Last month we looked at a set of practices collectively known as the eight (aṣṭa) limbs (aṅga) of yoga, which were given by Patañjali as a means to attain liberation from suffering. The eight limbs of yoga are the best-known set of practices in the Yoga Sūtras, but it is important to note that Patañjali describes numerous other practices throughout the text. Practice is at the heart of the Yoga Sūtras, evidenced by the preponderance of sūtras dedicated to this topic. Once we understand the psychology of yoga, we will see why practice is key for Self-Realization, why change takes time and effort, and why it cannot be brought about by a mere act of will (just as I cannot will my garden to be free of weeds—I have to get out there and do the work).
Practice overview
Often, we utter expressions like, “I’m going to practice some yoga,” or maybe, “I am a yoga practitioner.” Even these simple expressions can mean different things coming from different speakers. First of all, the English word “practice” itself has a multitude of meanings, some of which are given below:
i. The application of a set of theoretical principles, putting something into practice, such as being an environmentalist
ii. Repeated performance of a skill in order to attain and maintain proficiency, such as learning to play a musical instrument
iii. Training or rehearsal for a performance, such as practicing a dance routine
iv. Customs and habits, such as being in the habit of going to the gym everyday
v. Exercise of a professional expertise, as in having a medical or legal practice
vi. Having a path that gives meaning to one’s life
Furthermore, different people have differing understandings of what constitutes the practice of yoga. In relation to the Yoga Sūtras, the word “practice” is used as a common translation for three different Sanskrit terms used in the text: sādhana, anuṣṭhāna and abhyāsa. Bearing all of this in mind, we can look at how best to understand Patañjali’s idea of practice and how it intersects with his philosophical understanding of the human condition.
Sādhana
The term sādhana comes from the verbal root √sādh which can mean “to reach one’s goal” or “to prepare a path.” This term occurs only in the heading of the second book, which is named the Sādhana Pāda. “Sādhana” connotes the idea of a comprehensive practice, that yoga constitutes a life path. In the context of the Yoga Sūtras, sādhana is often associated with the eight limbs of yoga (aṣṭāṅga yoga) which are introduced and described in the Sādhana Pāda. As we saw last month, the eight limbs are comprehensive in their scope, touching on all aspects of our lives, giving us a path to follow. In this sense, having a yoga practice implies being on a path, and having a commitment to living one’s life according to the principles laid out in the eight limbs of yoga.
Anuṣṭhāna
In relation to the eight limbs of yoga, Patañjali uses the term anuṣṭhāna. In 2.29, Patañjali tells us that from the practice (anuṣṭhāna) of yoga, impurities are removed, allowing for the light of knowledge to shine, thereby leading us towards a discriminative awareness. 2.29 is the culmination of Patañjali’s chain of thought regarding the ubiquity of human suffering, its cause and its cure. It is against this backdrop that the practice of yoga has its rationale. The eight limbs of yoga were prescribed by Patañjali as his treatment for human suffering; the practices are the treatment. Just as medicine has to be taken to be efficacious, these practices have to be repeatedly undertaken. Their efficacy derives from their ability to remove those mental impurities/afflictions that cloud our ability to discriminate that which is truly the Self. They bring us to a discriminative awareness.
Abhyāsa
In the first pāda, we see practice framed within a broader context similar to that of the Sādhana Pāda. In 1.2, at the beginning of the Yoga Sūtras, Patañjali defines yoga as, “stilling (nirodha) the turnings (vṛtti) of the mind (citta).” The idea of practice is thus built into the very definition of yoga, which can be read not only as a description of a particular state of mind, but also as giving the means to achieve such a state. Without the practice of yoga, the conscious flow of thought is pervaded by impurities/afflictions, preventing us from knowing our deeper nature. Patañjali tells us in 1.3 that when the mind is stilled, the Seer is established in its true nature. As I.4 tells us, in the absence of stilling the turnings of the mind, we will tend to identify with each passing thought instead of equating ourselves with something larger and more transcendent.
In I.12 Patañjali further explains that the two means of achieving cittavṛtti-nirodha are practice (abhyāsa) and dispassion (vairāgya). I.12 echoes Kṛṣṇa’s teaching to Arjuna in the Bhagavad Gītā where he says, “Without doubt, the mind is unsteady and hard to hold, but practice and dispassion can restrain it, Arjuna.” (B.G. 6.35). In 1.13, Patañjali defines practice in a very specific way, as the effort expended towards stilling the mind. In his understanding of abhyāsa, any practice not directed towards this end, however dedicated the practitioner might be, would not constitute a yoga practice. He follows this up by emphasizing that a practice is only established when it has been carried out for a long time, without interruption and with reverence. Practice works in conjunction with dispassion, which is defined as cultivating an indifference towards the sensory world. Together practice and dispassion constitute the two pillars of yoga.
In his commentary on 1.12, Vyāsa emphasizes that both abhyāsa and vairāgya are needed. This is not an either/or situation—each can be viewed as a branch of the other, each can be seen as balancing the other. Dispassion is all about restraint, practice is all about establishing healthy patterns of behaviors. Dispassion or vairāgya checks the outward flow of the mind towards the sensual world (a condition of the mind known as vyutthāna), and practice or abhyāsa is the exertion of some effort towards establishing steadiness in the mind, creating a tranquil flow of thoughts (praśānta vahitā). B.K.S. Iyengar describes the relationship between vairāgya and abhyāsa as follows:
“Without restraint, the forces generated by practice would spin out of control and could destroy the sādhaka. At the higher levels, vairāgya without abhyāsa could lead to stagnation and inner decay.” (LOYS p. 58)
Contemporary yoga scholar Ian Whicher concurs:
“Practice includes a wide range of techniques to stabilize the mind, while the cultivation of dispassion prevents the yogin from misappropriating the results of such practices, that is, in an egoistic, selfish or irresponsible manner.”
(Whicher, p. 174)
There is a longstanding recognition in the yoga tradition that practice is powerful and can bring the practitioner many benefits and powers (siddhi). It is not that such powers are wrong in themselves, but Patañjali warns the practitioner not to become sidetracked by the worldly benefits of yoga. He urges us to remember that a yoga practice is one focused towards the specific goal of yoga, to establish the Seer in its own true nature. A practitioner who practices solely in order to gain some worldly power—for example, fame, wealth or a strong body—is ultimately going to be disappointed. All of these worldly gains are impermanent and will not free the practitioner from suffering. It is dispassion for worldly things that channels our practice in the right direction, towards spiritual freedom.
This idea is found in the Yoga Sūtras 3.38 where Patañjali warns the accomplished practitioner:
te samādhav upasargā vyutthāne siddhayaḥ
These attainments are impediments to samādhi, although they are powers in active life.
(B.K.S. Iyengar, LOYS p. 205)
In summary we can say of abhyāsa that:
i. It works in conjunction with dispassion (vairāgya)
ii. It is a specific type of practice dedicated to calming the mind (cittavṛtti-nirodhaḥ)
iii. It requires effort
iv. It is established only if carried out with devotion, for a long time and without interruption
Abhyāsa and anuṣṭhāna
One question that arises then is how anusṭhāna, as outlined in eight limbs in the Sādhana Pāda, relates to abhyāsa and vairāgya. In both cases practice is connected to the goal of Self-Realization, the means by which we can be restored to health in the sense of being restored to our true nature as the Seer. B.K.S. Iyengar says that abhyāsa and vairāgya can be found in the eight limbs:
“Practice is involved in all the eight limbs of yoga. Evolutionary practice is the onward march towards discovery of the Self, involving yama, niyama, āsana, and prāṇāyāma. The involutionary path of renunciation involves pratyāhāra, dharaṇā, dhyāna and samādhi. This inward journey detaches the consciousness from external objects.
As we know, consciousness becomes involved with the objects seen, and identifies with them, drawing the seer with it. Then the seer becomes subordinate to the oscillating mind. The eight aspects of yoga, described in II.29, are given as a means to stop the wavering of the intelligence and to learn correct understanding. Although the first four relate to practice and the others to renunciation, practice and renunciation are equally important.” (LOYS p. 58)
Practice and the mind
In the first pāda, the practice of yoga is equated with calming the mind. In the second pāda, practice is equated with purifying the mind. One important thing to understand about the mind (citta) in yoga psychology is that it is situated in the natural world and, as such, operates within the causal framework of the laws of nature. Any changes we seek for the mind must be brought about in accordance with these laws.
Since the time of Plato, and reinforced in the mind/body dualism of sixteenth century French philosopher Rene Descartes, western culture has harbored a widespread belief in a dualism between mind and body. Descartes believed that the mind is immaterial in nature, operating outside of the causal framework of the natural world. One consequence of this is that it can give us unrealistic expectations regarding the capabilities of the mind to create changes in ourselves, shown in such expressions as “mind over matter.” Our ability to change ourselves is equated with an exercise of mere willpower. Moreover, it fuels a misunderstanding of human illness, especially so-called mental illnesses such as addictions, viewing them as moral failings rather than organic problems on a par with other illnesses. In our culture, categorizing an illness as “being all in the mind” has been, until recent years, tantamount to dismissing its reality. Contemporary neuroscientist, Antonio Damasio, has written of the disastrous consequences of mind/body dualism for western thinking about illness. He writes, “the idea of a disembodied mind seems to have shaped the peculiar way in which western medicine approaches the study and treatment of disease,” further lamenting that a Cartesian-based neglect of the mind in western medicine has had a negative effect on our therapeutic approaches to human sickness (Damasio, pp. 256-7).
In Patañjali’s view of the cosmos, the mind and the body are on a continuum, composed of the same fundamental material elements, operating within a common framework of natural laws. According to this view, I can no more will myself to be less egotistical than I can will myself to be a piano player. In both cases, I have to engage in practices known to bring about the intended goal through changing my material constitution. The piano player must practice her scales to sculpt the muscles in her fingers and the pathways in her brain. Likewise, the yogin must practice the eight limbs to gradually sculpt a tranquil and pure mind.
Viewing the mind and body as being on the same continuum points towards a more holistic approach to illness. It also gives us an understanding of why the practice of āsanas can be so impactful on our mental states. In Light on Life, B.K.S. Iyengar writes:
“This is the beauty of yoga. If you do Halasana (Plough Pose) your brain becomes completely quiet. If you are dejected mentally, you can do Setu Bandha Sarvangasana (a pose in which the body is arched like a bridge) for ten minutes, and your depression disappears, though you do not know how this transformation has occurred. This is how the body is used to cultivate the mind. When the suffering, depressed mind is cured, the light of the soul can itself radiate to the surface of our being.” (LOL p.81)
Concluding thoughts
Yoga practices can be summarized as purifying and calming practices which cultivate discrimination in our minds. Practice in the context of yoga is the project of working on the mind to create a stream of conscious thought that allows for the inner light to shine undimmed. Of course, this might not be uppermost in the mind of the practitioner when, for example, she works on her upper kneecaps in śirṣāsana. Yet if this attention to the details of the āsanas is framed within Patañjali’s visionary goal, then such small acts do indeed constitute a yoga practice. Through dedicated practice, paying attention to the details, we may end up knowing a big thing. In his wonderful reflection on the intense practice required to become a concert pianist, Jeremy Denk writes:
As you deal with thumb crossings, or fingering for the F-sharp-minor-scale, or chromatic scales in double thirds, it is hard to accept that these will eventually allow you to probe eternity in the final movement of Beethoven’s last sonata. Imagine you are scrubbing the grout in your bathroom and are told that removing every last particle will somehow enable you to deliver the Gettysburg Address. (Denk, p. 41)
Joy Laine taught philosophy at Macalester College for over thirty years and teaches Iyengar Yoga around the Twin Cities.
Sources and Further Study
Antonio Damasio, Descartes’ Error. Penguin, reprinted 2005.
Jeremy Denk, “Every Good Boy Does Fine: A life in piano lessons.” The New Yorker, April 8, 2015.
B.K.S. Iyengar, (LOL) Light on Life. Rodale, 2006.
B.K.S. Iyengar, (LOYS) Light on the Yoga Sūtras of Patañjali. Thorsons, new edition 2002.
Barbar Stoler Miller, (BG) The Bhagavad Gita: Krishan’s Counsel in Time of War. Bantam Classics, 1986.
Ian Whicher, The Integrity of the Yoga Darśana. SUNY, 1998.
