Time can feel subjective. Five minutes in meditation today may feel very different from five minutes of meditation yesterday. Five minutes in meditation when you are physically well feels very different from five minutes of meditation when you are sick and your entire body aches. Five minutes in tadasana feels different from five minutes in chair pose. Five minutes watching a movie feels different from five minutes in a roller coaster. How we experience time varies, depending on how that time is used, but this time is also the investment that we put in.

How we use our time determines the ease in which we face the unknowns in the future. That is why our practice needs to be consistent— because we don’t want to wait until things are difficult before we learn how to sit and cope; we learn how to sit and cope right now. When we find ourselves in a difficult pose, consider it as an opportunity to use your time to train the mind. Will you use this time to complain, or will you use this time to practice equanimity?
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Think back to what your life was like and who you were ten years ago. Most likely, you were a different person then with different interests and priorities and maybe value systems. Time changed you. So it will be as time goes on. The you ten years from now could also be very different. For many people, the unknown is terrifying to ponder. But if we have invested our time well, we have used it to be conscious and aware, to be kind and compassionate, to be patient and tolerant, then even as the future is unknown, we are prepared. Because we have put in the time to do the work, whatever happens, we know we will be fine. Because we have used the time to practice, to sit instead of run away, to meditate instead of distract ourselves, magic arises.

Yoga is like alchemy. With time, with repetition, with practice, we transform ourselves. On a physical level, we find ourselves gaining strength and flexibility. Poses that once seemed impossible become possible. Movements that felt restricted are now done with ease. The same is true of our internal world. The same transformation is possible when we chant mantras.

Lokah Samastah Sukhino Bhavantu means “May all beings everywhere be happy and free, and may the thoughts, words, and actions of my own life contribute in some way to that happiness and to that freedom for all.” Sanskrit scholars say that Sanskrit being a vibrational language, it has the power to self-correct. Even if we mispronounce it in the beginning, through time, the words start to roll in our tongue more easily. Even if it’s only something we say but something we cannot fully grasp just yet, through repetition, we begin to see that our innermost values are actually aligned with its meaning. Even if we are not quite sure how to fully embrace loving all without exception, through practice it becomes our natural state and inclination.
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Yoga is like alchemy. We practice and surrender, we allow it to change us. We allow it to change our physical body, and more importantly, we allow it to transform how we see our relationship with the world.

PYS I.12 abhyasa vairagyabhyam tan nirodhah
Identification with the fluctuations of mind is stopped by practice and non-attachment.

Abhyasa means practice, it refers to the commitment and time we put in. It is the tuition fee that we pay to learn.
It is very common that after a yoga class, a student would approach me and say, “I can’t do a headstand” or an arm balance or some other pose. I would usually explain that many of the movements we do in yoga feel unfamiliar in the body because we are simply not used to it. I would then ask the student how long they have been practicing, and I’ll get some variation of “it’s my first class” or “I’m on my first week” or “I’ve been practicing on and off”. Mystery solved. Who among us was able to nail every single pose in the early days of our yoga practice? No one. Because it is precisely that— it takes practice.
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According to a TedTalks by Josh Kaufman, it takes 10,000 hours of investment to learn something and get on a level of expertise. This means, if you’re playing an instrument, you would be performance level, if an athlete competitive level. But what about the number of hours needed to go from a baseline of zero to being able to do something fairly well? Not expert level, not perfect, but pretty decent. Apparently, it takes only 20 hours. Not that much time at all! But these 20 hours must be used a certain way to maximize learning. And these are the tips:

1. Deconstruct- This means we learn to break things down. Instead of seeing one giant obstacle, we break it into smaller digestible pieces and we deal with these small pieces. We know this to be true for our yoga poses. Say, an inversion may feel overwhelming at first, so we break down the elements such as hand position, core engagement etc.

2. Give ourselves the space to self-correct- I like that self-correction is a given, because it clearly shows that mistakes are part of the learning curve. How many times have we beaten ourselves up for doing something “wrong”, forgetting that it is part of the process of learning and getting better at something? We cannot learn if we are too afraid to make mistakes.

3. Minimize distractions- In the context of practicing yoga asana, we can use this as a reminder to focus on our own practice, to avoid looking around and comparing, to refrain from using excuses to avoid doing something. On a practical level, looking around gets us out of alignment and does not help us in getting into the asana at all. So, stay focused.

4. Put the time in- There are no other shortcuts. Show up, time and time again, even if it means all you do in a particular hour is mentally prepare for what feels physically impossible. Put the hours in, and this includes the logistical parts like registering, preparing the appropriate clothing to wear, etc. The time that we put in will reap its results.
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Keep in mind when you practice yoga asana that it’s okay not to be able to do an inversion or an arm balance or any other pose. Remember, we have to put in the hours, and we can learn to deconstruct, give ourselves the space to self-correct, and minimize distractions. That takes care of abhyasa. As for the vairagya component of practice, it is to let go, to not attach, to not cling. It is by this way of practicing— one part abhyasa and one part vairagya— that we can attain peace in the actions that we take.

PYS I.2 yogash citta vritti nirodhah

When you cease to identify with the fluctuations of mind, then there is yoga, identity with Self, which is Samadhi, happiness, bliss, and ecstasy.

PYS I.12 abhyasa vairagyabhyam tan nirodhah

Identification with the fluctuations of mind is stopped by practice and non-attachment.

The first sutra above answers the question “What is yoga?” and the next one answers the question “How then do we attain yoga?”.

Yoga is also referred to as a state of samadhi, the state of happiness, bliss, and ecstasy. This kind of happiness is not how we usually define happiness. It’s not the pleasure we get from eating a vegan cupcake or buying a new pair of shoes. It is not conditional. This kind of happiness is steady, like a baseline we would have, such that despite the highs and lows of life, we would be okay. This state is when we no longer identify with the fluctuations of the mind. We know that we suffer a lot because of the storylines we create, how we take things personally, how we think we are victims. No longer identifying with the thoughts does not mean absence of thoughts. It is like watching a movie unfold with a sense of objectivity. In the same way that we may be engaged in watching a movie, that we may laugh or cry, we still know it is only fictional, that it has a beginning and an end, that it is scripted. To not identify with the fluctuations of our mind is like that— we watch, still engaged, still involved, but not caught up needlessly.

How then do we achieve that? Patanjali says the elements of both abhyasa and vairagya must be present. Abhyasa is practice, commitment, discipline. It is showing up, not only when things are new and exciting, but showing up even when we are bored, even if we’ve reached a plateau, even if it rains and it feels so much nicer to just stay in bed. Vairagya is non-attachment or non-clinging. It is being able to surrender and let go, recognizing that we do not and cannot control everything, so we might as well be at peace with whatever is. These two elements are not steps, one is not a prerequisite for another. They should exist alongside each other.

When practicing asana, we can use the namaskar gesture (hands in prayer) as a reminder to infuse the two elements of abhyasa and vairagya. This gesture is a symbol of joining together what we often perceive as opposites— and practice and non-attachment do seem like they are opposites. We can then pay attention if we are pushing too hard, to the point that there is a lot of clinging. Or on the other hand, we may also be able to see clearly if non-attachment is making us complacent and not go far enough. It is a personal balance we each have to find. No one else would be able to know, and we cannot cheat our way into yoga, or there is no yoga (happiness, bliss, ecstasy) at all.

Outside the mat, finding yoga is the same. We practice and we show up, no matter what. Not only when we have a new job or exciting prospects or material success etc, but also and especially when things are tough, when we have to deal with loss or grief or disappointment. Abhyasa is to show up then, even if in the context of that showing up, all we do is breathe. Vairagya is to not fight the difficulty, to not deny it, but to learn to surrender to it so that we may get through it.
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The what and how of yoga have been presented to us by Patanjali. The rest is up to us.