At the heart of Patanjali’s Yoga Sutras is an aphorism that outlines a profound and practical approach to yoga.  It is the first aphorism of sadhana pada, the chapter on practice: tapah svadhyaya isvara pranidhanani kriya yogah.  This is a description of the path of kriya yoga and it lists three components to that path. Kriya comes from the verbal root kr which means “to do.” So kriya yoga is the yoga of action.  The three listed components are tapas, svadhyaya and Isvara pranidhana.
The first component, tapas is typically translated as asceticism, austerity, or discipline.  It comes from the verbal root tap which means “to burn.”  So traditionally it relates to practices that are renunciatory and/or purifying.  The second element, svadhyaya literally means “self-study”, and traditionally includes study or chanting of sacred texts or mantras.  Isvara means God, and pranidhana is devotion, surrender, or offering.  So the third element, Isvara pranidhana is surrender or offering to God.

How do these three work together in our yoga practice?  Tapas is created when we turn inward:  when we listen to our breath, close our eyes, and/or take our awareness away from the surface and into the depths. Svadhyaya is when we observe our selves,  what is going on in a particular moment, paying attention and being mindful.  And Isvara pranidhana is the action we take to align ourselves with Consciousness.

We are creating tapas in our yoga asana practice when we allow our focus to move internally to the breath and listen to our ujjayi breathing. Svadhyaya occurs when we listen to and observe our bodies, both physical and subtle. Isvara pranidhana is when we choose actions that bring us into alignment to allow a clearer flow of energy, and also when we dedicate our practice to something greater than ourselves.

And ultimately, kriya yoga is a description of how our practice overall, and particularly the practice of meditation, works. When we practice, particularly when we meditate, we begin the inward turn of tapas.  It is a temporary renunciation of our surface world to explore the deeper parts of ourselves.  As we meditate, we study our Self, svadhyaya.  We glimpse our essence, and we begin to see and work with what blocks access to the deepest part of ourselves. We begin to see our habitual patterns.  Then we have the choice to align our consciousness with the greater Consciousness.  This is Isvara Pranidhana.

I invite you to observe how these three are, or are not, working in your own practice of yoga.  Perhaps you tend to favor one over the other.  Through practicing all three components of kriya yoga we can make contact with our more essential self, start breaking the patterns that block that access, and align ourselves with our higher Self.  This is the practice of kriya yoga, the yoga of action.

I recently returned from a journey to Mexico, during which I was able to completely rest and relax, as well as experience a culture that is somewhat different from my own.  As the time got near to coming home, and as I began to transition, I took some time to contemplate and consider the gifts of this journey.

The greatest gift, in a word: perspective.

Stepping out of our lives into a different climate, rhythm, cuisine, etc., creates some space and contrast. The result reminds me of the Sanskrit word upeksha, from Patanjali’s Yoga Sutras (1.33 for any of you fellow geeks who want to go look it up).  Upeksha is usually translated as equanimity, and is a big concept that I’ve contemplated and written about repeatedly elsewhere.  For now, consider that the Sanskrit word comes from the verbal root iksh, which means to see, and upa can mean upon or above, so it can mean overlook.  I think of it not in the sense of ignoring, but in the sense of a scenic overlook, getting a bigger view, or perspective.

As I transitioned from my relaxing travels to the challenges in my life, I was able to maintain perspective in a way I have not before, and I realized that the greatest gift of my meditation practice has also been this sense of equanimity.  Having established a daily meditation practice for the last few years I am able to maintain a greater perspective in a way I had been unaware of.  My practice is like a mini-journey.  Each time I practice, I remove myself temporarily from my usual outer worldly patterns, and move inside to a different space.  It is in that space that I  connect with a larger perspective.   This larger perspective allows me to meet the world from a calmer, more loving, and more capable place.

I realized how much my meditation practice had given me this gift as I re-entered my Colorado world.  On the bus, I started to look at various messages on my phone and found myself getting annoyed as my old buttons got pushed.   In quick succession, I experienced anger, jealousy, withdrawal, and annoyance.  I definitely fully felt each of these, and in the past I would have been sucked into one or more of them.  But spontaneously, a bigger picture emerged, a space opened up, and I was able to just drop it.  I saw it as the old pattern it was, like a silly old sitcom. I didn’t find it necessary to indulge, I simply let it go, and moved my energy into a more productive arena.  It all happened very quickly and it wasn’t until I looked back on it, that I was able to see how it had unfolded.

The concept of equanimity is a challenging one, particularly since Patanjali suggests we cultivate it toward people who are apunya, non-virtuous.  I have been accused of spiritual bypassing when I suggest cultivating such qualities, and I understand how one may think it inappropriate or impossible.  But now I am convinced that the regular practice of meditation allows these qualities to arise more readily. When one takes a daily journey from the surface of life to explore the inner landscape of one’s being, one becomes established in the qualities that reside there: in this case an expansive spacious feeling of equanimity. Repeated journeying creates a pathway that allows such qualities to emerge when the challenges of our life demand them.  In this way we become established in many of the qualities the sages suggest are at the essence of our being.

In Patanjali’s Yoga Sutra, the definitive text of Classical Yoga, there are very few aphorisms devoted to asana, the postures of yoga.  One of these few states: sthira sukham asanam (2.46). The posture should be steady (sthira) and comfortable (sukha), or even sweet (as in sucrose).  Since Patanjali’s yoga is primarily directing us toward meditation, he is talking about a sitting posture.  Anyone who has tried to meditate knows how distracting it can be to feel unsteady or uncomfortable when sitting for meditation.  From this perspective, practicing yoga postures is intended to prepare the body for sitting meditation.

However, for practitioners of modern postural yoga, this aphorism has wisdom as well.  In an aphoristic text, such as the yoga sutras, the word order is important, and here the first word is sthira, steady.  It makes sense that this is the prerequisite, as one is not going to be comfortable in any pose in which you are not first steady. In our asana practice, steadiness in the posture is cultivated first through the foundation, whatever it is that is on the floor.  Once the foundation is steady, a clear and judicious engagement of the muscles will contribute to more steadiness.

But Patanjali suggests there is more than simply being steady in the posture: it must be comfortable, even joyful or sweet.  What creates sweetness in the pose is proper alignment. If the pose hurts, clearly one must back off and find another approach.

I often say that your yoga practice provides a context for watching your mind.  In the context of your asana practice, what brings steadiness and sweetness to your mind and your overall state of being?  Are you perpetually thinking about the past or future, approaching poses aggressively, watching others, making judgments? Drishti (gazing at a particular point) is a wonderful technique to cultivate steadiness.  When the eyes are wandering, inevitably the mind is wandering.  Ujjayi breathing will help to both steady the mind, and bring a sweetness to your practice. By listening to the breath, you will notice discomfort and adjust your posture accordingly. Moving the prana through your body with the breath will create a sweetness.  Noticing your thoughts, then returning to the breath as a focus can attenuate repetitive, perhaps destructive, thought patterns .

What unfolds on that 2 by 5 foot rectangle of a mat is likely to be representative of how you approach many aspects of your life. As suggested above, watching and working with  your mind on the mat, will show you how you can do the same in the larger context of your life. Considering a deeper meaning of this sutra, asana can be thought of as your overall stance or posture not only in your practice, but in any situation, a relationship, even your life as a whole. In these situations, too, you want to be steady and sweet.  I have known many physically accomplished yogis, whose presence is far from sweet. Below are some practice and contemplation suggestions to help you live these yogic principles.

PRACTICE:
–          For one entire yoga practice, or for a week, focus primarily on your foundation.  Notice those parts of your body that meet the earth.  With your feet, notice the 4 corners, notice whether you favor the inner or outer edges, whether your weight is toward the front or back of your feet.  For your hands, notice if you are evenly rooting through the perimeter of the palm, or whether you tend to hang back toward the wrist or outer edge of the palm.  Notice as well when neither of these are part of the foundation, and how your body meets the earth.
–          For one entire practice, or for a week, focus primarily on your breath.  Notice when your mind wanders from the breath, and gently return to it.  After practicing in this way, journal on what types of thought patterns tend to emerge during your practice.  Are these useful to you?  What was the effect of returning again and again to the breath?
–          Begin to notice your stance in the world and journal on any of the following.  What is your general outlook on life? Are you steady? Do you generally feel comfortable? Are you sweet? Are you balanced between being stable and sweet?
–          Using two pieces of paper, or pages your journal, title one “steadiness” and one “sweetness,” Under each of these, make two columns labeled “+” and “-“ (or some other label that makes sense to you).  Then in the “+” column, write down aspects of your life that enhance steadiness, and in the “-“ column, those that detract from your steadiness, and likewise those that enhance your sweetness, and detract from your sweetness.  Journal on how you can encourage more of those aspects that enhance rather than detract. Try implementing one or two.
–          Journal on other ways you see these two qualities manifesting in your life.