call it.

The Gita is an ancient text that gives a much broader overview and understanding of the discipline of yoga. It approaches yoga from several different perspectives such as karma, bhakti and jñāna yoga, offering alternative views and approaches to yoga practice. It is an excellent preparation for understanding The Yoga Sutras. Despite its association with Hinduism, it is considered by many to be approachable from a secular standpoint as it outlines a yogic understanding that can be applied to all aspects of life without any ties to religion.

The Upanishads, like the Gita, give little direct instruction on the practical techniques of yoga, but lay the foundations for an understanding of the yogic state through an examination of the relationship between the personal and Universal Self, the union of which is the ultimate goal of yoga practice. The Upanishads often present their teachings through the enquiry of an enlightened teacher by a student in a way that is descriptive and easily digested.

Other texts such as the Bhagavata Purana and Ramayana contain descriptions of the lives and actions of great sages and characters who have attained the highest states of yoga. It is through their examples that we are able to gain a deeper understanding of our own path. The Yoga Sutras contain a sutra in relation to this. Sutra 1:37 states “Vītarāga viṣayaṃ vā cittam” – “or [fixing] the mind on a person who has abandoned attraction” (offered as a way to overcome obstacles in yoga). The character of Hanuman in the Ramayana is an excellent example of this. He has obtained perfect control of his senses and exhibits all the characteristics of a very great yogi. By reading his story and fixing the mind on his character, the reader may be able to able to internalize those characteristics, helping to overcome obstacles on the yogic path.

Although it is something that is difficult to quantify empirically, reading about Hanuman, Buddha, Christ, or modern enlightened saints, such as Ramana Maharshi and Ramakrishna, brings an innate understanding of the yogic state through the examples of their lives. Indeed, comprehending the essence of these great masters is particularly profound in informing yogic bhāvanā and, thus, steers practice in the desired direction. Similarly, being in the presence of a living teacher who has brought their mind and senses to a state of quietude—a level of control that all practitioners are striving toward—is extremely beneficial.

Lastly, bhāvanā infers a high level of faith and devotion in the yoga path. These are two elements that provide enormous resilience and determination to continue when progress seems difficult. When combined with an understanding of authentic yoga philosophy, dedication to practice and the connection to a great teacher or yogic role model, you will begin to feel the goal of yoga is finally possible.

The post The Importance of Bhāvanā in Attaining the Purpose of Yoga appeared first on Sonima.