Category: Philosophy

About the Cakra

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There is something mysteriously seductive about the Yoga concept of Chakras and yet it is a topic that leads to a lot of confusion and misunderstanding.

1. Correct spelling

The word Chakra is better spelt without the ‘h’, i.e. Cakra, because that is the convention following the International Alphabet of Sanskrit Transliteration system that evolved from the 19th century.

I tell you this because I am about to drop my H-s and I wouldn’t want you to think that my keyboard has got a lazy ‘h’ or that I am misspelling the perfectly correct Cakra.

Being more precise with spelling (and I am not the best speller or grammarian in the world) has its problems, viz. my auto-correct spellchecker wants to make “cakes” out of my “cakras”.

We had better think about pronunciation while we are at getting the speeling right: it’s pronounced more chuck-ra than chakra or shack-ra.

2. Origins and transmission

The Cakra model comes to us via haṭha-yoga sources, which sources were influenced by Tantric (tāntrika), and other, thinking.

Most of the material I looked at for this article were quite happy to tell me about the Cakra-s and related concepts, but refused to say where the ideas might have come from or how old they were. I think it is safe to say that the roots of the Cakra model go back a long way, that they started out as oral Indian tradition, evolved through use and interaction with other ideas before getting a mention in haṭha-yoga sources as already familiar and established systems.

There is an interesting Upaniṣad, the Praśna, which was probably composed in the second half of 1st millennium before Augustus Caesar (who was the first emperor of Rome about 2,000 years ago) and seems to anticipate the later theory of the cakra-s.

In the Praśna Upaniṣad we discover that four of the five different prāṇa-s (prāṇa can be thought of as our energy, vitality, life force, élan vital etc.) are based at specific points in the body: the throat, chest, navel and lower intestines [3].

Besides the obvious similarity as to the location of four of the main cakra-s we know today, we can’t understand cakra theory without the central concept of prāṇa. In fact, there isn’t much point to the cakra-s without prāṇa, and the channels prāṇa travels through (nāḍī-s).

TKV Desikachar explains that, from a haṭha-yoga point of view, human life is governed by prāṇa [5].

The “breath channels” (nāḍī-s) through which prāṇa travels are mentioned in the classical Upaniṣads like the Kaṭha (possibly composed in the second half of 1st millennium before Augustus Caesar): “101 channels (nāḍī-s) radiate from the heart but only one of them goes up to the crown of the head” says the Kaṭha (KU II.3.16).

3. The basics of Yoga’s subtle anatomy

This is a heavy section; very abstruse stuff here even when simplified.

Haṭha-yoga appears to become a complete system of yoga by the end of the 11th century and by that time the nāḍī-s, cakra-s, and Kuṇḍalini are well established [8].

The cornerstone of haṭha-yoga practice is the breathing exercises known as prāṇāyāma.

Nothing is done in Yoga without reason or purpose. And we can say that the purpose of practising prāṇāyāma is to clean and balance the nāḍī-s. The nāḍī-s are the subtle channels of esoteric yoga physiology through which prāṇa flows. When practised with āsana (body postures), mantra-s (special sounds, words, phrases etc) and mudrā-s (bodily seals) it clears away the obstacle (Kuṇḍalini) that blocks prāṇa from entering the central channel known as suṣumṇā [1].

When, prāṇa enters the central channel, rises upwards and penetrates all the cakra-s, the goal of yoga (i.e. samādhi, where the mind becomes utterly still and able to discern the true difference between the world of energy-matter and pure consciousness) is reached.

Other yoga traditions see things differently: when prāṇa is forced into the central naḍi (the suṣumṇā) it awakens the dormant Kuṇḍalinī, which is sometimes represented as a serpent lying coiled at the base of the backbone where the nāḍī-s meet, or as the goddess Śakti, and it is Kuṇḍalinī that straightens out, rises upwards and penetrates all the cakra-s resulting in the attainment of haṭha-yoga’s goal (samādhi).

According to the Haṭha Yoga Pradīpīkā (‘HYP’) (IV.8) there are 72,000 nāḍī-s. Of these 72,000 channels, three are considered very special and they are considered to lie close to each other following the line of the spine. They are the iḍā and piṅgala and running between them is the central channel/naḍi, the suṣumṇā.

The cakra-s (mystical circles or wheels; related to the Sanskrit root word “car” which means “to move”) [sometimes known as padma-s (lotuses) or pīṭhas (mounds)] occur where these three major nāḍī-s are said to crisscross. Not all traditions agree that these three major nāḍī-s crisscross. Some prefer to conceive of the idā and the pingalā running up towards the nostrils on the left- and right-hand sides of the suṣumṇā, respectively.

The HYP tells us, in secretive language, that “when the sleeping Kuṇḍalinī awakens, then all the lotuses and knots are pierced. The central channel becomes the royal path of prāṇa. Then the mind is freed from all attachments to objects and Death is eluded” [2]

4. Real or symbolic?

There is a tendency to understand what’s out there in terms of what we already believe.

We all do this. There have been some attempts to link the Cakra model to the endocrine glands (like the thyroid found in the throat), the neuro / autonomic plexuses (like the sympathetic nerve roots to the lungs and the heart), or to other organs (like the large intestines which terminates at the base of the torso) [4,7].

I see these as attempts to unify two separate systems of thinking and to use one system to validate the other. This might not be wise.

As part of every yoga teachers’ basic training is modern Western anatomy and physiology (‘A&P’). A&P does not refer to Cakra-s [6]. A&P is based, as you know, on empirical western evidence.

The explanation I like the best is the one that suggests that the Cakra model is a method for teaching and learning.

It enables a person to discover and learn something about themselves. They are a teaching aid to help the process of meditation [7, 9]. The commentary by Vyāsa on the Yoga Sūtra-s (III.1) says that “[meditation] consists in holding the mind on the navel circle, or the lotus of the heart, or on the [radiant] centre of the the head …” [10]

Linked to experience through regular practice, the Cakra system becomes a powerful, albeit fictions or symbolic, educational method.

In a real sense the yogi makes her or his own cakra-s. The subtle body is a creation or a product of the yogic practice. If done well, it is a great help to the yogi. And every yogi should know that symbols can push us towards liberation but they can be traps that hold us back.

5. How many Cakra-s are there?

While the commonly held view in the West is that there are seven cakra-s, not all yoga and tantra authorities confirm this number.

The early Buddhist sources mention four Cakra-s, with later sources enlarging that number to five, six, seven, eight, nine, twelve and more Cakra-s [7,8].

In his 1934 work, Yoga Makaranda, Krishnamacharya explains that there are ten Cakra-s in our body. They are the seven we are all familiar with plus the Sūrya-cakra, Manas-cakra and Brahma-guhā-cakra.

Most schools of Yoga and Tantra offer six Cakra-s with a seventh Cakra transcending the others [7]. This gives us a six-plus-one Cakra model. The Cakra at the crown of the head (actually, the cranial vault might be a better description of the location), the sahasrāra, is not a Cakra like the others because only one nāḍī, the central one (i.e. the suṣumṇā), is associated with it. All the other six are closely associated with the three main nāḍī-s: the idā, pingalā and suṣumṇā. QED the seventh Cakra, isn’t a Cakra, although it is very important.

6. The New Age stuff

I find it amazing how the Cakra system sucks up other ideas. Ascribing the colours of the rainbow and Jungian psychological insights to each cakra is very modern.

7. Srī T Krishnamacharya & TKV Desikachar

There are clearly different approaches to describing and working with Cakra-s.

In the Yoga Makaranda, Krishnamacharya placed a great deal of emphasis on the role of prāṇāyāma (breathing techniques).

Krishnamacharya and Deskichar’s understanding of the cakra model was both authentic and practical. Desikachar tended note to teach much about the cakra-s becasuse they had more to do with tantra than with yoga. That said, their understanding :

  • emphasised the importance of prāṇa and the nāḍī-s (the pathways along which prāṇa – our life energy – flows)
  • draws attention to the idea that the cakra-s are places where prāṇa gathers and is reorganised
  • underlined how each cakra tells us something important about key areas of the body. For instance, our hips should have the quality of stability and that is why the energy of the mūlādhāra cakra, which is located at the base of the spine, is associated with the quality of earth (pṛthvī).
  • helps us notice that at the moment of death our prāṇa leaves us by following the specific route of the suṣumṇā and leaving via the sahasrāra cakra located at the crown of the head
  • includes the idea that the nāḍī and the cakra should be purified. In particular the main blockage in the yogi’s subtle body is Kuṇḍalini. It is Kuṇḍalini that stops the haṭha yogi’s inward attention reaching the deepest experience of the body, which experience lies along the spine.
  • emphasised that the cakra are points upon which the mind can focus
  • was applied practically during practice as a teaching and learning methodology. For instance, the seated forward bend, paścimatānāsana, done with adequate breathing will focus our attention on mūlādhāra cakra. Whereas the shoulderstand, sarvāṅgāsana, again done with an appropriate breathing pattern allows us to explore the viśuddhi cakra, located at the throat
  • empathised that an agitated and disturbed mind also means obstructed circulation of prāṇa and poor function of cakra-s

8. Summing up

One of the great things about yoga is that over the hundreds of years of its evolution it has collected everything that makes life easier, and every idea that reduces suffering.

The cakra-model is one of those ideas, and at its heart is Prāṇa and its close association with our minds (citta).

By working with and balancing the cakra-s, we balance the mind and when the mind is in harmony we can progress to the higher goal of yoga: freedom.

References and comments:

[1] Yogayājñavalkya Samhitā, IV.23-24, translated by TKV Desikichar and published by the Krishnamacharya Yoga Mandiram in 2000

[2] Haṭha Yoga Pradīpīkā, III.2-3

[3] The Upaniṣads, translated by Valerie J Roebuck and published by Penguin Books in 2003, see p. xxx

[4] Mark Olson, Ph.D., LMT, http://www.neurotrekker.com/anatomy/chakra2.pdf

[5] An article entitled, Śīrṣanana as a viparīta karaṇī mudrā, by TKV Desikachar, which appeared in KYM Darśanam magazine February 1994

[6] See for example: Steve Parker’s 2009 book, The Concise Human Body or Leslie Kaminoff’s 2007 book, Yoga Anatomy. However, Ray Long’s 2005 book, The Key Muscles of Hatha Yoga, which omits the Cakra model when discussing the anatomy of yogāsana, does, however, include two brief (and not very useful) pages (of 230-odd pages) on Chakras.

[7] Georg Feuerstein, 1997, The Shambhala Encyclopedia of Yoga, p.67ff

[8] Gordon White, editor, 2012, Yoga in practice, p.14f

[9] Yoga Tārāvali, translated by TKV Desikachar and Kausthub Desikachar, published by the Krishnamacharya Yoga Mandiram in 2003, p.74ff

[10] Yoga Philosophy of Patañjali by Hariharānanda Āraṇya, rendered into English by P N Mukerji. This book was first published in 1963; my edition is (c) 1983, although I acquired my print much later.

[11] T Krishnamacharya, 1934, translated into English by TKV Desikachar and published by the Krishnamacharya Yoga Mandiram. I have the revised 2011 edition. See p.51ff

Yoga in Poetry

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Poetery can inspire yoga practice
Photo by Steve Johnson from Pexels

Over the course of more than 20 years of studying and practising yoga, I have noticed how ideas found in yoga also blossom like wild flowers everywhere. It seems that the aspirations we call yoga are innate and find expression in all kinds of places and times. These notions – like dance, music and art – come into being simply because we are human. As humans we naturally have an urge to flourish and be the best we can in this one life we have before us. These universal ideas express themselves repeatedly in different times and different places. In this article I look at some of the connections between yoga teachings and some of my favourite life-affirming poetry.

Lost in thought: the ordinary state of living

Louise Glück wrote a lovely poem called Nostos in the 1990s and it ends with these provocative words:

We look at the world once, in childhood.

The rest is memory.

I like to think that Glück is telling us that, while we might think we are living in the real world, we are actually only living in our recollections of the first time we experienced it. Only in childhood, when everything is new do we really pay attention, do we really see the world as something to be observed, something to be experienced.

After those early discoveries we become blasé: done that, seen it, got the T-shirt. We stop seeing the world as it is and ‘see’ it as we suppose it and those impressions of the world are heavily influenced by our memories of our first few encounters.

One goal of yoga is to return to Seeing the Cosmos as it is and not as we imagine it but as it really is.

“In order to discipline the mind, we need to develop a mental practice that clearly reveals the distinction between the nature of Jīva [that which experiences] and Prakṛti [that which is experienced] [2]

[See also, for example, YS I.2-3]

The one you hurt the most

Yoga, one might also say, is a collection of techniques to transcend the suffering (duḥkha) of daily life, one source of which is the way our untrained minds operate. Our minds have the quality of craving pleasure and avoiding pain and thus causing actions that lead towards or away from these two experiences. Those actions have consequences. Karma, from the root kṛ – to ‘do’ or ‘make’ – refers not only to an action but also to the reaction it produces (unpleasant or pleasant in accordance with the original act) either today or tomorrow.

EJ Koh wrote this beautiful poem about suffering existence. It’s called My Father in His Old Age.

There is a Korean belief that you are born

the parent of the one you hurt most. Watching

my father use chopsticks to split chicken katsu,

he confesses that I may be the reincarnation

of his own father. We finished our waters in silence

and walked home chatting about who to blame

for where we are. He says, the present is the revenge

of the past. Revenge goes too far, I argue. And

in our unhappiness, we both want to know

we cannot pay enough. Pain becomes meaning.

After this life, I fear I’ll never meet him again. [1]

Those words: the present is the revenge of the past might go too far but they seem to capture the essence of the concept of karma and its link with duḥkha. And there is a hopeful suggestion that the Cosmos may be offering us a way out, a second chance, so to speak, to live in harmony with life: you are born the parent of the one you hurt most.

What a wonderful invitation to make recompense by being kind and compassionate Now, as, for example, a parent prioritises love for their child (see also, e.g., YS II.35).

Breaking the spell of ordinary thinking

Yoga requires effort, tapas, to break out of the confines of everyday thinking and cultivate a peaceful and attentive mental attitude. What keeps us in our torment is our own self-created sense of self, asmitā. Yoga suggests we relax this sense of self, and open up or trust, īsvarapraṇidāna, to that which is not us.

For instance, the practice of reminding ourselves that everything is impermanent has the effect of focusing our attention on what really matters and īsvarapraṇidāna gives us the confidence to say Yes to what the world has to offer us on its terms not ours. That’s one of the things I get from William Stafford’s 1998 poem called “Yes”:

It could happen any time, tornado,

earthquake, Armageddon. It could happen.

Or sunshine, love, salvation.

It could you know. That’s why we wake

and look out – no guarantees

in this life.

But some bonuses, like morning,

like right now, like noon,

like evening.

When we deliberately set out to see things in this surprising way – imagining the worse that could happen – we are using a Zen-like yoga technique called pratipakṣa-bhāvanam. Its goal is too disrupt the grip that harassing negative thoughts can have on our minds by applying some reflective reasoning, dhyāna. Our minds can become calmer and clearer, sattva, knowing that the present moment has wonders of its own and worrying about tomorrow is just an unproductive use of the here and now.

Naomi Shihab Nye expresses a similar idea in her poem The Art of Disappearing to help her prioritise Life’s tasks. The ending is a mantra, of sorts, and one I invoke in one form or other many times to help me make better choices and focus on what really matters when we have but a single lifetime to squander or make good use of.

When they say Don’t I know you?

say no.

When they invite you to the party

remember what parties are like

before answering.

Someone is telling you in a loud voice

they once wrote a poem.

Greasy sausage balls on a paper plate.

Then reply.

If they say We should get together

say why?

It’s not that you don’t love them anymore.

You’re trying to remember something

too important to forget.

Trees. The monastery bell at twilight.

Tell them you have a new project.

It will never be finished.

When someone recognizes you in a grocery store

nod briefly and become a cabbage.

When someone you haven’t seen in ten years

appears at the door,

don’t start singing him all your new songs.

You will never catch up.

Walk around feeling like a leaf.

Know you could tumble any second.

Then decide what to do with your time.

I just love the suggestion that one should bring to mind the image of greasy sausage balls on a paper plate just before deciding to give up some of your time for a friend’s mediocre piece of work. And it isn’t because we don’t love them – of course we do – it’s just that the really transformative and inspiring stuff is a rare thing.

Yogic mindfulness

Everyone has heard of mindfulness as a way to meditate or to relax and be present to things as they are. Yoga has been offering mindfulness practices for a very long time. In yoga we can call mindfulness practices smṛti-sādhana, literally the “practice of recall”. This is the yoga technique of repeatedly bringing to mind what it feels like to experience the sattva I mentioned earlier.

Coleman Barks has done a beautiful translation of the Sufi poet, Jalaluddin Rumi’s poem The Guest House. This poem, like the others I have selected for this article, is worth learning by heart because reciting it whenever one wants or needs, helps in the transformative process of smṛti-sādhana.

This being human is a guest house.

Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,

some momentary awareness comes

as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!

Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows,

who violently sweep your house

empty of its furniture,

still, treat each guest honorably.

He may be clearing you out

for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice,

meet them at the door laughing,

and invite them in.

Be grateful for whoever comes,

because each has been sent

as a guide from beyond.

What we can find when we engage with this poem is a way to reduce the influence of restless and over energetic thoughts and feelings or ones that bring us down. Many of us have an inner critic who appears to have taken to loving us with dark thoughts. Rumi is suggesting we return our inner critics ‘love’ with the love of acceptance and gratitude. When this happens tranquility, sattva, begins to dominate and the present moment can be experienced as a wonder.

Turning old failures into sweet honey

Yoga has many ways to help transform our lives. A central concept is that, deep down, in a secret cave located somewhere in the heart, we are already perfect. This is a tremendously important and powerful thought: we are already perfect. We can spend far too much time fretting that we don’t measure up to others or to ourselves.

It is true that somehow, somewhere on the journey from the perfection within us to the ever-changing world things appear to go wrong. But we don’t have to torture ourselves needlessly about these failures. We should learn from our mistakes and act skillfully and with compassion.

We can have confidence, śraddhā, that there is a treasure of wonder within each of us, at times feeling like a sacred spring, or honey or the sun at the centre of our Being.

It can take poetry to convey what lies ahead of us on the pathways of yoga.

In Antonio Machado poem, translated by Robert Bly, Last Night As I Was Sleeping, we getting a stunning glimpse of this inner perfection.

Last night as I was sleeping,

I dreamt—marvelous error!—

that a spring was breaking

out in my heart.

I said: Along which secret aqueduct,

Oh water, are you coming to me,

water of a new life

that I have never drunk?

Last night as I was sleeping,

I dreamt—marvelous error!—

that I had a beehive

here inside my heart.

And the golden bees

were making white combs

and sweet honey

from my old failures.

Last night as I was sleeping,

I dreamt—marvelous error!—

that a fiery sun was giving

light inside my heart.

It was fiery because I felt

warmth as from a hearth,

and sun because it gave light

and brought tears to my eyes.

Last night as I slept,

I dreamt—marvelous error!—

that it was God I had

here inside my heart.

For the bhakti yogi the last few lines hint at the Yoga – or union – of the personal ‘spirit’ with the ‘divine’. For those like me who are drawn more to the ideas of sāṃkhya yoga, this poem also brings out the idea of Yoga as being the separation of consciousness, puruṣa, from matter, prakṛti, or, putting it another way: awaking from the daytime sleep we think of as normal wakefulness.

These poems – and others like them – have the power to jolt us into finding connections with yoga wisdom and insights. They also remind us that the yogi, like the poet, is a keen observer of Life. I have given you a few possible connections. There are many more to be discovered.

References:

[1] https://thisisejkoh.com/poems/

[2] T Krishnamacharya’s commentary on Yoga Sūtra I.12

On not taking yoga too seriously

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Photo by Peter Forster on Unsplash

The following reflections on the lighter side of yoga appeared on my Facebook page during 2017

What is the Secret of Yoga?

A man travels thousands of kilometres to find a world renown yoga guru, who lives in a cave on top of a high mountain in India, in order to find out the Secret of Yoga. Having overcome many obstacles and delays on his journey, he finally arrives at the mountain and finds the yogi sitting cross-legged outside his cave.

“O wise guru, please tell me the Secret of Yoga” petitioned the man.

“Ah, yes! I know the answer to that question,” replied the guru.

“It is a purple yoga mat; that is the Secret of Yoga. You know, the ones you can buy for £29.99 at the sports shop; cheaper if you get them in the sales. But it has to be a purple yoga mat.”

“A purple yoga mat? I trekked all this way to find out the Secret of Yoga and you tell me it’s a purple yoga mat!” exclaims the man with much frustration.

The guru smiles. “So maybe it’s not a purple yoga mat.”

[Posted 12 March 2017]

The story of two wolves

Every moment of our lives, from one second to the next, Life continually offers us difficult choices.

One evening an old yogi was telling his granddaughter about the battle that rages inside people over these choices.

He said:

“Child, the battle is like that between two wolves who meet in a forest clearing. Only the wolves are in our hearts and our minds. Both seek happiness.

One is Ignorance, and while he has some good times, he also suffers from a compulsive need to act, anger, envy, sorrow, regret, greed, self-pity, shame, guilt, resentment, false pride, and arrogance.

The other is Serenity, and while she has some bad times, mostly she experiences tranquility, fulfillment, joy, peace, love, trust, kindness, benevolence, truth, and compassion”

The granddaughter thought about this for a moment and then asked her grandfather:

“Grandad, in the end, which wolf wins the battle?”

And he replied:

“The one you feed”

And they both started laughing.

[Posted 5 July 2017]

Yoga joke

There’s a sure fire way to live to a ripe old age – do headstand on a beach for a hundred years.

[Posted 24 July 2017]

Three yogis

Three yogis are meditating silently in a remote mountain cave.

One day they hear a sound outside the cave and six months later the first yogi asks:

“Did you hear that goat?”

The silent meditation continues for another six months before the second yogi replies:

“That wasn’t a goat; it was a sheep!”

The silent meditation continues for another six months before the third yogi retorts:

“If you two don’t stop arguing, I’m leaving!”

[Posted 23 November 2017]

Yoga Sandwich Bar

To supplement her earnings as a yoga teacher, a friend of mine is thinking of opening a Yoga Sandwich Bar with the strap line: “I can make you one with everything”

[Posted 6 December 2017]

On yoga philosophy

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Photo by Levi Guzman on Unsplash

The following collection first appeared on my Facebook page during 2017.

Clouds of confusion

Question: Why do we have so many problems in life?

Answer: The Yoga Sūtra suggests that it is because our minds experience almost constant Avidyā – “a false state of understanding”.

Problem: Avidyā feels like its opposite Vidyā – “a true state of understanding” [1]

Avidyā grows each time we act without thought, without careful attention, mechanically, blindly etc. Bad habits of thinking, speaking and doing develop. Those actions are bound to our [false] sense of who we are. They are super-charged by our likes and dislikes and a profound fear of death.

It is hard to train the mind, “which goes where it likes and does what it wants” [2], always in search of pleasure, a quick fix, an easy option, a way to gain some advantage over someone else, etc

Consequence: “An unruly mind suffers and causes suffering” [2]. Yes, it causes suffering to ourselves and to others. Poor you; poor them!

Solution: train the mind – for example, through yoga, especially meditation, because “a well-trained mind brings health and happiness” [2].

The mind needs to be trained to focus, to pay attention to one thing at a time. Learning the Periodic Table by heart, while a laudable achievement, is not the sort of mind training I am talking about. I mean, train the mind to focus on the here and now. That’s hard, by the way, but the effort is worth it.

Don’t do this just for yourself though. Imagine the benefits to those we live and work with. Imagine the benefits to those you lead, to family, friends, work colleagues … your goldfish.

Imagine a home or workplace where everyone practised a meditative routine for 15 minutes everyday. Imagine the benefits:

* better leadership

* better team work

* respect

* mutual support and collaboration

* enhanced sense of well being

* a happy and healthy planet for your goldfish

* etc

* etc

* etc

[Quotations: [1] TKV Desikachar, 1980, p.5 of his lectures on the theory and practice of yoga: “Religiousness in Yoga” [2] Page 46 of Eknath Easwaran’s 1985 translation of the Dhammapada. I was using the 2007 version.] [Posted 1 May 2017]

Now

“Now” is the first word of the Yoga Sūtra-s. Now is “atha” in Sanskrit, and “atha’ has many meanings. Sometimes I think of the word as an invitation to be truly conscious of reality in the present moment and to stop thinking.

It is, of course, difficult to stop thinking, but we can become less fussy about what we think and to welcome each thought as if it were something special.

I found this poem earlier this month (or maybe it found me), which got me thinking about the first word of the Yoga Sūtra-s and being present to our thoughts:

“This being human is a guest house.

Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,

some momentary awareness comes

as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!

Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows,

who violently sweep your house

empty of its furniture,

still, treat each guest honorably.

He may be clearing you out

for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice,

meet them at the door laughing,

and invite them in.

Be grateful for whoever comes,

because each has been sent

as a guide from beyond.”

[The Guest House by Jeladuddin Rumi, from Rumi: Selected Poems, trans Coleman Barks with John Moynce, A. J. Arberry, Reynold Nicholson (Penguin Books, 2004)] [Posted 10 March 2017]

The world exists

The world exists in order that it can be experienced. This is what the great yoga pundit, Patañjali, tells us. The world also exists for the purpose of liberation (YS II.18 & 21).

We will get the sense of what this means by making an effort to notice and step away from our thoughts. Our thoughts and our feelings, while clearly part of the world, form an enchantment that stops us experiencing Real Life.

The spell can be weakened, even broken, by asking a simple question: “What is it like to … ?”

I was walking in the woods today. I asked myself “What is it like to be walking among the trees and bluebells, under a sunny sky and with the cool air barely stirring?” For a moment my identification with my thoughts weakened enough for me to know that I could experience the walk in a different, more Real way. I could become aware of that which is Seen and that which Sees.

Louise Glück wrote a lovely poem called Nostos in the 1990s and it ends with these provocative words:

“We look at the world once, in childhood.

The rest is memory.”

These words seem to suggest that only when we really look at the world, as a child might, are we at home (a real place) and not living in virtual world created by memories etc.

So, ask yourself: “What is it like to … ?”

[Posted 23 April 2017]

Three qualities of the world

I was discussing Mind with a friend recently. We took a walk along the cliff paths. Had some peppermint tea. We got talking about Yoga.

The great thinkers of ancient India offer us many ways of understanding the world of matter, which includes Mind. One is the notion of the guṇa-s.

Here, the material world (including Mind) is likened to threads or strands which make up a rope. All manifest reality consists of a combination of three threads or guṇa-s which twist together to make up the ropes that make manifest Reality.

We can use the guṇa-s to describe states of Mind:

Sattva – words like wisdom, detachment, happiness, lucidity, and tranquility can describe this quality of Mind

Rajas – words like hankering, energetic endeavour, restlessness, creative activity can be associated with this ‘thread’

Tamas – one can use words like ignorance, delusion, sleep, lethargy and disinclination towards constructive activity to describe this ‘strand’ of the Mind.

I found these beautiful words from one of T Krishnamacharya’s long-standing students and an associate of TKV Desikachar’s. Ramaswami Srivatsa is an important authority on Yoga today.

Here are those words:

“Heavy tamas depresses the mind

Unhinged rajas disturbs the mind

Uplifting sattva delights the mind

Yogāsana-s, prāṇāyāma, dhyāna

Help sattva come to the fore.”

[posted on Ramaswami Srivatsa’s Facebook page on 15 May 2017][Posted on my Facebook page on 21 May 2017]

Integrating the Many Paths of Yoga

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Photo by Chris Lu on Unsplash

Spring is a good time to take up the practice of Yoga. But what approach to Yoga can one take? Yoga offers several method to bring clarity and peace to the mind. The Bhagavad Gītā, written in India between 2,200 and 2,500 years ago, identifies 18 different forms of Yoga [1]. That’s a lot to choose from! But maybe one doesn’t need to make a choice.

What sort of yoga do those following the yoga tradition of TKV Desikachar and his father T Krishnamacharya, like me, have to offer others? I have often mulled this over. It is difficult to answer since one can determine that Yoga should be offered to the individual having due regard to her or his uniqueness and direction of life. Since individuals are so different from each other, that suggests that yoga practice will be different too. The Yoga Rahasya has this advice to give yoga teachers and, by implication, students:

One who is learned, who reflects and who has self control, after examining and analyzing the time, place, age, occupation and strength of the student, must accordingly adapt the teaching of yoga (to the needs of the student).

With regard to body structure, some people are heavy, some lean, some weak, some crooked and others lame. Therefore, all āsana-s are not suitable for everyone. [2]

Below is my personal view on the holistic and integrated approach to yoga practice established by T Krishnamacharya, and extended and taught by his son, TKV Desikachar, both of whom placed their knowledge of Yoga humbly at the service of individuals.

This blog post is also an attempt to sketch out what one might expect if one decided to find a yoga teacher teaching in this tradition, whether that be on a one-to-one basis or in general groups. It is the adaptation of the teachings of yoga that is so fascinating and why one could say that everyone can do yoga because there is some sort of yoga that is accessible to everyone.

Yoga can be seen as a destination. But it is also a cluster of different methods. In this sense, Yoga is a process as well as a goal. Let’s look at some of methods of Yoga from which we can build individualised yoga practices.

Haṭhayoga

Someone kindly placed me in the haṭha school of yoga, identifying me as a haṭhayoga teacher. I won’t confirm or deny this claim, of course, but it did get me wondering what banner I thought I practised and taught under. I have been quite content with plain and simple ‘Yoga’ as a working description.

‘Haṭha’ is pronounced more like ‘huta’; we don’t sound the ‘th’ like the ‘th’ in the. Haṭhayoga can mean something like the yoga of effort or forceful yoga, although the component parts of the word, ‘ha’ and ‘ṭha’, tell us that Haṭhayoga has a lot more to do with prāṇā (the invisible force, energy or power, that pervades all parts of our mind, breath and body) than with strong power postures.

The West is dominated by one aspect of Haṭhayoga at the moment and that is postures (āsana). It is a rather watered down form of yoga, even if it can be hard physical exercise in the hands of some, but it is a form that is very popular nonetheless. It seems to fit neatly into a gym-sports-physical-leisure culture. There is little doubt that we should look after our bodies, but I would suggest that Yoga must take care of the body, in a way that is suitable to the individual, as a support to nurturing a clear and calm mind.

As a practitioner, knowledge of all aspects of haṭhayoga, for example, āsana, prāṇāyāma, mūdra, and awareness, is desirable.

Rājayoga

I do study, practise and teach āsana, of course, but I don’t restrict myself to āsana, marvelous though āsana is. The HYP [3] tells us that the purpose of Haṭhayoga is to get to Rājayoga. Rājayoga is most commonly thought of as the Yoga set out in Patañjali’s famous Yogasūtra-s together with the commentaries Vyasa (and others).

Rājayoga is about the stilling the activities of the mind (YS I.2). Many meditative practices are suggested in the Yogasūtra-s. Yoga then can be seen as a school of meditation.

There are other yoga-s besides Haṭha and Rāja, of course. I’m not talking about the modern made up ones, like Doga (that’s yoga with your pet dog) or Tantrum yoga (screaming and stretching for better health). Each traditional form of yoga offers much that is beneficial. I have been taught the value of many approaches to yoga.

The thing to do is to apply what is appropriate from this vast Yoga ‘tool box of techniques’ depending on the level, temperament and constitution of the individual who wants to bring about some sort of positive change. The desired change could be to the benefit of their health, body, lifestyle, relationships, emotions, intellect, ‘Spirit’ etc.

For some, mastery of the body is enough. However, Yoga can go beyond mastery of posture work, whether those postures are done in flowing sequences, individually or with the breath. And Yoga need not involve posture exercise.

One can aspire to master not only the body, but different prāṇa-s (‘energies’), and different aspects of Mind, all with knowledge of the subtle body (nāḍī, cakra, Kuṇḍalinī, etc) and of the nature of consciousness. The last is something that Rājayoga has a deep interest in.

Karmayoga

Yoga should be practised in the form of karma yoga (the yoga or way of action). That is to say we should practise for the purpose of developing ourselves so that we are able to help others (and not just humans). Without the element of taking actions that are ultimately intended for the benefit of others our yoga practice won’t assist us to grow and yoga itself does not progress.

We should look more attentively to the qualities inherent in what we do rather than worrying whether what we do is good, bad or indifferent. And what we do should be for the service of others. The Bhagavad Gītā, echoed by the concept of īśvarapraṇidhānā in the Yogasūtra-s (e.g. YS. II.1), puts it like this:

Those who are motivated only by the desire for the fruits of action are miserable, for they are constantly anxious about the results of what they do. When the wisdom of yoga is established, however, all anxiety is left behind. There is no cause for worrying whether things go well or not. Therefore, devote yourself to the disciplines of yoga, for yoga is skill in action. [4]

Easier said than done, I know, but worth remembering before setting out to do something, while doing and after it has been accomplished. For someone aspiring to be a good yoga teacher, commitment to sharing the Yoga teachings is an expression of Karmayoga. It is offering the teachings of yoga to the benefit of others in a skillful way.

Mantrayoga

We can learn to expand our interest and experience to learning how to use Mantrayoga to promote healing and well being. ‘Mantra’ can mean to protect the mind and is therefore a means to protect the person from the vicissitudes of life. Clearly, if you have a body that is not fit for āsana-based yoga, then using mantra-s can be the way to explore yoga.

Chanting (mantra-s) is a rewarding area for personal development. We find our own voice through it and total self-confidence is one of its rewards.

Asato mā sadgamaya |

tamaso mā jyotirgamaya |

mṛtyormā amṛtaṁ gamaya ||

(Bṛhadārarṇyaka Upaniṣad 1.3.28)

Leads us from ignorance to correct perception

Lead us from darkness to light

Lead us from fear to total confidence [5]

We do not need to master our bodies. Mantrayoga brings us into contact with the beauty of Sanskrit language, an area of study and practice in its own right.

If we can hold in our mind on the meaning of a mantra, while chanting it repeatedly, the effect can be very powerful, very beneficial. TKV Desikachar said that chanting gives silence [6]

Bhaktiyoga

For some Bhaktiyoga, or elements thereof, can be recommended. Devotion, especially to the notion of the Divine or a higher principle, can be the path to healing the heart. Everything we do, feel and think is offered as a devotion to a power or principle greater than ourselves. The Haṭhayogapradīpikā tells us that when we eat we should have Śiva, who many take to represent the Divine, in mind. Eating can become an act of devotion for those so inclined.

A moderate diet (mitāhāra) means eating satisfying food for Lord Śiva’s pleasure [HYP I.58]

Jñānayoga (Sāṃkhyayoga)

It might be that the better approach to take is the path of Jñānayoga (the yoga of knowledge). This approach is good for certain types of mind. All knowledge is thought to lie within use. To find it requires meditation, especially on what is and what is not the Self and a teacher. Listening to what the teacher has to say about yoga, the true nature of the Self etc is where one might start and this can lead to studying authoritative texts and meditating on their wisdom.

To unlock the secrets of Yoga, a knowledge of sāṃkhya is recommended. The primary text is the Sāṁkhyakārikā of Iśvarakṛṣṇa. This text describes and defines key yoga terms like duḥkha, puruṣa, sattva, rajas, tamas and so on.

Sāṃkhya says that life is full of dissatisfaction (duḥkha) of one sort or another and of varying intensities, but there is a definitive way to remove duḥkha. It’s not filling your life with nice things, however. There are three kinds of duḥkha to contend with: of ādhyātmika (caused by ourselves), ādhibhautika (caused by others) and ādideivika (caused by nature) [Kārikā I].

Yoga sees four types of duḥkha that need to be dealt with: pariṇāma (change), tāpa (intense regret about what we have done and what we have not done), saṁskāra (inability to change habits that cause duḥkha) and our ever changing mind states [YS II.15]

It is worth reflecting on the nature of duḥkha, because it is central to the Yoga belief system and the Yoga project of reducing or removing it. Have you ever wondered why you can’t maintain a state of permanent happiness? Well, it is because we are up against duḥkha, and Jñānayoga knows all about duḥkha.

Kriyāyoga

Kriyāyoga combines every aspect of Yoga that can be practised. It is simplified into three main areas: tapas (the process of weeding out what is not beneficial), svādhaya (looking into the nature of who we really are) and īśvarapraṇidhānā (action not motivated by outcome).

It is recommended as an approach for many whose minds are not steady enough to tread other paths. Patañjali puts forward this type of yoga as a possible way to practise Yoga (YS II.1-2).

It’s a rich field of yoga. No two practitioners of Kriyāyoga do the same things, but they are all supported by the three pillars of Kriyāyoga.

Aṣṭāṅgayoga

Aṣṭāṅgayoga is the famous eight limbs of yoga as explained by Patañjali in the second half of the Yogasūtra-s. It should not be confused with brands of yoga called Ashtanga Vinyasa or Ashtanga Yoga.

Aṣṭāṅgayoga is a more challenging form of yoga than Kriyāyoga and requires a more settled mind, but it is arguably a more complete form of yoga. The eight components of the practice of yoga are:

  1. Yama: how to behave towards others
  2. Niyama: how to moderate ourselves
  3. Āsana: how to sit; how to practise postures
  4. Prāṇāyāma: how to regulate consciously the breath and why
  5. Pratyāhāra: how to stop being controlled by the senses / outside world
  6. Dhāraṇā: how to concentrate
  7. Dhyāna: how to meditate
  8. Samādhi: how to free oneself from the fluctuations of the mind

Āyurveda

Finally (in my short and incomplete list), we should note that Yoga is allied to Āyurveda, the ancient Indian system of well being. The two systems have co-evolved. The application of yoga to support healing (Yoga Cikitsā) comes in part from its association with Āyurveda.

You can see this in the Haṭhayoga tradition which share Āyurveda terms like the three doṣa-s (biological humours), prāṇa, agni (digestive fire) and dhātu-s (tissues).

Mayūāsana removes all illnesses quickly … and overcomes the imbalances of the humours (doṣa-s) … it stimulates the gastric fire (agni) [HYP I.31]

Haṭhayoga is incomplete without an understanding of Āyurveda’s knowledge of the body.

To sort out problems with the mind, Āyurveda recognises rajas and tamas (which come from Sāṃkhyayoga and Rājayoga) as the main factors of disease and suffering at the level of the mind, and the cultivation of the sattva guṇa as the way to be healthy at a psychological level [7]. It is a very similar concern shared by the Yogasūtra-s (e.g. YS II.18). We can therefore say that Rājayoga is incomplete without an understanding of Āyurveda’s knowledge of the mind.

Closing remarks

Is there a pure path of and to Yoga? Maybe – for some. But for others, like me, different expressions of Yoga provide better support at different times in our lives. The many paths of yoga suggest that we should try to understand the greater yogic landscape. This is especially true, I feel for yoga teachers. The Haṭhayogapradīpikā suggests that:

Haṭha is the sanctuary for those suffering every type of pain and it is the support for those practising every sort of Yoga. [HYP I.10]

We can’t be expected to be masters of all the approaches to Yoga (and I have not listed them all here). Every yoga teacher or student I have ever met are on some sort of Yoga journey, and by definition, they are still evolving their knowledge, skills and experience.

While mapping out the many paths of Yoga can help us see the bigger picture, I would prefer not to reduce the study and practice of Yoga to any of the above labels. Yoga can just be Yoga. We learn what we can and apply that knowledge, experience and wisdom judiciously and for the service of everyone the Universe puts in our path.

I am still quite content with using the plain and simple term ‘Yoga’ as a working description of what I practise, study and teach.

Notes, references & comments

[1] TKV Desikachar, from his 1995 book, The Heart of Yoga, p.135

[2] TKV Desikachar’s translation of his father’s, Nathamuni’s Yoga Rahasya, published 1998 by Krishnamacharya Yoga Mandiram, Chennai, India. Śloka-s I-30 & 31

[3] Haṭhayogapradīpikā, I.1 ff

[4] BG, II.49-50

[5] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6hEMvA6BWqY, about 23:38 minutes into the video

[6] ibid, about 29 minutes into the video

[7] https://vedanet.com/2014/11/23/ayurvedic-implications-of-yoga-sutras-of-patanjali/

What is Yoga?

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Most of us take up the practice of yoga knowing only that it is good for us. That’s precisely what I did. I liked the idea of stretching and relaxing; of getting into better physical shape. Maybe chill out a bit too and get a little wiser. It just seemed a neat way to make improvements to my life for very little time or money. Then I discovered there were styles of Yoga. Different teachers emphasised different principles and organised them in different ways. Bodily alignment was key to better posture in everyday life. Place your foot in this or that position and amazingly the hips open; the spine comes into better alignment. Progress was easy to measure: become expert in this posture and that one – the greater the number of postures mastered, the greater the teacher/student; lengthen inhalations and exhalations and so on.

What never occurred to me in the first few years of my yoga practice was to ask the question: What is Yoga?

It might seem an odd question, but actually understanding the basic rationale for anything deepens one’s appreciation of it and informs one’s judgement about its usefulness and relevance. It helps one to know where yoga could take you. Understanding the answer to this question is vital because it tells us something about the direction in which the practice of Yoga is likely to take us. This applies to pretty much anything. Making cakes and eating them can lead you to opening and running your own patisserie, hosting a TV show or putting on a lot of weight or all three!

It turns out that there is no single answer to the question: What is Yoga?

This can’t come as a big surprise really when one considers how old Yoga might be. It’s old: more than 2,500 years old. It appears to have developed and evolved to meet the needs of each new generation of adherents in different religious, cultural and Geo-political environments.

So how do some of the surviving ancient Indian texts define Yoga?

The Kaṭha Upaniṣad says that the state of Yoga arises when the senses are firmly under control [1]. The Bhagavad Gītā gives several definitions including these three important ones: Yoga is the perfect evenness/steadiness of mind (samatvam); Yoga is skilful action (karmasu kauśalam); and Yoga is separation from suffering and pain (duḥkha-saṁyoga-viyogam) [2]. The Yoga Yājñavalkya says that yoga is the union of the ‘individual’ (jīvātmā) and the ‘divine’ (parāmatmā) [3].

The Yoga Sūtras offers this definition: ‘Yoga is the ability to direct the mind exclusively toward an object and sustain that direction without any distractions’ and in so doing achieve the separation of the ‘individual’ from the ‘material world’. [4 & 5]

Making sense of these seemingly disparate modes of understanding of yoga’s ultimate goal is tricky. TKV Desikachar skilfully rephrased these ideas for our modern western sensibilities:

  • All definitions of Yoga ‘have one thing in common: the idea that something changes’
  • ‘One of the basic reasons many people take up yoga is to change something about themselves: to be able to think more clearly, to feel better, and to be able to act better today than they did yesterday in all areas of life’
  • Yoga can mean: ‘to attain what was previously unattainable. The starting point for this thought is that there is something that we are today unable to do; when we find the means for bringing that desire into action, that step is yoga’
  • ‘Yoga attempts to create a state in which we are always present … in every action, in every moment’
  • ‘The practice of yoga only requires us to act and to be attentive to our actions’ [6]

Nowhere is yoga being defined as a system of physical exercise. Rather it is being defined in terms of the mind, how to focus and direct it, the quality of actions that spring from the attentive mind and the movement away from suffering. This was a bit of a shock to me; still is, if I am honest.

We can measure and test our progress in practising shoulder stand for 10 minutes every day, knowing how to prepare for and finish a practice focused on shoulder stand, breathing in certain ways and incorporating the appropriate bandhas. One could judge these qualities in a competitive arena in much the same way that gymnasts or dancers are.

However, measuring the efficacy of yoga, as defined by great yogis in the ancient texts that mention yoga, requires us to think differently.

Not long ago, I was browsing in a second-hand bookshop and picked up a book on Western Philosophy. I was struck by a quotation on the back cover, which was attributed to Epicurus, the 4th century BC Greek philosopher, and how yoga-like it seemed:

‘any philosopher’s argument which does not therapeutically treat human suffering is worthless. Just as there is no profit in medicine when it doesn’t expel the diseases of the body, so there is no profit in philosophy when it doesn’t expel the suffering of the mind.’ [7]

Yoga continues to be explored by many people, precisely because of its power to expel the suffering of the mind. I could change the quotation a little and I think it would make perfect sense in a Yoga context:

‘any yoga practice, which does not therapeutically treat human suffering, is worthless. Just as there is no profit in medicine when it doesn’t expel the diseases of the body, so there is no profit in yoga when it doesn’t expel the suffering of the mind.’

This is how we might measure the benefits of practising yoga. TKV Desikachar expressed it this way: ‘The success of Yoga does not lie in the ability to perform postures but in how it positively changes the way we live our life and our relationships.’

Notes

[1] Kaṭha Upaniṣad (VI.11)
[2] Bhagavad Gītā (II.48; II.50 & VI.23)
[3] Yoga Yājñavalkya (I.43-45)
[4] TKV Desikachar, 1995, The Heart of Yoga, Inner Traditions International: Rochester, Vermont, USA (p.149)
[5] Yoga Sūtras (I.2-4)
[6] TKV Desikachar, 1995, The Heart of Yoga, Inner Traditions International: Rochester, Vermont, USA (p. 5, 6, 79)
[7] Alain De Botton, 2000, The Consolations of Philosophy, Hamish Hamilton: London

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