Monday, August 19, 2013
Monday, August 19, 2013
The Sacred Circle of Yoga:
A Look into The Niyamas
~In this article, Catherine explores the depth of meaning behind each of the niyamas. She reveals a sacred and secret formula given by Sri Patanjali, which is also echoed by Sri Krishna in the Bhagavad Gita, so that sincere Yoga practitioners may reach the perfection of Yoga safely and securely.~
In the ancient story of the Ramayana, Lakshman draws a circle around princess Sita with his arrow, when he has to leave her alone in the forest. “Stay within the circle,” he cautions her, “and you will be safe. Step out of the circle and you will have no protection.” Connecting security with circles traces all the way back to antiquity as the archetypal force embedded in the perfect geometry of a circle links the human psyche with its own innate harmony.
The Yoga tradition regards circles, or mandalas, as symbols of enlightenment: sacred places where divinity dwells. In the Yoga Sutras, Sri Patanjali engages this circular structure to present his teachings by deliberately tucking the secret formula for “the perfection of samadhi,” or the last limb of the ashtanga Yoga practice, into the first part of the text, via the niyamas. In tracing this perfect circle, the author—as Lakshman did for Sita—seems to want to communicate a safe arena to Yoga practitioners, beginning with the yamas and niyamas.
Like the yamas, the niyamas trace a mandala-like safe, sacred space within which our Yoga practice naturally thrives. This space is first characterized by its purity, which occurs in layers. The most visible layers occur on the outside. With the world’s current environmental crisis and escalating health problems, a sobering appreciation for purity has been spreading around the globe. In developed countries it is most notably reflected in caution about what we consume, ingest and discard. Such concerns are signs of a society that is beginning to turn toward saucha, or purity: the first niyama in Patanjali’s Yoga Sutras.
According to the wisdom in the Gita, saucha is the force behind all existence. Without it, we gradually, and inevitably, move toward our own extinction. Perhaps the rest of the world is just now trying to catch up with the wisdom of ancient yogis, like Sri Patanjali, who purports the importance of modeling a lifestyle that reflects purity. Our personal practice of saucha will not only improve our own lives, but that of our fellow earthlings as well. In chapter five, verse seven of the Gita, Krishna describes the actions of one whose “self is purified” as being untainted, for they are in service of the “self in all beings.” Pure behaviors therefore are those that honor and support all life around us and its divine essence. When we see the divine essence within all life, and become aware of ourselves as part of a sacred whole, our behavior toward all beings becomes pure. According to Patanjali, (2.41) it also grants us a vision (darshana) of our true Self, or atma.
Who are we? According to Yoga philosophy, we are made of a pure, spiritual substance. Our Yoga practice is the process that uncovers that pure Self. In chapter eighteen of the Gita, Krishna speaks about those whose actions are aligned with that pure Self as being “liberated and living in blissful worlds.” For our pure nature is joyful. This is what acting with saucha uncovers. According to Patanjali, the first step in uncovering our pure nature is withdrawing from activities that cause us to identify with our bodies. This is where our regular and cumulative practice of the yamas supports our efforts to enter into the consciousness of the first niyama.
Separating ourselves from perspectives that are influenced by our bodies is the first step in saucha. Not behaving in ways that are guided by such perspectives is the second. At its heart, the yogic practice of saucha is ultimately about uncovering our ability to love purely. Loving purely involves a pure focus on the object of our love. Sri Patanjali refers to this one-pointed focus on the Supreme Divinity in his Yoga Sutras. In chapter 2, sutra 41, after he introduces the niyama of saucha, Sri Patanjali speaks about the effects of practicing saucha. These include no longer identifying with the body, no longer interacting with others based only on their bodies, becoming joyful, no longer becoming overwhelmed by one’s senses and having a clear vision of one’s true Self.
In Yoga, the most pure vision we can have of ourselves and others, is a peaceful, loving one. When Yoga practitioners achieve this vision, it is synonymous and commensurate with one’s ability to be easily absorbed in a single-pointed focus, or ekagra, on the Supreme Divinity. This is the same focus Krishna helps Arjuna achieve in the Gita. It reflects the pure nature of the soul shining through, and it is achievable through developing saucha along with the other limbs of a full Yoga practice.
Patanjali’s second niyama is santosha, which introduces us to the highest, or most supreme happiness, uttama sukha, as that which results from being at peace. This peace flows from an innate ability to find contentment under any and all circumstances and directly addresses the relationships we have with our own minds. For our minds are the guiltiest culprits in disturbing our experiences of peace. Krishna brings this to Arjuna’s attention in chapter six of the Bhagavad Gita, when he talks about the nature of the “flickering, unsteady mind” in verse 26.
Arjuna’s mind was unsteady in the Gita, as he struggled with riding into the battlefield, resisting the inevitable unfolding of his life. Yet the real battle was not really with the circumstances around him, as much as it was with how he related to those circumstances. The battle, therefore, is in our own “flickering, unsteady, straying” minds, as Krishna tells Arjuna. And making peace with our minds first is the only way to be at peace with what goes on in the rest of the world: “For such a yogi, whose mind is peaceful, ultimate happiness is attained. One whose passion is calmed, who is without impurity, becomes united with Brahman.” (Bhagavad Gita, 6.27)
“Uniting with Brahman,” as understood in Yoga philosophy is a sense of harmony and synchronicity with the ultimate reality. If in the grand scheme of things Arjuna is meant to fight in a battle, then resisting such courses of action will counter any hopes he had of experiencing peace and happiness. And Krishna echoes Patanjali here, when he asserts how impossible this is for someone who is not practicing purity, the first niyama.
Therefore, Patanjali’s second niyama of santosha, is about attuning ourselves to purer perspectives of life, instead of dwelling on those soiled and troublesome ones given to us by our own minds. In chapter two of the Gita, Krishna informs Arjuna, that one attains this pure and peaceful perspective by practicing discernment and absorbing oneself in a meditative state. In the last verse of chapter five, Krishna says that this meditation is most effective when it’s focused on the being in our innermost hearts: “…as the innermost heart of all beings—thus knowing me, one attains peace.” Here, Krishna equates knowledge of the Supreme Divine (found within our very own hearts), with peace. Thus santosha is never far. And yet we sometimes needlessly exclude our hearts from our Yoga practice in the name of austerity.
Austerity, the third niyama in the Yoga Sutras, is meant to remove impurities, or asuddhi, as stated by Sri Patanjali. This includes the impurities within our own hearts, which makes connecting with our hearts and minds an indispensible part of this practice. Like finely tuned laser surgery, the fire of tapas works like an instrument on our hearts and minds, burning away obstructions to the flow of our practice. In the Gita (7.18) Krishna refers to performing austerities of the body without being conscious of one’s heart and mind as premature renunciation that is tamasic, or born of darkness. Instruments of light only cut through the dark when we engage them consciously and not mechanically.
Mechanical practice of tapas can sometimes translate into premature renunciation. Instead, the yogic discipline of tapas plays itself out in very deep and diverse ways in the life of a Yoga practitioner. According to chapter seventeen of the Gita, austerity is of three kinds: that of the mind, that of the body and that of our speech. And all three work together synergistically so that we may interact with life externally, with the mind focused on the Supreme Divinity internally. The austerity Krishna and Patanjali speak of is a lasting austerity, which builds upon itself and serves to improve the relationship we have with ourselves, our bodies, our minds, our senses and the world around us.
The Gita characterizes austerities practiced by yogis as “promoting life energy, strength, good health, happiness and satisfaction.” If one’s practice of tapas is not generating such results, the Yoga tradition proposes its execution be reevaluated. Krishna even warns Arjuna in the Gita, that sometimes austerity is practiced with the wrong intentions, or for purposes other than those aligned with a pure, yogic lifestyle. Krishna attributes such practices to those full of “selfish desire, passion and power.” (17.5) They constitute tapas without heart.
Our senses are perfectly engaged when our search for identity takes us toward the sacred. This is called svadhyaya, the penultimate niyama in Patanjali’s Yoga Sutras. In moving toward the sacred we separate ourselves from all that is not sacred. Sacred is from the Latin word sacrum, indicating anything energized with the spiritual power of the divine. And in chapter two, sutra 44 of the Yoga Sutras, Sri Patanjali reveals that we access the sacred within ourselves through deep study, or absorbing ourselves in the sacred around us, as paths to the sacred have already been mapped out for us by Yoga practitioners of the past. These paths appear to us in the form of sacred texts and mantras. Therefore, this niyama is traditionally understood as the “study of sacred texts,” and it is believed that such study is essential in studying oneself, or uncovering one’s true identity.
In traditional Yoga, one’s identity revolves entirely around one’s relationship to the Supreme Divine, or one’s ishta-devata. In this niyama, Sri Patanjali introduces the Yoga practitioner to the importance of developing a loving connection with one’s ishta-devata, or a particular form of the sacred one upon which one can focus exclusively. This meditative focus is then said to revive the Yoga practitioner’s own sacredness. Souls thus connect to sacredness through love. And it is in our relationship with the Supreme Divine that this experience of love reaches its zenith.
Through the practice of svadhyaya one’s relationship with sacred texts and mantras becomes a passage to sacredness. Krishna reminds us in the Gita that this passage is broad and includes our relationships with others as well. For it is neither through “the Vedas, sacrifice, study, giving in charity, rites, nor by performing severe austerities,” that one will one see God, or know sacredness. According to the Yoga tradition, it is only through love. And our heart exercises its loving capacity more naturally in the company of others. Just like Krishna was to Arjuna, the most loving relationships in our lives—like those with our spiritual guides—become our passages to the sacred.
If all life is a symphony, then Yoga is how we attune ourselves to the divine music already playing. While the endeavor we invest in improving our skills playing each of the eight instruments, or angas, will certainly affect the quality of the music we produce, if we play them without awareness of the conductor, we will remain disconnected from the most critical focus of any Yoga practice: Ishvara pranidhana. Isvara is the supreme conductor of life’s symphony, and we souls are all instruments in Ishvara’s orchestra. Pranidhana is more than an awareness, or submission to, or surrender to Ishvara. Pranidhana is devotion. This is the mood that resounds in the final niyama.
Sri Patanjali introduces Yoga practitioners to the importance of becoming lovingly devoted to Ishvara early on in the text, as swift and easy progress in Yoga is due to Ishvara’s grace. For it is not through one’s endeavor alone that Yoga is practiced, but instead, Yoga is practiced together with Divinity. This unison is critical as love and devotion to the supreme conductor swiftly harmonizes our Yoga practice with the music of perfect existence already playing, or samadhi. Krishna tells Arjuna, in the Gita in chapter eighteen, verse 62, it is “Ishvara’s grace” that will carry us to the eternal dwelling, or samadhi.
This is where we step into the sacred circle Sri Patanjali has drawn for us, where the start and the end meet. For it is a circle of love in which our Yoga practice most fully thrives. And it is a circuitous deepening into one’s own heart that becomes the path. The deeper we go, the more audible the music. According to Sri Patanjali, this music is called samadhi. As long as we remain within the sacred circle of Yoga traced for us in the Yoga Sutras—staying within the circle and not stepping outside of it as Sita did—our Yoga practice will blossom beautifully.
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