For the yoga challenge that inspired this blog series (check out @purplevalleyyoga on Instagram for more info), we're skipping the following sutras, but I still wanted to share a quick reflection on this portion, as it directly relates to my previous post on Sutras 1.4, 1.5, and 1.6. I highly recommend reading through the previous sutras for more context, and if you're interested in my personal commentary on this classic yoga text you can find more of that in the other posts in this blog category ~ Exploring the Sutras. Sutra 1.7: Pratyaksānumānāgamāh pramānāni ~ "The sources of right knowledge are direct perception, inference, and scriptural testimony." Sutra 1.8: Viparyay mithyājñānam aradrūpa prastistham ~ "Misconception occurs when knowledge of something is not based upon its true form." Sutra 1.9: Śabdajñānānupātī vastu śūnyo vikalpah ~ "An image that arises on hearing mere words without any reality [as its verbal basis] is verbal delusion." Sutra 1.10: Abhāva pratyayālambanā vrttir nidrā ~ "That mental modification supported by cognition of nothingness is sleep." Sutra 1.11: Anubhūta visayāsampramosah smrtih ~ "When a mental modification of an object previously experienced and not forgotten comes back to consciousness, that is memory." *all translations by Sri Swami Satchidananda* To be honest, I struggle with this portion somewhat, as I don't fully share the opinion that scriptural testimony is the same as absolute truth, nor do I share Sri Swami Satchidananda's opinion that "dreams are memories that come to the surface when we sleep". Sleep and dreaming have always fascinated me, and I think there may be more to it than what's expressed in this commentary of Patanjali's sutras (if you have another resource on the Sutras that you think I might resonate with or appreciate, please do share it with me!)
I think it's safe to say that verbal delusion and misconception are the most potent of these modifications, and keen self-study of these thought patterns should help to curb some of the misguided stories we create in our minds. What I particularly found interesting in this section of commentary on the sutras, though, was the idea that we can be cognizant of a lack of thought, (as in "I know I slept well because I recall nothing") which in itself is a thought - the awareness of vacancy, essentially. As Sri Swami Satchidanada goes on to explain, "All other thoughts are temporarily suspended except this one thought of emptiness in the mind, which leaves its impression upon waking." What I also take from Sutras 1.7 - 1.11 is that these mental modifications (right knowledge, misconception, verbal delusion, sleep and memory - from Sutra 1.6) all take up space and energy in the mind-field, which inevitably leads to more mental chatter or static, and so the nobility, iniquity, or banality of these modifications is irrelevant - it all just adds to the dissonance. Where this becomes confusing or disorienting for most of us is in the challenge of reconciling our thoughts to create more harmony, while increasing our awareness of the activity and patterns of our mind-scape, but without becoming attached to any of these thought forms. It's a tall order, to say the least - but don't worry: Patanjali offers some guidance in the following sutras...
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This post will explore Patanjali's Yoga Sutras 4, 5 and 6 from Chapter 1 (1.4, 1.5, & 1.6), Book One: Samādhi Pāda (the Portion on Contemplation); reflections on all previous sutras can be found in the other posts of the Exploring the Sutras category on this blog (in the right-side column). *All translations by Sri Swami Satchidananda* Sutra 1.4: Vrtti sārūpyam itaratra ~ "At other times [the Self appears to] assume the forms of the mental modifications." Sutra 1.5: Vrttayah pañcatayyah klistāklistāh ~ "There are five kinds of mental modifications which are either painful or painless." Sutra 1.6: Pramāna viparyaya vikalpa nidrā smrtayah ~ "They are right knowledge, misconception, verbal delusion/imagination, sleep and memory." The distorted reflection of Self arises in the mind's eye as we identify too heavily with our thoughts and our form. The true Self lies beyond gender, career, finances, relationships, hobbies. I think there is a common human fear that in stripping away all things that we build our identity around, we'll end up useless or apathetic, and disconnected from the "real world". I totally understand this fear, and I also feel the drive to hold onto my life as I know it. But in reality, it's the attachment to these trappings of our lives that keep us overly connected to the small self and cause us to lose sight of our "original identity" (as Sri Swami Satchidanada puts it), keeping the True Self hidden. The thing that really intrigues me about all of this is that it seems to be an endless journey... I went to a Catholic school as a kid, and I remember a priest explaining to my class this idea of committing to a lifelong practice of good intention. Though he didn't mention anything about our Oneness (nor did he make very clear or convincing arguments) I just had this understanding that we all need to be as kind to one another as possible, more for the common good than for my own admittance into Heaven (though that was also something I wasn't interested in screwing up). The Yoga Sutras (along with my own experiences over time, of course) have helped me to fill in some of the missing pieces since then; having developed a deeper understanding of my connection to the universe and everything within it, the intention and practice of stilling my mind, to get back to my true nature, has become an unwavering commitment and a lifelong endeavour. In Sutra 1.5, Patanjali explains that there are five types of vrttis which are either painful or painless. Interestingly, he doesn't seem to favour or discourage one type over the other. Sri Swami Satchidananda believes that this is because thoughts might only appear painful or pleasurable initially, when in fact the result will be the opposite, and so it's unnecessary (and impossible) to differentiate between these two types. He says that we should instead think of these as "selfish" and "selfless" thoughts, depending on the true intention and motivation behind them. If we want to elevate our consciousness by cultivating more selfless thoughts, it's important that we analyze our thinking, noticing the patterns that serve us and those that hold us back. In Sri Swami Satchidanada's commentary on Sutra 1.6, he doesn't yet describe the five types of vrttis, because they are discussed in more detail in the next few sutras that follow. Stay tuned for the next blog post!
Sutra 1.2: Yogaś città vrtti nirodhah ~ "The restraint of the modifications of the mind-stuff is Yoga." With this sutra, Patanjali wastes no time (or words) in explaining the primary goal of yoga: learning how to quiet the mental chatter. Here, he offers both the definition of yoga and also the practice. Sri Swami Satchidananda says that for a keen student, this single sutra is enough, as the rest only serve to further explain this one. And, "the entire science of Yoga is based on this (sutra)." The sanskrit word citta refers to the mind field, or the sum total of the mind. Sri Swami Satchidanada explains the different levels within the citta: the ahamkāra, which is the basic mind, or the ego; the buddhi, which is the intellect or discriminative faculty; and the manas, the part of the mind which desires and becomes attracted to things through the senses. In his book, he then offers an adorable yet eloquent and effective cheese analogy to explain the simultaneous interactions within these different parts of the mind, which, in their delicate interplay, constitute the vrtti: the "modifications of the mind-stuff". All in an instant: the manas pipes up with it's sensory desires - the buddhi adds layers, creating a story - the ahamkara chimes in, pursuing the ego's whims. And the degree to which we both crave and pursue these desires is all dependent on our conditioning, our perspective, and our current values (which do sometimes change). These mental modifications are the chatter in the mind field, and the goal of yoga (according to Patanjali in his Sutra 1.2) is to learn restraint of the citta vrttis - in essence: to still the mind. This particular lesson, as simple as it sounds yet difficult to achieve, has come back to me a lot recently. I've started to notice that the times in my life when I was most driven by my ego and desires have also been the times I've struggled the most; the more I'm able to let go and quiet my mind, the more content and at peace I am in any situation. I also think this is the main aspect of asana that resonates with me and helps me feel connected to the entire eight-limbed practice of yoga. Asana asks us to find stillness in the body, which (with awareness and practice) can lead us closer to stillness of the mind. *** Sutra 1.3: Tadā drastuh svarūpe 'vasthānam ~ "Then the Seer (Self) abides in Its own nature." When we become unbound by our thoughts, we reach a deep understanding that there is nothing in the world that can truly bind us, and in this acceptance of everything just as it is, we achieve a spiritual liberation that dissolves the illusion of separateness.
As we deepen the awareness that the Seer is not the same as body or mind, we begin to free ourselves of the delusions around our true nature. Sri Swami Satchidananda uses this analogy: "If the mind has a lot of waves like the surface of a lake, you will be seeing a distorted reflection. To see the true reflection, see that the water is clean and calm and without any ripples. When the mind ceases to create thought forms or when the citta is completely free from vrttis, it becomes as clear as a still lake and you see your true self." I've been meaning to do a couple of things lately: 1) read/study more; and 2) write more. And it just so happens that Purple Valley Yoga (in Goa, India) is hosting an Instagram yoga challenge that will encourage me to do both of those things every single day for the month of September. {Check out their IG for full contest details and to join us ~ this is a wonderful opportunity to delve deeper into yoga philosophy, and there's also an incredible prize for one lucky winner at the end of it all!} Interestingly, I had just started blogging some reflections of Patanjali's sutras and my personal relationship to them, so the timing perfectly coincided with my desire to both explore and share more of my own yoga experiences. I don't know that I'll be able to share a blog post every single day this month, but my intention is to do so as often as possible. Please follow along with my Instagram posts, where I'll be sharing truncated/summarized versions of these blogs, and posting every day along with the #purplevalleyyogachallenge2018 participants. *I'm using translation and commentary by Sri Swami Satchidanada for this challenge and blog series. This first post is a reflection of Sutra 1.1, and my very first experience with yoga over 10 years ago on a beautiful Indian beach. Sutra 1.1, from Book One (Samadhi Pada): ATHA YOGANUSASANAM ~ "Now the exposition of yoga is being made."* I was first introduced to yoga in Goa, India, in January 2008. I was on a trip with my then-boyfriend, who was there on business, but had been afflicted with a nasty gastrointestinal illness that had him bed-ridden for this leg of the journey. This, unfortunate as it was for him, was an important twist of fate in my life - we'd been doing only the things he wanted to do until this point in our trip, but since he didn't want me around while he was sick, I was finally able to explore this incredible country in a more personal way. So I woke up early the next day and decided to check out the offerings at our hotel. I waked down to the beach and found a yoga class about to begin; I was curious, so I joined in. We stood in a circle, and in the middle of that circle stood a handsome middle-aged yogi wearing white robes, a long black beard, and the warmest smile I'd ever seen: "and now," he said, "we begin yoga." The closest thing I'd ever done to yoga was pilates, but this practice felt familiar to me somehow, sort of like coming home after a long time and dancing with your family. I remember our teacher asking me to demonstrate an asana for the class (though I don't recall what it was). I nervously tried to get out of it, letting him know I'd never done yoga before, but he lovingly replied: "it doesn't matter - you know." We closed the practice with alternate nostril breathing, and I was overwhelmed by the palpable force of shifting my awareness inside my own body, to my breath. I'd never heard of pranayama before and had no idea that was what I was doing, but that lack of rational understanding didn't matter: as my very first yoga teacher so sweetly pointed out, I already knew: I felt it, and lived it. As the group shuffled off toward their daily plans, I felt a sense of vastness, or unrefined potential - like something deep inside of me had been broken wide open, and I was finally ready to receive. I walked over to the shore, took my shoes and clothes off, and waded into the ocean. The beach was already very quiet that morning, and as I continued to walk, I felt as though my surroundings began to disappear. The tide rolling in and out guided my breath into the rhythm of nature, and everything I'd been carrying with me started rolling off my shoulders and into the sea. Eventually, I felt as though I'd become just another drop in the ocean, and this momentary freedom from ego was like a warm embrace from the universe, reminding me that everything was just as it should be - including my place in it all. There was no pain or exhilaration, no cathartic release, no drama or sensation whatsoever - just peace and calm, and that new feeling of wide-openness. I hadn't identified as religious for quite some time at this point, but the only way I could explain this experience to myself was divine intervention: I was stepping back into God's love. I understood my own divinity through my connectedness in that moment, seeing (feeling/knowing) Source in all things around me and within me. *** Until now, I hadn't shared this story with many people; it felt similar to a near-death experience in that I wasn't sure I'd be believed, or that I'd be able to describe it properly. (Even now, this retelling feels like a clunky rendition and fails to truly capture the pure bliss I felt in those moments.) But, this wasn't the first time I'd had this sort of experience, and being in that all-encompassing grace once again was a reminder; it had happened just once before, while I was sitting on my front lawn at four years old, and for the longest time I thought it was something only children could feel. For the longest time, I doubted that initial connection and felt like there was no place for me in this world. (I desperately needed to be reminded.) I also knew that I was at the very beginning of a journey that would become my life's work and passion, so this experience truly felt like a nudge from the universe; I was at a sort of fork in the road at the time, and my life could have gone in a completely different direction. But I was listening, and I was ready to begin the adventure. Just as Patanjali's first Sutra in Samadhi Pada (the portion on contemplation) introduces us to the practice of yoga, so had this cosmic communication reminded me of my own path. ***
(to be continued...) If you've practised any yoga at all, you will know that breathing technique and application plays a very important role in asana practice. If you take short, shallow breaths or stop breathing completely (it's very common for new yoga practitioners to hold their breath while they try to figure out each posture) the practice becomes exponentially more difficult, and there's a good chance that you'll finish your practice feeling exhausted and agitated rather than relaxed and uplifted. Rapid breathing is activated by stress and part of the "fight or flight" response, which is controlled by the sympathetic nervous system. This is helpful if you actually need to fight off or flee a perceived threat, but prolonged release of stress hormones related to this reaction (adrenaline and cortisone) can impair your immune system, reducing your body's long-term ability to fight off disease. Conversely, slow, deep breathing activates the opposing system - the parasympathetic nervous system - which helps to calm us down. This process relies upon a neurotransmitter called acetlycholine, which is responsible for learning and memory, but also serves to relax the entire body by reducing stress hormones and softening the muscles. Many scientific studies have proven the relationship between breathing and its physiological affects on the body, but it is my experience that most yogis don't know exactly why they're practising a certain breathing technique, simply assuming the all yogic breathing accomplishes the same end goal: greater relaxation. Although deep, diaphragmatic breathing is encouraged throughout all asana practice, any good yoga class should begin and end with specific breathing exercises, and these will differ between styles and teachers. When your yoga teacher explains the breathing exercise and associated effects, they are not just trying to impress or distract you with esoteric yoga philosophy; breathing exercises can be calming, energising, or balancing and are practised with a particular intention related to the class. According to the ancient yogis, closing off one nostril at a time and breathing only through the open nostril activates the qualities of whichever channel is being utilised, and calms or limits the reactivity of the opposite channel. Left Nostril Breathing: this side is connected to IDA energy, which is related to the moon and femininity, and is reflective, calming and cooling in nature. Left-nostril breathing is practised to illicit a relaxation response in the body, also aiding with digestion and elimination, as well as regulation of sleep-wake cycles. This is a calming breathing technique designed to shift your awareness inward and is often practised at the beginning of a relaxing yoga practice to set the mood of the class. Right Nostril Breathing: this side is connected to PINGALA energy, which is related to the sun and masculinity, and is energising, fiery, and alert in nature. Right-nostril breathing is practised to increase energy and activate the sympathetic nervous system, making you feel more alert and focused. This is an energetic breathing technique designed to uplift the practitioner, and would most often be practised as an opening breath for a powerful yoga class. Alternate Nostril Breathing: also know as Nadi Shodhana, this breathing exercise is practised by alternating the channel or nadi (nostril) between each full breath, balancing the masculine (HA) and feminine (THA) energies in the body. If you are feeling generally out of sorts, alternate nostril breathing could help you to feel more balanced. These (and other) breathing exercises can be practised within a yoga class but are also helpful with beginning a meditation practice. To practice one-sided nostril breathing, close off the nostril you will not be using with your thumb and point your fingers upward. Breath deeply in and out through the open nostril. To practice Nadi Shadhana or alternate nostril breathing, start by closing off the right nostril with your thumb, take a deep inhale through the left nostril, then close your left nostril with the ring finger of the same (right) hand, exhaling through the open right nostril. Now inhale through the open right nostril, close the right nostril with your right thumb, and exhale slowly through the open left nostril. (If you're still unsure about the technique, watch this video for more detailed instructions.) |