Although there are many branches to the tree of yoga, from devotional methods to more intellectual approaches, from schools that
emphasize service toward others to those that focus on physical purification,
Patanjali Sutras, clearly defines an eight-limbed path (ashtanga) that
forms the structural framework for whatever emphasis upon which an individual
wishes to concentrate. The Yoga Sutras, or "threads," consist of four books
produced sometime in the third century before Christ. Such was the clarity of
Patanjali's vision of wholeness that he consolidated the entirety of yoga
philosophy in a series of 196 lucid aphorisms. Each thread of the Yoga Sutras is
revealed as a part of a woven fabric, with each aphorism merely a mark or color within the whole
pattern. The threads, however, begin to make sense only through a direct
experience of their meaning. This is not a linear process but rather an organic
one in which colors and markings gradually become more clear until a pattern
forms. And this pattern that Patanjali weaves for us is a description of the
process of unbinding our limited ideas about ourselves and becoming free.
The eight limbs of yoga are traditionally
presented as a hierarchical progression, but this linear progression toward an
idealized goal tends only to reinforce the dualistic idea that yoga is something
to "get." It may be more helpful to imagine the eight limbs as the arms and legs
of a body--connected to one another through the central body of yoga just as a
child's limbs grow in proportion to one another, whatever limb of practice we
focus upon inevitably causes the other limbs to grow as well. People who begin
yoga through the limb of meditation are often later drawn to practice more physical postures. Those who are drawn to vigorous physical practice later find themselves being drawn into the quieter, more meditative practices just as each limb is essential for the optimal functioning of your body, every limb of yoga practice is important. Growth in practice happens naturally when a person is sincere in her wish to grow.
The eight limbs emanating from a central core
consist of the following:
Yamas and Niyamas: Ten ethical precepts that allow us to be at peace with ourselves, our family, and our community.
Asanas: Dynarmic internal dances in the form of postures. These help to keep the body strong, flexible, and relaxed. Their practice strengthens the nervous system and refines our process of inner perception.
Pranayama: Roughly defined as breathing practices, and more
specifically defined as practices that help us to develop constancy in the
movement of prana, or life force.
Pratyahara: The drawing of one's attention
toward silence rather than toward things.
Dharana: Focusing attention and
cultivating inner perceptual awareness.
Dhyana: Sustaining awareness under all
conditions.
Samadhi: The return of the mind into
original silence.
The greater part of this book on yoga will focus
on the most down-to-earth practices--the asanas and the practices of
breathing and meditation. These form an embodied approach to spiritual practice,
where we use the body and all our sensual capacities in the service of
regeneration and transformation. This is contrasted to many approaches in which
the body is seen as an obstacle that must be transcended. Let us first look at
the core principles for living, the yamas and niyamas that form the central vein from which all other yoga
practices spring.
The Ten Living Principles
The first limb, or the yamas, consists of
characteristics observed and codified by wise people since the beginning of time
as being central to any life lived in freedom. They are mostly concerned with how we use our energy in
relationship to others and in a subtler sense,
our relationship to ourselves. The sages recognized that stealing from your
neighbor was likely to promote discord, lying to your wife would cause
suffering, and violence begets more violence; the results are hardly conducive
to living a peaceful life. The second limb, the niyamas, constitutes a
code for living in a way that fosters the soulfulness of the individual and has
to do with the choices we make. The yamas and niyamas are emphatic
descriptions of what we are when we are connected to our source. Rather
than a list of dos and don'ts, they tell us that our fundamental nature is compassionate, generous, honest, and,
peaceful.
In the West we are taught from an early age that
what we do and what we own sole components for
measuring whether we are "successful." We measure our success and that of others through this limited vantage
point, judging and dismissing anything that falls outside these narrow
parameters. What yoga teaches us is that who we are and how we are
constitute the ultimate proof of a life lived in freedom. If you do not truly
believe this, it is likely that you will measure success in your yoga practice through the achievement of external
forms. This tendency has produced a whole subculture of yoga in the West that is
nothing more than sophisticated calisthenics, with those who can bend the
farthest or do the most extraordinary yoga postures being deemed masters.
Because it's easy to measure physical prowess, we may compare ourselves to
others who are more flexible, or more "advanced" in their yoga postures, getting
trapped in the belief that the forms of the practice are the goal. These outward
feats do not necessarily constitute any evidence of a balanced practice or a
balanced life. What these first central precepts the yamas and niyamas
ask us to remember is that the techniques and forms are not goals in
themselves but vehicles for getting to the essence of who we are.
One of our greatest challenges as Westerners
practicing yoga is to learn to perceive progress through "invisible" signs,
signs that are quite often unacknowledged by the culture at large. Are we moving
toward greater kindness, patience, or tolerance toward others? Are we able to
remain calm and centered even when others around us become agitated and angry?
How we speak, how we treat others, and how we
live are more subjective qualities and attributes we need to learn to recognize
in ourselves as a testament to our own progress and as gauges of authenticity in
our potential teachers. When we remain committed to our most deeply held values
we can begin to discern the difference between the appearance of
achievement and the true experience of transformation, and thereby free
ourselves to pursue those things of real value.
As you read through the precepts that follow, take
the time to dwell upon their relevance to your life and to consider your own
personal experiences both past and present in reference to them. You can take
almost any situation that arises in your life and consider it from the vantage
point of one or more of these precepts. It can also be valuable consciously to
choose a precept that you'd like to explore in depth for a month or even a year at a time investigating how the
precept works in all aspects of your life. And last, the way in which you
approach the practices that follow in this book, and your underlying intentions,
will ultimately determine whether your practice bears fruit. As you progress in
your yoga practice, take the time to pause frequently and ask "Who am I becoming
through this practice? Am I becoming the kind of person I would like to have as
a friend?"
Yamas--Wise
Characteristics
Ahimsa--Compassion for All Living
Things
Ahimsa is usually translated as nonviolence, but this precept
goes far and beyond the limited penal sense of not killing others. First and
foremost we have to learn how to be nonviolent toward ourselves. If we were able
to play back the often unkind, unhelpful, and destructive comments and judgments
silently made toward our self in any given day, this may give us some idea of
the enormity of the challenge of self-acceptance. If we were to speak these
thoughts out loud to another person, we would realize how truly devastating
violence to the self can be. In truth, few of
us would dare to be as unkind to others as we are to ourselves. This can be as
subtle as the criticism of our body when we look in the mirror in the morning,
or when we denigrate our best efforts. Any thought, word, or action that
prevents us (or someone else) from growing and living freely is one that is
harmful.
Extending this compassion to all living creatures
is dependent on our recognition of the underlying unity of all sentient beings.
When we begin to recognize that the streams
and rivers of the earth are no different from the blood coursing through our
arteries, it becomes difficult to remain indifferent to the plight of the world.
We naturally find ourselves wanting to protect all living things. It becomes
difficult to toss a can into a stream or carve our names in the bark of a tree,
for each act would be an act of violence toward ourselves as well. Cultivating an attitude and mode of behavior of
harmlessness does not mean that we no longer
feel strong emotions such as anger, jealously, or hatred. Learning to see
everything through the eyes of compassion demands that we look at even these
aspects of our self with acceptance. Paradoxically, when we welcome our feelings
of anger, jealousy, or rage rather than see them as signs of our spiritual
failure, we can begin to understand the root causes of these feelings and move
beyond them. By getting close enough to our
own violent tendencies we can begin to understand the root causes of them and
learn to contain these energies for our own well-being and for the protection of
others. Underneath these feelings we discover a much stronger desire that we all
share--to be loved. It is impossible to come to this deeper understanding if we
bypass the tough work of facing our inner demons.
In considering ahimsa it's helpful to ask,
Are my thoughts, actions, and deeds fostering the growth and well-being of all
beings?
Satya--Commitment to the
Truth
This precept is based on the
understanding that honest communication and action form the bedrock of any
healthy relationship, community, or government, and that deliberate deception,
exaggerations, and mistruths harm others. One of the best ways we can develop this capacity is to practice right
speech. This means that when we say something, we are sure of its truth. If we
were to follow this precept with commitment, many of us would have a great deal
less to say each day! A large part of our everyday comments and conversations
are not based upon what we know to be true but are based on our imagination,
suppositions, erroneous conclusions, and sometimes out-and-out exaggerations.
Gossip is probably the worst form of this miscommunication.