PYS I.2 Yogas Citta Vrtti Nirodhah
When you stop identifying with thoughts, fluctuations of mind, then there is Yoga, identity with Self, which is samadhi, happiness, bliss, ecstasy. The focus of the month is silence. And through Vipassana courses, I had experiences of being silent for 10 days at a time. In those spaces of silence, a lot can happen, and in no particular order, these are my personal breakthroughs: 1) While seated in what is supposedly deep meditation, I couldn’t stand myself. I hated that I was there and I wanted to run away. I wanted to escape. I asked myself why I subjected myself to such torture. I questioned what sitting with my physical aches and pains had to do with enlightenment. I decided at one point that I was going to be done with meditation, not outwardly because I didn’t want to appear like a quitter, but that I would go through the motions but I’m not buying into this whole meditation act anymore. As soon as I’m out of the course, I would be done. This breakthrough made me realize a few things: From what do I wish to run away? From whom do I want to escape? Why is it that I am so uncomfortable with myself? 2) Having decided I wasn’t really going to meditate— but that I was only going to pretend— I allowed my mind to wander far and wide, to wherever it wishes to go, uncontrolled and unguarded. And it did go to different places. At one point it landed at this place where I thought, I’m ready to let it all go. The anger that I felt, the grudges I still kept, the pain I harbored— what is the point of still carrying them? I could let it go and be free of it all. And I did just that. In that meditation hall, without having to call anyone I haven’t spoken to in years, without a confrontation or a conversation, I forgave everyone and everything. I started over, clean slate. 3) The last breakthrough happened only a split second, but it was distinct and unmistakeable. In the depth of the silence of not only the outside world but also of my internal landscape, it felt as though “I” disappeared and melted into everything else. There is that sense of oneness, that I am not separate from anything. This was something I experienced even before I encountered the yoga practice, before I knew about yoga sutras, and yet it is precisely the experience of Yogas Citta Vrtti Nirodhah. In your own practice, allow silence to take you places you haven’t explored before, perhaps to make peace with that part of you that wishes to run away, perhaps to find forgiveness, perhaps to catch a momentary glimpse of enlightenment.
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All of us have access to Satyam, Jñanam, Anandam, and Brahma— Truth, Knowledge, Bliss, Absolute.
We all can know the truth of who we are, use our intellectual capacity to understand, experience joy beyond conditions, and connect to that Divine quality of God within us and around us. But we do not often experience any of these, not because we can’t, but because we create barriers. When you stand in front a quiet lake, and the water is clear, you can see what is at the bottom of it all. But if the lake’s water is muddy, or there are strong winds that create ripples in the water, we can no longer see the bottom. Our mind is like that. When our mind is quiet, we can see the way to truth, knowledge, bliss, and absolute. When there are disturbances in our mind, we see nothing but those disturbances. We speak 16,000 words a day on the average. Now, when we think about it, how many of those words ground us in peace, and how many of those words create barriers between ourselves and our freedom? When we use words to lie, judge, gossip, complain, or criticize, what do you think the effect is on the lake that is our mind? Practice observing the habitual tendencies of your thoughts that lead to your speech— not to beat yourself up, but to understand the connection between the content of the mind and the peace (or the lack thereof) that you experience. It is the nature of the mind to think random thoughts, even negative thoughts. Use this as a tool for understanding. Step back to become a sakshi, the witness consciousness that watches things unfold. Allow the witness to observe the mind thinking thoughts. As the observer, you are able to let the ripples quiet down. Use silence too as a tool. When your thoughts stay at the level of thought, you can work on the observation at a thought level, minimizing any damage control that might be needed when negative thoughts are expressed in words. You nip it at the bud. Next time you catch yourself about to lie, judge, gossip, complain, or criticize, pause instead. Use silence. Allow the ripples of the mind to quiet down. It does not mean you become passive or apathetic. But it means you are conscious, deliberate, and intentional when you speak. Words are no longer just air-fillers, they are spoken with a clear purpose. Satyam, Jñanam, Anandam, and Brahma— Truth, Knowledge, Bliss, Absolute— will be made available to us eventually and inevitably, through consistent practice, when we no longer think we are our thoughts, and we begin to understand that we are that witness observing those thoughts The words Lokah Samastah Sukhino Bhavantu was written on a piece of paper by Swami Nirmalananda, and it was given to my teachers Sharon Gannon and David Life. This was how this mantra—which is now central to Jivamukti Yoga— was taught. It was written not because Swami Nirmalananda could not speak; it was because he was a mauni. He practiced noble silence. His silence, though, did not mean that he kept quiet about his opinions. On the contrary, he used his words in the form of typewritten letters to urge leaders and organizations to work towards peace. He was silent, but he was an activist. He did not use his physical voice, but he stood up just the same for the meek— humans and non-humans alike.
We ourselves may have at times experienced that speaking is not the most efficient way to communicate. We may have used the wrong words, or spoke with the wrong tone, or chosen the wrong timing. There may have been circumstances wherein we were better off silent, there may be even a pattern of behavior we wish to change. Can you observe the times when silence would have been a kinder choice? Perhaps you have a tendency to interrupt when something is speaking, or you habitually offer advice that is unsolicited, or your well-meaning feedback comes off as harsh criticism. What would happen if you chose silence instead? Silence does not mean we become passive. It does not mean we are complicit to harm. It means we choose carefully when and how to speak, so our words carry more weight when it truly matters. When our words are surrounded by spaciousness instead of clutter, then our voice will be heard. We speak not for the sake of speaking, but for the sake of liberation. Lokah Samastah Sukhino Bhavantu. May all beings everywhere be happy and free. And may the thoughts, words (and silence), and actions of my own life contribute in some way to that happiness and to that freedom for all. There is a blog called Post Secret, and the founder came up with this idea that he was going to ask people to send in their secrets anonymously via a postcard. They now have about half a million postcards in their possession, which goes to show that people have secrets, and not only that, people have a desire to share that secret. That is within good reason. We know that the more we push something away, the more it takes hold of our life. When we are constantly pretending that a particular situation or emotion or incident does not exist, we are still holding on to illusions of how things should be, instead of learning to deal with life as it is. So what I am saying is, if there is such a secret that is weighing you down in some way, perhaps it is time to consider unloading that burden. It could mean you talk to a trusted friend or work through it with a therapist. Or it could even be expressing it simply by writing it down in a journal. That way, you could live freely. When we chant Lokah Samastah Sukhino Bhavantu, we mean it. May all beings everywhere be happy and free is a pledge that includes yourself. And as long as your secrets are a burden to you, you cannot be free. Get out of your own way. You deserve to be happy. You deserve to be free.
Do you ever find yourself mixing up the left and right in class, or doing a different pose altogether when the teacher gives instructions? Well, that’s normal. It happens that our minds wander off, we go into default, we do what we’re used to, we check out. It’s normal that it happens sometimes. Nothing wrong with that. If we’re new, we are not quite sure what the Sanskrit terms mean or even when we hear English instructions, it just doesn’t make sense, that’s normal.
But a habitual disconnection with the body, being removed by what’s happening to the physical body, being dissociated and feeling numb could signal that there’s unaddressed trauma. One of the defense mechanisms the body uses is blocking or depersonalization. In accidents or in abuse or in any other situation where we feel unsafe, the body can shut off all feeling in its attempt at survival and preservation. While it is useful at that precise moment when the threat is present, carrying this over means that we shut out all feeling, including joy, glee, excitement, happiness, a sense of hope and fulfillment. Our yoga practice brings us back to the present moment. As we become reacquainted with our physical body, we also become more aware of the positive emotions that are available— however “small” those joys could be. Being able to see the sharpness in color, the pleasure in stretching out your body, the calmness of your breath, so on and so forth. And at the end of the day, our practice is about that— learning to be present, learning to be connected, learning to be grateful. Everyone just by being alive has experienced some kind of trauma. There are those caught in war zones and conflict areas that live with everyday terror. There are others whose personal circumstances expose them to physical, emotional, and mental abuse. There could be unexpected events like accidents and calamities that we would find difficult to cope. Even if we haven’t experienced any of those, we know trauma through the experiences of loss and grief, fear and disappointment. Maybe it’s through something that is seemingly harmless like being left alone at home when we were a small child, maybe it’s through something that wasn’t personal such as witnessing harm being done by one being to another, maybe it’s through important relationships where commitments are not honored and we end up feeling shortchanged.
Trauma, unfortunately, is everywhere. And there is something that happens to the brain when someone is severely traumatized. Now, it is widely accepted that the two hemispheres of the brain govern different functions: the right is in charge of creative processes and the left the more analytical and logical thinking. When something triggers a past trauma, the right works as it is while the left does not work as well. This means that the brain continues to tell stories about a past trauma, and it cannot distinguish that this belongs to the past and is not a current reality. This is why we may notice someone— even ourselves— reacting disproportionately to a situation. It is because we are not responding to the present moment, but digging up the wounds of the past and reacting to that. There is a way out of the cycle of trauma, and our yoga and meditation practices are the tools. Our body, our breath, our awareness all teach us to ground in this present moment. This helps us understand that at this present moment, our past is not replaying. It belongs to the past, and the present is of a different time and different situation. Repeat these words to yourself: “I am safe. I am free from harm.” Notice if this is something easy for you to say, if this is something that rings true for you. You can remind yourself of this, to train yourself that regardless of the past that we can no longer change, the present is right in front of us. We do not have to fall victim to our past, be stuck in our past, or let our past hinder the freedom we have in the present. May all of us heal from our traumas. May all be safe. May all be free from harm. 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? 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. 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. 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. 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. The what and how of yoga have been presented to us by Patanjali. The rest is up to us. |
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