YAMA AND NIYAMA

This week we’ll start looking at the individual components of the eight-limbed path, starting with yama and niyama. These are the moral guidelines for yogic living suggested by The Yoga Sutras, but not moral in a religious or retributive sense. No punishments are tied to particular actions (or inaction), but the inherent progression of the eight-limbed path toward the goal of Samadhi, or enlightenment, will likely be thwarted, or at least delayed, if observation of the yama and niyama is not practiced. There is noYoga Entity standing with crossed arms in judgment of your strict adherence to the guidelines; they are merely tools to help individual yogis and yoginis, if nothing else, achieve a more fluid agility in every aspect of their lives: spiritual, physical, and mental.

Let’s start with the yama, or moral restraints. They may also be interpreted as rules for social conduct. They are:

~ Ahimsa, non-violence/non-harming
~ Satya, truthfulness/non-deception
~ Asteya, non-stealing
~ Brahmacharya, control of sexual energy/chastity
~ Aparigraha, non-greed

Now for the niyama, or moral observances. These may also be thought of as guidelines for personal conduct. They are:

~ Sauca, cleanliness and purity of body, mind, and surroundings
~ Santosa, contentment
~ Tapas, purification practices/discipline
~ Svadhyaya, study and practice
~ Ishvarapranidhana, connection to a higher power

There are ten of them! Hmmm, where else have we seen ten “suggestions” for living a good moral life? I personally find it fascinating how many similarities exist – throughout time, across vast geographical distances, and within widely divergent cultural realms – in the various paths of the human pursuit of spiritual fulfillment. To me, that says that although we might be speaking different languages and in virtually every other sense articulating our beliefs differently, we’re nonetheless in many ways saying the same thing. Which, to me, means we must be onto something. Neat.

But, like I said earlier, the yama and niyama, as well as yoga’s myriad other lifestyle prescriptions, are not religious – or, more accurately, don’t have to be religious. Like an infinitely malleable ball of clay, yoga conforms to and fits within virtually any belief system, truly strengthening the practitioner from top to bottom, inside to out.

So what if you could care less about all of this stuff, what if you just want to do the physical practice because it’s good exercise and you enjoy doing it? Some people may never pursue a practice beyond asana, which is where most western yogis take their first steps down the yogic path. And that’s fine too.

With or without observation of all of this “rule” business, asana is still good for us. It makes us healthier in all sorts of ways, including internally. I personally believe the quiet transformation created in the internal landscape of asana practitioners often functions as a turnkey to the spiritual world. The physical postures unblock subtle energy pathways, or nadis, balance chakras (whether or not you even believe they exist!), and in general make us more receptive and open to all the gifts the practice has to offer. Like a clean, blank canvas being stretched – wrinkles gone, pure and open, ready to receive a masterpiece.

This has been my own experience, and I’ve spoken to so many people who say the same thing: the physical practice has opened spiritual doors. Pattabhi Jois, father of Ashtanga yoga, is famous for saying that the lessons of yoga can best be absorbed through “…99% practice, 1% theory.” In other words, just do the practice and the rest will follow.

This is why yoga is referred to as experiential learning, and a testament, I believe, to the unified nature of our existence. Our body, mind, and spirit truly are connected. The physical, mental, and spiritual aspects of our beings all benefit immensely from patient tending and courteous attention. We feel the whisper of these truths during the practice of posture, and this alone is enough to make the practice worthwhile.

Namaste.

Introduction to The Yoga Sutras of Patanjali

INTRODUCTION TO THE YOGA SUTRAS OF PATANJALI

Yoga is the cessation of the fluctuations of the mind. By practicing yoga, one develops a strong mind, able to focus steadily without being distracted by the play of consciousness. The restraint of the modifications of the mind-stuff is Yoga. The three preceding translations of the second sutra of Patanjali’s famous work may employ a range of semantic tools, but they all say the same thing: Yoga makes us centered, balanced, not so crazy in our heads, so that we may more easily navigate this unchangeably crazy world. Yoga brings us peace.
The Yoga Sutras, from which the translations are taken, is a collection of ancient writings consisting of 200 sutras (literally “threads”) which constitute a “how-to” manual for living a yogic lifestyle. While Patanjali did not by any means invent yoga (it had been practiced for hundreds, if not thousands, of years before his work), the Sutras represent the first known effort to define and to catalogue how exactly to go about practicing the art. Some experts believe that Patanjali was actually more than one person, and the exact date of his writings has never been pinpointed. Estimates for the creation of the Sutras range from 5000 B.C. (the earliest estimate I’ve encountered) to 300 A.D. Most estimates seem to linger in the 400 – 200 B.C. range. In any case, they are ancient.
The branch of yoga with which the Sutras is concerned is called Raja Yoga, or the Royal Path. This is the eight-limbed path of yoga – asana, or the practice of postures typically defined as “yoga” in the west, is but one of these limbs. Other forms of yoga, which are not addressed by The Yoga Sutras, place no emphasis on physical postures at all. Karma yoga, for instance, is usually referred to as the yoga of action, and its devotees typically plunge headlong into efforts designed only to serve others. Through this devotion to selfless service, or seva, karma yogis aim to achieve the same peace of mind and equanimity of spirit offered by every style of yoga, including Raja Yoga.
But what about the other seven limbs on the eight-limbed path? They, according to Patanjali, are just as important as the postures practiced in class. The eight limbs are: yama, or moral restraints (things we shouldn’t do); niyama, or moral observances (things we should do); asana (check); pranayama, or control of the breath; dharana, which is concentration; dhyana, the meditative state which flows from a deepening of the practice of dharana; pratyahara, or withdrawal of the self from the senses; and samadhi, the final step, wherein a yogi merges with his or her highest self, becoming free and enlightened. Opinions differ on whether samadhi is accessible to the average joe yogi, or if only highly evolved spiritual masters can hope to achieve this enviable state. I pick the former.
In case you’re thinking that this eight-limbed business is a little too stringent and, well, impossible for typical workaday folks to incorporate into their lives, know that a pretty convincing argument can be made that a properly constructed Ashtanga practice satisfies quite a few of the eight requirements (asana, pranayama, dharana, dhyana, and pratyahara – with many of the yama and niyama fitting nicely into the practice as well). We’ll cover all eight limbs more thoroughly in a different week, but in the meantime bring your attention back to Patanjali’s definition of yoga in the second of his 200 sutras, and keep it with you during your practice. Yoga is peace of mind, happiness, and freedom. It’s well worth the effort. We should all smile that we make it part of our lives.
Namaste.