How to Sustain Your Meditation

(Image: Ralf Kunze from Pixabay)

Sometime back, I had written a post titled How to Sit Down in Meditation. Well, I tried following my own advice – and discovered that I was able not only to sit down in peace but do so for a longer period than before.

I understand that a lot of people do take the plunge into meditation but find it difficult to sustain their poise. They either get distracted easily, become fidgety after only a few minutes, or exhibit downright impatient behavior. Yet others, who can sit down longer, feel bored and keep wondering if they are indeed progressing in their meditation practice.

Before I proceed further, a disclaimer is in order: I’m no expert on meditation and do not advocate any particular type of meditation. What I’m sharing here is based on my own simple practice – one that I have been experimenting with and self-checking on for the past six years or so. Sometimes I wish I had a guru who I could look up to and who was accessible to me for accelerating my own path – and since I don't, I content myself with taking guidance from the inner light each one of us has.

Maybe this post will nudge some fellow seekers and practitioners to offer their own tips and suggestions.

As for me, I have usually observed three phases to my meditation routine. The first one is indeed sitting down quietly and comfortably (to the extent possible and that you can accept in your heart). In this phase the focus is on kind of “settling down” amidst the turmoil around – and within – you. In my experience, this phase can be as little as a few seconds to as much as five or even ten minutes.

The second phase, or the middle phase, begins with longer, steadier breaths, accompanied with fewer and less distracting thoughts.

Here, let me take a little detour into the human mind that is like a non-stop factory of thoughts: before you’ve dealt with one, another thought emerges. Even in sleep, our mind keeps fabricating all sorts of thoughts in real and surreal scenarios. So it’s quite a feat to “empty your mind” of all thought.

As such, the “strategy” I personally adopt is not to vigorously fight the onslaught of thoughts. Doing so makes you unnecessarily agitated, making the quietude of meditation even more slippery. Instead, what I do is “engage gently” with the thoughts. Why did such and such thought occur? Why now? What does the thought “want” from me? Can I lay it to rest without dwelling too much on it? Such “thinking about thinking” often takes me to the root cause or a better understanding, allowing me to retire each thought to a gentler, rather than violent, end. Alongside, I also bring my attention back to the process of meditation – sitting comfortably, and breathing gently and deeply.

Sometimes, I just let the thoughts be and merely nod or smile internally in their direction: gradually, they become fewer in number and fade away of their own accord. Perhaps they realize that there’s no further nesting ground for them “in here”!

This middle phase is rather tricky and may take up a significant portion of your meditation time. My personal goal has been to keep it within 10-15 minutes – but sometimes a rogue thought or two get the better of “me” and keep me in their tangle much longer.

Let us now come to the third phase – perhaps the whole point of why we are meditating in the first place.

In the second phase, you have a fairly good awareness of and, possibly, concern about your environment. A noise here or there bothers you, the thought avalanche has subsided but the mind is still fizzing in its Ego-bubble, and your body demands to be adjusted every now and then to ease out any discomfort. However, the third phase of meditation is when you surrender yourself wholly to the beauty of your being. At some point of the second phase, you hear a voice in your head: “Now is the time – to stop time in its tracks, as it were.” Somewhere inside, you realize that your mind-body-soul is ready to go deeper in its meditative state.

So you say goodbye to the last approaching thought – of bodily or mental discomfort, of your social life, of your surroundings… – and turn completely to your inner, here-and-now reality. Sitting. Breathing. Unthinking. Even the image or mantra you were using to concentrate should ideally dissolve into what I can possibly call your “meditative consciousness.”

At this moment, your senses become keener and your awareness, clearer. A feeling of peace and deep love begins to spring forth from every atom of your being. From deep within you, a realization sweeps across your arteries and veins that this state is where you have always wanted to belong: it’s your innermost natural tendency, to be shorn of any pain or attachment or fear. You want to remain in this peaceful, meditative state for God-knows-how-long.

While I have tried to describe this third phase, words often fail. And I must admit it without any reservation that reaching and sustaining the third phase continues to be challenging. Body-mind aches or erstwhile-overcome distractions often make an unwelcome appearance just when you think you have nailed it.

The reality is, there is no nailing; there’s only scaling – the ever-subtler, ever-peaceful, ever-joyous heights of what’s come to be known as meditation.

Keep at it, my dear meditator, keep at it. I know I will :)

(Also read – Beyond Asana: Yoga, its Ancient Roots…)

International Yoga Day: Meditations on Meditation

Like many other great things that have come to us through the rich inheritance of ancient Indian art and culture, the origin of meditation is difficult to pin down to a single date of the Gregorian calendar (the current map of our oh-so-busy daily routines).

But never mind that. Let’s begin with mindfulness—the very essence of the life mantra that the Buddha, arguably the greatest teacher who ever walked on Earth, chanted for himself and one that he compassionately advocated for millions of his followers.

The four establishments of mindfulness help us see the interconnected nature of everything in the universe and nudge us toward attunement of our self/non-self dualistic instruments to the rhythm divine (or Nada Brahma, as per ancient Indian spiritual sages).

If that sounds quite a mindful, here are the four establishments: in mindfulness, the adept or practitioner tries to maintain awareness of whatever is going on in their “body, feelings, mind and objects of mind”. For instance, if you are breathing, you are aware that you are breathing; if you are feeling angry, you observe this anger and contemplate on the constituents or causes of this anger, how it arises, how it affects your breathing, how it fades, etc. (you do this without reacting to the anger or without abruptly trying to stop feeling angry); and so on and so forth. (This simplified explanation is based on Satipatthana Sutta as described in the book Old Path White Clouds by the Vietnamese monk Thich Nhat Hanh).

The basic idea of mindfulness is to detach ourselves from the perceptions and objects imagined or visualized by the mind and watch over whatever is happening with us as if we are an outside observer to all these phenomena. Gradually and with practice, we can begin to see the cause-and-effect reality around us and the dependent co-arising of everything that exists.

And let’s also not forget about emptiness or Sunyata, another construct of the grand edifice of meditation. In Buddhist references, it is also known as voidness.

So, thus far, you have these three key terms to juggle and tease: meditation, mindfulness, sunyata.

Stay with me a little more, before you run away to the noisy craziness of your life. I know you will. Why, I will (to my own box of craziness, not yours :) But it wouldn’t hurt to let the balmy breeze of meditation caress and smoothen your hair a bit before you put on your daily hat.

Before we talk further about meditation, be aware that just as the divine river of yoga has flowed continuously since eons, so has the ocean of meditation been churned for nectar for ages. And just as yoga today has scores of tributaries, with multiple streams (and “revenue streams” in a fast-commercializing world; see my post on the origins and significance of yoga), the ripples from the ocean-font of meditation have had their far-reaching waves of influence as well. Take chakra meditation, for instance. (Google it, I’m not giving you the link this time :)

One earnest request I would like to make in the backdrop of the apparent usurping of the eternal legacies of yoga and meditation by political and commercial entities. Like the Buddha had said, if someone points a finger to the moon to show it to you in its cool majestic brilliance, then you should not “mistake the finger for the moon.”

So, if the Modis and Ramdevs of the world happen to be, at the moment, “showcasing” yoga or meditation to the world at large, why mistake their religion-loaded or money-making follies for the supreme, everlasting mind-body-soul systems we all can practice and benefit from?

Without further ado, let me put down some of my *meditations* on meditation (a few are taken from my book, Strings of the Soul). So sit back, relax, read, and breathe easy:

“Meditation takes you away from the torrent of oppressive thoughts into the inexplicable joy of stillness.”

“Make your mind not a tangled cocoon of familiarity but a wide open sea, where the waves of free thought continually sweep the beaches of your imagination. And let these waves wash away your worries and keep the delta where mind meets body fresh and fertile.”

“Meditation is the process of setting yourself free from the prison of your own thoughts.”

"Meditation is the key to transforming your monkey mind into a monk."

Don’t try too hard to meditate, nor think too much about what really is meditation. Get a handle on your body, a grip on your mind and a bridle to your breath. Devise your own mantra if you haven’t found a worthy guru who can give it to you (in all likelihood you haven’t but in all possibility you can :) Be with yourself for as long as you wish in an inner atmosphere of freedom, trust and tranquility. Explore the visions of your mind, not with craving or aggression but in a blissful balancing of mind-body-soul. Dissect, analyze as much as you want but, gradually, finally, take a few quiet steps in making everything in the universe look one, look great, look whole.

The thorns pricking in your inner consciousness will begin to feel like rose petals. The turmoil of your feelings and sensations will subside to a gentle swing. And your heart and mind will aspire for something higher, much higher than you ever thought possible.

That, my dear, is meditation.

Meditation teaches you to hold infinity in the calm of your mind.

(Image credit: hdwallpaper4u.com)

My Experiments with Sudarshan Kriya, Pranayama and Meditation

I have been meaning to write this post for some time but kept myself in check. After my previous, broader post on yoga, I became increasingly aware of the complexities involved in explaining things to people who come from different backgrounds and may have their own interpretations, prior experiences, prejudices, misinformation or vested interests about certain things. (Just as I may have about certain other things myself :)

Healthcare is big business in the US (running into hundreds of billions, if not trillions, of dollars) and India seems to be headed inexorably onto the path of creating its own healthcare chimera in the image of the (mostly broken) US healthcare system. A system that is in cahoots with Big Pharma, which in turn is in bed with Big Hospital, which in turn is fueled by Big Insurance—all ultimately burdening the tax-paying middle class, most of whom are finding it difficult to keep up with high premiums, costs of drugs, diagnostics and doctors’ fees.

But as I saw the flames of greed engulf a growing nation in its laboratory of money-making, as I saw Indian intellectuals turning their back on or even cocking a snook at the traditional systems of health, wisdom and well-being such as yoga, pranayama and Ayurveda (ironically, the West is increasingly opening its arms to all of these)—and as I completed over two years of regular daily practice of pranayama + meditation—I could no longer stop myself from putting pen to paper, to use the idiom.

The idea of this post, let me state upfront, is not to boast of my own prowess or anything (I have barely scratched the surface of what the accomplished masters such as Swami Sivananda, BKS Iyengar or T Krishnamacharya achieved through decades and decades of unwavering practice). Nor is the intent to pull down other systems of mind-body control, healing or working out (such as running, gymming, tai chi, Pilates and the like). Further, while I have pointed to the Hindu roots of yoga in my previous post, the intention here is not to promote any religion but just to share my own personal experience and how it helped me heal—with nearly 80% success (and counting)—my peculiar condition and general ill-health. (More on that in a short while.)

Furthermore, in the backdrop of the very recent occurrence of the World Culture Festival organized by the Art of Living and the criticism (as well as accolades) it has drawn from various quarters (since what follows mentions Sudarshan Kriya, a breathing technique patented by AOL)—let me state that while I promote the Kriya, I usually do not subscribe to the pressure tactics often employed by AOL volunteers to enroll for more and more courses all the time.

And I have my own set of criticisms for its very intriguing founder, Sri Ravi Shankar. For instance, if I got a chance to meet him in person, I would ask him, “Guruji, why did you have to patent the Kriya, which is actually a recipe based on ancient breathing routines otherwise known to millions of people? Why is the Kriya not taught to the poor for free? (If it is, where?) And, why, oh why, did you or your devotees had to sell commercial goodies like Sri Sri bhujiya at the WCF venue?” (bhujiya is a kind of Indian snack that would hardly be considered healthy by AOL elders or Ayurveda practitioners.) Besides the health aspect, there’s the commercialization angle too: Why do modern day babas and gurus need their own brands and businesses?

  

The idea of this post is primarily to share what I did and how I benefited from the breathing regimen. Sudarshan Kriya, of course, is not my first introduction to pranayama or breath-control (see the related post, Beyond Asana: Yoga…), but it has helped me connect with my own self each day in 30 to 40 minutes of quiet, quality time. And along the way, open up a whole new path to introspection, self-discovery and the healing mechanisms that reside within our bodies and hence within easy reach of every individual.

I started doing Kriya over two years back and, gradually, appended my own rituals of meditation to the recipe prescribed in the AOL course I undertook (in earlier  times, it was called the Basic Course and later renamed to Happiness Course). But the additions I made to my routine are recent in nature and I made them almost spontaneously, without consulting any AOL teacher. Nevertheless, I now have my own concoction (that I do not intend to patent or sell!) of sitting down quietly each morning, taking deep breaths and meditating for a while.

I am thankful to AOL for being instrumental in helping me restart a healthy journey, yet I do not bow to any living personality with complete trust in their virtues or saintliness. It has been my firm belief for quite some time that we must try to be our own guru in these weird, Kalyugi times when real gurus are almost impossible to find. (See my related post, Sex and the Guru.)

So, how did I happen to do the AOL course and restart on a journey that I left unfinished while at school? (As a student, I used to do yoga and participate in several group yoga competitions as well but left practicing when I started on a professional career through a curious animal called “job” :)

Here it goes…

Circa 2010: I was returning home in my car after a busy day at work. Suddenly, I felt as if a particularly vengeful mosquito bit me in the leg and bit with all its might. I instinctively scratched the “bitten” part of my leg—only to find a succession of such piercing mosquito bites on my hands and torso as well. I struggled with keeping the car steering steady as I tried to swat the skeeters before they could suck a not-so-inconsequential amount of blood from my body.

The above episode repeated itself several times with me in the next few months—in the car, in office, at home, and while on the bed, tossing and trying to sleep. Quite often, these were not your typical mosquito bites, with patches of rashes and itching: for me, it was more like pain mixed with itchiness and even a little bit of tickling. Unable to find any mosquitoes or other insects around when this happened, I used to wonder what exactly was happening and why.

For the first few months, this was little more than an inconvenience. I just ignored it. But then, gradually, it became more frequent and bothersome (the frequency of its occurrence went up from, say, once or twice a month to half a dozen times). Also, I had more and more trouble sleeping at night and, besides the itching component, there were sharp needle-like jabs, especially in the extremities of my fingers and toes.

Roughly one-and-a-half years passed like this.

Then, sometime in 2012, the sole of my right foot caught some allergic infection or something. The skin near the toes started to peel off and there was intense itching as well. I consulted a dermatologist, who suggested getting a blood test done, and also asked me to check if I had diabetes. When I took the test results to a doctor (a reputed M.D. degree holder), he told me that while I was not diabetic, I was “close to being one.”

Now, this doctor did advise me to control my diet and so on, but he said there was nothing much to worry about. I think I must have been alarmed on my own in those days, for I quit taking sugar or sugary foods after that. (I had almost forgotten about my foot allergy and just applied the ointment that the dermatologist had prescribed; in about two weeks or so, the foot healed.)

During those days when I stopped my sugar intake (of course, what I mean is intake of any artificial or added sugar), I happened to notice that the tickling-itching-needling thingy did not occur even once. Why was that so? Upon going over my eating habits, I realized that refined/added sugar was the only thing I had completely eliminated from my diet. But I couldn’t have been too sure that sugar was the cause of all that itching and mosquito-hunting. (In those days, it so happened that my bed mattress got infested with bugs and I was almost convinced that it was those rascally bugs that attacked me at night and immediately scampered away when I switched on the light or hit myself in different parts, wherever the itching took my hand!)

Anyway, to test out the “culpability” of sugar, what I did was alternated between having refined-sugar-as-usual days and no-sugar-at-all days. Around one month or so into this experiment and lo and behold! The culprit causing misery to me was sugar indeed! The tickling-itching-needling returned exactly on the days when I had sugar (in tea, biscuits, cola, sweets, etc.)

I also did some frantic searching of my condition and its symptoms on the web. The two terms that I came across that I think most closely resembled or described what I was going through: “sugar intolerance” and “peripheral neuropathy”. If anything, I was extremely intolerant of sugar! The advice offered on many of those medical/health sites included avoiding or going low on the “substance” causing that needling/itching—in my case, the sugar.

So I stopped taking refined sugar; I only took it once in a while to check whether it continued to affect me or could it be that the situation would improve or change on its own. Each time, I met with 100% results: “No sugar for you, Sanjay!” It was like this voice echoed in my mind along with the return of the symptoms on “sugar days”. With the passing of time, the itching/needling impact of sugar escalated: it took only 20 to 30 minutes for the symptoms to show up. (In fact, some of my friends who knew my condition joked with me that I could be useful to scientists in accurately testing whether an edible substance had refined sugar in it or not! Curiously, sweeteners like honey or jaggery did not have an ill-effect on me.)

Once, on the advice of my well-wishers, I decided to see a good endocrinologist and seek his help. So I went to one of the most reputed and well-equipped hospitals in Delhi and consulted its esteemed endocrinologist. When I came out of his room, I had a largish sheet of his prescription pad in my hand—on which he had scribbled not one, not two, not three but 5-6 different kinds of diagnostic tests, in addition to some tablets and dietary advice.

I recalled the doctor’s clinical lack of interest or empathy with my condition, mixed it with the greedy haste he had displayed in putting down all kinds of expensive tests, and considered it in my mind together with the amount of wasted effort and money I would need to shell out, if I were to go along with his prescribed course of action.

I quickly and quietly came back home.

Some more time passed.

August, 2013: I had started going on morning walks to a park nearby for the past few weeks. One day, as I was making my way back to the gate of the park, I noticed a couple of my friends who were promoting the six-day basic course of AOL alongside the organization’s banner under a tree. Before I could think whether to avoid crossing their path, one of them caught hold of my arm and started talking about the course animatedly.

I must have shown some interest, for the same day, two of them visited my home and sweet-talked not just me but my wife as well to begin the AOL course that was to start on the 13th of August.

In hindsight, I will always remain thankful to both of them, not necessarily for introducing AOL to me (of which I was aware) but of becoming the nimitta (a Hindi word that roughly translates to “something that is instrumental in something bigger or more important”) for getting me restarted on a journey of self-discovery, inner healing and spirituality.

Given that Sudarshan Kriya is patented and I, just like millions others, signed a non-disclosure clause that prohibits teaching it to others (only approved AOL teachers can do so), I would not divulge all the details. But if you really ask me, it is quite simple and comprises three major steps: first is a series of specialized breathing in certain postures (the type of breathing is called ujjayi breath); then bhastrika and finally the (inner) chanting of the mantra “Soham” in a certain series of rhythms.

Coming back to my personal experience, while the course began on August 13, the Kriya itself was taught the next day, when all the participants performed it under the tutelage of an AOL-approved teacher (in my case, Kavitaji, whose soft voice and wise words continue to echo in my ears till date).

The first-time experience of doing Sudarshan Kriya had an effect on me that thousands of others have described in a similar fashion: it was like an inner cleansing. One felt lighter, better, happier than before. Done in a soothing, calm environment, the breathing exercises resulted in much improved circulation of blood all through your body, and the pleasantness in the mind was accentuated by chanting of the mantra (the chants were actually emanating from Sri Sri’s voice captured and played on a tape-recorder kept nearby; on our part, we were required to simply say “Soham” internally).

We were told beforehand that a lot of people cry immediately after the Kriya, especially on the very first occasion—and there were many who did cry that day too. But it was all spontaneous, uninhibited, open crying, as if to wash away the barrage of repressed thoughts and feelings. I could not see any shame in that crying, only an admission of our humanness and the necessity of giving vent to human emotions once in a while.

As the AOL course came to an end, there was a sense of bonding and commonality among the participants, one that rested on the understanding that most of the things we crave in life are short-lived, even nonsensical. And that anyone can be happy, should be happy, if a certain positive attitude to life in general and the people around one in particular could be maintained.

After the course, there were a few occasions on which I participated in what AOL calls “Samoohik Kriya” (Kriya done together). And several times, we were told about the advanced, higher or even more beneficial courses from AOL—but I have stuck to the basic one thus far, trying to implement some of the noble sutras in my daily life (the sutras were prescribed during the course and basically were ethical/moral tenets on the lines of being non-judgmental of others and leading a do-gooder life).

(Craving, even if it is for more and more AOL courses, is not a good thing I believe :)

But this post is not entirely about AOL and how it operates, so let me move on with the rest of my experiments with the Kriya and pranayama.

As I advanced in my own practice of Sudarshan Kriya, I noticed that my inner confidence, calm and strength grew as well. In my morning sessions, after the Kriya came to an end, I began to sit a while longer, meditating.

Now, meditation is a “loaded word,” as one of my friends put it recently. And there is already enough confusion about it amongst lay persons and practitioners of this mystic art alike. I, too, do not claim to be an expert in meditation. Yet, I sincerely believe that in over two years of regular practice supplemented by reading of literature on meditation, I have come to a stage where maybe I can share a few things that can be of use and value to others. And that’s all I can offer at this point in time—my journey still continues…

Meditation is a kind of unravelling the inner beauty of our being. As I have noted in my book Strings of the Soul, “Meditation takes you away from the torrent of oppressive thoughts into the inexplicable joy of stillness.”

It is my belief and experience that just as there is no single way to discovering the Truth, there are multiple ways in which one can meditate. The commonly shown picture, in which a person is shown sitting cross-legged in a relaxed position, hands resting on the knees and eyes closed, is one way to meditate—but so is the way in which a person is just walking quietly in the woods, admiring the birds and the beasts and other creatures or phenomena of nature.

And then there is the mindfulness meditation that Buddha taught, in which we shine the wisdom of our mind on the interconnected nature of everything that exists around us: this is because that is; this could not be because that wasn’t so, and so on. (If you were to compare it to modern management theory, you may perhaps find a parallel in “root-cause analysis.” But meditation is not only analysis, it is a lot of synthesis as well. To me, it is a process in which the cycle of analysis-synthesis comes to a stage where the universal unity of everything and what the Buddha called “emptiness of the self” is experienced.)

The point is, there are different kinds of meditation and they may be better suited to different situations. But the essence of meditation, in my opinion, is the inner silence deep within us and accessible to all of us—a source of infinite wisdom, energy, understanding… (Some of these ideas may sound mystical or esoteric, but at the experiential level, they are indeed very simple. Maybe I’ll come back with a longer piece on meditation some other time :)

Speaking of my individual experience, besides having a calming and joyous effect on the mind, the Kriya and meditation practice gradually but surely cured the physical symptoms of itching/needling I used to have after consuming sugar. As of the writing of this post, I have only slight problems (less intense itching and no needling sensation) and that too only if I really gorge on sugary foods—a rasgulla or two is perfectly all right!

Also, there are other additional benefits I have seen: earlier, prior to my regular practice, I would be afflicted with severe flu/cold at least three or four times a year. But in the past two-and-a-half years, this obnoxious condition has affected me only twice (and both times, healing occurred much more quickly, with barely any antibiotics.)

Needless to say, I’m now a walking-talking proponent of pranayama (not necessarily Sudarshan Kriya but any breathing routine for that matter), meditation and holistic living. The logic is simple: Why go for those umpteen diagnostic tests or risky surgery when a regular dose of ancient wisdom will do? Sure, pranayama would take longer and require more discipline on your part, but it will most likely offer lasting cure rather than symptomatic treatment and do so with fewer chances of relapse.

But remember, I’m not saying that the modern medical systems or hospitals are not required at all: I wouldn’t dare suggest deep breathing exercises to a man who has just been in a road accident and needs immediate medical attention. But I wouldn’t shy away from advising him to do a little bit of meditation later on, to remove, say, any residues of trauma the accident may have caused.

Never the one to force my ideas on others, I would rather let people discover the benefits that pranayama and meditation can bring to their lives in their own ways and at their own opportune time. Why force negatively when you can convince in a positive way?

The least I could do, however, was to write this rather long (though I hope non-boring) post.

Thank you for reading.

Beyond Asana: Yoga, its Ancient Hindu Roots and Why it is Time for a Clean Up

Ever since June 21 was declared as the International Day of Yoga by the United Nations (at the suggestion of Indian Prime Minister Narendra Modi), there has been a lot of debate in the media on the significance of the gesture and its subsequent impact.

Not that awareness about yoga, the ancient Indian system of healing and spiritual growth, was lacking before the announcement. But the fact that the PM himself has been pushing for it and that elaborate arrangements are being made by the Indian government to celebrate the day in several parts of the world on an unprecedented scale makes the whole thing a gigantic affair.

Plus, there are reports that yoga asanas (bodily exercises) are to be done compulsorily in schools. This has led to certain sections of people speaking up in rebellion. Of particular note is Surya Namaskar, an asana in which the person must bow before the Sun (god) and pronounce “Om” as part of the elaborate regimen. Some Muslim groups have objected strongly to this, saying they cannot bow before anyone except Allah. Responding to the criticism, the government has said that they can invoke Allah or any other thing sacred to them instead of the Sun or Om.

In this backdrop, a lot of stories are emerging in mainstream and social media about what yoga is, how it should be done (or not done), who should be doing it, how it originated, and how true are the health benefit claims, among others.

This blog post is an attempt to bring to light some of the most pertinent facts, legends and practices related to yoga in the hope that much confusion and darkness will be dispelled, thereby helping the saadhaks (adepts) of this oldest system of mind-body healing and of attaining the union of the individual self with the Supreme Soul.

Before I delve deeper into the very heart of yoga, let me first reflect on the state of yoga as a discipline and an industry in India and the world—and how the money-mindedness of today’s self-styled yoga gurus is warping a holistic ancient heritage into something superficial, as if it were just another of those physical routines that go by fancy names.

I’m not, of course, the first one to raise the question of the muddied waters around yoga. In fact, there was a recent movement (hashtagged #TakeBackYoga) started by the Hindu American Foundation in the US, and I would urge you to look at some of the articles on their website here (look in particular for the debate between Deepak Chopra and Aseem Shukla on acknowledging the Hindu roots of yoga, among others).

A quick look at the economics of the yoga industry worldwide, particularly in America, reveals how lucrative yoga has become—a far cry from the time when it was taught only to the very deserving adepts without any consideration for money. (If the saadhak excelled in yoga and further illumined others in the discipline, that was remuneration enough.)

According to Yoga Journal, the leading publication on yoga, over 20 million Americans practiced yoga in 2012, spending as much as $10.3 billion on yoga classes and products, including equipment, clothing, vacations, and media. This is almost double the $5.7 billion they spent in 2008, when the Journal conducted its previous study. However, while the money doubled, the number of yoga practitioners grew relatively slowly (15.8 million Americans practiced yoga in 2008).

 

Large spends on such things as “equipment” and “clothing” for yoga would certainly have bemused, if not disgusted, the true yogis of ancient India who quietly went about their yoga business on straw mats or bare earth in modest huts or forest caves. It’s another matter that India now has its own share of self-styled yogis who run multimillion-dollar empires.

But the most amazing thing about yoga in America is how innovative people have been in pummeling it into all sorts of modern, hip or plain weird forms to suit their own interests or sex up its commercial aspects: Power Yoga (propounded in 1995 by Bender Birch who, says a Yoga Journal piece, wanted “to give a Western spin to the practice of Ashtanga Yoga”); Jivamukti Yoga; Yin Yoga (the martial arts expert-turned-yoga- founder’s eponymous website, pauliezink.com, greets you upfront: “You can learn some fundamentals of Yin Yoga from other teachers but you can only learn the complete art of Yin yoga from the founding master”); Phoenix Rising Yoga Therapy (yes, you read it right); and many, many more.

The proponent of one of the hottest and most lucrative yoga forms, Bikram Yoga, is currently fighting sexual harassment lawsuits from six women. Huffington Post has even put the guy, Bikram Choudhury, on its mocking Dickipedia list (no affiliation with Wikipedia) with this description: “Bikram Choudhury is a 69-year-old yoga instructor, a multi-millionaire businessman, and a dick.”

The Bikram case may be an extreme one, where the lust for power, money and sex has allegedly taken a self-styled yoga trainer to the pits of moral bankruptcy. But increasing commercialization and trivialization of a great, holistic realm such as yoga is indeed shameful and unfortunate.

Thankfully, some Western practitioners are open to acknowledging the ancient Hindu roots of yoga and accord it the place of pride it deserves. Genny Kapuler, who teaches Iyengar yoga (more on BKS Iyengar later), says in this article on NPR.org that her understanding of yoga is indeed Hindu in origin. In her practice, she says, “every thought, every action has a ramification... there is this moral responsibility to own what you do.”

It is high time people across the world not only knew about the rich, ancient heritage of yoga but also realized that it is much, much more than the physical postures known as asanas (in Hindi as well as Sanskrit, the word asana means “sitting posture” or “a place to sit”). No doubt these postures have immense health benefits as evidenced by millions of practitioners all over the globe, and they are an integral part of yoga (we used to call them yogasanas in school), but the reach and impact of yoga is so high that an average mind would boggle at what human beings can achieve through yoga.

Just as a layperson would get completely bewildered if a quantum physicist were to explain to them the laws and working of the Large Hadron Collider, the hip-hop crowd equating yoga with gymming would be totally left agape at the grand philosophy, practice and science of yoga as envisioned by the ancient rishis who bequeathed yoga to the world. (A rishi is a Hindu sage or seer who has performed intense saadhana over the years and thus obtained humongous powers.)

There are some fascinating stories of yoga’s origin or expansion on earth, going back thousands of years in time. The Western mind, much attuned to a linear way of thinking and progression, may find the existence of multiple stories baffling or discrediting, but the all-embracing Hindu tradition—which views things from a cyclical point of view and values the richness and complexity of multiple narratives—knows how to benefit from them or take them in its giant stride (reminds you of the Vamana avatar of Lord Vishnu).

Before I relate a couple of stories, I would like to highlight another unfortunate aspect about India’s ancient culture, history and heritage. Which is: because of centuries of foreign rule (primarily Mughal and British periods), most of the original scripts depicting India’s past glory have been lost in the political upheavals. What survive today are but a few translations of the original texts. In my research I also discovered some English translations by British authors who seemed bent on discrediting old Hindu traditions rather than make the texts accessible to a wider audience.

Nevertheless, there are some authentic or near-authentic texts and translations as well. For the doubtful mind, there may be gaps here or cracks there, along with some inconsistencies or confusions, but for the souls who are willing to combine the surviving body of knowledge with their own experience and self-exploration, there is enough to carry on with the amazing journey of yoga.

Looking at the multiple references to yoga’s origin and development, and the current way in which it is commonly understood and practiced, Sage Patanjali is arguably the most notable figure. Even today’s maverick yoga proponent, Baba Ramdev (who is credited in India with the current resurgence of interest in yoga and ayurveda, the ancient Hindu system of healing using herbs and dietary control), has used Patanjali’s name for his firm. (Going by his strange antics in front of media and allegedly dubious intentions of profiteering from ayurvedic formulations, however, one cannot be sure if Patanjali would have approved.)

In his book, Light on the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali, renowned yoga guru BKS Iyengar relates how the legendary Hindu sage perfected yoga on earth and became its perfect master. As per the tale, Patanjali was an incarnation of Sheshnag (also called Adishesha), the thousand-headed serpent upon which Lord Vishnu is often shown reclining in Hindu pictures (Brahma, Vishnu and Siva are together said to form the Hindu holy trinity).

Here is how the story goes: Once Lord Vishnu was seated on Sheshnag, watching Lord Siva dance and feeling increasingly enchanted by the movements. Gradually, his own body began to vibrate with the rhythm of Siva’s dance. As the dance went on, Vishnu’s body felt heavier and heavier, much to the discomfort of Sheshnag—who was on the verge of collapse. However, the moment Siva’s dance came to an end, Lord Vishnu’s body felt light again. The entire experience left Sheshnag amazed and he asked Lord Vishnu about it. When Vishnu attributed the experience to the grace, beauty and majesty of Lord Siva’s movements, Sheshnag professed a desire to learn to dance so as to be able to exalt his Lord the way Siva did.

As per Hindu mythology and tradition, everything happens at its own opportune time. When Vishnu told Sheshnag that Lord Siva would grace him one day, Sheshnag began to meditate on Siva and look forward to that day. One day, in his meditation, Sheshnag had the vision of a yogini (lady practitioner of yoga) called Gonika, who used to pray to the Sun god for a worthy son to whom she could impart her knowledge and wisdom. Sheshnag realized that she would be a worthy mother for him and waited for the right occasion. At one point, Gonika thought that her life on earth was about to come to an end. She took a handful of water in both her hands as a final oblation and meditated on the Sun god. Lo and behold! To her surprise, in her enfolded palm fell a little snake, which quickly turned into a male child, who requested her to accept him as her son. She agreed and the son came to be known as Patanjali (hands held together, semi-open palms upturned, for an offering are called anjali and pata means “to fall” in Hindi).

Living sometime between BCE 500 and BCE 200, Patanjali is said to have composed 196 sutras or aphorisms on yoga.

Patanjali, says Iyengar in the book, assumed human form, experienced a typical human being’s sorrows and joys, and learned to transcend them. “In Yoga Sutras he described the ways of overcoming the afflictions of the body and the fluctuation of the mind: the obstacles to spiritual development,” writes Iyengar. He further says that the 196 sutras cover all aspects of life, beginning with a prescribed code of conduct and ending with man’s vision of his true self.

Another legend relates to Yogi Matsyendranath (the first of the famed Nav Nath religious sect, the second being his disciple Gorakhnath/Gorakshnath; the town of Gorakhpur in India is said to be named after the latter), who is said to have lived around the 10th century. Once Matsyendranath (also called Machhindranath; Matsya or Machhi means fish) was traveling in a boat when it capsized and he was swallowed by a large fish. As luck would have it, the fish happened to be around a place where Lord Siva was lecturing his consort Parvati on yoga. Matsyendranath acquired this knowledge by overhearing them. Later, he emerged unhurt out of the fish and went on spreading the knowledge of yoga among his disciples.

Yoga Yajnavalkya is another ancient treatise on yoga, which is attributed to Yajnavalkya Rishi (who is said to be a philosopher in the court of King Janaka of Mithila, around 700 BCE). According to a Wikipedia entry, the book takes the form of a dialog between Yajnavalkya and the renowned female philosopher Gargi. The extant Sanskrit text is said to comprise 12 chapters and 504 verses. Further, many later yoga texts like the Hatha Yoga Pradipika (attributed to Yogi Svatmarama) and books on Kundalini (Google this word and you’ll get over 10 million results) quote substantively from Yoga Yajnavalkya.

It goes without saying that yoga as a discipline has the richest and most ancient history of any healing system in the world.

The yoga as propounded in Patanjali’s Yoga Sutras envisages eight angas or limbs, which is why it is also called Ashtanga Yoga (besides its other name, Raja Yoga). The prefix ashta in Ashtanga means eight in Sanskrit.

A brief look at the eight limbs would reveal how holistic and all-encompassing indeed is yoga:

(1) Yama (ethical restraints), namely, ahimsa (non-violence), satya (truthfulness), asteya (non-stealing), brahmacharya (continence), and aparigraha (non-covetousness)

(2) Niyama (ethical observances), namely, shaucha (cleanliness), santosha (contentment), tapas (fiery discipline or austerity), svadhyaya (study of sacred literature as well as one’s own self), and Ishwara Pranidhana (surrender of the self to God)

(3) Asana (the famous body postures most people now mistake for the bigger concept of yoga): While some texts suggest there are as many asanas as there are species on Earth according to Hindu philosophy (that is, 8.4 million), many sources point to 84 classical poses. Of these, 32 are said to be preeminent or of particular importance (a few famous poses include Padmasana, Shirshasana, Siddhasana, Bhadrasana, Simhasana, Vajrasana, Chakrasana and, of course, Surya Namaskar).

Here, it is pertinent to draw attention to the attempts by purely commercial elements (especially in the West), to get patents on traditional asanas. Taking note of the 130 yoga-related patents granted in the US in 2007, the government of India, according to Wikipedia, sought clarification on the guidelines for patenting asanas from the US Patent Office. Next year, to stress that all asanas are public knowledge and so cannot be patented, the government formed “a team of yoga gurus, government officials, and 200 scientists from the Council of Scientific and Industrial Research (CSIR) to register all known asanas in a public database.” The team collected asanas from 35 ancient texts, including the Mahabharata, the Bhagwad Gita, and Patanjali's Yoga Sutras and as of 2010, identified 900 asanas for the database, which was named the Traditional Knowledge Digital Library and made available to patent examiners.

If such precautionary steps are not taken, imagine the outrage that rampant, commercial patenting can cause among Indians. For instance, suppose you are practicing an asana in the local park one fine morning when a foreigner catches hold of your leg mid-asana, proclaiming: “Sorry, you can’t do this—it has been patented by my firm Yogadusht Inc.”

(4) Pranayama (giving dimensions to “prana,” the breath realized as the life-force): In the book, Iyengar describes pranayama as the expansion of the life force through control of the breath. Pranayama by nature has three components: inhalation, exhalation and retention. He says that Patanjali adds one more type of pranayama that is free from deliberate action: called Kevala Kumbhaka or Kevala Pranayama, it transcends the sphere of breath which is modulated by mental volition.

In my opinion and experience, pranayama calms your nerves, regulates your breathing to make it easy and smooth-flowing, and provides for a tranquil body-mind platform better suited to embarking upon dhyana or meditation, the seventh limb of yoga.

(5) Pratyahara (withdrawal of the sense organs from external objects): If one follows the precepts of pratyahara, one gains full control of the sense organs and all craving for things such as food, drink, clothes, and other paraphernalia just goes away.

It is said that the first five limbs of yoga—yama, niyama, asana, pranayama and pratyahara—set the stage for the next three angas: dharana, dhyana and samadhi.

(6), (7) & (8) Dharana, Dhyana and Samadhi: These three are so closely interlinked that it might be a good idea to consider them together here. In dharana, which is translated as concentration in English, the saadhak aims to focus his concentration on a single point or object. In his Yoga Sutras, Patanjali has identified certain points within and outside the body which should be used by the seeker for concentration and contemplation. If dharana is maintained steadily, explains Iyengar, it flows into the next limb, dhyana (meditation). And when the meditator and the object meditated upon become one, dhyana flows into samadhi.

Of course, all this is not so simple and quick as it sounds. To achieve the final state of samadhi can take one a few days, weeks, years, decades or even several lifetimes. All this, they say, depends on the current status of one’s accumulated karma over past lives. Yogis have even described different states of samadhi. (Karma, like yoga, is another integral aspect of traditional Hindu philosophy. The law of karma is somewhat like the Newtonian law of action and reaction—only the results of actions are spread across various births.)

Unlike the puffed up and greedy yoga peddlers one often finds these days, the old masters who dedicated their entire lives in the study, practice and selfless service through yoga were humble to the core. It is my belief that such masters, gurus and yogis abounded in and around India in ancient times (historic as well as pre-historic) but their numbers have dwindled over the centuries.

Some of the modern names I can recall, who are widely believed to be true yoga masters and did a lot to spread the discipline without greed, include T Krishnamacharya, Swami Sivananda, Paramahansa Yogananda, BKS Iyengar, K Pattabhi Jois and Andre Van Lysebeth.

I have a book by Lysebeth (a Belgian yoga instructor and author who was a disciple of Sivananda) that is quite popular in the West. In the book, Yoga Self-Taught, Lysebeth not only explains some of the key asanas with great lucidity, he also gives detailed scientific explanations of how particular positions affect different regions of the body and what benefits they bring to the practitioner.

To cite but one example, talking about the effects of Dhanurasana (the Bow position), Lysebeth writes that “the compression of the dorsal part of the rachis, and the stretching of the anterior surfaces act upon the ligaments, muscles and nerve centers of the spinal column. The Bow prevents untimely calcification in the vertebrae, and straightens backs hunched through years of sitting at desk, in offices or at workbenches.” He goes on to describe the asana’s beneficial effects on the abdominal muscles, cellulitis, endocrine glands, and a few other regions of the human body with precise terms and logical explanations.

Such instances are scattered throughout the book—leaving little room for doubt about yogasanas’ immense ability to keep the body healthy and the mind rejuvenated. There is a small supplement on dietary control as well.

I am sure there would be many more yoga instructors, teachers and authors who have spread or continue to spread the light of yoga in a spirit of service and authenticity in these get-rich-quick times. But as the age of instant gratification rolls on, you will find fewer and fewer of them. In the olden days one went to the jungles and peeked inside caves in search of true yogis, but now that humanity is spread over the whole planet like locusts, even that option may not work. (I wonder what a modern-day Paul Brunton would find if he were to undertake his “Search in Secret India” in today’s messed up, crowded country!)

What strikes me about the few good yoga gurus such as Iyengar is their honesty and humility—hallmarks, in my view, of anyone worthy of being credited with greatness. In the introductory note on Patanjali in his book, Iyengar writes: “Though I have practiced and worked in the field of yoga for more than fifty years, I may have to practice for several more lifetimes to reach perfection in the subject. Therefore, the explanation of the most abstruse sutras lies yet beyond my power.”

Contrast this with the haughty and misleading claims of several self-styled yoga gurus who are busy minting money with their own concoctions of yoga (and who would rather have fifty million in their bank than practice a rigorous discipline for fifty years).

The literal meaning and import of yoga is union of the self with the Supreme Soul (you can call the latter God, the most powerful universal force, energy or whatever). The word yoga comes from the Sanskrit root “yuj,” which means “to join.”

There have been attempts by the yogis, mystics and Buddhists of yore to define the supreme bliss, feeling of peace and ethereal experience that spring forth from the state of samadhi, the apogee of yoga. But it is generally agreed upon that no words suffice to fully describe this unique, divine occurrence. And this experience is something to strive for, to live, to share with the world at large for the benefit of all sentient beings.

Just as scientists are discovering different levels of intelligence among various species of animals, practicing yogis achieve varying degrees of success and stages of mind-body control in their saadhana. Think of yoga like a perennially flowering tree, which gives different kinds of fruit in different stages of its unfolding. The most popular of these, asanas, have amazing health-giving properties as we have seen. Others—yama, niyama, pranayama, etc.—too have great benefits that can significantly lessen the rampant greed and corruption and bring about a sense of wholeness, peace and well-being.

While the roots of yoga are steeped in ancient Hindu traditions and philosophical thought, to the best of my knowledge, not a single (true) yogi has ever uttered any remark prohibiting people from other religions from practicing asanas or living by the precepts of yoga.

The goal of yoga is to unite, not divide.

There couldn’t perhaps be a more opportune time for yoga than the current “disjointed” age we are living in.

Post-script: Having finished writing the post, I realized that something substantial was missing. After a while, I noticed that all the yogis mentioned here are male (barring a brief mention of Gonika, Patanjali’s mother). How could this happen, I thought?! But then, don’t we all take our mother for granted, even though she is the one who brings us into this world and is truly our first guru?

I also remembered that there are temples in India dedicated to yoginis, often called chaunsath yoginis (chaunsath = 64 in Hindi). Besides being a female adept of yoga, a yogini is considered to be an incarnation of the sacred feminine (goddesses Lakshmi, Parvati, Durga, Kali, etc.) Said to be enlightened women, yoginis are known to possess exuberant passion, deep insights into the nature of reality and great spiritual powers. Some of the 64 yoginis depicted in the Hirapur Chaunsath Yogini Temple in the Indian state of Odisha are: Bahurupa, Tara, Yamuna, Vaishnavi, Kalaratri, Chinnamasta, Saraswati, Mahalakshmi, Ambika, Kali, Aditi, Chamunda, Aghora and Ganga. (Also, check out "Tibetan yoginis" on the Web and you will be overwhelmed with a wealth of amazing information and images.)

PPS: This blog post is but a tiny, humble attempt to encapsulate a system and philosophy as vast as yoga into a few words—with the hope that it would kindle interest in yoga among those who want to live holistic lives and rise above the ordinary. Namaste!