Simple Meditation Practice

I have learnt many things from my teachers over the years. For instance, do āsana (yoga postures) to understand what your body can and cannot do and in so practising discover the intelligence of your body and the wisdom to take care of it properly. Do prāāyāma (yoga’s gift of breath awareness and control) to discover the source of your vitality and a way to remove the veil that obscures your perception [1].

Yoga is most often seen as a way to improve bodily well-being. What is less obvious but far more important is that many types of Yoga focus a lot of attention on the mind: what it is, how it works and how it can be transformed. In a sense, yoga is about the mind. This is what my teachers have led me to understand. We experience absolutely everything through our minds. In fact, we live our entire lives through our minds. When we interact with others, we do so with our minds. Many of us don’t see this straight away. If I am honest with myself, I forget this most crucial bit of wisdom many times each day.

Even when we come to appreciate the central role our minds play in our lives, we don’t automatically notice that it is in want of training. I know we all went to school and learnt (and then mostly forgot) a great deal of useful things. This is not the sort of training I am really talking about. Let me put this another way by likening the mind to a musician. I taught myself to play the guitar, but my wife and children were taught to play their musical instruments by qualified music teachers. The difference between them and me is that I am stuck in a narrow range of musical techniques; I can’t read music; I don’t notice that I am out of tune, out of time, or in the wrong key; I don’t know how to play with other musicians and so on. They, on the other hand, don’t have these limitations and what they can do musically always impresses me.

I am suggesting that for most of us, the mind is a bit like a symphony orchestra and one that has been self-taught and lacks a conductor. The mind also thinks it’s the bee’s knees. This is mostly down to the fact that it can’t read minds. If it could see how other minds worked, what they sounded and felt like, I suspect it would get itself into shape. It would naturally then get that our minds determine our actions, and, if it is in lousy shape then can we be surprised at:

  • the noise it makes,
  • the mistakes it makes
  • the number of wrong decisions we have to live with
  • how it can annoy others and ourselves
  • its unskillful actions?

The good news is that it is never too late to get the orchestra into shape and to appoint a conductor. Even though the untrained mind is not self-aware and doesn’t know what it can do for us, this can be changed through meditative practice.

We can take to our mats to gain strength, greater flexibility and better physical co-ordination. We can reduce stress, anxiety and depression in much the same way. Come to think of it, cold-water swimming and walking briskly, among other activities, have similar benefits. To enhance the functional effectiveness of the mind, however, we need only commit to meditation and meditative practices.

‘One cannot underestimate the power of meditation’, explains TKV Desikachar [2], when it comes to training the mind to become the best it can. Our minds are all that we have to offer others. We should not forget that our minds have a power to hurt ourselves and others, emotionally and physically. They can even kill.

However, we can choose to offer minds to others that are friendly in the presence of happiness, compassionate in the presence of unhappiness, feel joy in the presence of virtue and are indifferent towards error [4]. Meditation is a key technique for reshaping the mind for a better cause.

I offer this simple meditative practice for you to try at home [3], and if you find it enjoyable and beneficial, then I would suggest you find a teacher to help you to deepen your self-awareness and your understanding of your mind. Maybe you already have a yoga teacher but s/he is only teaching you about the body and the breath. If this is the case, s/he may just be waiting for you to inquire about yoga’s rich tradition of meditation, so ask!

Try this out for size:

  1. Find a seat and sit comfortably with your back upright: slouching encourages sleep. In the East the preferred postures are cross-legged or kneeling ones, but meditation stools, zafus, yoga blocks and chairs all work a treat.
  2. Close your eyes, and let your breath settle. This will take two or three minutes.
  3. Become aware of your body and the sensations of sitting. Accept what you find as if you had chosen these sensations. In other words, don’t judge anything, just notice what you experience.
  4. Gradually turn your attention to your breathing and let your attention rest in the sensations of breathing.
  5. Return your attention to your breathing every time your mind wanders. Don’t let the wandering mind bother you. One thing you will come to know through regular meditative practice is that the mind will often hijack your attention with its thoughts and feelings. It’s so good at doing this that you will hardly notice that you have become lost in your thoughts. When you realise that your attention is not longer on the sensations that accompany breathing, just briefly notice what distracted you (or keeps distracting you) and return to your breath.
  6. Continue to practise in this way for between 10 and 30 minutes regularly each day. As you progress in your practice you may get to notice that when your attention is with your breath (or any other object you might later choose to focus on) your mind becomes quiet and clear. You may also notice that if your mind has unbridled access to your attention, it will convince you that it is in control of your life. That’s an important discovery to make.

All yoga practices should leave you feeling good in some way, but sometimes this doesn’t happen. If the above practice doesn’t agree with you then please don’t carry on with it. Discuss how the practice left you feeling with your teacher.

Notes

[1] Yoga Sūtra II.52

[2] Quotation is from In Search of Mind, 2001, Krishnamacharya Yoga Mandiram, p. 43

[3] This practice is in common circulation. However, I was reminded of it while reading Sam Harris’ 2014 book, Waking Up: searching for spirituality without religion

[4] Yoga Sūtra I.33, based on the translation by Bernard Bouanchaud as translated from the French by Rosemary Desneux which appears in Bouanchaud’s 1997 book, The Essence of Yoga. Bernard Bouanchaud was a student of TKV Desikachar’s.

Yoga Śāstra

“No person on the planet has had a greater impact on contemporary yoga practice than Tirumalai Krishnamacharya”. [1]

This is Professor David Gordon White’s assessment of T Krishnamacharya in his 2014 book The Yoga Sutra of Patanjali: a biography. Of course, there are other great exponents of Yoga and you might well be following their teachings.

For me, it is nice to see this quiet man’s legacy gaining recognition from yoga historians and scholars.

There are some key ideas in yoga philosophy that are not easy to get in to, in part because they are locked away from sight but also because they are difficult to translate into daily personal practice. Here is one that is important and, if you can get your head around it, useful. Do skip ahead if you want to read less mind bending stuff, but it is worth the effort getting to grips with Yoga philosophy.

The universe is not an illusion – it is real. It is ‘uncreated’ and eternal. It undergoes changes all the time and yet in itself it is always the same. This is a bit like the ocean. If you look at the seas you will see an infinite array of changing colours, surface patterns and so forth. No two waves are the same. No wave is static. And yet the ocean, in itself, is always the same. The universe, in itself, is called prakṛtti or nature. And it is always associated with the three guṇa-s, the three active forces of nature: sattva, rajas and tamas [2]. It is the movement of the guṇa-s that creates the colours and shapes we experience on the surface of the ocean. But, in itself, nothing has changed. Look at the picture of the hanging flower. Its form is very different to that of a bird, but both, in themselves, are the same as each other.

Have I baked your cookie yet? If I have, don’t worry. Take your time. Read it over a few times and wait. You might have to wait a year or more. That does not matter. At some point, all will become clearer. This is the process I am following, and each time I come back to these ideas, I feel I know a little more of the hidden truth.

But let’s turn to how you might practise yoga in an holistic way. Let’s consider the Yoga of Action.

Yoga Sūtra II.1 introduces the practices of kriyā yoga – the yoga of action – in this way:

tapaḥsvādhyāyeśvarapraṇidhāni kriyāyogaḥ

TKV Desikachar’s commentary on kriyā yoga is very insightful:

“If the practice of Yoga does not help us remove the symptoms and causes of our physical and mental problems, it cannot lead us on to discovering our inner being and does not lead us to understanding the nature and quality of actions. In such circumstances the practices will be of doubtful validity. The more we refine ourselves through Yoga, the more we realize that all our actions need to be re-examined systematically and we must not take the fruits of our actions for granted”[3]

The yoga of action or kriyā yoga stands on 3 pillars:

Tapaḥ can mean the effort and process of refining ourselves [4]. ‘Tap’ here means to heat or to cook. As we need to heat alloys to extract their pure elements, so we practise to purify ourselves. How? By ignoring our bad habits and creating better ones that promote good physical, mental and emotional health. Or, by taking steps to reduce the effects of rajas and tamas and so reveal the illuminating qualities of sattva. Moderate diet, āsana, prāṇāyāma and so forth can be seen as forms of tapaḥ / tapas.

As can going to your yoga class whether you feel like it or not! Every yoga teacher will encourage you to attend class because transformation can’t take place unless you practise. You know this is true! Whoever your teacher is, go to class and study yoga with your teacher!

Svādhyāya can mean study of the self. Tapaḥ is not a random exercise, it should be orientated towards revealing a deeper understanding of our inner being. Here authoritative texts, like the yogasūtra-s, that tell us important things about the self and the Self are vital for this process of self-reflection [5].

Īśvara-praṇidhāna can mean a firm attitude of acceptance or, as Peter Hersnack [a student of TKV Desikachar’s] once put it, the tendency to ‘Trust in Life’ [6]. It can also mean the serenity one acquires through the help of a Master of Yoga. Or, a deep awareness that we are not the masters of all we do [7]. What will be will be; and if we have paid close attention to the quality of what we are doing in the present moment, then what will be will – most likely – be easier to accept. Actions not motivated by outcomes is another way to understand Īśvara-praṇidhāna.

What makes Śrī Krishnamacharya’s yoga so unique?

According to TKV Desikachar, the answer to this question includes the following 8 qualities:

  1. His father’s insistence on ‘attending to each individual and to his or her uniqueness’
  2. His father’s insistence that the starting point must always be the needs of the student and never those of the teacher: ‘It is not that the person needs to accommodate him- or herself to yoga, but rather the yoga practice must be tailored to fit each person’
  3. The recognition that yoga primarily ‘affects the mind, and that each person’s mind is different’
  4. His father’s preference to ‘choose what seemed necessary and useful: sometimes āsana, sometimes it was prayer, sometimes he even told people to stop a certain yoga practice: then the healing occurred’
  5. Helping each student find his or her own way to yoga: ‘Progress on the path of yoga means different things for different people’
  6. His father’s use of sound to bring about positive change. Sometimes those sounds were in the form of Sanskrit mantras but not always and never if it was inappropriate for the student
  7. His father’s habit of explaining his teachings on yoga with reference to old texts. There was scarcely one explanation about yoga that did not contain a reference to an appropriate quotation from one of these old texts on yoga. This authenticity was always tempered by Krishnamacharya’s innovations, which ensured that ‘yoga serves the individual, and does so through inviting transformation rather than giving information’
  8. Most importantly of all, perhaps, is the appropriate use of the breath. This is ‘something quite exceptional; nowhere else is the breath given so much importance’ because of its wonderful transformer effects [8]

Notes

[1] From David Gordon White’s 2014 book The Yoga Sutra of Patanjali: a biography, p.197

[2] Ibid, p.95

[3] From TKV Desikachar’s 1995 book, The Heart of Yoga, p.165

[4] Ibid, p.80

[5] Ibid, p.81

[6] From my recollection of a video of one of Perter Hersnack’s lectures I saw – probably in 2016, the link to which I can no longer find; sorry.

[7] From TKV Desikachar’s 1995 book, The Heart of Yoga, p.165

[8] From the introduction to TKV Desikachar’s 1995 book, The Heart of Yoga

The Yoga Teacher I Never Met

“However powerful or disturbing something may appear to be, it is our reaction to it that determines its effects.” [1]

I have these words of TKV Desikachar’s in mind as I reflect on the news of his death on 8 August 2016 in Chennai, aged 78. TKV Desikachar will be remembered as a great yoga teacher whose intelligent, reasoned and compassionate approach to life and yoga contributed hugely to modern yoga and its application to healing. He was full of insights, wisdom and solicitude. He has left a wonderful legacy through his work, teachings and writings. He helped so many find the deeper teachings of yoga, to empower us to transform duḥkha and discover a profound meaning to our lives. He had, and will continue to have, a significant influence on my life. In a very real way, he is the yoga teacher I never met. I am sure that I am not alone in feeling this way.

I only knew TKV Desikachar (affectionately “Sir” to those who knew him personally) through those who have met and studied with him and through his books. In this article, I would like, if I may, to set out something of what I personally found so totally cool about TKV’s method, his teachings.

TKV Desikachar was the son and long-time student of the great yoga master Śrī Tirumalai Krishnamacharya, these days increasingly credited as the “father of modern yoga”. Krishnamacharya was guru to BKS Iyengar, Pattabhi Jois and TKV Desikachar, among other notable modern yoga teachers.

By his own account Desikachar was a reluctant yogi, to the extent that his early career started in engineering rather than following in his father’s footsteps. A chance encounter with a New Zealander in the early 1960s changed all that. She opened TKV’s eyes to the idea that his old man was, in fact, a great healer and yogi, which in turn led to a radical change of career direction. Desikachar determined then for his father to teach him yoga, because it was yoga that had cured the Kiwi women with chronic insomnia from years of sleepless nights. “Dad” he said, “will you teach me yoga, but without god?” Obviously, I am taking liberties here; I can’t speak Tamil. The answer, of course, was Yes.

You might have missed a few of important points about the story of the Kiwi, the Yoga Professor and his son. To elucidate:

  • What blinds us to what is really going on (even in our own homes) is avidyā (I’ll come back to this concept later on)
  • Krishnamacharya taught according to the person in front of him. He taught yoga to the Kiwi to help her overcome insomnia. What he taught his son was quite different. That’s a very tailored approach to teaching and requires knowledge and talent.
  • It’s a profound expression of ahimsā (non-violence) not to impose your wisdom on others. What the teacher can do with a student open to the possibility of personal transformation is to reveal what already lies half asleep in the student; nothing more [5].

I love Desikachar’s way of expressing the concept of viṅyāsa krama as the careful construction of a yoga practice especially for the individual. TKV Desikachar mostly taught for the person rather than the group. It brings to mind the the idea of arranging a number of steps in a process into a special order in order to reach an appropriate goal or to take us in a certain direction. That goal or direction should be specially identified for the individual. Anxiety might be alleviated in one person by a bṛmhaṇa [energising] practice for one or a laṅghana [calming] practice for another. This specificity in the way the tools of yoga can be applied is so appealing to me. Viṅyāsa krama works in all walks of life, which is just as well because yoga can apply to all things.

At the back of his seminal 1995 work, The Heart of Yoga, you can find the practice in the right-hand photo. It’s very clever and subtle in its efficiency and efficacy. For instance, there’s no need for unnecessary warming up or cooling down; it’s planned with simpler āsana-s proceeding to more complex and demanding ones. It finishes with easier āsana-s, which help relax the body and settle the breath for prāṇāyāma and dhāraṇa. There is no lying relaxation at the end, because that would encourage tamas in the mind. Tamas is good for sleeping but not for meditation, which is a big goal in yoga. Rather it ends with sitting, which helps sattva to manifest in the mind. Meditation will fail without enough sattva (tranquillity, lucidity, detachment etc). One can measure the success of a yoga practice by how much sattva it reveals.

The role of the breath trumps the role of the body in this practice. Breathing affects the spine and the movement of prāṇa. Desikachar always encouraged the appropriate harnessing of the breath while practising yogāsana. The judicious use of movement in and out of an āsana co-ordinated with the breath, as well as staying in a posture has a reliable and positive effect on the body and especially the mind. Desikachar was very clear that yoga was about the mind. What we also see here in this practice plan is just a basic skeleton of a yoga practice. It does not show off Desikachar’s love of the transformative power of chanting or the range of other tools which really do need to be tailored to the needs and abilities of the person who would commit to a practice.

Don’t get me wrong, he did not ignore the health and vitality of the body. After all, the mind can’t function without the support of the body. In 1976, he founded the Krishnamacharya Yoga Mandiram, which is committed to transmitting an authentic yoga through yoga classes and educational programmes, and healing through the application of yoga. What’s interesting here is that yoga is sustained as both an ancient tradition, deeply anchored in pukka yoga texts, and at the same time fused to modern best practices. By founding the KYM, Desikachar ensured that Krishnamacharya’s teachings, as transmitted to TKV Desikachar and refined by him, continues. Long may it thrive as a place of yoga learning and healing. Indeed, I am hoping to study there at some point in the next 10 years or so.

As a young man in his 30s, Desikachar taught yoga to the famous philosopher J Krishnamurthi, who was then in his 70s. It was Krishnamurthi who advised Desikachar not to hold himself out as a guru; and TKV never did. Ācārya, teacher, was a better label, but my impression is that Desikachar didn’t do labels for himself. When he did use them, he gave them up. The best example of this relates to the time when TKV, seeing how yoga was flourishing and being branded in the West asked his father for a suitable name for his approach to teaching yoga. Viniyoga was the result.

His father, Krishnamacharya, was thinking of YS III.6, which suggests that yoga should be adapted to the individual and not the other way around. But Desikachar abandoned the name in the 00s: in the end yoga is yoga and not a brand. Viniyoga describes a process; but so does the simpler word Yoga. Viniyoga does not describe the goal; but the word Yoga does. Yoga can mean a process as well as the state of being that emerges from the yogic process.

Śrī TKV Desikachar was a private man. There is no Wikipedia page for him (at least not yet). It took me ages to work out what the TKV stood for [2], that he was married and had children. His choice of clothing suggested accountant, lawyer, or doctor rather than yoga teacher. There is an important lesson here: personal transformation is not about titles, looks or role. Being a teacher is more about making students discover the best within themselves by the application of an authentic form of yoga. Śrī TKV Desikachar himself was a good yoga student [6].

Desikachar showed me, through his books and the students of his I have had the fortune and pleasure to have met and studied with, that actions leave traces. Avidyā, which means something like misapprehension based on incorrect perception, affect our actions and these ill-informed actions lead to duḥkha, which means something like a feeling of being restricted, although it is often rendered into English as “suffering”. One goal of yoga is to reduce the effects of incorrect perception and knowledge in order to act without error and without causing harm (duḥkha).

There are just too many things I have learnt vicariously from Śrī TKV Desikachar to cover in this short article. Even as I write this article, I feel my understanding deepens under his invisible hand and eye. What I have written doesn’t express adequately how I feel about yoga and how instrumental and inspirational Śrī TKV Desikachar was, and through the KYM, his students, books etc, still is.

Dying at the age of 78 seems so young, especially when one considers his father was 101 when he died. I can’t recall Śrī TKV Desikachar ever claiming longevity from yoga. For him yoga could not guarantee us this or that particular benefit, even if we practised fervently.

“Yoga is not a recipe for less suffering, though it can offer us help in changing our attitude so that we have less avidyā and therefore greater freedom from duḥkha. We can understand the whole practice of yoga as a process of examining our habitual attitudes and behaviours and their consequences” [3].

Wishing you a safe journey Śrī TKV Desikachar. Thank you for leaving such consoling teachings and for willingly being the teacher I never met [4].

References

[1] Quotation is from TKV Desikachar’s 1995 book, The Heart of Yoga.
[2] Tirumalai Krishnamacharya Venkata Desikachar, born 21 June 1938
[3] Quotation is from TKV Desikachar’s 1995 book, The Heart of Yoga, page 97
[4] “Coming to learn of yoga only through reading leaves much to be desired. Yet, something worthwhile about yoga might be shared through the medium of the printed word”. This quotation is taken from TKV Desikachar’s published 1976 Colgate University lectures which were first printed in book form in 1980 under the title Religiousness in Yoga
[5] Image from Paul Harvey’s wonderful website – www.yogastudies.org – Paul studied under Śrī TKV Desikachar for many years
[6] See the dedication page in TKV Desikachar’s 1995 book, The Heart of Yoga.

What is Yoga?

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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