Yoga:

The Practice of
Myth and Sacred Geometry

Rama Jyoti Vernon

Twin Lakes, WI USA

Table of Contents
Author’s Note
Foreword
Author's Preface
A Message to Yoga Teachers
Introduction
The Hidden Meanings of Haṭha Yoga
The Polarities
Yoga as Union
The Symbolism and Significance of the Spine
The Deeper Meaning of Āsana
Āsana as Sacred Geometry
Inaction Within Action
The Path of Perfection
The Primal Power of Prāṇāyāma
The Integration of Breath
Back Breathing
Moving From the Exhalation
Ujjāyī Breathing and Āsana
Breath and the Brain
Changing Our Lives Through Breath
The Divinity of Breath
Practicing Svadharma in Āsana
Coming to the Edge
Different Students, Different Dharmas
We Cannot Do the Same Pose Twice
Letting Breath Be the Teacher
Breath and the Five States of Mind
The Methodology of Svadharma
The Postures
Āsana I
Āsana II
Appendices
Acknowledgments
ADVANCE PRAISE FOR
YOGA: THE PRACTICE OF MYTH AND SACRED
GEOMETRY
“Yoga: The Practice of Myth and Sacred Geometry is for all of us who want to
continue in the study of yoga’s deep teaching and technical instruction. The
wonderful diagrams and photos will clearly assist us as we learn and teach asana
and pranayama while walking life’s journey. Thank you, Rama, for sharing the
heart, soul, and passion of your own practices, insights, and reflections, and for
imparting your years of yoga experience, study, and teaching. This is a book I
will treasure for years to come.”
— Lilias Folan, PBS host and author of
Lilias! Yoga: Your Guide to Enhancing Body, Mind, and Spirit Midlife and
Beyond
“Rama floated into my life in 1992 with a ‘presence of Self,’ immediately
touching my heart. When she teaches, asana becomes a dance of story,
philosophy, subtle body knowledge, and basic safety. She interweaves the
essence that makes yoga alive. In Yoga: The Practice of Myth and Sacred
Geometry, Rama imparts this essence. She shares the precision of yoga practices
while merging the stories behind the practices, marrying the practice with the
heart of yoga. Her students learn to explore yogasana on the mat and in the
world. Rama has been my guiding light. With this unique asana manual she
offers, in a very accessible format, the spirit and the depth of yoga. Through
teaching and living yoga, she makes a difference in the world!”
— Hansa Knox, Director of Training at PranaYoga and Ayurveda Mandala
(Denver, CO),
past president of Yoga Alliance
“Rama Jyoti Vernon unfolds the profound mystery of the practice of yoga while
guiding the reader with practical skill. As practitioners journey through this
book, they will experience the true sense of the word myth that will manifest as
the sacred geometry of the body, mind, and consciousness.”
— Vasant Lad, B.A.M.S., M.A.Sc., Ayurvedic physician, founder of The
Ayurvedic Institute
(Albuquerque), author of Ayurveda: Science of Self-Healing and other titles
“It’s exciting and rare for me to come upon a modern-day writing that offers a
fresh light, and breathes new life, into the ancient teachings of yoga. This is one
such book.”
 such book.”
— Richard Miller, PhD, author of
Yoga Nidra: The Meditative Heart of Yoga and other titles
“Rama Jyoti Vernon has been a pioneer in bringing yoga to America and has
inspired my own practice in innumerable ways. Her heart-centered wisdom as a
teacher of teachers and of hundreds of thousands of students around the globe
shines through in this book. Not only does Rama’s understanding of the
biodynamics of asana and breath make this a must read for everyone who aspires
to serve others through the teaching of yoga, but the great value and humility she
brings to the calling of yoga teacher — as ‘servant’ or ‘fellow seeker’ — lights
the path through the darkness for countless fellow seekers, me included.”
— Amy Weintraub, Founder of the LifeForce Yoga Healing Institute,
author of Yoga for Depression and Yoga Skills for Therapists
AUTHOR’S NOTE
Oṃ Gaṃ Gaṇapataye Namaḥ
Gaṇeśa, the son of Shiva, who is the Lord of all Yogis, is invoked before any
event, undertaking, or mantra. He is the favored deity of scribes and merchants,
and he is associated with wisdom, good luck, successful enterprises, prosperity,
peace, beginnings, journeys, building, and also with books and writing.
Gaṇeśa is the remover of obstacles, both spiritual and material. He is a
protector, evident by the rattle that is heard before his darśana, or revelation. The
rattle is to chase away the evil spirits that symbolize hindrances on the spiritual
path.
In one hand, Gaṇeśa holds a bowl of rice and in the other, the Vedas. This
symbolizes that one needs material fulfillment as well as spiritual nourishment.
It is believed that when one is hungry, the mind cannot soar to loftier heights and
becomes consumed with survival at the most basic level. Perhaps this may
explain why Gaṇeśa is said to dwell in the first chakra, Mūlādhāra, guarding the
chamber of the Inner Self, just as he is known to be the guard of his mother
Pārvatī’s chamber.
Gaṇeśa’s huge ears symbolize the ability to hear all things, the ability to
listen, and to listen compassionately. His small eyes symbolize shutting off the
outside world to look within. His long trunk, which brings nourishment from the
ground into his mouth, symbolizes discrimination, for it takes more time for food
to reach his lips, allowing time for evaluation or re-evaluation of the action.
Gaṇeśa represents a vast universal energy, an energy that we can bring into all
of our lives and our yoga practice.
With this book, I offer the wisdom of my many teachers. It is the labor of a
lifetime, the culmination of sixty years of yoga study and teaching, and a decade
of writing. I offer it with love to all my teachers and students, past, present, and
future.
— Rama Jyoti Vernon
For more information about Rama Jyoti Vernon go to
www.ramajyotivernon.com
FOREWORD
Rewind. It’s 1973. I’m studying yoga at the Yoga College of India in San
Francisco. A group of yoga students are visiting from the Institute for Yoga
Teacher Education (IYTE), a school that Rama Jyoti Vernon has helped found.
Fast forward. It’s 1976. I’m sitting in Rama’s home, learning the art of
pranayama with Rama as my teacher, with a group of fellow students from the
IYTE, where I’m now taking classes to increase my studies in yoga.
Fast forward. It’s 1977. I’ve just submitted my first article, Yoga for the Blind,
to the Yoga Journal, the magazine Rama helped found in 1975.
Fast Forward. It’s 1978. I’m attending numerous parties hosted by Rama in her
home, where visiting yogis from around the world are sharing their knowledge
and presence.
Fast forward. It’s still 1978. I’ve just been invited to serve as the vice president
of the California Yoga Teachers Association (CYTA), which Rama helped
found several years earlier.
Fast forward. It’s still 1978. CYTA has just agreed to spin off IYTE, which is to
become the San Francisco Iyengar Yoga Institute, where Rama will continue
teaching classes.
Fast Forward. It’s 1979. Rama has invited me to host Ian Rawlinson, a senior
student of T.K.V. Desikachar, for a series of seminars at my Marin School of
Yoga. Ian will introduce me to the teachings of T. Krishnamachara, and I will
subsequently fly to Madras to begin formal studies with Desikachar in 1980.
Fast forward. It’s 1981. I’ve been invited by Rama to become a member of Unity
in Yoga, an organization that Rama has founded to promote unity among the
various international schools of yoga.
Fast forward. It’s 1984. Rama has established the Center for Soviet-American
Dialogue to help connect citizens of the United States with those of the Soviet
Union. She later changes the name to the Center for International Dialogue in
order to expand its reach into the Middle East, as well as into Ethiopia, Central
America, and Africa, among other sites.
Fast forward. It’s 1992. Rama helps found the Regional Women’s Gatherings
(RWG), an organization dedicated to providing women a platform to express
their visions for peace in the world. RWG culminates in the 1994 Georgetown
University Conference, Women of Vision (WOV): Leadership for the New
World, which brings together over 500 women and leads to the formation of the
Women of Vision National Network, which provides ongoing WOV Regional
Conferences.
Fast forward. It’s 1995. Rama is an NGO delegate to the Fourth UN Conference
on Women, where she is focusing on empowering women in Africa.
Fast forward. It’s 2004. Rama founds the International Yoga College (IYC),
which offers educational opportunities for experienced students and teachers of
yoga.
Fast forward. 2004-Present. Throughout these years Rama continues to travel
throughout the world, bringing her expertise, teachings, love, and creative
energy to helping people come together to resolve their conflicts, and promote
peace in their lives and the regions where they live.
Suffice to say, Rama has deeply touched my life in countless ways, as she has
the lives of countless others around the globe. Rama is a woman of vision, who
leads a mission-driven life, exemplifying peace and action in every breath she
takes. It’s been a privilege to know Rama through the years, through her many
adventures. From my first meeting with her, and throughout the years, I’ve
experienced light, love, and authentic presence in her every interaction with
myself, and those around me. It’s therefore an honor for Rama to have invited
me to provide this brief foreword to her new book.
It’s exciting and rare for me to come upon a modern day writing that offers a
fresh light, and breathes new life, into the ancient teachings of yoga. Rama’s
offering, Yoga: The Practice of Myth and Sacred Geometry, is one such book.
And I would expect no less from Rama.
Rama writes with the authoritative autonomy of one who has truly traversed the
entire breadth and depth of yoga, from marketplace to mountaintop and back
again. Rama offers us timeless wisdom derived from her years of study, practice,
devotion, and sitting with her many gifted teachers. She offers us sage advice
and knowledge that is at once practical, philosophical, and heartfelt, delivered
with passion and appeal from page to page and chapter to chapter.
I take great delight in knowing that I will be sharing Rama’s book with my yoga
friends and students for years to come, providing them with, as I have found, a
treasure trove of sacred teachings that enables us to find equanimity no matter
our circumstances.
Richard Miller, PhD
author of Yoga Nidra: The Meditative Heart of
Yoga and Yoga Nidra Meditation to Overcome
Trauma (www.irest.us)
San Rafael 2014
AUTHOR’S PREFACE
For years, I was reluctant to write about yoga, always feeling I didn’t know
enough. Even though those feelings are still present, after continual urging of
students and yoga teachers, I now offer these pages as an organic unfoldment of
my own practices, insights, and reflections. I hope you, the reader, will receive
this offering as simply that.
These writings encompass over a half-century of blessings by master teachers
and yoga’s everexpanding presence in all areas of life. Yoga and its tributaries
continue to be a map of how to live life on this earth plane to the fullest extent
while finding serenity in the midst of all changing endeavors and experiences.
Yoga has been my guide and preceptor on journeys through the valleys of the
dark night of the soul to the mountaintops of unveiled understandings.
As a householder and mother, I have had to find ways to integrate my children
into my practice and my life, no longer seeing the family as separate from my
spiritual life, but as the spiritual path itself. Mine has been a journey of
integration that continues to reveal itself. As a householder and yoga teacher, I
have found that the fullest expression of yoga is not just within a pose but within
every aspect of life. Yoga exists within each action and every spoken word, and
it is expressed through every thought.
Over the years, I’ve come to believe that a yoga teacher’s inner experiences,
combined with an understanding of the deeper significance of yoga, creates a
vibrational frequency that attracts students of a similar resonance. I have found
that as I changed, some students dropped away while others appeared. I also
discovered it was not up to me to discern whether I taught a “good” or “bad”
class.
Among yoga’s blessings: We learn balance within the polarities of opposites. As
we learn the art of bilateral integration within the body, we also learn the same in
life. We do not seek approval or cower under disapproval, real or imagined. As
teachers and as students, we learn to stay centered in the midst of attachments
and aversions, praise or blame, criticism or compliment. Through āsana, we
learn to give up goal orientation, to give our all to the present moment, and then
to release it, as we learn to release in Śavāsana. We learn to let go of the past and
come into the present moment within our classes and within our lives.
As a teacher, I found that if I took on many classes and responsibilities and did
not have time to deepen my own practice, it was possible to become dry inside
and weary in body, mind, and spirit. I was feeling that weariness many years
ago, until Mr. B.K.S. Iyengar said: “Practice twice as much as you teach.” As I
began to implement his advice, I discovered a wellspring of love and a true
desire to serve. These words arose out of the depth of my soul: “To love is to go
on teaching forever without growing weary.”
I taught only when invited and discovered that I taught not so much for others
but for the refinement of my own evolutionary unfoldment. As my
understanding of the practices deepened, they brought me into ever deepening
layers of consciousness. During class, I found it was possible to convey the
essence of yoga not only through the spoken word, but also by allowing the
words to be used as a vehicle for the universal presence to guide and inspire.
Words convey energy: The Śakti of the masters reflects through the spoken word
as well as through the teacher’s silent presence.
Now, however, I find it a challenge to convey this feeling through the written
word. It seems difficult to crystallize in writing what is a continual organic
unfoldment of the practices. I hope that my reflections will encourage readers to
seek their own experiences through the practices that explore the vast universe
that lies within. We are always in the flux of change; nothing is solid. This book
is not an end, but only a beginning of Self and Universal exploration. For me, it
is a reminder of the evolution and integration of yoga in our world of today.
What is presented here may at times seem different than traditional approaches.
It is not meant to confuse but only to share personal experiential understanding.
Even though there are yoga traditions that are eternal and unchanging, there are
also evolutionary spikes and spirals occurring in the U.S. yoga community as we
find new ways to incorporate yoga into our everyday lives. We no longer have to
go to the mountaintops but can now find the mountaintops in the marketplace.
Held within each āsana is the mythology linked to its name and the geometrical
patterns of the cellular structures of creation. Through the practice of yoga, we
can let our hearts convey our love of all humanity and the Divine essence of all
creation. We do this when we caress our feet upon the earth in standing poses,
when our toes and heels reach for the center of the sun in inverted poses. We can
let our love for the Divine reflect in the ceremonious offering of our upper to
lower body in forward bends. Āsanas reflect the art and beauty of the
communion of Self with the Universal. They help us release the impediments
that shroud the light that is always shining. We are not “becoming One with” but
realizing the Oneness that already is. This is the Union of Yoga.
Blessings and prānaṃs to you always.
— Rama Jyoti Vernon
A MESSAGE TO YOGA TEACHERS
There are no teachers; we are all students, bound together in infinite expansion
of growth and exploration. We are not teachers, and yet we teach — not with the
attitude of a great yogi or yogini, but as a servant or fellow seeker joyously
sharing with others the knowledge and training we ourselves have found.
Together we ascend life’s ladder, reaching for the light within the darkness.
Ladened by karmic burdens, some cannot climb as swiftly as others. Those on
rung six may reach out to help those on rung four, at the same time embracing
the guiding hands of those on rung seven. In this way we come to be of service
to humanity in the ever-unfolding quest for peace and enlightenment.
Be fearless as a fellow-seeker. Joyously share with others the riches you yourself
have found through Yoga. We are all perennial students of Yoga. Teaching is
simply the outgrowth of our own experiences. There is always more to learn,
more to remember, more to realize, and more to share.
In moments of doubt, do not dissipate the positive forces of energy in feelings of
unworthiness, remorse, or self-pity. Remember, you are a necessary part within
the cosmic machinery. Insignificant as this part may seem to you, without it, the
machinery cannot function.
Transcend environmental obstacles. View them as a test of the Divine. Within
the cosmic plan there is a reason for each and every opening of life’s pathways.
If you are led to the path of a teacher, then let go and let Divine will work
through you; the barriers to spiritual expansion will drop away.
Place your heart and soul within the teachings. Teaching yoga is not a business,
not even a profession. It is a privilege and a blessing. See the Divine within your
students and let your teaching be the worship of their universal truth and beauty.
Avoid attachments to a desired result. Remember Kṛṣṇa’s words from the
Bhagavad Gītā (VI:1): “Whoever does the work to be done without resort to its
fruits, they are the Sannyasin and the Yogin, not the one who lights not the
sacrificial fire and does not the works.” Think of the classes and your teaching as
āsana. Once we leave an āsana, the posture belongs to the archives of the past.
Move within it to the very best of your ability, but when it is over, let go
physically, mentally, and emotionally.
Do not indulge in distorted proportions of over-confidence or power fantasies,
nor concern yourself with spiritually enervating thoughts as to whether it was a
good class or a bad class, or whether you are a good teacher or a bad teacher.
You are an instrument of the Divine; be not affected by criticism or compliment,
praise or blame. As we teach, so we will be taught. Again, remember the wisdom
of the Bhagavad Gītā (XI:9): “Nor do these works bind me … for I am seated as
if indifferent above, unattached to these actions.”
When we follow a yoga path, we follow a designated practice that clears
pathways for experiential knowledge of this universal truth. The networks,
methods, and practices are numerous and at times appear to be in conflict with
one another. Within the confusing framework of learning, consider that there are
as many methods as there are masters and teachers. Be respectful to all those
who have gone before and to those who are emerging as the future light bearers
of Yoga. For our own light of remembrance, it is important not to condemn,
ridicule or vehemently oppose any system. We all gravitate towards that which
seems more in harmony and keeping with our inner nature. Those balanced on
the outer rims of independence and individualism would surely be excluded if
there was only one way, one method, one teacher, one pathway to Self and
universal awareness.
Teaching is not an excuse to neglect your own practice. Rather, allow your
teaching to be the outgrowth of your practice. Believe and practice what you
teach and teach what you practice. As your practice deepens, so too will your
teachings. If you neglect your own practice, your words and teachings may
become ineffectual and your stagnation will result in spiritual dehydration.
Teaching yoga is a practice in itself, an offering. As teachers, we cannot take a
student farther or deeper than we have gone ourselves. A teacher creates a mood
or invokes a mantle that invites the invisible presence into the class to protect,
guide, and inspire students to reach the fullest expression of yoga, not just within
a pose, but within one’s life and one’s own Being.
Be secure within the knowledge that the cosmic intelligence is working through
you. Remove your will so that THY will may be done. You are the instrument in
the hands of the Divine. Allow this instrument to be moved with ease, harmony,
and the graceful precision of love.
INTRODUCTION
The Hidden Meanings of Haṭha Yoga
In the West today, the practice of yoga is usually understood to mean physical
movements or body postures. However, there are six major branches of yoga,
each designed to evolve with man’s — and woman’s — needs, whether they be
emotional (Bhakti Yoga), intellectual (Jñana Yoga), vital (Tantra Yoga), mental
(Rāja Yoga), or physical (Haṭha Yoga).
Over the centuries, Haṭha Yoga fell into disrepute among yoga philosophers
who feared it might create too much bodily preoccupation and spiritual
distraction. However, rather than dismissing it as an exercise only for the body,
ancient writings about yoga uphold that Haṭha, one of the earliest yoga
traditions, evolved as a spiritual practice to meet the connubial needs of the
householder. The legendary origins of its beginnings date back to the
mythological time of the great God of the Hindu pantheon of deities, Lord Śiva.
It was during a discourse by Śiva to his consort Pārvatī that Haṭha and Tantra
Yoga are said to have emerged.

The Polarities
The practice of yoga is based upon the bilateral integration of polarities. It is
finding the nexus of the equinox within. The back body is like the winter of Self
and is equated with the seat of the subconscious mind, relating to the back brain
or cerebellum. The front body is like the effulgent light of spring, represented by
the frontal brain or cerebrum, the seat of the conscious mind. Yoga is meant to
bring together the front and back, right and left, upper and lower polarities. The
union of these polarities is known as Ha-Ṭha Yoga.
Ha means “sun,” and ṭha means “moon.” In this instance, the sun, progenitor of
light and life, is compared to the projectile energies of male, and the moon to
that of the receptive and spatial energies of female. The ancient scriptures are
filled with symbolic names and meanings for the forces of sun and moon. This
bipolar and magnetic relationship is representative of all opposing forces of
creation, such as day-night, light-darkness, and positive-negative. It is even
found within the dual balance of psyche-soma, logos-eros, yang-yin, and
masculine-feminine.
The masculine principle of creation is known as puruṣa, meaning “to fill with
the dawn.” Puruṣa is spirit. It is the substratum of being and beyond time. It is
the center within the body and in the universe that is unmoving, changeless, and
eternal. The feminine principle is known as prakṛti, which means “to bring forth
doing or action.” Prakṛti is the element of time that manifests through our third-
dimensional world of form. It is the silent convergence of day and night
expressing itself through the seasonal changes and cycles of birth, life, and
death. It is the evolutionary field of change and transformation that manifests in
multiple forms of creation. It is the feminine principle of matter, nature, and
form.
In the practice of āsana, we usually identify with prakṛti — the action or “doing”
— which can be seen in the way the limbs unfold with each variation. We don’t
often identify with puruṣa, the bindu or seed point that is unwavering and
unmoving. The bindu is the point at the center of all yantra and all āsana. If we
can simultaneously identify with puruṣa and find the seed point or bindu within
the body in each āsana, and allow the limbs to unfold from that center point, we
balance the polarities of puruṣa and prakṛti. Then, no matter where the limbs are
or what āsana variations we are in, we can experience the timeless state of being
balanced between puruṣa and prakṛti, being and doing. This is the inaction
within action that Śrī Kṛṣṇa speaks of in the fourth chapter of the Bhagavad
Gītā. This is how we find the place of stillness no matter what is going on
around us. This is the profound practice of “being in the world but not of the
world.”
Eastern and Western practitioners speculate that on a physiological level, puruṣa
and prakṛti relate to the two hemispheres of the brain and their intellectual and
intuitive correspondents, as well as to the balance between the two divisions of
the autonomic nervous system (sympathetic and parasympathetic). The right side
of the body carries the masculine solar energy that relates to the sympathetic
nervous system and the left hemisphere of the brain. In the subtle body, this is
known as piṅgalā. The left or feminine side of the body carries the lunar energy
and relates to the parasympathetic nervous system (which is dilating and cooling
like the moon) and the right hemisphere of the brain. In the subtle realm this is
known as iḍā. It is the autonomic nervous system that brings about alternating
changes in constriction-dilation, acid-alkaline balance, and the catabolic-
anabolic processes of the body. Thus, Haṭha Yoga demonstrates the ultimate
liaison between the central nervous system (the brain and spinal cord), and the
divisions of the peripheral nervous system, which control the voluntary and
involuntary functions. Since the yogi does not separate mind from body, this also
shows the respective liaison between the conscious and subconscious reflexes of
the mind.
Nature demonstrates the meeting of light and dark at the setting of the sun and
the rising of the moon, and where one season silently merges into the next. In
yoga, we find the same convergence where the brain’s right and left
hemispheres, the body’s front and back sides, and the spine’s top and bottom
poles meet in the equalization of the polarities.

Yoga as Union
Yoga is one of the six philosophical systems of India. The word yoga can be
interpreted from the Sanskrit root yuj, meaning to yoke, bind, or join together.
As yoga would be a unifying force of the polarities of ha and ṭha, Haṭha Yoga
would be a dynamic state of being in which there is complete equilibrium of the
alternating and dualistic forces of creation. Hence, yoga refers not only to a state
of unified oneness but also to the methods that can bring one to that state. As I
often tell students, yoga is remembering that we are already one. How can we
join anything that has never been separated? There is nowhere to go and nothing
to do but to be and breathe and remember the oneness that already is.
Swami Satchidananda, founder of Integral Yoga and a disciple of Swami
Sivānanda of Rishikesh, was once asked if he was a Hindu. He thought quietly
for a moment and then answered slowly and pensively, “I like to think of myself
not as a Hindu but more as an ‘Undo.’ ” Instead of “doing” yoga, perhaps it
would be more accurate to say we are “undoing” through yoga. What is our
rush? There is nowhere to go, only to realize that we are already there. Our
practices are meant not to create more division, separation, competition, and
pain, but to undo the impediments that keep us from realizing that we are already
One with the universal source.
All of creation emanates from the one universal source. When we once again
reunite through the experience of oneness and union with all fellow creatures,
we become established in Yoga (Union). Union is Yoga and Yoga is the
pathway to Union or Reunion. Yoga is non-dogmatic. It is not a religion but is
the essence of all religions.
Although the practice of Haṭha Yoga, from all outward appearances, seems to be
involved with the body, the body’s role is as an aid to understanding the mind. In
the hierarchy of body and mind — as in the cyclic distinction between the
chicken and the egg — it is difficult to tell which has the most profound affect
upon the other. When someone is experiencing an ecstatic state of happiness, the
body seems to remain relatively free from sickness and fatigue. However, when
one is in a depressed mood, the body becomes easily tired and susceptible to
varieties of viral influences.
As it is accepted and determined that the mind has a definite affect upon the
body, in Haṭha Yoga, it is found that the reverse is also true: The systems of the
body affect the mind. Haṭha Yoga is found to be a therapeutic aid to lessen the
physical pains, stresses, and illnesses that can serve as a detrimental distraction
of one’s mind and dedication.
In application, Haṭha Yoga systems vary, but in general, they consist of five
parts (1) āsana (postural movements), (2) prāṇāyāma (breathing), (3) bandhas
(locks), (4) kriyās (cleansing processes), and (5) mudrās (seals and gestures).
Each of these five steps has both an external and internal significance. The
mudrās, for example, outwardly appear to be only ceremonious symbolic
offerings performed with the hands. But, inwardly, on a more esoteric level,
mudrās are experienced as the silent gestures of all Indian philosophy combined:
They are the seal of the mind with the soul, and the mind expressing itself
through the body. The external aspects of the kriyās can be seen in the physical
processes designed to remove toxins and blockages from the system. Internally,
the kriyās can arise in breathing, movement, and meditation.
The bandhas are not only muscular contractions of the anus, navel, and throat,
but are also meant to draw and direct prāṇa from peripheral nerve channels to
specified locations within the spine. The word prāṇa is often used as a synonym
for “energy,” but we can look to its Sanskrit roots for deeper meaning: prā
means “to bring forth,” and ṇa is the eternal cosmic vibration. Even though
bandhas are used mainly in prāṇāyāma, they can spontaneously occur within
some āsanas.

The Symbolism and Significance of the Spine

In Haṭha Yoga practices, whether they be kriyās, mudrās, bandhas, prāṇāyāma,
or āsana, there is a great deal of emphasis upon the importance of the strength
and straightness of the spine. On the physical level, proper alignment relieves
compression of the spinal nerve roots. When we look beyond the physical, we
learn that the spine is poetically called the meru daṇḍa, the mountainous staff.
This refers to the spine as being the central axis of creation.
All Haṭha Yoga practices center around the spinal nerve currents and cerebral
interaction. The steadiness and erectness of the spine is extremely important in
meditation so that energy may flow unimpeded between the spinal cord and the
brain. If our posture is lax and our muscles unable to hold the spine erect for
long periods of time, meditation will be distracted or it can take diverse courses,
one of which is sleep.
There is a thin line between sleep and Samādhi. In sleep, the mind (citta)
withdraws, affecting the central nervous system, evident because the sleeper
cannot hold himself erect and must lie down to rest. In Samādhi, the posture is a
mudrā. This mirrors the mind within the body. When the body maintains a pose
even though it appears that one is in a sleep-like state, this is considered
Samādhi. Sam means “to sum it up” or become one with. Adhi means “to stick
to” or to hold a state of consciousness without lapse. This Sanskrit verb is also
the source of the English word “adhere.”
Samādhi is a remembrance that we are already one with the source of universal
life intelligence and with all of creation. There are different forms and stages of
Samādhi. Sometimes during āsana and meditation we have glimpses and go into
the beginning stages of Samādhi, and then we come back to experiencing
separative consciousness. Eventually, we may linger longer in the universal state
of oneness.
A Hindu story illustrates the effects the spine can have not only upon the body
but also upon the mind. This is a timeless tale about the continuous battle
between the gods and demons who symbolize the light and dark forces. When
the gods saw that they were losing the battle, they went to Brahma, their creator,
with the problem. “Make peace with the demons,” he urged. “Together you shall
churn the ocean of milk until it turns into the nectar of immortality.”
Acting on the advice of the lord of preservation, Viṣṇu, they used the giant
mountain, Mount Meru, as a churning stick and the massive serpent called
Ananta, twisted three and a half coils around the mountain, to pull and turn it. As
the gods and demons proceeded to churn the terrestrial ocean of milk, poison
appeared on the surface. In the crisis of the moment, they turned to the great
lord, Śiva, who found the only safe way to dispose of the poison was to swallow
it himself, which he did. He held the poison in his throat so that it could not
spread to the rest of his body. Thus, Śiva became known as Nīlakaṇṭha, the
Blue-Throated One.
With the release of the poison, amazing things began to happen. Out of the
depths of the ocean appeared celestial animals, vegetation, gems, goddesses of
beauty and harmony. At the very end, the celestial physician appeared, carrying
in his hand the cup of the moon and within it, the sought-after amṛta, or nectar
of immortality.
Symbolically, the battle between the angels and demons at opposite ends of the
churning stick represents that constant conflict between the opposing forces of
negative and positive, light and dark, expansion and contraction that exists
within us all. The ocean depicts the depth and infinite vastness of the
unconscious mind. The churning of the ocean of the unconscious is done through
the mountain, which is representative of the spine. The spine acts as the churning
stick when Kuṇḍalinī (represented as a serpent coiled three and a half times at
the base of the spine) awakens. The poison represents the unresolved conflicts
that lie harboring within the unseen depths of the mind and cannot be released
and disposed of until the churning begins. The fear of both demons and the gods
is symbolic of our own fear to quit the game and to withdraw to a point where
the conflicts do not appear.
When the poison or conflicts were disposed of after they were brought to the
surface, then the gems and jewels — what psychologist Carl Jung would call
“the collective unconscious” — emerge in glorious patterns of beauty and
harmony. These are symbolic of seeing one’s own unconscious. The celestial
physician, who has come to heal the ills of humanity, carries in his hand the
moon, a symbol of the well-rounded or balanced psyche. The nectar of
immortality (amṛta) that is held within is symbolic of the spirit of transcendent
wholeness.
This ancient story illustrates the effects the body can have upon the mind. Yoga
can bring up what is stored beneath the surface of the milky ocean of the
subconscious mind. In āsana, the spine is extended, hyperextended, flexed, and
laterally rotated. The movements are designed to strengthen the spinal nerve
roots of the physical body as well as open the nāḍīs or channels of the subtle
body. This in turn acts not only upon the limbs but also on the brain. The brain,
the seat of thought, perception, will, memory and imagination, manifests from
the human consciousness known as mind. We could accurately say that each
time we affect the body, we also affect the mind. Āsana and prāṇāyāma are
designed to bring up impressions stored in the psyche to the surface of the
conscious mind for their release and healing. There is a saying in yoga: The
invisible must become visible before it can be eradicated and transformed.
THE DEEPER MEANING OF ĀSANA
Ās means “to be” or “to breathe.” San is from sam, meaning “to become one
with,” and na is the eternal cosmic vibration. In āsana, we are breathing and
being One with the eternal cosmic vibration. Āsana is a vehicle between the
physical and subtle body. If practiced with breath, āsana expands consciousness.
If practiced without breath, there is a contraction of consciousness. When we
approach each pose as a Divine communion, āsana is no longer an exercise but
an “innercise” where the inner secrets of the pose begin to reveal themselves. In
practicing āsana this way, one honors and respects the body as a vehicle for self-
transformation, not as an end in itself. Yogāsana is a mudrā; it is the vehicle of
mind expressing itself through the body.
The Yoga Sūtras were compiled some 2,400 years ago by the sage Patañjali,
who is known as the father of yoga. Commentaries on Patañjali’s sūtras refer to
there being only one pose, Dhyanāsana, the pose of meditation. In this pose, the
head, neck, breast, and tailbone are in alignment with one another. This
alignment can be found in nearly every pose, not just a sitting pose.
The first sūtra that describes āsana is sthira sukham āsanam (II:46), commonly
translated as “take any comfortable pose.” It would be more accurate, however,
to say “take any pose and be comfortable.” The term sthira is from the Sanskrit
verb stah, which means “to establish steadiness,” or to stay unwavering and
unmoving. And sukham refers to that which is sweet, pleasant, or comfortable. If
we were to define āsana as “pose,” this sūtra instructs us to establish comfort and
steadiness within the pose. Just as yoga is a state of union as well as a method
that can bring one to that state, āsana is a state of steadiness as well as a series of
postural movements that can help one achieve a stillness of mind in the midst of
movement.
There are eighty-four basic āsanas. Their names are significant in that they
depict all cycles of evolution, from the lotus and the tree to the fish and the
swan. Birds, such as the pigeon (kapota) and the eagle (garuḍa), and four-
legged creatures like the dog (śvāna) and the camel (uṣṭra), can be duplicated in
the way the yogi moves the body. Postures are named for such creatures as the
cobra and the scorpion as well as for legendary heroes of the Hindu pantheon.
Describing āsana’s deeper revelations, Mr. B.K.S. Iyengar, in his treatise Light
on Yoga, says: “Whilst performing āsanas the yogi’s body assumes many forms
resembling a variety of creatures. His mind is trained not to despise any creature,
for he knows that throughout the whole gamut of creation, from the lowliest
insect to the most perfect sage, there breathes the same Universal Spirit, which
assumes innumerable forms. He knows that the highest form is that of the
Formless. He finds unity in universality.”

Āsana as Sacred Geometry

The āsanas also take the form of maṇḍalas and yantras, as can be seen by the
designs of the postures in which the body assumes a variety of angles, triangles,
circles, and half-circles. Sacred geometry involves the universal patterns existing
in the design of everything in our reality. It is seen most often in architecture, art,
geometry, mathematical ratios, and harmonics. It is found throughout music,
light, and cosmology. Sacred geometry governs the structure of matter and the
energy to maintain that structure. It expands from the center and radiates
outward. It also acts as a filter for light energy to be harnessed and focused,
creating a holographic resonance from the microcosm of the human body to the
Universal macrocosm. Sacred geometrical patterns are the ethereal blueprint for
the arrangement and rearrangement of matter, which implies order within a
system and how that system interacts with other systems.
Since the human body is the finite within the infinite, sacred geometry manifests
through organs, glands, and all other anatomical and physiological systems.
Each organ consists of its own memory in the shape of a hologram. Trapped
emotions can create pain, malfunction, and eventual disease, exerting an
influence in the body as well as on mind and its thoughts.
According to yogic philosophy, all matter comes into existence out of a single
point known as bindu or point bindu. This point is like a rapidly spinning disk,
out of which all of material creation flows. The point bindu acts like a zero point
in time, weaving together geometric patterns that assume the shape of matter.
On a subtle plane, auras and cakras are the primary interactive points within the
human system that hold the bodily structure together, establishing the basis for
all things to occur. The gravity of the cakras sustains the cellular structure of
tissues and organs in neat vibrational patterns. These patterns, which keep us
from being pulled apart, can be seen as sacred geometry. As sacred geometry,
āsana creates ordered space for a disordered field. The effect is a sense of peace
that is not usually found in exercise. The prefix “ex” means to project outwards;
thus, yoga can be thought of as “innercise.” Āsana increases the psycho-
physiological coherence within our physical and subtle systems.
In āsana, our bodies assume geometrical forms of straight and diagonal lines,
circles, squares, and triangles, all signifying an aspiration of convergence from
duality to a unified field of consciousness. These patterns resemble yantras,
symbols of deities as forms of increased vibratory frequency, more subtle than a
picture or statue. Yantras contain the five elements within their corresponding
geometric forms. Like a magnet, yantras draw consciousness from the outer to
the inner world. When yantra is combined with mantra, it is defined as tantra.
The sound and form bring balance to the visual and verbal or, respectively, the
right and left hemispheres of the brain.
In each āsana that takes on the form of a yantra, there is a seed center or bindu. If
we internalize the consciousness in āsana, we will find this bindu, out of which
the āsana organically unfolds. The limbs extend out of this procreative seed
point, creating spaces within the body’s cellular structure. When we create a
vacuum or space, light comes in to fill it. (Disease can be thought of as an
absence of light.) In āsana, the geometrical forms or yantras that the body
assumes are force fields of energy. The body becomes a hologram of light,
displaying a variety of forms and designs. Each is a condensed, crystallized
experience of the Divine.
Through his emphasis on the specific, systematic alignment of yoga poses, Mr.
B.K. S. Iyengar has given the world a gift. In working with him for many years,
I found that alignment within the poses is not only for the anatomical and
physiological balance of the body, but also to realign the individual’s
bioenergetic field through the alignment of the molecular structure around the
body as well as within it. In other words, in yoga āsana, we balance the auric
field of the body while creating bilateral integrative alignment. Through their
myriad of forms, āsanas create energy fields.
As I continued to practice, I realized that āsana not only honors all forms of
creation, but also is an invocation to the Lords of the Universe that manifest
through diagonal lines, squares, circles, and triunes of the heavens. The yantras
can be a focal point of visualization, concentration, and meditation. But even
more, yantra can be an entryway to expand one’s consciousness from one
dimensional field to another. The body in āsana becomes a living matrix
invoking Divine presence through the yantras and their presiding deities. In other
words, as sacred geometry, āsana is an intersecting point through which the
individual can connect and commune with the Universal.
Baddha Koṇāsana, for example, may reveal the form of the star tetrahedron,
which is based on Divine equilibrium. This form of a six-pointed star is seen in
Judaism as the Star of David. In Hinduism, the star is Śrī Yantra, the intersecting
balance of Śiva and Śakti. Matter cannot exist without this equilibrium and
balance. The star tetrahedron of Baddha Koṇāsana is a planetary merkaba — a
vehicle of light or living field that responds to human thought and feeling. In
Hebrew, merkaba means “chariot of God” (mer is “light”; ka, “spirit”; and ba,
the body). The merkaba is composed of two opposing tetrahedrons spinning in
opposite directions. In ancient Egypt, merkaba referred to rotating fields of light
that could take the spirit from one dimension into the next.
The star tetrahedron is one of an infinite number of forms on earth and in the
cosmos. The same energetic forms that pervade our planet reveal themselves in
Āsana, which honors them through nāmarūpa (nāma = name, rūpa = form),
from the humblest insect to the loftiest sage. Divinity can even be found in the
word āsana: as is “to be” or “to breathe”; sam is “to bring it together with” or “to
become one with”; and na is “the eternal cosmic vibration.” In āsana, we are
breathing and becoming (or being) One with the eternal cosmic vibration. This
definition suggests that prāṇāyāma is actually embedded within each of the
postures.
Indeed, breathing within āsana is vitally important. Breath restores energy to
what we refer to as the aura or the light body. When we breathe in, the aura
contracts or pulls in. When we breathe out, it expands. Individual consciousness
limits the degree of expansion and contraction of the auric field and in turn limits
the bandwidth of our experiences in life. Yoga expands consciousness. When we
practice the yantras within āsana, it is important to move with the breath
(especially on the exhalation). The breath is the subtle, invisible link between
mind and body and between the gross physical plane and the planes of light,
where yantra as sacred geometry originates.

Inaction Within Action

The yoga of equanimity is the doctrine of poise in action. This is what Kṛṣṇa
terms the “inaction within the action” during his advice to Arjuna in the
Bhagavad Gītā. Arjuna, the great warrior, is about to enter the battlefield that
represents life, when Kṛṣṇa tells him: “It is the idea ‘I am the doer’ that binds
one to Saṃsāra. If one is a silent witness of their activities, feeling as if ‘it is
done through me. I am a non-doer,’ we free ourselves.”
If we identify with the actionless self, no matter what work or how much of it is
done, the action become no action at all. This is the inaction within the action.
Through such a practice one’s own karma loses its binding nature.
On the other hand, I may sit quietly and do nothing outwardly, but if I am
thinking that I am the doer, I am then always in action, even though it appears I
am sitting quietly. This is action within the inaction. The restless mind is doing
the action even when the body is still and motionless. Actions of the mind are
considered to be real actions. Nor can anyone even for one moment remain truly
actionless, for we are driven to action by the forces of nature.
Kṛṣṇa says in the Bhagavad Gītā (IV:20), “Having abandoned attachment to the
fruits [results] of the action, ever content, independent and needing nothing, we
do nothing even while engaged in action.” This is a form of śauca, the first
niyama. In śauca, which means purity, our actions have no motive; they are done
for their sake alone. This too is inaction within the action.
Śrī Kṛṣṇa continues, “The sage who has the knowledge of the Self knows the
oblation, the fire and the instrument by which the melted butter is poured into
the fire and that he himself has no existence apart from that of Brahma; does no
action even if he performs actions” (IV:24).
It is believed that when the mind is in inaction while the body is in action, we
work out past karmas, positive or negative, and do not accrue present or future
karma. In āsana, if we can make the spine rajasic (active) and the head tamasic
(inactive), the body and mind become sattvic (serene). We no longer “do” the
pose; the pose is done through us. That is the inaction within the action.
As we learn the doctrine of action/inaction through the practice of āsana, the
knowledge begins to spill into the actions of our lives. It can lead to purity of
heart, absence from motive, and freedom from cycles of birth and death. This
way of performing āsana helps us develop a balanced and peaceful state of mind
even in life’s most challenging times. In other words, the way we do the pose is
the way we do our lives.

The Path of Perfection

In the Yoga Sūtras (II:47), Patañjali says prayatna śaithilya ananta
samāpattibhyām, meaning that it is through relaxation of effort and meditation
on the Infinite that āsanas are perfected. In this instance, perfection refers to
steadiness, non-vacillation, and a sense of comfort. Even though the posture may
not look to all outward appearances to be a relaxed position, inwardly there is an
equalization of tension, which creates a dynamic relaxation. Although the frame
of the body is firm and non-wavering, there is a feeling of physical as well as
emotional lightness and well-being. This is what is meant by the inaction within
the action and “meditation on the Infinite.”
But is there really such a thing as the perfect pose? As the student delves deeply
into the practice of āsana, the idealized image of how the posture should appear
or even feel dissolves into the spontaneity of the moment. The conception that
āsana is only for the sake of physical health and stamina gives way to doing the
posture for the sake of doing it. We may begin the practice in hopes of getting
somewhere or getting something from it, such as the release of tension or
excessive weight. We may want a high or to awaken the Kuṇḍalinī Śakti.
However, in the course of doing the posture for the sake of that alone, within
that movement and that moment, a spontaneous state of meditation can
transcendentally unfold. Without experientially grasping or striving, it simply
happens.
Consider, as an example, one of the standing poses. Standing poses represent the
vertical ascension of consciousness from the earth to the heavens. If the
practitioner can feel at one with the earth while at the same time extending into
the space beyond the body, and be at one within that space, then consciousness
can distribute itself equally into every cell. Then the bodily awareness is not just
on one or a few parts; it is everywhere. With just a devotional press of the heel
into the earth or an inspirational extension of the finger to the sky, an ecstatic
wave of energy can sweep through the entire system, bringing a tidal wave of
bliss that wants to burst into an infinite sea of timeless joy. This is contentment
that exists for its sake alone, not as a result of needing or wanting something one
thinks will bring happiness. The experience of contentment is santoṣa, one of
the internal practices (niyamas) described in the second chapter of the Yoga
Sūtras.
On a more mundane level, we find that through the postures, we can learn in a
compressed period of time to cope with a variety of circumstances. This can be
done by continually exploring new postures and their variations so that there is a
continual movement from that which is comfortable and familiar to that which is
uncertain. One example of this would be learning to stand on the head or on the
hands. For those whose feet have rarely left the ground, many hidden as well as
obvious fears must be overcome to do a headstand. But, as one becomes
increasingly familiar with moving through space and feeling secure in that
suspended state, it becomes easier to let go of unnecessary support (such as the
ground beneath the feet).
As one great yogi said, “learning to move from the known to the unknown in
āsana is like learning to let go of the body gracefully at the end of one’s life.” At
the root of our fear of the unknown is abhineveśa, what Patañjali referred to in
the Yoga Sūtras (II:9) as the clinging to life and the fear of death. Here, death
represents the ultimate unknown.
To the yogi, the mind and body are not separate realities. In the most esoteric
sense, āsana is a reflection of the mind manifesting through the body. Even
though it’s not actually possible to see the mind, its operative functions can be
seen and monitored through bodily actions and reactions. For this reason, there
are said to be a thousand variations on each posture. A thousand is an Eastern
symbol for infinity. We could assume that this means that there are infinite ways
in which to gauge, express, and explore oneself through āsana. As we learn to
progress from one variation to a less familiar one with fluidity and ease, this skill
cannot help but develop a new spatial relationship that spills over into our lives,
giving greater flexibility as we move from one situation to a less familiar one.
It is also possible to see attitudes of aversions, inhibitions, fears, strivings, and
desires for achievement in the way the body responds to an āsana. In other
words, it is possible to see by our practice just how we live our lives. Excessive
indulgence, transgression of the physical needs, periodic rigidity in the mental
and emotional attitudes may show in the way the body moves or, perhaps,
doesn’t move. For instance, assuming a forward bend by bringing the head
aggressively to the knees before the stomach is humbly brought to the thighs
may indicate inward striving and eagerness for results. In conceptually trying to
get to the finished point of the posture, we forsake its precision for its range.
The basic standing posture, Tāḍāsana (Mountain Pose), provides several
examples of how the mind reveals itself through āsana. When the weight is
distributed more toward the ball of the feet and the toes, the posture reveals
eagerness and anticipation of the next moment. When the weight is heavier on
the heels, the posture indicates a reaction or holding back, the attempt to
recapture that which is behind. If the shoulders are rounded and the chest
concave, the posture suggests fear or a defensive attitude. (It is thought that
perhaps the weight of responsibilities, commitments, and even guilt is carried
upon the shoulders and upper back.) The position of the head when standing can
show whether we are oriented toward the future or the past. Ideally, the head is
balanced over the base of the spine and the feet so that the body is aligned to the
pull of gravity. If the head is forward, it indicates projection into the future, and
if the chin is pulled tightly into the throat and the back of the neck is firm and
taut, this might indicate withdrawal or retraction to the past. Thus, when
practiced with precision and awareness, āsanas are condensed aids in learning
how to set aside, both physically and mentally, preoccupations with actions of
the past and future, allowing one to find greater energy within the spontaneity of
the present.
Although āsana provides all the external bodily benefits that most exercises do,
yoga poses are also physiologically capable of regulating such things as
glandular imbalances, neuromuscular tension, and cardiovascular disturbances.
Because āsana is combined with rhythmic breathing, it is a tranquil way of
rejuvenating the body and refreshing the mind. This is one of the key differences
between āsana and most forms of exercise. As the word “exercise” suggests a
projecting out and away from oneself, an āsana may be thought of more as an
“innercise.” During innercise, it is possible to momentarily withdraw, whether
through action or non-action, to that innermost core within one’s Being to
commune equally with body and mind through their link, the breath.
Though traditionally āsana is considered to be a prerequisite of prāṇāyāma, I
have found the two are intertwined, and can be related to the practice of the other
six limbs of yoga: yama (universal conduct), niyama (individual discipline),
pratyāhāra (sense withdrawal), dhāraṇā (concentration), dhyāna (meditation),
samādhi. All the yamas and niyamas — such as ahiṁsā (non-harming) or tapas
(discipline) — can be experienced in āsana practice. So too is prāṇāyāma found
in each āsana. Each of the limbs can be found in a single āsana. And every āsana
becomes dhyanāsana — the pose of meditation. In Paścimottānāsana (seated
forward bend), for example, we offer the upper body to the altar of the lower
body. The upper body is the subject, and the lower body the object. When
subject and object are separate we experience dhāraṇā. But as the upper body
bows forward, there may be a feeling that subject and object fuse into one; this is
dhyāna. If this state can be sustained, dhyāna flows into samādhi.
THE PRIMAL POWER OF PRĀṆĀYĀMA
Prāṇāyāma is comprised of two words, prāṇa and yama. In Sanskrit, yama
means “to restrain.” Yama is also the name of the god of death, and death is the
ultimate restraint. The word prāṇa is often simply defined as absolute primal
energy. But as all sciences and systems of yoga are centered on the knowledge
and understanding of this substance, prāṇa is regarded as the sum total of all
energy manifest within the universe. Prāṇa displays itself as motion, force,
gravitation, and magnetism. It maintains the universal macrocosm as well as the
microcosm of the body, giving movement and force such as growth, repair,
circulation, nerve impulses, digestion, elimination, and respiration. As the most
obvious manifestation of prāṇa in the human body is the motion of the lungs,
prāṇāyāma is commonly interpreted as a restraint or pause in the movement of
the vital breath. Looking more closely at the roots of the word, prā means “to
bring forth,” and ṇa is the eternal cosmic vibration. In practicing prāṇāyāma, we
are bringing forth the eternal cosmic vibration, retaining it within our being. That
is a very powerful thing.
When we breathe consciously, the act of breathing becomes prāṇāyāma. You
can feel the difference: When you practice conscious, slow breathing, your cells
vibrate at a different frequency. You experience a shift of renewed cellular
energy when you convert the breath into prāṇa.
In referring to the relationship of breath with the body and mind, there is an
analogous description found in the great Indian epic, the Rāmāyaṇa, where the
sage Vaśiṣṭha says: “For the motion of the chariot, which is the physical body,
the creator has created the mind and prāṇa (vital breath) without which the body
cannot function. When the prāṇa departs, the mechanism of the body ceases and
when the mind works, prāṇa or vital breath moves. The relation between the
mind and prāṇa is like that between the driver and the chariot.” As both appear
to exert motion, one upon the other, the sage continues by saying, “The wise
could study regulation of prāṇa or vital breath if they desire to suspend the
restless yearnings of the mind and to concentrate. If there is any doubt that the
breath is an invisible link between the body and the mind, we have only to
observe its altered patterns when angry, fearful, asleep, or in meditation. When
angry, the breath accelerates, when fearful, it stops momentarily. When sleeping,
it is considerably slower and deeper and when in meditation, the breath is subtle
almost to the point of nonexistence.”
In the second chapter of the Yoga Sūtras, Patañjali speaks about prāṇāyāma, the
fourth of the eight limbs of yoga. It is said that if you can hold the mind still for
twelve breaths, you can enter into different stages of yoga practice, such as
pratyāhāra, or sense withdrawal. If you can hold that for twelve breaths, you
enter dhāraṇā, or concentration. If you are able to concentrate on an object for
twelve breaths, you enter dhyāna, the state of meditation. And if that state is held
for twelve breaths, you go into samādhi. It sounds simple, but it is actually quite
difficult to hold the mind steady for those twelve breaths or for twelve seconds.
The more we slow down the breath, the more we slow down the waves of the
mind. If the breath speeds up, the waves of the mind become hyperactive and
agitated. It is the state of mind that is the essence of yoga. Prāṇāyāma practiced
with a restless mind increases restlessness.
It is more difficult to slow down the circuitous wanderings of the mind than it is
to slow the breath, but by slowing the breath, it is believed possible to slow the
rapidity of one’s thought waves. Through gentle rhythmic cycles of inhalation
and exhalation, it is possible to bring about energetic tranquility of thought as
well as action. This is the foundation of yoga, encapsulated in Patañjali’s second
sūtra: yogaḥ cittavṛtti nirodhaḥ. Yoga stills the fluctuations, storms,
disturbances, noise, or confusion that arises in the field of the mind. I believe
that yoga is not the joining or yoking of the individual soul (Ātman) with the
universal (Brahman) but, rather, a methodology that releases the impediments
that keep us from realizing that we are already one.

The Integration of Breath

Although my early approach to teaching yoga emphasized form and structure, I
felt a need in later years to move to a more organic, integrative approach to the
postures, emphasizing the breath above all. This approach, relying on the breath
to lead the movement, allows the gentle and natural unfolding of each pose, in
which the student discovers a state of inner poise within any dynamic posture.
In the classical yoga tradition, one inhales when moving away from the midline
of the body and exhales when closing the midline. This makes logical sense
because the diaphragm drops down to expand the lungs on the inhalation and
rises on the exhalation to expel toxins from the lungs. However, particularly in
our culture today, people tend to focus more on the front part of the body. This is
why most people associate their lungs only with the front body as opposed to the
back and sides. The front body represents futuristic thinking. When we identify
with the front body, the mind is always on the next moment in anticipation of the
future. This keeps us in reaction rather than action. In yoga, we learn to act out
of clarity rather than react out of confusion.
I saw how this relates to breathing patterns one day in 1969, during a class from
Jean Bernard Rishi and Karin Stephan, also students of Mr. B. K. S. Iyengar.
The way that they guided the breath impressed me. They placed their hands on
students’ backs while they were practicing Child’s Pose and asked the students
to breathe into their hands. As I did this for students, I found that when I
lightened my touch as they breathed in, it was almost as though I could pull their
backs up toward my hand. And then, as I progressively adjusted the pressure of
my hands downward along their spines, they could expel more from the lungs.
During this practice, the students became very calm and quiet, as if in an altered
state of consciousness. They weren’t so front-brain oriented, which is the way
most of us live, in the frontal lobes or thinking part of the mind.
We access the conscious or thinking part of the mind whenever our eyes are
open. When our eyes are closed, we access the subconscious, the unseen
recesses of the mind, the intuitive parts of self. Yogis relate the back brain, the
cerebellum, to the posterior nerves of the spine and to the subconscious regions
— the involuntary, the parts we cannot easily access. The back body in yoga has
always been known as the intuitive part that we can’t see. In yoga, it is known as
Paścima, referring to the Lord of the West, the side of the setting sun. This is the
root of the pose known as Paścimottānāsana, the pose of the West side or back of
the body, where the sun sets. And when the sun sets, there is darkness: We
cannot see, so we must feel.
Yogis relate the frontal lobes of the brain to the anterior nerves of the spine, the
part we can see, represented by Pūrva, the Lord of the East. When the sun rises
in the East, we can see. The āsana known as Pūrvottanāsana is the stretch from
the front side of the body, representing the presiding deity of the East and the
rising sun.
This ties in with Ha and Ṭha, the sun and the moon, the light and the dark, and
all the polarities that we balance through our practice. While we often think of
polarities of right/left and top/bottom, rarely does a person think of the back.
When doing this style of “back breathing,” I experience a sense of deep inner
peace. I feel like I am dropping into a region in the back body, a place so highly
intuitive it borders on prescience. I realized that this was the way to access the
subconscious, the hidden part of mind we cannot see. And I understood: This is
one of the most powerful practices in yoga.

Back Breathing
I introduced this breathing exercise into my own classes. As I worked with
students, I saw that I could take this style of breathing into āsana. Many years
later, around 1980, I was studying with Angela Farmer in England and Greece.
She too had come into working in this way, emphasizing the breath and bringing
it into the precise alignment of the Iyengar method. The result was to allow the
pose to evolve organically from the breath.
Angela said that if you observe an infant sleeping on his stomach, you can see
the spine rise and fall, indicating that the child is breathing into the back. So I
watched my own infant daughter, and sure enough, she was breathing into her
back.
When we begin by breathing into the back and then take this breath into a pose,
we bring the full force and totality of being into that pose. We find basis for this
from medical and anatomical studies, even from language. Phreno-, the Greek
root that refers to diaphragm, is the root of the words “frenetic” and “frantic.”
The term schizophrenic literally means “split diaphragm.” Researchers have
found that people with schizophrenia rarely, if ever, breathe below the
diaphragm into the abdominal cavity. They tend to focus the breath above the
diaphragm in the front upper regions of their chests. Yet when we breathe
frontally, we create more freneticism and franticness — more of this hyper-
energy that our culture is known for. I believed that slowing the breath —
lowering it below the diaphragm and emphasizing the back body — could calm
the mind, slowing down the vṛttis, the mind waves. Once I dedicated myself
more deeply to this style of breathing and started to incorporate it into the poses,
I found that every pose became a moving meditation, and I could experience a
true, deep, inner stillness no matter what the body was doing. According to the
Yoga Sūtras (I:2), this is the essence of yoga, to still the mind.
Angela said something in class one day that particularly resonated with me. She
said: “Inhale, do nothing, and let the breath spread horizontally across the back.”
Practicing this way, I found that all of a sudden my shoulder blades were like the
wings of a bird, carrying the arms out like the extension of the wings. I felt as
though I were stretching across the plane of the earth with my consciousness.
When it was time to exhale, instead of dropping into myself on the out-breath, I
lifted up and allowed the spine to elongate on the exhalation.
We have a tendency to inhale while lifting the shoulders and exhale while
collapsing the spine. What I found was that I could inhale and simply hold the
space, creating an awareness of the horizontal movement of my back — from
my shoulders, to the lower ribs, to the hips, moving laterally with the inbreath.
Instead of collapsing as I exhaled, I elongated vertically to grow up out of the
space the inhalation created. When I breathed this way, the waves of the mind
stayed very still, no matter what I was doing. Whether I was sitting, walking,
eating, or practicing āsana, I could keep the mind still just by visualizing the
horizontal expansion and vertical ascension of this breath, like an eagle taking
flight.
From here, it was easy to go into that meditative state. The breath was the link.
In yoga, breath is known as the invisible link between the mind and the body. It
is a bridge. If we practice āsana without the breath, the mind becomes agitated.
The way to still the mind is through the breath. The breath is a grosser
manifestation of mind. When we breathe into the back, we give space for the
breath to open the unseen parts of the mind that allow us to find dhyanāsana, the
pose of meditation, in every pose.

Moving From the Exhalation

Realizations often come to me while teaching and practicing. From my Sanskrit
lessons, I learned that ahaṁ means “I am” and kāra (from kri) means “to do” or
“to act.” Therefore, ahaṁkāra is the word for ego, and it means “I am doing.”
My wonderful Sanskrit teacher, Dr. David Teplitz, helped me make these
associations. The inhalation is ahaṁ, meaning “I am.” The first time a fetus
takes a breath, it becomes a human being. On that first breath, the child’s
individuated consciousness, which is its ego, is established. This is the first
moment we experience our separation from Source.
In Āsana, it is on the inhalation that the ego, ahaṁkāra, asserts itself. If we
inhale as we move into an āsana, then the ego is guiding us into the pose. On the
exhalation, the ego relinquishes itself. Thus, if we move on the exhalation, we
move without ego into the pose. We do not accentuate the ego, and we are not
moving with self-will but instead let divine will move us. Moving from the
breath creates a fusion; Divine will and personal will come together to do the
pose. It is as if āsana is being done through us rather than from us.
In the Yoga Sūtras (I:34), Patañjali gives one of the many ways to create
stillness of the vṛttis or mind waves: pracchardana vidhāraṇābhyāṁ vā
prāṇasya, or “By exhaling and restraining the breath, the mind is calmed.” He
never mentions the inhalation. In more esoteric commentaries on the Yoga
Sūtras, it is said that it is on the exhalation that the ego unravels itself. As we
move into āsana on the out-breath, it appears we are not giving power to the
separative consciousness of the ego.
Years later, I understood this was Angela’s meaning when she said, “Inhale, do
nothing.” The inhalation is a time for us to take in spirit — inspiration — while
the back body, which is intuitive, opens to the universe. On the exhalation, the
spine elongates, offering the back body to the front body, uniting the seen with
the unseen. This is a very powerful duo. When we move into a pose with the
awareness of the back body as well as the front body, we create that mystic
union between the cerebrum and cerebellum, the pituitary and pineal glands,
respectively relating to the front and back brain. This is the convergence of the
polarities that constitute this world. In the ancient classical teachings, it was said
that in the moment when Śakti awakens, the prāṇa moves through the system,
and the prāṇa moves the body spontaneously in the pose. By emphasizing the
back breath, we can come into conscious awareness of allowing the prāṇa,
which manifests through the breath, to bring us into an organic unfoldment of
the pose. We can be like the rishis — the adept yogis — awakening Śakti
through the breath and allowing it to carry us into āsana.
According to yoga philosophy, every conscious experience becomes a
subconscious impression or saṁskāra. One aim of practicing yoga is to bring
the subconscious impressions up to the surface. One of my yoga sūtra teachers
said that the invisible must become visible before it can be eradicated — or as I
prefer to say, transformed. This is one of the most powerful benefits of yoga.
However, if we do the postures without emphasis on breath, it is difficult to
bring the subconscious impressions (saṁskāras) up to the surface of the
conscious mind where they become visible. As a result, we press them down,
repress them, compress them, and embed them more deeply into the psyche.
So even though we practice yoga to bring saṁskāras to the surface, the nature of
our practice can instead create more repression. When we relive these
experiences in our practice, we are free of them. They do not manifest again.
This is why Śrī Aurobindo Gosh calls yoga “compressed evolution.” We don’t
always get the impressions out by the roots, however, and that’s why the breath
is so important to bring us into these deeper layers of self.
Some of our pain can be emotional pain that manifests as physical pain. When
we get to the root of the emotional pain, it is possible for the physical pain to
disappear. It is the moment when, as the Yoga Sūtras (I:3) say, tadā draṣṭhu
svarūpe avasthānam, or “When the seer and the seen abide in his or her own
form.” We realize that we are already one with the eternal cosmic vibration. We
have only to release the impediments and obstructions that keep us from
realizing this oneness. There is nowhere to go, nothing to do, only to be. That’s
why we inhale, do nothing. It allows us that state of being, and on the exhalation
we hold that state of being even in the doing. This becomes the inaction within
the action. We can move deeper into the pose because the impediments that have
held us back for so long dissolve away. The breath is the guide that takes us deep
into the hidden chambers of the inner self.

Ujjāyī Breathing and Āsana

One of the great yoga breaths is ujjāyī. Uj means “upward,” and jāya means
“victory.” Ujjāyī can be translated as “victory over oneself.” This is another
reason for moving and extending the spine on the exhalation. In the first chapter
of Yoga Sūtras (I:12), Patañjali says one of the many ways in which to still
vṛttis, the mind waves, is abhyāsa vairāgyābhyāṁ tannirodhaḥ. Abhyāsa refers
to checking the downward pull. Vairāgya means “dispassion” or, as it is usually
translated, “nonattachment.” One of the ways to learn dispassion or
nonattachment is to breathe in, remain unmoving, and observe from a place of
neutrality. If we give ourselves that space each time we inhale, we start to
become less attached to having to go somewhere or get something out of a pose.
We do the pose for the sake of the pose alone, and this spills into the rest of life.
So if we are moving upward to victory (jāya), we are transcending the lower self
or checking the downward pull (abhyāsa).
The ujjāyī breath, in which the glottis is partially closed, creates sound. It has a
friction, creating a whispering sound like the wind in the trees. The mind
becomes calm by listening to this sound. New research has shown that the ujjāyī
breath tones the vagus nerve. This nerve, which originates within the base of the
brain, interfaces with the cardiovascular, respiratory, and digestive systems.
Through its effect on the parasympathetic nervous system, it is also responsible
for peristalsis within the intestinal tract.
For people who exert a lot of physical effort in āsana, ujjāyī helps to keep the
mind calm while the body is taking strong action. The sound helps them to hold
to something, like holding onto a thread. For this reason, when I demonstrate
āsana, I practice ujjāyī so that students can hear the breath.
Years ago, I was demonstrating this breath during a workshop on an island in
British Columbia. It was a beautiful summer morning, and we went onto the
deck overlooking the Pacific Ocean. As I instructed the class on ujjāyī breath
during sun salutations, and amplified, primordial sound seemed to fill the air. I
was impressed by the depth and power of the students’ ujjāyī breathing, until I
looked out to the ocean and discovered the sound was coming from a family of
orca whales swimming by. That day, the whales became our teachers of ujjāyī,
reminding us of the tranquility we can find within ourselves.
In the third chapter of the sūtras, Patañjali said that if you focus on the trachea,
hunger and thirst will be subdued, meaning that we can overcome cravings.
Thus, when we practice ujjāyī, and the breath creates friction as it moves into the
trachea, cravings are abated. This illustrates how breath can have a profound
effect on the brain.

Breath and the Brain

Through my practice I discovered the co-creative relationship of the lungs and
the brain. Their tissues are similar. Whatever affects one will affect the other.
If we want to access the higher, more expansive centers within the brain, we
would use the breath. The brain requires about 20 percent of our total oxygen
consumption when we are at rest, and it’s obvious that many of us don’t breathe
adequately.
Some people think we should only breathe abdominally. Others say we should
only breathe above the diaphragm, intercostally or holotrophically. Most don’t
even mention the back in connection to breathing, even though the lungs are
located as much in the back body as they are in the front.
My mother, who studied to be a surgical nurse, worked in the field of natural
healing her whole life. She said that if we unfold the lungs, they would equal the
size of a tennis court. This analogy shows how many lobes and alveoli are in the
lungs and how many cells may not receive the nourishment of the breath when
we are not breathing to capacity. Each time we change position in āsana and
breathe to our fullest capacities, the breath has the potential to move into
different folds of the lungs, stimulating and creating new neurological pathways
in the brain. If we oxygenate the brain through the breath, whether it is ujjāyī,
back breathing, or another form of prāṇāyāma, it is possible to intensify
awareness and experience more expansive states of consciousness.

Changing Our Lives Through Breath

The breath of most yoga practitioners tends to be in the front upper body when
they are moving into a pose. By breathing into the back, we will fill the upper,
middle, and lower lobes of the lungs — from the back to the sides and around to
the front. In doing this, consciousness expands equally, bringing awareness to
the back body as much as to the front body. For most individuals, the breath
usually rushes to the front in anticipation of a future action or to get somewhere
in a pose. Since the way we do a pose is the way we do our lives, this may reveal
how we rush breathlessly from one moment to the next or from one activity to
another. By learning to breathe into the back, we have time to reflect and
observe. We can then stay calm and centered in āsana as well as within life’s
actions.
I think we can also relate the breath to what is said in the Tao: “Remain
unmoving until the right action occurs.” Being still on the inhalation gives us
time to be unmoving, to center our minds, our bodies. And then when we move,
we move from a center of greater equanimity and calmness of mind. We don’t
move from confusion. I see so many people taking action out of their own
confusion, and this seems to create only more confusion. When we breathe
consciously, our lives begin to change, and we become part of the solution to
life’s challenges rather than adding to the problems.
When people have difficulty breathing, it shows an accelerated short attention
span. As a society, everything we have is in twenty-second sound bites — no
wonder people find it hard to settle into the breath. The essence of yoga is to still
the waves of the mind. The sūtras tell us that if we practice prāṇāyāma with a
restless mind, we will produce more restlessness. Likewise, if we practice āsana
with a restless mind, we will produce more restlessness. Slowing the breath
shifts this pattern. Whatever we bring to the pose is what we accentuate. If āsana
unfolds from a calm breath, the mind will also become calm and serene.

The Divinity of Breath

The greatest gift teachers can give to their students is to give them the awareness
of their own breath because the breath is God. Consider again the Sanskrit roots:
The energy that is in the breath, or prāṇa, is from prā, to bring forth; ṇa, the
eternal cosmic vibration; ya, yes, intensifying the action; and ma, to measure. In
prāṇāyāma, we are bringing forth the eternal cosmic vibration into the field of
nature in this third-dimensional “reality.” Not all breathing is prāṇāyāma. But
when we focus the mind on the breath, we convert breath into prāṇa.
The word haṭha is sometimes translated as “force.” The Haṭha Yoga Pradīpikā
(dating to the mid-1300s) describes pranayama very differently than the way
Patañjali described prāṇāyāma centuries before. The Haṭha Yoga Pradīpikā
refers to inhalation as pūraka and exhalation as recaka. Patañjali used different
terms for the breath, bāhya-vṛtti (exhalation) and aṅtara-vṛtti (inhalation). Vṛtti,
again, refers to the mind waves. The distinction is more like allowing the breath,
rather than forcing the breath.
As we can see by the words describing breath, prāṇāyāma is more of a
meditative practice. Inspiration means to bring in Spirit. Expiration means to
offer the Spirit to the space and the world around us. We take that breath in with
sacredness. In today’s fast-paced culture, how often do we honor the sacredness
of the breath? In āsana, when we move with the Spirit of breath, the pose
becomes sacred.
The breath is the one aspect of the self that is both voluntary and involuntary.
When we practice prāṇāyāma, the breath is consciously controlled. The mind,
for most people, is involuntary, while the yogin’s mind is voluntary. A yogin can
even control citta, the subconscious parts of the mind that are hidden in what I
refer to as the back brain, the cerebellum. The idea is to make the involuntary
become voluntary. Then we can change and transform. We can make thousands
of affirmations a day, but we will never make a change if the subconscious is not
aligned with the conscious. When the subconscious and conscious parts of the
mind are aligned, then we can make those shifts.
Through the breath, the yogin learns to make the involuntary voluntary. Even the
autonomic functions of the body become voluntary. In the early days of
biofeedback, yogis proved that one can slow or even stop the beat of the heart
and activate it once again. Yogis can also slow the mind waves from beta to
alpha to theta, as shown on an encephalogram. Thus yogis have demonstrated
that if we slow down the breath, we slow the waves of the mind and the beat of
the heart. If we do not put stress on the heart, we lengthen our earthly years. It is
said the yogis measure their lives not by the number of days but by the number
of breaths. The monkey, who is short-lived, breathes thirty-eight to forty-two
breaths per minute. Humans breathe, on average, seventeen to twenty-one
breaths per minute. The tortoise, the longest-lived of all species, breathes
approximately four breaths per minute. Through gaining mastery over breath, the
yogi can increase his or her lifespan.
But not all people practicing and teaching yoga are yogis. Some people can
control the body and create the appearance of the perfect pose, but can they
control their breath and their mind? Some people can stop the breath, but can
they stop the anger they project toward another? If the way we practice is to
allow the breath to move us, to allow Spirit to do the practice, something
magical begins to happen. A single inhalation can go on for minutes, as if
opening to the universe. It transforms hearts and emotions and strengthens the
neural pathways to receive the light that is always shining.
PRACTICING SVADHARMA IN ĀSANA
An important concept for every yoga practitioner is svadharma. Sva means
“one’s own,” and dharma, which is commonly translated as “law” or “duty,” is
from dṛś, meaning “to see.” Svadharma, therefore, means seeing one’s own
nature, one’s own place, one’s own life’s purpose. When we practice svadharma,
we are seeing our own nature, our own place, or that which is right for us.
In the Bhagavad Gītā, Śrī Kṛṣṇa, the universal soul, teaches Arjuna, the
individual soul, on the battlefield that represents the opposing polarities of life.
Arjuna wants to run away from the battle, not out of cowardliness or fear but out
of compassionate regard for his fellow countrymen, his relatives, and his
teachers. He does not want to slay those who were once near and dear to him. In
trying to help Arjuna perform and follow his dharma, Śrī Kṛṣṇa tells him:
“One’s own work done imperfectly is far better than another’s done perfectly.”
This is an important verse to apply to life’s purpose and mission, to the practice
of yoga, and to the practice of āsana. In āsana, each of us needs to ask: Have I
gone to the edge of what is right for me today, at this moment, or have I over-
reached in the pose, which may have consequences tomorrow? Have I trespassed
my dharma in trying to compete with others in the class?
The continual vigilance of dhāraṇā, concentration, is key to practicing āsana.
Injury is possible during āsana only when the student: l) forgets to allow the
breath to unfold organically within the pose, 2) tries to achieve the goals of
others, and 3) pushes violently into a position beyond svadharma, what is right
for them. When we go beyond svadharma, injury can occur.

Coming to the Edge

A student who is not over-reaching his or her individual dharma in a pose may
be deriving even more results than a student who is intent upon attaining a goal
far beyond his or her reach. Svadharma is the exploration of what is commonly
referred to as “the edge” of a pose. In practicing svadharma, we stay on the
precipice of the pose only as long as the breath is calm, which indicates that the
mind is calm. If the breath becomes erratic, and we are successful in calming it,
this means we can stay a little longer on the edge or go as far as our breath will
allow.
Some students may push beyond svadharma, what is right for them, but the
opposite may also occur. Sometimes, when we come to “the edge,” or what we
think is the edge, there is an impulse to stay in a familiar comfort zone for fear of
exploring a new variation. This can represent how we approach new situations in
life. When we hold to what we think is a comfort zone, we may linger there,
afraid of “going beyond.” There may be a tendency to stay where one is rather
than venturing into unexplored areas that represent unexplored regions of
oneself. By using the breath and the vigilance of a concentrated mind, we
become more discerning, able to recognize if we are over achieving or under
achieving. There is a thin line between comfort and complacency.
In the psychophysiology of āsana, we can observe this in relation to life. Are
there areas in life where we “under do” and other areas of life where we
“overdo”? Usually, this will become evident not only when we explore the edge
of a pose, but within the pose itself. For instance, in Adho Mukha Śvānāsana
(Downward-Facing Dog), the upper back may be over-stretching because the
pelvis and sacrum are holding back and not initiating an upward movement.
When this happens, the upper body compensates by over-stretching as the lower
body under-stretches. This creates conflict within the spine, which reveals
possible conflict in the mind, which may reflect as conflict in an area of one’s
life.

Different Students, Different Dharmas

Returning again to the words of Kṛṣṇa, “One’s own work done imperfectly is
far better than another’s done perfectly.” We may transgress svadharma by
coveting another’s āsana, trying to be there ourselves even if we are not ready.
This is addressed in the Yoga Sūtras in the third yama, asteya. (For more about
the yamas and aṣṭāṅga, the eight-limbed path of yoga, see the appendix.) Asteya
can be translated as nonstealing or non-coveting, and it encompasses not
coveting the qualities or accomplishments of another.
Those who have a competitive nature may want to be where someone else is and
strive for what they view as the full expression of the pose, in turn transgressing
svadharma. In striving, we may forget the most important aspect of the pose, the
breath. To “get the pose,” we may stop breathing while still stretching the body.
As a result, instead of opening internal space, we begin to close it and open
ourselves to possible injury.
While it is humbling to back off one’s edge to recapture the breath, which is the
spiritual essence of a pose, it is helpful to remember Patañjali’s sūtra (I:22) that
recognizes the differences among students. To paraphrase: Yogins are of nine
kinds according to their methods of practice — slow, moderate, and speedy.
These methods have again three degrees each such as gentle ardor, medium
ardor, and intense ardor. It is believed that students with intense ardor achieve
samādhi quickly. In this case, “ardor” means detachment and aptitude combined
with a feeling of reverence in devotional practice. Ardor is also enthusiasm and
energy.
The three methods of practice (mild, medium, intense) are each divided into
three parts, described by Patañjali as 1) mildly mild, moderately mild, and
intensely mild; 2) mildly moderate, moderately moderate, and intensely
moderate; and 3) mildly intense, moderately intense, and intensely intense.
A mild student has been likened to green wood — all smoke, but does not quite
light and catch flame. A medium student is sometimes compared to dry kindling,
one who is enthusiastic about learning and bursts into flame, though the flame is
not sustained but appears extinguished ... then may reignite and burst into flame
once more. An intense student of yoga is one who has sustained faith,
enthusiasm, energy, and an intuitive feeling for or remembrance of the teachings.
Intense does not mean aggressive or goal-oriented. It is ardor or sattvic śraddhā,
which is serenity and reverential faith. This is considered to be the quickest
method and the best means of attaining kaivalya or liberation, which is the
ultimate aim of yoga.
These three methods — mild, medium, and intense — can be compared to the
three Guṇas. The tamasic (mild) student takes more effort, but eventually the
wood dries and can catch the flame. The rajasic (medium) student has an overly
enthusiastic, up-and-down nature that is difficult to sustain. As students of
tamasic or rajasic states continue with their practice, they can shift into sattvic
states of awareness.
Sattvic (intense) students are steady and consistent in taking the practice far
beyond the mat into every aspect of life. They maintain a steady flame of quiet
enthusiasm and inner knowledge that will not flare up and then die out. The
sattvic student keeps burning without end, like an eternal flame that ignites the
light in others. This is known as darshan, from the Sanskrit root dṛś, meaning
“to see.” The sattvic or serene practitioner does not so much hear the words as
feel the prāṇa or energy behind the words. It’s as though the teachings reawaken
something within them, a remembrance of memories stored within the hidden
depths of being.
It is not what we “do” in the practice of āsana. It is the way in which we do it
that determines if we are in svadharma or not. The one who does less may
receive greater benefits than the one who does more.
Ken Keyes, the author of The Hundredth Monkey, is an example of practicing to
the edge of svadharma. When I met him, he was paralyzed and living in a
wheelchair. He demonstrated how he practiced yoga. He inhaled as he turned his
head to the right and stayed there for as long as his breath lasted. He exhaled and
brought his head back to center before taking this movement to the other side.
As I watched him make this simple movement, I felt a profound and peaceful
presence descend upon the room. He was in svadharma, exploring what was the
full expression of āsana for him.

We Cannot Do the Same Pose Twice

Dr. Haridas Chaudhuri, founder of the California Institute for Integral Studies,
once asked his students, “Can you swim in the same waters of the Ganges
twice?” When I returned from a trip to India, where I visited the swift-flowing
source of the Ganges, I told him that after trying to swim from one shore to the
other and being carried downstream, I realized that not only could we not swim
in the same waters twice, but I doubted if we could even swim in the same
waters once.
This experience relates to a saying about yoga āsana, that we can never do the
same pose twice. Each time we come to the pose, it is different. We can lose the
reverence of the pose with the conditioned reflex of expecting it to be the same
as when we practiced it previously, by crystallizing the āsana into the way it
“should” be or the way it “should” feel.
If we did not have a good experience in this particular āsana before, we may
come to it with resistance that tightens both body and mind, not allowing the
fullness of the pose to reveal itself. On the other hand, if we had a wonderful
experience in this āsana before, we may approach it with expectation. And if the
pose does not come with ease this time, we might spend the entire practice trying
to recapture the past experience.
However, when we come to the pose with a sense of devotion for the body as the
temple of God, regarding the body as an altar of the Self, we will find that the
āsana opens new portals of consciousness.
Many years ago, a visiting Buddhist lama was asked, “What is enlightenment?”
He answered, “Seeing things as they are.” I sat in puzzled silence for a moment
and then asked, “How are things?” He laughed and explained: “This means
seeing something that you’ve seen many times before but as if you are seeing it
for the first time.” He used a an object in the room as an example, but I thought
of my husband and children, and how I’d categorized and compartmentalized
them, not coming to them as if seeing them for the first time with wonder and
appreciation.
Can we apply this lesson to the practice of āsana? When we do, it means coming
to a pose with no past memory, but as if we are experiencing it for the first time.
When we learn this through āsana, we are able to apply it to the people in our
life — no baggage from the past, no judgments, no expectations, just being in
the moment. By coming to a pose with the innocence of a clear mind and
following svadharma, the pose will reveal its secrets, opening our eyes to the
vast Universe within.

Letting Breath Be the Teacher

There are no clocks in the true practice of inner yoga. The breath is the
mechanism that tells us if we can stay on the precipice of a pose or if it is time to
come out of that pose. If the breath is calm, it means the mind is one-pointed and
we can explore the possibility of going deeper into the pose. If the breath
becomes rapid or erratic, it means the mind is scattered or disarrayed and it is
time to back off the edge or even to exit the pose. If we practice āsana with a
restless mind, it creates more restlessness. The object of yoga is to quiet the
waves of the mind.
Injuries may occur if the student is not moving with the breath, whether entering
the pose, maintaining the pose, or coming out of the pose. When we do not allow
the movement of āsana to unfold from the organic expression of the breath, we
close down the inner space where spirit reveals itself and, in turn, there is a
tendency to over-reach and transgress svadharma. Overstretching creates a
rubber band effect on the body. Instead of opening gradually into the inner
sanctums of the pose, the body snaps back and closes the channels that bring
light and knowledge of the deeper layers and true experience of yoga. We also
compress organs and contract rather than elongate muscles. We stay only on the
surface in the practice and cannot penetrate the depths of being.
Since breath is the invisible link between body and mind, it becomes the teacher,
instructing us whether to stay in the pose or go deeper. It tells us whether to back
off the edge of the pose until the mind is focused and one-pointed. When the
breath is calm and rhythmic, it is the sign that we can proceed deeper into the
pose.

Breath and the Five States of Mind

As the link between body and mind, breath is how we can perceive the five
states of mind (mūḍha, kṣipta, ekāgratā, nirodha). In the third chapter of the
Yoga Sūtras, Patañjali explains the five states of mind in reference to dhāraṇā
(concentration). I have found that these states of mind relate directly to the five
ways in which the breath manifests. The chart on page 30 relates the breath to
the vṛttis.

The practice of āsana brings up kleṡas, the afflictions or reasons for pain and
suffering in life. These manifest as 1) avidyā, not seeing the nature of our
Oneness; 2) asmitā or egoism, mistaking one thing for another (such as buddhi
for puruṣa); 3) rāga or attachment; 4) dveṣa or aversion; and 5) abhineveśa, fear
of death or clinging to life. When these painful mind waves rise to the surface
where they can be healed and transformed, the breathing patterns change. Āsana
provides an opportunity to calm the mind by calming the breath, even while
practicing the more difficult poses, which reflect the more stressful situations in
our lives.
The first state of mind that reflects in the breath is mūḍha. It is a dull state that is
heavy, lethargic, or tamasic. I think of it as mud. When we are stuck in old
obsessive patterns, it feels as if we are weighted down, unable to lift above or
transcend the patterns. The breath reveals this state of mind by feeling stuck or
appearing as non-breathing. The breath is held or even stopped at times,
especially in stressful situations.
The second state of mind is kṣipta. Keshe means to throw out, scatter, or
disarray. In this state, the mind is ricocheting from one point to another. The
mind has a thousand thoughts and cannot focus. Fear, frustration, and anxiety are
expressed through the breath, which is isolated to the clavicle region and the
upper part of the torso. The breath stays mainly in the upper and smallest lobes
of the lungs. The shoulders rise upward significantly on the incoming breath and
drop on the outgoing breath. Large amounts of energy are expended with very
little oxygen return. Extended periods of this upper chest breathing results in
tension and fatigue to the shoulders and neck, respiratory diseases, and a
chronically agitated mind. Like the mind, the breath is scattered and disarrayed,
fast and shallow. If āsana is practiced with a restless mind, it produces more
restlessness. During āsana, it is best to wait until the breath becomes calm before
proceeding deeper into a pose.
The third state of mind is vikṣipta. Vi means to reverse, so vikṣipta means
sometimes scattered and disarrayed and at other times more concentrated.
Vikṣipta reflects as erratic breathing patterns in the upper parts of the lungs,
while at other times, it may be calm, reflecting a one-pointed state of mind. The
breath may move to the intercostal region of the torso and the middle lobes of
the lungs, which are larger than the upper lobes. This breath pattern is usually
seen when we are exploring a new āsana (or a new “edge” in a familiar āsana),
when we are not quite sure where the pose may lead. Sometimes the breath is
calm and one-pointed while at other times a kleṣa (such as fear) may arise,
reflecting in the erratic nature of shallow and rapid breath.
The fourth state of mind is ekāgratā. Ekā is one and gratā is from graha,
meaning “dwelling.” Ekāgratā, which means “dwelling in oneness,” is known as
one-pointedness. It is a state of dhāraṇā (concentration), and it is the entrance to
dhyāna (meditation), where there is sustained concentration and subject and
object merge into one another. Ekāgratā is reflected in a calm, deep, and
sustained breath. It can be felt as a sacral, pelvic, or abdominal breath, which
activates the lowest and largest lobes of the lungs. This relieves pressure upon
the heart and freshens the flow of circulation to the liver, kidneys, spleen,
gallbladder, and stomach. Together with intercostal breathing, this breath
massages the abdomen through the movement of the diaphragm. It has been used
in asthmatic clinics and has been found effective in reducing high blood pressure
and enlarged hearts. Breathing this way can calm and quiet the mind, and when
practiced in āsana, it gives us the feeling that we can stay in a pose indefinitely.
As long as this breath is prevalent during āsana, we can explore greater depth in
any pose. This breath in āsana increases physical stamina, leading to greater
confidence and trust in one’s inner strength. It also strengthens and rebuilds
nerve sheaths, which gives greater emotional stamina, and stabilizes the subtle
body, organically opening channels for the light of illumination to reveal itself.
The fifth state of mind is nirodha. This means a cessation of the waves of the
mind as one enters a samādhi state of awareness. Samādhi is when dhyāna
(meditation) is sustained, leading to a total emergence with spirit. This state can
be experienced within āsana when one enters the field of the yantra of the pose
and communes with the presiding energy of that pose. There is a feeling of
unification rather than separation, and the breath appears to be stopped.
However, the breath of nirodha is a pole apart from the mūḍha breath, which is
based on nescience and dense heaviness. In the nirodha breath, the incoming
breath (ābhyantara-vṛtti) merges with the outgoing breath (bāhya-vṛtti). It is said
that the breath stops in this samādhi-like state. Over the years, however, I have
found that the breath doesn’t actually stop. Instead, it is as if the incoming breath
and outgoing breath are like rings of energy spiraling into one another, or as
though the inhalation and exhalation are happening simultaneously as they
spontaneously merge into one another. In this samādhi-like state, it feels as if we
are no longer breathing … but breath IS.
In the Yoga Sūtras (II:51), Patañjali refers to this state as bāhya ābhyantara
viṣaya ākṣepī caturthaḥ, the fourth kind of prāṇāyāma that occurs during
concentration on an internal or external object. This breath is known as kevala
kumbhaka. Kumbha refers to retention, and kevala means isolated and absolutely
pure. This is the breath in which the effortless retention is reflective of the
stillness of the waves of the mind. Kevala kumbhaka brings consciousness into
the first stages of samādhi. This can happen spontaneously within any āsana,
demonstrating that wherever the mind goes, the prāṇa follows, and that breath
and mind are inseparable. In the next sūtra, Patañjali continues that as a result of
kevala kumbhaka, tataḥ kṣīyate prakāśa āvaraṇam, or “The veil over the inner
light is lifted.” The stillness of this breath reflects the stillness of the mind and
fulfills the second and most important sūtra, yogaḥ cittavṛtti nirodha, meaning
“Yoga is to still or quiet the waves or vṛttis of the mind.”

The Methodology of Svadharma

We each have a different svadharma. What is right for one student at one time
may not be right for another. What is right for us this day may change tomorrow.
To stay in svadharma, we need to be vigilant and observant, and learn to be in
the moment. The way to do this is through observing the breath, integrating
prāṇāyāma into āsana.
When the body is aligned and we encounter pain in the pose, it is important to
stop, stay in the pose and observe the breath. Is the breath calm and rhythmic or
is it erratic and inconsistent? Can we breathe into the painful area and on the
exhalation slowly spiral into the center to release the hardened outer layers that
encircle the soft nuclei of the pain? Instead of plunging into the center of pain
trying to deny or aggressively push beyond it, it is far more effective to
circumvent pain by relaxing the surrounding areas. These areas may have built
up psychological armor over time in order to protect their vulnerable core.
When you inhale, let it be a time of relaxation or doing nothing. The inspiration
is a time to draw energies into yourself, to restore. On the exhalation, when the
ego relinquishes or unravels itself, let the breath carry you deeper into the pose.
Release a little more into the pose with each exhalation. As you come to an edge
where pain arises, investigate its origin and its nature. Have you aligned the
pose? What does this pain reveal to you? Why is it there? What does it need
from you for its own healing?
On each exhalation, release more deeply into the pose and wait for a new
understanding to reveal itself or a new door to open. If it does, on the next
exhalation, enter into the opening that lies before you. As you practice the
following āsanas, let the breath be your guru, the guide to lead you into the
deeper labyrinth of the pose and the chambers of the inner Self.
THE POSTURES
ĀSANA I SEQUENCE
Śavāsana
Pavanamuktāsana
Bālāsana
Mārjāryāsana
Adho Mukha Śvānāsana
Śīrṣāsana preparation
An Introduction to Standing Poses
Tāḍāsana
Vṛkṣāsana
Naṭarājāsana
Utthita Trikoṇāsana
Vīrabhadrāsana II
Utthita Pārśvakoṇāsana
Pārśvottānāsana
Uttānāsana
Backbend over chair
Setu Bandhāsana
Sālamba Sarvāṅgāsana
Matsyāsana
Śalabhāsana
Bhujaṅgāsana
Uṣṭrāsana
Seated twist with chair
Jaṭhara Parivartanāsana
Daṇḍāsana
Paripūrṇa Nāvāsana
Ardha Nāvāsana
Jānu Śīrṣāsana
Marīcyāsana I
Paścimottānāsana
An Introduction to Seated Poses
Sukhāsana
Samāsana
ŚAVĀSANA
The Corpse Pose
Śava means “corpse.”

Philosophical Introduction
One day many years ago, when B.K.S. Iyengar was staying at my home, a group
of yoga teachers gathered for questions and answers. One of the teachers asked
Mr. Iyengar why he practiced yoga. We expected a lengthy physiological
response and were startled by the simple profundity of his answer: “So that I
may die majestically.”

This statement reflects what yogis have said for thousands of years, that every
day is a preparation for our last. According to Master Sivānanda Sarasvatī, “Our
last thought determines our next birth.” He elaborated that the last thought is
determined by every thought that passes daily through the portals of one’s mind.
In yoga, it is believed that Eternal Life is not guaranteed, that we have to earn it.
Śavāsana is a reminder that the end of one cycle is the beginning of the next. The
pose also reminds us that energy can neither be created nor destroyed, only
transformed.
Corpse Pose is one of the most difficult of all yoga āsanas. In it, we die before
dying. It symbolizes letting go of the external phenomenal world. It is a form of
pratyāhāra (one of the eight limbs of yoga), in which we withdraw the senses
from the outer worlds and turn them inward to nurture the inner world. As our
ego of the senses turns inward, we learn to die daily. In Śavāsana, we withdraw
from the dynamic activities of life and return to the bindu, the seed point present
in all yantras (the sacred geometric patterns of existence). The bindu lies within
the deep primordial central core of one’s Being, where creation arises and
returns. This is Śakti , or prakṛti, the feminine energy principal that gives
momentum to life. During Śavāsana, Śakti retires within itself, returning to the
seat of its own creation. Practicing pratyāhāra in Śavāsana is an opportunity to
internalize the Śakti of the senses, which dart outwards as “doing,” turning them
back into a state of “being.”
In the Tantra Śāstras, it is said that Śiva without Śakti is Śava, a corpse. In some
manifestations, Śiva is depicted lying in Corpse Pose with the Goddess Kālī
standing and dancing upon his body. (Kālī is also Kāla, referring to time, birth,
life, and death cycles.) In this depiction, the corpse of Śiva is the resting place of
Puruṣa, the timeless substratum of Being, the Immortal Self. As the corpse, Śiva
— the immutable and instrumental cause of all creation — gives the foundation
and impetus for consciousness to manifest into matter. Kālī is one of the forms
of the Goddess Prakṛti, who manifests as the primordial cause of material
existence. Prakṛti is the life force of the primordial dance of creation, the energy
that is our heartbeat and breath, the prāṇa that moves digestion, reproduction,
respiration, and elimination — the rhythms of all life.
The Corpse Pose is a pose of noninterference. This is a pose where we have
removed the ego from disturbing the flow of prāṇa. When the prāṇas align
themselves, the entire system can come into balance. Śavāsana is truly a time to
relax, release, and let go, in body, mind, and spirit. It is a perfect pose to learn
not only “how to die majestically” but how to live majestically and consciously
in every aspect of our Being. If we can perfect Śavāsana, we perfect all poses.

Preparation
Śavāsana consists of several layers. As we learn to trust that the earth is there to
support us, we learn to let go deeper and deeper with every outgoing breath, until
the exhalation becomes much longer than the inhalation. Śavāsana becomes a
time of surrender, and the outgoing breath carries us deeper into the center of
Self. The incoming breath happens of its own accord.
There are times, however, when we cannot penetrate the first layer, and
consciousness remains in the surface of our Being. We may even feel this as
energy pulsating at the frontal brain toward the forehead. This may make it
difficult to close the eyes. As we drop into the deeper layers, the prāṇa of the
frontal cortex of the brain comes to rest upon the back brain (the cerebellum).
When layers of protection and mistrust dissolve, consciousness sinks deeper into
the mid-body. Eventually, as we learn to let go of the protective armor of
lifetimes, we can let go into the back of the body and descend in consciousness
ever more deeply until we fully surrender this body into the earth.

A teacher can assist students in preparing for Savasana by gently pulling on their heels to help them
lengthen and relax the lumbar area.

Guidance
1. Lie supine on a mat on a level spot upon the earth or the floor. Hard surfaces
reveal and release the tense areas and allow the body to relax. If you are lying
on a soft surface, such as a bed, the surface will give way to tense areas of the
body, which makes it more difficult to relax habitually contracted muscles.
2. Begin by bending the knees, placing the feet hip distance apart, and go into
Setu Bandhāsana (page 91), Bridge Pose. This elongates the lumbar spine,
which relaxes the frontal brain. Practicing Bridge Pose also helps flatten the
sacrum to the floor, expanding the buttocks out away from the sacrum
(meaning “sacred” bone).
3. Clasp the hands behind the head. Bring the bent elbows toward each other
and, on the exhalation, lift the head, simultaneously elongating the back of the
neck and the front of the throat.
4. Inhaling, keep the head lifted from the mat and feel the breath spreading
across the back and widening the ribs. See if the breath will expand from the
ribs to the hips, spreading out as much as possible across the back.

A teacher can gently lengthen the student’s neck so that the base of the skull comes into contact with the
mat, quieting the mind.
5. Exhaling, extend the neck a little more, and then rest the base of the skull (not
the back of the head) on the mat. The hairline needs to be higher than the chin
for the eyes to automatically close and draw inward, allowing the frontal brain
to relax. If the chin is higher than the hairline, the frontal brain is active,
preventing consciousness from deepening into the pose. If necessary, use a
blanket to bring the hairline a little higher than the chin. Relax the frontal
brain and bring energy into the cerebellum of the back brain, the seat of the
subconscious mind. When the base of the skull rather than the back of the
head is in contact with the mat, this quiets the mind and draws the sensory
organs inward. When the head is in position, bring the arms to the side,
turning the palms upward to receive the light
6. Inhaling, allow the breath to expand throughout the back of the torso, as this
brings the breath into unused areas of the lungs.
7. Exhaling, keep the connection of the lumbar spine to the earth, as you slide
one leg diagonally out and then the other (without lifting the feet from the
mat).
8. Inhale and feel the breath widening the entire back of the body from shoulders
to buttocks.

A teacher can assist by drawing the student’s scapula downward while rotating the shoulder.
9. Exhale and allow the upper shoulders to descend, bringing the inner shoulder
blades to the mat and widening the space between them. Now is time for the
heart center, which is giving daily, to recede back into the center of the
 shoulder blades, as if sinking into the earth. Śavāsana is a time to receive and
restore, not to give. Receive the energies of the heavens into the palms of the
hands. Relax the fingers, which correspond to the five lower chakras (cakras),
the five senses, and the sensory organs. Relax from the roots to the tips of the
fingers.
10. Inhale and allow the breath to spread through the back body like wings.
11. Exhale and descend further into the earth, positioning the right and left
shoulder blades and right and left buttocks equally upon the earth. Balance the
back of the head, not from the alignment of the eyes, which can be deceptive
because one side of the back of the head is usually flatter than the other.
Instead, align the head by the way the breath feels in both nostrils. When the
breath is balanced, keep the head in this position, and this will begin to
balance the fluid in right and left hemispheres of the brain. Remember, the
hairline is slightly higher than the chin throughout this process.
12. Inhaling, allow consciousness to soar horizontally across the earth plane with
the back of the body.
13. Exhaling, relax the upper eyelid down to meet the lower lid without lifting
the lower lid to the upper. Allow the ball of each eye to recede from the
eyelids as if moving toward the back of the brain. Relax the lower jaw, letting
it drop slightly away from the upper.
14. Inhale in such a way that the breath is gradually more refined. Eventually the
inhalations become insignificant.
15. Exhale longer and deeper than the inhalations, giving the exhalation full
attention. When exhaling, there should be no muscular contraction or tension.
Exhalation is the act of allowing, rather than trying to make something
happen.
16. Do not try to breathe in. Allow the breath to come in of its own accord, as if
the Goddess Prakṛti, nature itself, is nourishing you with her own breath.
17. Let all the attention be on the exhalations, not trying to push the breath out
but slowly allowing the breath to dissolve away. When you reach the end of
the breath, wait, watch, relax, and see if more space opens to let the breath
descend more deeply into the inner sanctums of Self.
18. Inhale minimally, giving no attention to the incoming breath. Simply allow it
to enter into the nostrils without friction, mentally moving the breath as close
to the center of the nostrils as possible.
19. Exhale in a prolonged, deep, relaxed rhythm, allowing each breath to carry
you deeper into the pose. Relax the sensory organs with every exhalation.
Allow the eyes to descend toward the back of the skull. Relax the drum of the
inner ears. Soften the breath as it flows from the right and left nostrils equally,
without creating friction on the inner membranes. Relax the tongue from the
tip to the base to the root. As you relax the head, brain, and sensory organs, the
rest of the body follows.
20. Inhale to the center of the nostrils without touching the membrane of the
circumference of the nostrils. This is the practice of ahiṁsā, nonviolence,
when the breath entering into the body is so refined it doesn’t even create
friction upon these inner membranes.
21. Exhaling, disturb the molecules of air around you as little as possible.
22. Inhaling, bring the breath in as if it were already within you.
23. Exhaling, let the breath out as if there is nowhere for it to go.
24. As you relax the form, be aware of the space within and around the form. Be
aware of the space between the sensory organs, between the arms and torso,
between the fingers, between the legs, between the toes. Be aware of the space
above and below the body. Allow each exhalation to lead you into the
universal space within. Observe how far the outgoing breath will carry you
into the deeper layers of the Self. (Remember, the ego dissolves on the
exhalation.)
25. When it is time to come out of the pose, allow the incoming breath to
lengthen gradually until it is equal to the outgoing breath. Allow the body to
grow lighter, drawing in energy, light, lightness to every cell with the
incoming breath. Grow even lighter with the outgoing breath as the subtle
body lifts away from the gravitational pull and prepares itself for the activities
of the day or evening.

Psychophysiological Benefits
It has been said that it is not in the pose but between the poses that we receive
the benefits of āsana. In Śavāsana we receive the benefits from our practice at
the deepest cellular level, and the pose is usually taken at the end of every yoga
practice. If one gets up too soon after practicing without ample time in Śavāsana,
the energy may drop later on in the day. If we spend fifteen or twenty minutes or
longer in Śavāsana after practice, it will give a reserve of increasing energy.
Śavāsana can also be taken at the beginning of a yoga practice, preferably after
Setu Bandhāsana or another pose that releases habitually contracted muscles.
Śavāsana can be taken between poses that are done from a supine position, such
as shoulderstand and Halāsana. It’s especially beneficial after forward-bending
poses ending with Paścimottānāsana. After āsana practice and between poses,
practicing Śavāsana even briefly is an opportunity for the body to receive the
benefits from the previous pose. Once habitually contracted muscles have
released, practicing Śavāsana is an effective way for the brain and
neuromuscular system to truly relax.
Śavāsana is one of the most difficult of all Yoga poses because it requires that
we do nothing. Usually when we do nothing with our body, the mind remains
active and restless. During Śavāsana, brainwaves are given every opportunity to
slow down and rest so the body can repair and regenerate itself. It is important
not to fall asleep in Śavāsana but to remain on the precipice of the relaxed alpha
or theta brainwave states. (Theta is the state of hypnogogic imagery in which the
collective psyche gives creativity and renewed energy). These brainwave states
slow down the vṛttis or mind waves, which is the essence of Yoga and other
spiritual disciplines. If the mind goes to sleep, however, the body wakes up,
which is reflected in deep interior tensions. Tension in the body tightens the
brain cells. When the brain cells are contracted, we cannot hear the Divine inner
voice. When the senses turn inward and yet the mind does not go to sleep, we
allow the neuromuscular system to relax and come to rest. When we let go, we
open the channels, inviting the Universal consciousness to enter our Being.
As one goes deeper into Śavāsana, it can morph into Yoga Nidrā, the deep
psychic sleep. In the deeper layers of Śavāsana, as in Yoga Nidrā, we learn how
to drop into the deeper recesses of the unconsciousness and yet remain
conscious. This is why it is important in Śavāsana not to fall asleep but to ride
that thin line between sleep and Samādhi. This trains the consciousness to
remain awake even while the body sleeps. Could this be what Mr. Iyengar meant
when he said he was practicing yoga so that he may die majestically?

Śavāsana and the Kośas

In Śavāsana, consciousness moves to ever deepening layers within the kośas, the
five sheaths of Being. As we unravel the tensions of annamaya kośa, the “food
body” or physical sheath, the increase in sensitivity may unfold the prāṇamāya
kośa, the pranic sheath of awareness of the subtle body. If we can relax even
more deeply, we encounter the manomaya kośa, the mental and emotional sheath
that allows latent impressions within the psyche to rise to the surface of the
conscious mind and reveal themselves. With growing trust, the ego unravels
itself a little more as we drop into the even subtler realms of the vijñānamaya
kośa. This is a sheath or realm beyond the thinking or conscious mind, relating
to the energy center of the heart, religious exploration, and devotional surrender
to the Universal.
As the body dissolves into the deeper states of relaxation, it is possible to
encounter the subtlest sheath or layer, the ānandamaya kośa, or bliss sheath,
where consciousness is absorbed into a waveless sea of effulgent light. In this
state, instead of growing heavier with each exhalation, the body begins to feel
lighter with every outgoing breath. The body no longer feels inert, as if it’s fixed
to the earth, but may begin to feel like a void dissolving itself in infinite space
where consciousness is as vast as the wide expanse of the sky. In this state, there
is no boundary between skin and sky, earth and body, or finite and Infinite. All is
One.
In Vedāntic philosophy, the mantra Tat Tvam Asi means, “Thou Art That, and
That Is Thou.” Śavāsana is a profound reminder that you are not this body. You
are not this mind. You are not this passing personality. You are beyond the
physical, astral, and causal bodies. You are the Supreme Self.

Śavāsana and the Breath

The karmic law of cause and effect is the law of giving and receiving. It is this
ebb and flow that governs the flow of the universe as well as our breath. Some
yogis have said that one’s days upon earth are measured by the number of
breaths one takes. At the end of life, all Divine energy given must be returned.
Breath is the invisible link between mind and body. It is the quickest way to
understand the nature of the mind. We can’t see the mind, but we can observe
the functioning of mind through the breath. Śavāsana is an excellent opportunity
to practice prāṇamāya, allowing students to get in touch with the breath. In
Śavāsana, we focus on the exhalation rather than on the inhalation and in turn
quiet the waves of the mind. The exhalation draws us away from the outgoing
sensory stimulation of prakṛti into the vast inner realm of Puruṣa, the essence of
our Immortal Self.
It is through exhalation that we discover the essence of prāṇamāya. Patanjali
says, “By exhaling and restraining the breath, the mind is calmed” (I:34).
Nowhere in the sūtras does he say that the mind is calmed through the
inhalation. When we inhale, the cells of the brain have a tendency to inflate,
which can at times inflate the ego, causing agitation in body and mind. In
Śavāsana we emphasize exhalation, making the pose a time when the ego
humbles itself.
When the exhalation is slowly released and we think we’ve reached its base, we
wait. If space opens, we let the breath go even further as the body feels heavier
and heavier, as if merging into the earth. As one drops further into the layers of
Being, it feels as if the body is magnetized to the earth. We do not defy gravity
but give over fully to the pull of gravity, almost as if the earth is molding to the
contours of our back and limbs.
When we feel as though we cannot exhale any more, we may experience a
sensation of panic. The fear of not being able to get enough breath may arise.
This reflects the fear of not getting enough in any phase of life. It also reflects a
fear of the unknown. Death is the ultimate unknown, but related are fears of
change, of loss, of losing, of getting. When we deepen the outgoing breath, we
can overcome internal subconscious fears and impressions (saṁskāras) by
allowing them to rise to the forefront of the conscious mind, where we can see
them and release them. Swami Jyotir Mayānanada, one of the great teachers of
Rāja Yoga has said, “The invisible must become visible before it can be
eradicated.” In this way, Śavāsana with prāṇamāya can become an instrument of
self-transformation.
In the Hindu scriptures, many stories depict great daring and heroism in battles
fought against the demons, who are the archetypes of ego. Ego in this instance is
the individuated consciousness that leads to separation, comparisons, and
competition. The demons manifest as false attachments. One of greatest of these
is abhineveśa, which is the fifth painful vṛtti, or mind-wave. In the Yoga Sūtras,
abhineveśa is translated as the clinging to life and fear of death.
The fear of death relates to the fear of the unknown and other fears: the fear of
lack (which leads to greed), the fear of not being good enough, the fear of not
being loved. These are all the ego’s attachments. Śavāsana unravels the grip of
the ego. It dissolves the material constituents of the body and mind (desires) and
helps us transcend the vast realms of the unknown. In Śavāsana we remove the
ego from disturbing the balanced flow of prāṇa. When the prāṇas align
themselves, the entire system can come into balance.
When we linger in the space between the outgoing and incoming breaths, we
learn to be comfortable in the augmented state of non-resolution, the space
between what was and what is yet to be. The state of suspension before we reach
for the next incoming breath is a powerful revealer of what is already within us.
In that state of suspension, old patterns may begin to drop away before the new
begin to appear. If we are uncomfortable in this state of suspended animation,
we may gasp and grasp for the incoming breath, which is reflected in wanting
immediate resolution of a situation. We are not accustomed to the space between
“what was” and “what has yet to be.” With practice, we grow more comfortable
within this space of non-resolution. We learn to trust and have faith that we are
supported by something greater than ourselves.
According to many commentaries on the Yoga Sūtras, it is through the
exhalation that we find the ultimate prāṇamāya, known as kevala kumbhaka, the
retention of mind through the breath, a state in which we transcend the
boundaries and limitations of our mortal coil. At this point, we are no longer
breathing, but breath is present. It is as if the great Goddess Prakṛti, the Goddess
of life and nature, is nourishing us with her own breath.
Even though this process of breathing can be applied to all āsana, Śavāsana is
the pose in which we learn most easily to find comfort with the breath in a state
of suspension. It is in this space that we can overcome fears and anxieties of the
unknown to face life’s challenges and changes more gracefully.

Śavāsana and the Cakras

The next time you teach or practice Śavāsana notice the hands. The hands are the
extension of the heart center, and this is a very vulnerable point for some people.
Closed fingers may indicate a fear of letting go and opening the heart. If the
palms are turned down, this may signify the heart is not ready to open. Students
whose palms turn upward to the light have described a sensation of opening in
the cells of the brain. When the palms turn down, it feels as if the brain cells
begin to contract and pull in. Even when the palms are turned upward to indicate
“I really want to give,” the fingers may inadvertently close, as if to protect the
soft and vulnerable center of the palm.
The fingers and toes relate to various centers within the brain and the energy
centers we call cakras. Cakra means “wheel” or “disk.” Relaxing the fingers
from the roots to the tips will relax the brain centers and, in turn, the sensory
organs such as eyes and ears. Each finger relates to one of the first five cakras,
its corresponding element (earth, water fire, air, or ether), and the corresponding
sensory organ. For example, the thumb relates to the neck. Relaxing and opening
the thumb joint influences the thyroid in the throat, which relates to Viśuddhi
cakra, or the throat center. Viśuddhi relates to the element of ether and the sense
of hearing.
The second finger relates to Anāhata cakra and is the element of air residing in
the heart center, which is related to touch. The third finger represents Maṇipūra,
meaning “the city of jewels,” and relates to the element of fire and the sense of
sight. The ring finger represents Svādhiṣṭhāna cakra and the water element in
the procreative plexus, associated with the sense of taste. The little finger is the
root cakra, Mūlādhāra, associated with the earth element, the coccygeal area of
the spine, and the sense of smell.
In Śavāsana, when we relax the arms and hands that extend from our heart
center, we open these subtle vortices of energy. We also open energy centers
through the deep relaxation of the toes. The big toe represents the neck and
throat cakra and the little toe (like the little finger), the root cakra. When one
relaxes deeply enough into Śavāsana, it is possible to feel the sub cakras
spinning, clockwise and counterclockwise, within the palms of the hands and the
soles of the feet.
The tongue also relates to the cakras. The tip of the tongue relates to the root
cakra, the very back of the top of the tongue to the throat cakra. If we can relax
the root of the tongue, we open Viśuddhi, and the relaxation spreads out into the
membranes of the throat down into the esophagus to the pharynx, into the
bronchial tubes, and into Anāhata, the heart cakra. When the bronchial tubes
relax, the breath becomes very calm. As the yoga sūtras (III:31) say, “Calmness
is attained by saṁyama [concentration, meditation, Samādhi] on the bronchial
tube.” Commentaries on the sūtras elaborate, explaining that within the chest,
below the trachea, is a tortoise-shaped tubular structure. By practicing saṁyama
on this, one attains freedom from restlessness. Like a snake or an iguana that
stays inert as a piece of stone, so can the yogin. If the body does not move, the
mind can also be made calm.

Śavāsana in Āsana
Some teachers recommend practicing Śavāsana after every pose, saying that by
doing so it is possible to enter a trancelike state where āsana becomes a flowing
meditation. This is a powerful way to practice, but it is difficult to maintain this
state in standing poses. Lying down and then standing up again interrupts the
flow and jostles the nervous system.
I have found that when we learn to rest within each pose, we don’t need
Śavāsana after each pose. We find Śavāsana in every pose. We can even find
Śavāsana during the standing poses. Look at how this relates to life. We may
work ourselves hard and then collapse. But in yoga, we learn to rest while we are
doing the work. We gradually develop the ability to relax within the action,
whether in āsana or in life, cultivating a sense of being the “non-doer.” In the
Bhagavad Gītā (III:27) Sri Kṛṣṇa says, “He whose mind is deluded by egoism
thinks, ‘I am the doer.’ ”
In āsana, we don’t have to push until we collapse with fatigue. When we become
breathless and strained within a pose, it is time to come out and rest, breathe, and
re-center the mind before taking the next pose. When we rush from side to side
or pose to pose, the mind may become more restless rather than calm and one-
pointed. Without synchronizing movement with breath, lactic acid can build up
within the system, leading to fatigue. Yoga āsana is meant to eradicate fatigue,
not create more. We learn to breathe and rest within the work. We learn to pull
back from over-reaching, honoring what is right for us in the moment, not what
others may expect of us. This is known as svadharma. (For more about
svadharma in āsana, see the Appendix.) Shortness of breath or holding the breath
reflects that one has gone beyond svadharma. When the breath is calm and
prolonged, we may move a little further in a pose. Thus, the breath is the
barometer telling us when to stay and when to exit a pose. (If, however, a student
becomes tired and breathless during practice, he or she can lie down in Śavāsana
or rest with the knees bent to retain the warmth and energy from the preceding
āsana.)
We don’t need to return to Śavāsana after each pose when we bring the
principals of breath and relaxation into every pose. When the head and neck are
relaxed and the spine active, this is relaxation within action or, as stated in the
Gītā, “The inaction within the action.” Why wait to curb the restless of the body
and then sit cross-legged to curb the restlessness of the mind? The quiet mind we
find in Śavāsana can be applied to every asana. We can create concentration
(dhāraṇā) or meditation (dhyāna) within this and other more complex āsanas,
which then gives us poise in more difficult situations of our lives. We can find
the meditative seat in every position we take in yoga and in life.
PAVANAMUKTĀSANA
Wind-Relieving Pose
Pavana is the wind. Mukta means “to liberate” or “to free.” Pavanamuktāsana is
the wind-relieving pose that helps to balance and rebalance the pranic currents of
the subtle and physical body.

Philosophical Introduction
This pose celebrates Vāyu, the Lord of the Wind. (Vāyu is a synonym for
pavana, and both are associated with prāṇa.) In the Vedas, Vāyu is the deified
wind, or the breath of the gods. He is the father of Hanumān, the devoted servant
of Lord Rāma in the Rāmāyana. Hanumān, the great monkey, leapt from India to
Lanka to help rescue Sītā (who represents Prakṛti or nature) so that she could be
reunited with Rāma (who represents Puruṣa).
Hanumān symbolizes prāṇa and the freedom to move or travel as one wishes.
He is able to fly through the air, timeless and boundless. He leaps above all
material and spiritual obstacles, carrying those who have been lost in darkness
upon his back. Hanumān represents that part of human nature that longs to be a
jivanmukti, a liberated soul — no longer bound by the gravitational field of this
third-dimensional plane, able to fly beyond or lift above past self-imposed
limitations. This is the part of our nature that — even though caught in the cul-
de-sacs of life’s emotions and experiences — ultimately seeks its own spiritual
liberation.

Guidance
1. Begin in Śavāsana. Breathe in and out in whatever way the breath chooses to
flow.
2. On an exhalation, bring the right knee to the chest, clasping the hands around
the front of the knee or the back of the thigh. Keep the head on the floor.
3. Inhale, allowing the breath to round the back, bringing it from the shoulders to
the hips.

Relax the facial muscles asyou bring the forehead toward the knee.
4. Exhale, and as you lengthen the front of the torso, elongate the neck. Relaxing
the facial muscles, bring the forehead toward the knee.
5. Inhale and bring the breath into the entire spectrum of the back.

Pavanamuktasana, leg raised and neck extended.

6. Exhaling, bring the spine in like a backbend, elongating the front of the torso.
Bring the left leg off the floor as far as possible without bending the knee.
Continue to relax the face, neck, and shoulders. Assume an attitude of ease.
7. Inhale, and again round the back with the incoming breath, thinking of it as
Vāyu, the breath of the gods.
8. Exhaling, bring the extended leg back to the floor, elongating the neck and
bringing the base of the skull to the floor. Relax the arms to the sides of the
torso.
9. Inhale and relax.
10. Exhaling, stretch the bent knee and foot to the sky and slowly extend the leg
out, bringing it down to the earth.
11. Breathe and observe sensations before taking the pose to the opposite side.
Note: Moving deeper into the pose on the exhalation rather than on the
inhalation helps the mind to become calm within the pose.

Psychophysiological Benefits
This pose not only releases flatulence and prevents vāta imbalance, it also is a
good pose for strengthening the abdominals without putting strain on the lumbar
spine. Pavanamuktāsana preserves hip flexibility and strengthens the neck. If the
bottom leg is brought off the floor at the same time the head is lifted, it has an
even deeper affect upon the core muscles of the torso. It can also act as a natural
facelift — when the head is brought to the knee, the skin lifts counter to the
gravitational pull.
In Pavanamuktāsana, we learn the importance of keeping the breath flowing and
the mind focused to prevent the fluctuating currents of emotions that impact the
physical body. When the mind and emotions remain in balance, or when they
can be brought back to a state of equanimity when out of balance, the pranic
currents realign, giving us greater physical and emotional strength, stamina, and
stability.
Pavana and Vāyu are common synonyms for prāṇa. The five prāṇas are:
1. prāṇa prāṇa, which regulates the heart, lungs, and bronchial tubes
2. apāna prāṇa, the downward flow of gravity that carries waste matter from the
system
3. samāna prāṇa, which is responsible for the digestion and absorption,
regulating kidneys, adrenals, liver, gallbladder, spleen, pancreas, and stomach
4. udāna prāṇa, located in the throat and regulating the thyroid and parathyroid
glands (associated with metabolism and calcium stasis); all-pervasive vyāna
prāṇa, which unites all the prāṇas with the body and is associated with the
nerves and muscles.
When we practice Pavanamuktāsana, we affect the pranic body, particularly the
prāṇamāya kośa or energy sheath. The prāṇamāya kośa is the second of the five
sheaths or layers that comprise the aura around the physical body (see page 245).
This layer can’t be seen, but it can be sensed throughout asana, prāṇamāya, and
meditation. When the mind and emotions are scattered, the prāṇas can be thrown
out of balance, and the disturbance may eventually sift through the kośas into the
physical tissues, creating an opening for disease. Yoga is a preventative because
it keeps the five prāṇas or currents of the subtle body in alignment before any
imbalance can manifest in the physical tissues. As a stabilizing āsana,
Pavanamuktāsana not only increases core strength but also balances the prāṇas
and gives us greater concentrative powers and quietness of mind in the midst of
life’s difficult moments.
In the Bhagavad Gītā, the great warrior Arjuna lamented, “O Kṛṣṇa! The mind
is very fickle, powerful, wild, and stubborn. It seems to me that control of the
mind is as difficult as catching the wind.” The wind-freeing pose teaches us that,
like Arjuna, we must continuously embrace change in this world.
BĀLĀSANA
Child’s Pose
Bālā means “baby” or “child.” As is “to be” or “to breathe,” sam, “becoming
one with,” and na, “the eternal cosmic vibration.”

Philosophical Introduction
The name of this pose reminds me of Bala Kṛṣṇa, the baby or child form of
Kṛṣṇa, the Lord of Love. Bala Kṛṣṇa was the Absolute in the form of an
unassuming infant. When he was a small child, Kṛṣṇa had no boundaries and
did not abide by limiting rules. His consciousness spread throughout the many
layers of Universal existence. He was not bound by any one layer of existence
but could expand from lunar to solar regions and beyond.

Bālāsana creates an opportunity to turn the senses inward.

Bālāsana reminds us to become innocent as the newborn babe, to be in this
world but not of this world. Infants still hold an inner essence that remains soft
and pliable in the early stages of transformation. The infant essence hasn’t yet
formed concepts, ideals, beliefs, judgments, and criticism of others. It accepts
what is offered without complaint, criticism, or judgment.
Practicing Child’s Pose is an opportunity to turn within and restore our energies,
which are always darting outward through the senses and the sensory organs.
Thus, Bālāsana is a form of pratyāhāra, the withdrawal of the senses when we
temporarily pull away from the world into our womblike origins. According to
commentaries in the Yoga Sūtras, “Wherever the mind goes, the senses follow.
When a swarm of bees leave their hive for the construction of a new one, the
queen bee leads the way. Wherever that large bee rests, the other bees also rest
and when she flies, the others closely follow her course.” The mind is like the
queen bee and the senses are like the other bees, who follow wherever she may
go.
In Bālāsana, the queen bee of the mind turns inward. We enter the pose by
bending the knees, a symbol of humility, bowing before the earth and the
heavens. We place the head gently upon the floor, as though offering the ego
upon the altar of the earth. As we focus where the center of the forehead touches
the earth, we are also recycling by drawing the earth’s energy through Ājñā
cakra, the forehead center, into our being. When we turn within, into the
neglected inner worlds, this is an opportunity to soften hardened belief systems.
As children grow, they begin to assert their independence, wanting to do things
for themselves that were once done for them by their parents. The child walks
and then runs... and runs playfully away from the parent, testing the boundaries.
The child thinks she/he is separate and no longer dependent upon the parent, but
all the while the parent is silently watching. If the child stumbles and falls and
cries out, the parent rushes to embrace the child and soothe the wounds.
The parent/child relationship is similar to Bhakti, the devotional path of yoga.
The universal mother and father are always with us. As we grow in life and
assert our ego more, we think our actions come from us rather than through us.
We forget to honor or rely on Source in our everyday actions. We stumble in life
and at times fall. During these moments, the dark nights of the soul, we may
silently cry out for help. “Oh God,” may be our single cry as the Universal
parent rushes to our side and holds us in the eternal embrace of love, reminding
us that we were never separated, and that the Universal presence was always
watching over us.
When we practice Bālāsana as bhaktins, who transform emotion into devotion, it
is not enough to be a child. We turn the hands of time back even further and
become as helpless as the infant who can do nothing for its separated self. We
learn to rely on the guiding hand of an invisible source. Like kittens, we loosen
the skin of our necks so the divine mother can pick us up and guide us into our
life’s purpose and right action.

Guidance
Bālāsana is one of the best postures for learning the three-part breath through the
back body. The lungs are divided into three chambers. The upper lobes are the
smallest, the middle are larger, and the lowest lobes are the largest. With the
back breathing, we direct breath into the fullness of all three lobes as well as into
the front, back, and sides of the lungs.
When the breath arises (usually in the upper body), it can become a guru or
teacher to the lower parts, which are generally denser. Accept the breath
wherever it arises, rather than chastising yourself if the breath doesn’t start from
the bottom. I learned that wherever the breath would arise, I could follow it and
it would lead my consciousness into areas not yet explored. Wherever breath
wanted to express itself first, even if it was in the upper clavicular region, rather
than trying to push it down, I would allow it to arise and spread out and become
a coach or teacher to the denser parts of the torso and lungs.
Each time we change position and use the breath, the breath expands into new
areas within the myriad folds of the lungs. The breath can eventually be brought
from the shoulders (the upper lobes of the lungs) to the middle lobes by
breathing in and lifting the ribcage while expanding each of the ribs away from
the synovial joints where they attach to the spine. Eventually, as one’s lung
capacity increases, the inhalation can be brought from the shoulders all the way
down to the sacrum and even the base of the buttocks, which is a more dense
area of the body and the most difficult to access.
Each incoming breath becomes the act of receiving. Each outgoing breath is the
act of giving or surrender. Allow the receiving and giving to be equal to one
another. You are the Bhakti Yogi, surrendering your offering of the Self into the
pose.
1. Begin by kneeling on the floor. Rest the buttocks on the heels and open the
knees so that the outside thighs are wider than the sides of the torso; this helps
to lengthen the spine. Place the forehead on the floor. The hands may rest
beneath the forehead, or you may relax the arms alongside the torso. With the
next exhalation, elongate the neck.

Bālāsana, expanding the back on inhalation.

2. On the next incoming breath, allow the breath to spread down into the
shoulders, widening the space between the shoulder blades.
3. On the exhalation, relax the spine between the shoulder blades and offer it into
the heart center.
4. The next incoming breath expresses itself in the back of the ribcage, widening
the twelve sets of ribs away from the spinal column. This creates space in the
synovial joints where the ribs attach to the spine. As you expand the back ribs,
it may feel like you can take the breath into infinity.
5. Exhale, elongating the spine. Let it move like a crescent moon into the front of
your torso.
6. On the next inhalation, slowly allow the breath to round the shoulders and
back ribs, and then allow the breath to spread down a little further, into the
 sacrum and even to the base of the buttocks. The entire spectrum of the spine
and back body is now feeling the breath. On the inhalations, as the back
rounds, it is like the devotional offering to the heavens. On the exhalations, the
offering is to the earth.

Bālāsana, exhaling and walking the fingertips out to find extension in the spine.

7. With each exhalation, keep raising the back ribs as you simultaneously
elongate from the floating ribs and the base of the sternum. This creates a
growing length in the front of the body and allows more prāṇa to flow through
the spinal nerve roots and out into periphery of the body.
8. On the next inhalation, expand the shoulders upward with the breath and then
move the breath from the shoulders down toward the middle and lower ribs,
expanding them away from the spine. Allow the fullness of the breath to lift
the spine upward to the heavens.
9. Exhaling, bring the spine in toward the heart and lengthen the neck, stretching
it forward like a turtle reaching out from its shell.
10. Inhale and let the breath move upward from the shoulders and ribs and down
to the sacrum.
11. Exhaling, draw the tailbone back as the base of the skull moves forward,
fully elongating the spine. Keep the buttocks resting on the heels.
12. Inhaling, turn your attention to the feet and take the breath in as if from the
pores on the soles of the feet.
13. Exhale, releasing any excessive energy from the head through the toes.
Surrender with each outgoing breath, offering the spine into the front of the
body.
14. When you are ready to leave Bālāsana, inhale and allow the breath to round
the back as you sit up on the heels and simply observe the breath. If sitting on
the heels is difficult, slide the hips to the side.

Psychophysiological Benefits
Even though this posture is referred to as a Child’s Pose, it is more a pose of the
infant. Newborn infants sleep on their stomachs with legs curled in the
instinctual pattern assumed within the womb. As a child grows and unfurls the
limbs, opening to this world, he or she rarely retakes the infant position.
However, during moments of great anguish and grief, whether as children, teens,
or adults, there is a tendency to curl into the protective infant pose, on the
stomach, or on the side.
Bālāsana is often taken as a counter pose after Downward Facing Dog Pose or
backbends. Even though our intention is to lengthen the front of the torso to be
equal to the back during these poses, if they are not practiced appropriately, they
can sometimes compress the posterior spine, especially the lumbar spine.
Bālāsana helps release posterior compression in the lumbar area.
When practiced with the breath, Bālāsana opens the lungs and the intuitive back
of our being like no other pose. Because the torso rests upon the thighs, Bālāsana
massages the abdominal organs, including the stomach and intestines. It calms
the mind and body because of its impact upon the parasympathetic nerves, which
stem from the cervical spine and the sacrum and coccyx. It is an excellent pose
in which to observe the breath as we return to the infant state of total surrender
to the Universal Source, breathing once more as infants breathe, into the back
from the shoulders to the hips.
It may take time to become accustomed to this style of breathing, lifting and
expanding the back on the inhalation and allowing the spine to move towards the
front body on the exhalation. Eventually, in all poses, you will begin to feel the
breath moving into the back and then around to the sides and eventually to the
front of the torso. There is a sense of total fulfillment in this cylindrical breath. It
may be helpful to visualize the yantra of the circle, which reminds us to expand
awareness from the inside. The breath begins to move from and into the center
of our being, creating a mandala in which the whole is connected to its parts. If
we can hold this space while exhaling, we begin to discover the vast Universe
within, and the internal worlds become illumined by our own inner light.
Patañjali’s Yoga Sūtras speak of the quietness and stillness of mind that
manifests not on the inhalation but on the exhalation. It is during the exhalation,
the sūtras say, that the ego unravels itself. By moving into the fullness of āsana
on the exhalation rather than the inhalation, the breath helps the mind to become
calm. We move in an egoless state, allowing the pose to come through us and
not from us. This is a powerful breath to take into all poses and into the poses of
life because it quiets the waves of the mind even in the midst of the action. This
is the essence of yoga that Patañjali describes in the second sūtra: Yogaḥ
cittavṛtti nirodhaḥ. “Yoga is to still the fluctuations that rise in the field of the
mind.”
MĀRJĀRYĀSANA
Cat Pose
Mājārī refers to the cat.

Philosophical Introduction
Mārjāryāsana is commonly known as Cat Pose. It is a preparatory pose that
usually precedes Adho Mukha Śvānāsana (Downward-Facing Dog), but it is
powerful in its own right. A cat moves with stealth through time and space
without disturbing the atmosphere around it. The cat’s grace, agility, and fluidity
of movement can mesmerize as well as mask a quality of fierce independence.
When breathing and elongating in Cat Pose, I think of the vehicle of the goddess
Durgā. The vehicles of the gods and goddesses express aspects of their divine
energy forms, and Durgā is depicted as riding a lion or tiger. Both of these big
cats symbolize power, courage, and invincibility, like the great goddess herself.
They are swift in their actions and can only be subdued and directed by one
whose spiritual powers are greater than their instinctual will. Cat Pose invokes
the courage, wisdom, and strength of the lion as well as the invincible qualities
of Durgā, the goddess whose power and radiance was created from the gifts of
the gods.
It is said that the gods created Durgā and armed her with their mightiest weapons
because only she, a composite of all their great powers, could slay the demon
who had unseated Indra, the lord of the Universe. None of the gods could
vanquish the demon, who had obtained a boon that he could never be killed by
man or god. When the demon came to the battlefield with Durgā, he fought
sometimes as a buffalo, sometimes as an elephant, and sometimes as a lion. He
fought from the earth and from space. Finally Durgā, radiating a great mantle of
light, stepped off her lion, and with a beatific and compassionate smile, subdued
the demon and took off his head with the swiftness of her sword. Their battle is
symbolic of the struggle that goes on in the human experience between the
demonic forces (anger, greed, pride, jealousy, envy, egoistic and separative
consciousness) and Divine love, selfless service, and universal expansion of
consciousness.
 Mārjāryāsana, exhalation.

Guidance
The back breath learned in Child’s Pose — inhaling and doing nothing, exhaling
and taking adjustments or moving deeper — is the basis of the spinal movements
in Mārjāryāsana. And Mārjāryāsana is central to all asana practice because it
teaches how the breath can be taken into every pose without creating ripples or
waves (vṛttis) within the field of the mind.
Moving only on the exhalation is, according to Patañjali’s Yoga Sūtras (I:34),
one of the important ways in which a practitioner can still the waves of the mind:
“By exhaling and restraining the breath, the mind is calmed.” Commentaries on
the sūtras elaborate that the ego is disentangling itself from the body and the
“feeling of self” in the core of the heart is moving on to the wordless,
thoughtless state of concentration. This is possible only at the time of exhalation
and not at the time of inhalation, which is why no reference to inhalation has
been made in the sūtras.
On the inhalation, the ego asserts itself. On the incoming breath, when the ego
asserts itself, we give it no power, only our observation. Thus, when we move on
the exhalation, we are moving in an egoless state. From this way of breathing
and moving, a growing feeling of happiness or a feeling of lightness may spread
throughout the body. The breath fills new spaces, not just in the lobes of our
lungs but in the cellular structure throughout our being.
l. Begin Mārjāryāsana on the hands and knees, placing the hands directly under
the shoulders, balancing the weight equally on the inner and outer bones of the
arms. With the middle finger facing straight ahead, create as much space
between the thumb and the forefinger as possible, as if you were spanning an
octave on the piano. Pay particular attention to the base of the thumb. This is
the reflex to the neck. Neck tension reveals itself in the way the thumbs move.
Spreading the fingers and pointing the thumbs toward one another helps
release neck tension.
2. Next, press down into the Venus mound of the palm and the pad of the thumb.
This strengthens the triceps and equalizes the pressure on the triceps and the
 biceps. The triceps represents the subtle body and the biceps, the physical
body, so here we are giving equal attention to the physical body (annamaya
kośa) and subtle body (prāṇamāya kośa).
3. Press down with the knees, resisting the inner thighs away from one another
without moving the knees. When the inner thighs resist one another, the ischia
(the bones of the buttocks) widen, stabilizing the sacroiliac joint where the
pelvis meets the sacrum.

Mārjāryāsana, inhalation.
4. Inhale and allow the breath to round the back. Keep the navel passive. The
inhalation spreads the shoulder blades, ribs, and hips away from the center of
the spine. The head and neck are relaxed throughout the pose.
5. Exhaling, lift the sides of the torso up while allowing the spine to sink toward
the center of the body, moving the tailbone back as the base of the skull moves
forward. At the end of the exhalation, elongate the neck, bringing the chin up
without compressing the back of the neck. (Do not lift the head.)
6. Inhaling, letting the breath widen the shoulder blades, widen the back of the
lower ribs, and widen the sides of the entire back body, moving the kidneys
away from one another. Feel the width of the hips as the breath comes in.
7. Then — holding the space created on the inhalation — exhale and move the
spine inward to the front body and roll the shoulders down and back, moving
the tailbone back to relax the navel. Keeping the navel passive while
elongating from the top of the pubis to the navel will create a natural
uḍḍīyāna bandha.
8. Continue to inhale and exhale. Lengthen with each exhalation, rolling the
shoulders down the back, away from the earlobes, as the neck extends out
even further. Allow the spine to drop in like a saddle, pressing the knees down
to move the tailbone back and up. When you roll the shoulders down on the
exhalation, give space to the neck. Be very observant not to compress the neck
or bend it too much.
9. When you are ready to complete the pose, exhale and bring the spine into the
front body, then lower your hips into Bālāsana (Child’s Pose), keeping the
 hands and arms where they are to give greater length to the spine.

Psychophysiological Benefits
Practicing Mārjāryāsana allows the student to ground and center, to find the
inner wisdom of the cat. Thus, Mārjāryāsana is a good preparation for other
poses. It can be sequenced at the beginning of a class or practice, or after
breathing in Bālāsana (Child’s Pose). The cat stretch is the ideal preparation for
the breathing movements of Adho Mukha Śvānāsana, Downward-Facing Dog
Pose. For students unable to kneel on the floor, the pose can be introduced
standing with the support of a chair under the hands.
Mārjāryāsana is especially good for those with back problems and for pregnant
women. Mārjāryāsana creates and preserves the flexibility of the spine and
strengthens the erector spinae and rectus abdominus muscles. The stretch is
helpful for releasing any spinal compression. It helps to remove or alleviate neck
tension and releases excessive tension in the trapezius and the deltoid muscles.
The cat stretch also strengthens the biceps and triceps and increases bone
density, preserving the health of the bones of the arms, hands, and thighs.
Pressing the knees into the floor strengthens the hips, while moving with the out
breath increases the flexibility of the hips. Any stagnant circulatory currents
from the pelvis will flow freely through the lower limbs, and this may help
prevent varicose veins.
Lengthening the spine and torso creates space for the procreative and digestive
organs. The kidneys, adrenals, thymus, and endocrine glands are all benefited.
As we stimulate lymphatic circulation, we also free up emotional impressions
from the psyche.
On an energetic level, Mārjāryāsana helps us expand our consciousness to
embrace two polarities simultaneously. We are aware of the crown of the head,
and at the same time we are aware of the tailbone. As we learn to keep the navel
passive, whether inhaling or exhaling, we unravel the blocked prāṇa at the navel
center so that it can then flow upward to the heart center. This stretch allows
prāṇa to flow from the base of the spine to the crown of the head, moving freely
between the lower and upper cakras.
The dynamic of Mārjāryāsana represents the divine battle between the two poles
of opposites. As the head moves forward, it wants to drag the entire spine with it.
However, if the tailbone moves backward with equal tension, we find neutrality,
honoring both the feminine as well as the masculine. As the spine lengthens, we
create immense inner space for releasing emotions that have a tendency to get
stuck in our cellular structure. By practicing Cat Pose, we bring growing strength
to both the physical and subtle levels of being.
ADHO MUKHA ŚVĀNĀSANA
Downward-Facing Dog
Adho means “downward,” mukha means “face,” and śvāna is “dog.”

Philosophical Introduction
Household dogs are known to be loyal and unconditionally loving of their
masters, reflecting our relationship to the divine. The sixth mārga (path) of yoga,
known as Bhakti Yoga, is the path where emotion is transformed into devotion.
The bhakta has her mind always fixed on God, seeing the presence of this divine
form and obeying the heavenly commands and guidance. In the same way, the
dog is ever watchful, giving loyalty and undying love and devotion to its master.
It obeys commands and is sensitive to its owner’s movements, whereabouts, and
absences. Like the bhakta, the dog may even grieve if it cannot be near the one it
loves, and it waits for the beloved to once more show his or her face. The love
and devotion that the dog has for us draws us closer to it. Just so in Bhakti Yoga:
Our love and devotion to the Universal is the cord that binds the soul to God.
The dog’s playful bow, tail upraised, mirrors the geometrical form of this āsana,
which is a triangle. In āsana, we use our bodies to create universal patterns
known as yantras. Yam means “to support,” “hold,” or “contain.” Tra means “in
order to transcend.” Its roots can be found in the word trana, meaning “to free”
or “to liberate.” Yantra, combined with mantra, forms the mārga or path known
as Tantra Yoga.
In Vedic astrology, the angles rule the major domains of our life. Yantras are
reflections of the myriad of ways in which the Divine manifests. Yantras, like
āsana, are used to withdraw consciousness from outer to the inner worlds. When
our bodies form geometrical patterns in āsana, the pose becomes an invocation
for the corresponding celestial energies to enter into our field of consciousness
through the cosmic gateways of yantra.

Adho Mukha Śvānāsana, final pose.

In the triangle (trikoṇa) formed by Adho Mukha Śvānāsana, the buttock bones
are the apex, drawing light into the lower limbs as well as into the upper body.
This sacred geometry represents the Holy Trinity found in many spiritual and
religious traditions, such as Brahmā (the creator), Vishṇu (the sustainer), and
Śiva (the transformer), or the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. When the angles in
this pose are aligned, one can enter into the energetic field of consciousness
represented by the triangle.
When we offer the coccygeal plexus to the heavens, we invert the flow of apāna
prāṇa, the downward pull of energy, and creating a natural mūla bandha without
muscular contraction. Bandha means “to bind” or “lock.” The bandha is not
done by contracting the muscles in an attempt to pull the prāṇa up against the
gravitational force. Rather, when the body is aligned appropriately, prāṇa
automatically and effortlessly rises upward. When the tilt of the buttocks is in
alignment with the heavens prāṇa moves up effortlessly to Maṇipūra cakra, the
navel center. As this center is elongated through the concavity of the spine, the
prāṇa flies up like a great bird into Anāhata cakra, the heart center. Uḍḍīyāna
bandha is the name given to the movement of energy that rises from the solar
plexus to the heart cakra.
For these bandhas to occur, however, the hamstrings need to lengthen, allowing
the buttock bones to lift to receive the light from above. Mr. Iyengar used to say,
“Your buttock bones are lying in darkness — lift them to the light and let them
shine like the rays of the sun.”
One day, I asked Mr. Iyengar why he didn’t teach the bandhas. He simply
replied, “The bandhas are in āsana.”
As the buttock bones are lifted to the light of the sun, the navel must remain
passive and relaxed for the prāṇa to pass through any knots or blockages in this
area. Prāṇa can then flow freely with the gravitational pull to reach the heart
center. When one becomes more adept in this pose, as the heart offers itself to
the head, the neck will lengthen to bring the chin to the chest. This forms the
third lock, known as jālandhara bandha. Jāla means “network” or “web,”
referring to our brain, and dhara means “to support.” In the chin lock, which can
happen spontaneously, the carotid sinuses and arteries are engaged, which helps
to balance and regulate the blood pressure.
Adho Mukha Śvānāsana is one of the few poses that engages all three bandhas,
creating the great seal, the mahā mudra, which is meant to contain prāṇa in the
spine. In so doing, prāṇa is drawn into the suṣumṇā nāḍī, the central canal of
the spinal cord, which awakens the Kuṇḍalinī Śakti .
Guidance
Adho Mukha Śvānāsana is the extension of Cat Pose. The only difference is that
the knees are straight instead of bent. This pose combines a forward bend and
backbend. On the inhalation, as we round the back, we offer the spine to the
heavens. On the exhalation, we do a backbend, offering the spine to the earth. As
in Cat Pose, the inhalation is a time to restore and renew, when the divine enters
into our being. The exhalation is a time to give, offering the heart of our Being to
the altar of the earth. This is the practice of Bhakti Yoga in āsana.
In Cat Pose, the goddess Durgā (symbolized by her vehicle of the lion) taught us
to hold all perspectives simultaneously, and again in Adho Mukha Śvānāsana we
learn to hold awareness of the sacrum and crown of the head, representing the
two poles of the cosmos. As in Cat Pose, it is important to elongate the spine,
creating space between each vertebra by dynamically moving the polarities away
from one another on each exhalation. The Cat and Dog poses are ideal for
beginning a class or practice because they establish moving with the breath,
which can be carried into more complex āsanas.
1. Begin in Mārjāryāsana. The cat stretch is the prelude to Downward-Facing
Dog. The hands and arms are shoulder distance apart. The knees are hip
distance apart. The navel is passive and relaxed throughout every phase of the
pose. The neck is extended and relaxed.
2. On an inhalation, draw the heart back, rounding the back toward the heavens.
Turn the toes under, bringing the balls of the feet as close to the floor as
possible.
3. Exhaling, straighten the knees and lift the buttocks. Allow the tailbone to lift
the body into the pose by moving the tailbone back rather than coming
forward onto the hands.

Inhaling, Round the back.

4. Inhale and remain still as the breath flows in, rounding the back.
5. Exhaling, come up to the balls of the feet, still lifting the tailbone and buttock
bones, and then release from the calf to the heel. Lower the heels toward the
 floor, not to the floor, keeping the lift of the tailbone. We bring the heels down
only to the point that we can preserve that lift.
6. Inhale, rounding the back to the heavens. Do nothing else.

Exhaling, bend the knees to lift the tailbone.

7. Exhale and move the spine in like a backbend without losing the lift of the
base of the spine. (Bend the knees if necessary to preserve that lift.) While
lifting the heels, also lift the inner ankle and then roll to the ball of the big toe
without dropping the inner ankle. As the heel bones are brought down —
toward, not to the floor — the inner arch of the foot lifts up, as in Tāḍāsana.
8. Inhaling, lift the shoulders to the ears with an internal rotation of the arms.
Widen the shoulders, rounding the back with the breath.
9. Exhaling, externally rotate the upper arms, bringing the shoulders down and
back away from the ears as the spine moves into the front of the body in a
backbend. Allow the neck to release with the gravitational pull, bringing the
head closer to the earth.
10. Inhale as the skin of the back moves up to the shoulders, the shoulders lift to
the ears, and the upper arm internally rotates. Rising up to the balls of the feet,
fill the back from the shoulders to buttocks with the breath.
11. Exhaling, move the skin of the back toward the buttocks, externally rotating
the upper arm as the inner shoulder blades descend with the spine into the
chest wall. On the exhalation, the spine elongates. As it moves into the front of
the body, the passivity of the navel will allow the prāṇa to be pulled in toward
the spine and up behind the heart center in a natural and organic uḍḍiyāna
bandha.
12. Inhaling, do nothing but fill the back with the breath.
13. Exhale. If the chest is lifted toward the chin, see if the chin is ready to offer
itself — without effort — to the heart.
14. When you are ready to release, inhale, then exhale and bend the knees,
keeping the elongation of the spine as you come down into Mārjāryāsana (Cat
 Pose) or into Bālāsana (Child’s Pose).
Note: Students with tight hamstrings will need to focus more attention in this
area to create length. It might be helpful to think of the tailbone as being the
extension of the heels. On an inhalation, lift the heel bones. As the hamstrings
soften and lengthen on the exhalation, raise the buttocks to the sky while the calf
muscles relax toward the heels. If the heels are brought to the floor prematurely,
this pulls the hips and tailbone down, and the pose becomes static rather than
dynamic. The heels are to be brought to the earth only if the lift and offering
from the tailbone can be preserved. The back of the knee is relaxed and neutral
as the thigh skin moves from the top of the knee to the buttock and the calf skin
moves from the knee to the heels.

Psychophysiological Benefits
Because there are so many details to consider when practicing this pose, Adho
Mukha Śvānāsana requires focus and concentration. As we learn to expand our
focus and hold the various parts and movement of the body in our field of
awareness at the same time, there is an immense expansion of consciousness in
the poses of our life.
The physical benefits of Downward-Facing Dog are similar to the Cat Stretch.
Moving with the breath creates and preserves the flexibility of the spine and
strengthens the erector spinae muscles. If practiced without holding tension in
the neck, the pose relieves and even eliminates neck tension.
Adho Mukha Śvānāsana strengthens the bones of the arms and legs and the arch
of the foot while lengthening the hamstrings and calf muscles. Because it is an
inversion, it counters the effects of gravity on the reproductive and digestive
organs and nourishes the brain. The stretch of the Achilles tendon influences the
peristaltic activity of the intestines.
On an energetic level, Adho Mukha Śvānāsana frees the pranic flow between the
lower and upper cakras. It leads to the mahā mudra, when all three bandhas are
combined. Jālandhara bandha (chin lock) stimulates the thymus, thyroid, and
parathyroid endocrine glands, while uḍḍiyāna bandha (abdominal lock) and
mūla bandha (root lock) benefit the abdominal and pelvic organs.
However, we cannot define which cakra an āsana affects because so much
depends on how one is practicing the āsana and how free or restricted the breath
is. The effect in this pose would depend on the thoracic lift and on the
lengthening of the spine with the breath. For instance, you can’t say Adho
Mukha Śvānāsana affects the first energy center, Mūlādhāra cakra, if the
person’s hamstrings are short and the pelvis is tucked and moving downward.
The pose will not have the same affect as when the tailbone and buttock bones
are lifted up. This is partly determined by the length of the hamstrings and by the
lessening of the knots in the gastrocnemius muscle in the calf.
Many people bend at the waist in Downward-Facing Dog, chronically arching
the back and creating anterior compression of the spine. They are not lifting the
ribcage up off the pelvic region. When this happens, the energy becomes
coagulated, not just in Svādhiṣṭhāna, the second cakra, but also in Maṇipūra, the
third cakra, the center of will. If the navel center is tense or defensive, this may
indicate that we want to make things happen. We may force rather than allow
spirit to move through us. A hardened solar plexus may show lack of trust in an
invisible power. This is why it is important to keep the navel center passive and
relaxed during the duration of this pose and all yoga āsanas. In this way there is
an equality of movement, allowing the prāṇa to flow freely from the base to the
top.
In Adho Mukha Śvānāsana, we may also overstretch or overdo in one area, such
as the shoulders, because another part, such as the pelvis, is not moving. It is
humbling to not overreach in the areas of our greatest flexibilities while working
on the part that is more dense and forgetful, but the more we overreach with our
ambitious attempts, the more we block the energetic flow, especially in the navel
center. We want to free this energy, and yet it is important that we also honor the
self-will that Maṇipūra represents. Maṇipūra, the solar plexus, is the body’s sun,
the generator of personal energy that corresponds to the sun of our galaxy. It
fuels the energy of the heart. When this energy flows upward to the heart center,
we connect with Divine will and offer prāṇa to the Universal Source. When we
do this, we are practicing Īśvara Praṇidhāna, the fifth niyama of Aṣṭāṅga Yoga
according to the Yoga Sūtras (II:32). Then the āsana becomes an active form of
remembering our creator and offering to that Source. In this state, we are not
doing the pose … the pose is being done through us.
ŚĪRṢĀSANA PREPARATION
Headstand Preparation
Śirṣā means head.

Philosophical Introduction
It is not necessary to bring the feet off the ground to experience the benefits of
Śīrṣāsana. When the head placement for Śīrṣāsana or this preparatory stage is at
the triangular conjunction of the coronal and sagittal sutures of the skull, the
cellular petals of the brain begin to unfurl one by one, like the lotus which only
opens with the light of the rising sun. The crown of the head is the gateway to
the solar region of consciousness. The Sanskrit name for this region is Sahasrāra
or the Thousand-Petaled Lotus. In the East, “a thousand” means infinite. Think
of the dessert pastry baklava, known as the “sweet of the thousand layers”
because the paper-thin dough feels as if it is infinite both in the preparation and
in the eating.
This center within the head is known to be the mystical dwelling place of the
supreme Yoga, the Divine Union between Śiva and Śakti. In South India, ancient
Yogis referred to this as the seat of Śivaloka, the world or dwelling place of
Śiva, the timeless substratum of the universe.
Practicing Śīrṣāsana is said to awaken Kuṇḍalinī Śakti, who arises from her
serpentine sleep. By inverting the prāṇas and creating a polar shift of the spinal
subtle nerve currents, Headstand helps awaken this dormant energy, bringing
clarity and light to the highest centers within the brain and in turn, the mind. As
the Kuṇḍalinī or bioor psycho-nuclear energy turns upward, and prāṇa rises
through the sacral and coccygeal centers, the petals of the lotus within the head
(which were drooping downward) are given new life and bloom upward. They
unfold like the earthly lotus whose petals open with the light of the morning sun.
The petals of the Sahasrāra unfold with the dawning of the Divine inner light.

Guidance
1. Begin in Mārjāryāsana, the Cat Pose. Elongate the spine with every
exhalation. Bring elbows and forearms to the floor, shoulder width apart.
Clasp the hands together at the root of the fingers, crossing the base of the
thumbs and relaxing the fingertips.
2. On the exhalation, press down and anchor this pyramidal base with the bottom
 wrist bone and inner elbow.
3. Inhaling, let the incoming breath round the back.
4. Exhale and allow the spine to descend toward the earth while extending the
neck forward and the tailbone backward.
5. Inhaling, allow the breath to fill the back the back of the body.

Using the resistance of the wall to help lengthen the spine in Śīrṣāsana preparation.
6. Exhaling, straighten the knees and lift, coming to the balls of the feet and
bringing the buttocks to the sky.
7. Inhale and round the back with the breath.
8. Exhale and bring the spine in like a back bend while elongating the neck and
lifting the tailbone. Do not bring the feet from the floor.

Focus on lifting the tailbone and creating a backbend during Śīrṣāsana.

9. Stay in this preparatory position and breathe, lifting the shoulders away from
the floor with every exhalation while pressing down with the inner elbows and
bottom wrist bone. Keep elongating neck and extending spine on each
exhalation. Raise the tailbone without lifting the feet from the floor. This helps
lengthen the hamstrings, which relieves any resultant pressure upon the neck.
10. On an exhalation, lengthen the neck, lifting the shoulders. This time, allow
the crown of the head to brush the floor. Continue to lift the shoulders to
lengthen and alleviate any pressure upon the neck. Continue to lift the
tailbone. It’s important to move the armpits toward the legs to open the heart
 center and release pressure upon the neck.
11. When ready, exhale and bend the knees, bringing the buttocks to the heels.
12. Rest in Bālāsana (Child’s Pose) and breath into the back, lengthening the
spine.

The partner supports and lifts the shoulders. Continue lifting the shoulders as the student’s head comes
down toward the floor.

Assists: A partner or teacher can sit on the edge of a chair facing the practitioner
as he or she takes arm and hand position for Headstand. The partner supports
and lifts the shoulders as practitioner raises the hips into the variation of
Downward-Facing Dog Pose sometimes referred to as Dolphin Pose. The head is
not yet touching the earth as the shoulders are lifted. As the student walks in, the
partner keeps lifting the shoulders and continues to do so even as the student’s
head comes down. The partner can use the side of his or her knees to gently
press into the student’s back. This is done to keep the armpits and chest from
collapsing, which protects the neck.

Psychophysiological Benefits
In the preparatory stages of Śīrṣāsana, the student can focus on moving the
thoracic spine from the back to front body on each exhalation and moving the
forearms and wrist bones downward as if into the earth. Practiced this way,
Śīrṣāsana releases rather than creates neck tension.
Śīrṣāsana affects the thalamus, located in the upper region of the brain, which
holds the blueprint of every cell of the body. It also increases circulation to the
hypothalamus, the master endocrine gland, helping to bring balance and
equilibrium to the entire endocrine chain — including the pituitary, pineal,
thyroid, parathyroid, thymus, adrenals, and procreative glands. It is an excellent
pose for recharging brain cells, helps prevent memory loss and, if done
appropriately, it balances the right and left hemispheres of the brain. It benefits
the circulatory flow to the heart and the flow of cerebrospinal fluid to the brain.
Known as the King of Āsana, headstand has a stimulating effect on the
sympathetic nervous system through the prefrontal cortex of the brain and the
movement of the thoracic spine, which activates the adrenal glands. The adrenal
glands secrete adrenaline, which prepares the body for “fight or flight,” creating
a heating and more constricting impact upon the system. Therefore, headstand is
an excellent pose for those with low blood pressure. Those with high blood
pressure can precede Headstand with twenty minutes of forward bends to dilate
the blood vessels. In any case, it is recommended to follow Headstand or end a
practice session with shoulderstand, the Queen of Āsana, to emphasize the
parasympathetic flow, which dilates, cools, and calms the system. Traditionally,
one would never practice headstand (the father or King of Āsana) without
balancing it by practicing shoulderstand (the mother or Queen of Āsana).
The headstand represents a polar shift in the body. In reversing the poles of the
body in relation to the magnetic poles of the earth, Śīrṣāsana recharges the
system like a battery. Whenever one is fatigued, practicing the Headstand
followed by the shoulderstand brings renewed energy and enthusiasm to body,
mind, and spirit, helping one reconnect with the center of Being.
Headstand offers a new perspective, helping us to overcome individual and
collective fears and their roots, including the ultimate fear of the unknown. This
pose teaches greater flexibility by helping the practitioner adapt to any situation.
It helps us to break free from old comfort zones, stuck patterns, and fixed belief
systems to explore expanded perspectives.
The polar shift of headstand raises the feet from the darkness to the light and
also inverts the spinal axis and the spinal nerve roots, which will resemble an
inverted tree of life. This balances the pranic currents, giving a growing sense of
lightness to body, mind, and spirit. It also shakes up old sediment in the
subconscious. Practicing even the beginning stages of this pose becomes an
opportunity for these latent impressions to rise to the surface of the mind, where
suppressed and forgotten memories may be released, creating a growing cellular
lightness. Once more, “The invisible must become visible before it can be
eradicated (transformed).”


AN INTRODUCTION TO STANDING POSES

In standing poses as in all yoga āsana, we create space in our body so Spirit can
reveal itself. These poses are considered to be the salute to the Gods and
Goddesses of the ten-sided Universe.

Philosophical Introduction
It is said that many moons ago, two dānavas (dark forces) performed difficult
austerities to gain favor from Brahmā, the Creator.

The boon they requested — to be unconquerable by any man — was granted.

They then began conquering the three worlds, the Bhūloka (earth plane),
Bhuvaloka (astral plane), and Svarloka (celestial planes). They drove the gods
and sub-gods out of the celestial regions of the heavens.

Brahmā, Vishṇu (the preserver), Śiva (the destroyer or transformer), and the
other gods met upon the banks of the great Ganges River. Knowing that no male
or masculine energy could conquer these demons, they prayed to the Divine
Mother, who answered their prayers by sending her ten Mahāvidyās, goddesses
that manifest in different forms as consorts of Lord Śiva, the Lord of all Yogis.
They also represent the ten incarnations of Vishṇu. It is interesting that the
feminine outgrowth of the masculine is called upon to subdue the demons. In the
story of the birth of Vīrabhadra, the invincible male warrior who arose out of the
locks of Śiva’s hair, Mahā Kālī was his feminine opposite. Together, they led
Śiva’s armies and were invincible.
The beauty of the standing poses is that they are like prayers calling upon the ten
Mahāvidyās. They are an invocation of the great gods and goddesses of the ten-
sided Universe. This is a poetic way to describe the art of standing poses. Within
them, the body forms angles — the triune, squares, diagonals, et cetera — that
also tie into the astrological constellations. In these poses we propitiate the
Universal energy fields and offer ourselves through the angles, which are the
visible and invisible universal planes of consciousness reflected in yantras.
Yantras are the infinite energy fields of the divine essence of all Creation.

Psychophysiological Benefits
Our hips, thighs, knees, ankles, and feet are benefited from these poses. In turn,
one’s trust, faith, and sense of support is strengthened. Yoga practitioners don’t
have to waver, or lean heavily on others, or rely on others to reflect who they
are.

Standing poses help the practitioner find true inner core strength, the
centeredness that reinforces the subtle body, producing amazing physical as well
as emotional stamina.

They strengthen the bones of the lower body, for bones grow along the lines of
stress.

Placing pressure on a particular area will increase circulatory currents to that

area, helping to prevent porosity and increasing bone density. Practicing
standing poses reduces high blood pressure, quiets the mind, and increases
confidence in one’s physical, emotional, and spiritual strength.

Standing poses require bending in the many directions of the Universe. They are
prayers, and they offer the psyche the opportunity to transcend rather than sink
into old patterns.

In some poses the head drops toward the earth, a sign of humility, the humbling
or transcendence of individual ego. In the standing poses, we use gravity to
transcend gravity, lengthening and elongating the spine and stretching the limbs
from the fullness of the bindu.

TĀḌĀSANA
Mountain Pose
Tā��ā is the mountain.

Philosophical Introduction
The Mountain Pose relates to Mount Meru in the bhūloka, the seen and unseen
regions of the earth plane. Meru Daṇḍa, meaning “the mountainous staff,” is a
name for the spine in yoga. Meru Daṇḍa also means “the central axis of
creation.” Mountains in the earth plane, like our spine, are vortices of energy or
energy fields. In Tāḍāsana, we emulate the strength and height of a mountain on
the physical plane. We also honor the stellar regions that reach to the pole star.

Tadasana is a standing meditation.

Tāḍāsana is the pose we begin and return to during a standing āsana practice. It
is the centrifugal center of all standing poses, out of which they arise and to
which they return. In Sanskrit, the letters D and T are interchangeable, so Tad-
āsana could also be known as Tat-āsana. Tat means “that.” One of the great
mantras is Tat Tvam Asi, meaning both “Thou
Art That” and “That Is Thou.” Tat-āsana could be a time not of doing but of
being. To be in the state of Thatness, one cannot be pulled into the future, which
reflects as the body sways forward on the toes. The toes are the reflexes to the
brain and sensory organs. It is important to keep them dynamically relaxed in
Tāḍāsana, and in any āsana. We also move out of the state of Thatness when we
pull back by locking the knees and tightening the neck in a stance of resistance.
This reflects a withdrawal from the present moment to reach back into the past.
Tāḍāsana is a standing meditation where the weight on the feet is not moving
into the future or the past. It aligns the right and left hemispheres of the brain by
adjusting the weight equally upon both feet. It reaches through the pranic roots
of the feet to caress the earth. It draws the earth’s energies from the valley
beneath our feet through the legs into the spine and up to the mountain peaks in
the crown of the head. There are times we may feel as if we are in the valleys of
our life. We cannot see or think clearly, making it difficult to get perspective on
a situation. When we climb to the mountaintop in the outer or inner worlds, there
is an unobstructed view with expanded clarity and realizations.
In the third chapter of the Yoga Sūtras, Patañjali discusses the placement of
mountains and planets. Mountains are the vortices, places of convergence. The
greatest deities are said to reside on the mountaintops and in the mountain caves
where the sādhus go to turn their consciousness inward.
When practicing Tāḍāsana, I think of the goddess Pārvatī. Born as the daughter
of Himavan, the Lord of the Mountains, Pārvatī is said to be the incarnation of
Śiva’s first love, Sāti. After Sati’s death, Śiva withdrew to his abode on Mt.
Kailāsa into a dark cave buried amongst the snows of the Himalayas. In his grief,
he shut himself off from the outside world. In the meantime, demons arose from
the underworld and drove the Gods out of the heavens.
The Devas met and came to the conclusion that only a son of Śiva could help
them regain their celestial realm. But Śiva had no sons or daughters. The Devas
then invoked the mother goddess, who appeared as Kuṇḍalinī, a coiled serpent.
For the good of the world, she was determined to make Śiva her consort and
father a child. This powerful Śakti took birth as Pārvatī, daughter of the Lord of
Mountains. She came into this world to draw the ascetic Śiva out of his cave
once more into the world of the Divine Līlā, into the play of life. After many
failed attempts, Śiva finally took notice of her and eventually was beguiled by
her charms.
Pārvatī, the Mountain Goddess, represents the part of us that creatively brings
forth nourishment even in the midst of what appears to be rejection and
disapproval. She is a reminder that there are no limits of possibilities when we
use our energies in the pursuit of any spiritual goal. Pārvatī symbolizes the
Eternal in her femininity, grace and beauty. She was ageless and, like Śiva,
timeless. Pārvatī, the primordial prakṛti (the cause of all existing phenomena),
balances Śiva in alternating poles of asceticism and eroticism, creation and
dissolution. Theirs was a marriage of matter and spirit that brought order and
balance once more to the Universe.
In Tāḍāsana, we create a zero point of neutrality between the two polarities:
Śiva, representing Puruṣa (that which is unmoving and unchanging) and Pārvatī,
representing prakṛti, the Divine Līlā, or play of life. Just as the mountain
remains firm, steady, and stable, Tāḍāsana is gives us the same sense of firm
steadiness and centeredness in the midst of the changing seasons of our life.
Tāḍāsana is a reminder that a journey of a thousand miles — through valleys,
caves, and the highest peaks of consciousness — begins where our feet stand.

Guidance
1. Stand with the feet hip distance apart.
2. Check that there is equal weight on both feet.
The tendency is to lean on one leg more than the other. How we balance the
weight on the feet determines the balance between the right and left
hemispheres of the brain. More weight on the right side indicates more left
hemisphere activity. Leaning more to the left indicates more right hemisphere
activity.
3. Bring awareness to the toes. Are you leaning too far onto the toes? This
implies going into the future, an indication that the mind is thinking ahead and
planning what it will do next. Are you leaning too far back onto the heels?
This locks the knees and creates tension in the neck, throat, and shoulders, and
implies resistance or past repressions.
4. Roll the weight to the outer edges of the feet and, as you roll back across the
balls of the feet, lift the inner arch and inner ankle.
5. Keep lifting the inner ankle as you lift the toes to feel the strength of the arch
of the foot. As the arch and inner ankle lift, equalizing the weight on the heels
and the balls of the feet, this brings the legs into a vertical or perpendicular
alignment to the earth plane. Dropped arches can send pain through the whole
body and has been related to heart problems. As we grow older, dropped
arches may reflect prolapse within the internal organs. As we lift the arch, we
strengthen these inner organs
6. Release from the roots of the toes to the tips of the toes.
7. Feel that you are caressing the earth with your feet. We honor the earth by
giving to the earth and then drawing upon the earth energy for strength,
allowing that energy to come into our being. This is how we become bhakti
yogis in our pose.
8. Bring awareness to the knees. It is important to lift the kneecaps gently as the
tailbone offers itself to the earth. This prevents locking or hyperextending the
knees.
9. Inhale, allowing the breath to fill the back and the rarely used tissues at the
back of the lungs.
10. Exhale and bring the spine into the front of the body to lift the heart as the
tailbone and base of the buttock move straight down into the earth. As the
lumbar spine lengthens and the heart center is offered up to the heavens, the
crown of the head will align over the base of the spine. This prevents lordosis,
overarching the back.
11. Inhale and let the breath fill the back body.
12. Exhale and grow down through the base of the buttocks, going into the
circumference of the heels. Feel a lift in the abdominal organs. Take care not
to squeeze the buttocks together, which compresses the solar plexus region.
13. Inhale and let the breath fill the back body, placing the hands on the tops of
the hipbones.
14. Exhaling, press the hips down and lift the rib cage up off the pelvis. Move
the pelvic rim down toward the earth and feel that deep strength and
grounding.
15. Inhale and use the breath to lift the back of the rib cage.
16. Exhaling, press the hands down on the hips and keep strength of the lower
body as you grow up through the upper body.
17. Inhale into the back body.
18. Exhale and slide the shoulder blades down, allowing the skin to move down
the back as the sternum rises. This is the thoracic lift.
19. Inhale into the back body.
20. Exhale and draw the shoulders down, rolling the upper arms out. The palms
relax, facing the thighs. Expand from the collarbones outward to the edge of
the shoulders so that the arms hang freely. The arms lengthen like raindrops
falling from the fingertips to the earth.
21. Inhale into the back body.
22. Exhale, bringing the base of the skull up off the axis of the neck. Lengthen
the back of the neck without lifting or dropping the chin. This draws the
 energy from the front brain to the back brain and creates a balance between the
two.
23. Inhale the breath into the back body.
24. Exhale, grow down into the valleys beneath the feet and raise the crown of
the head to the unseen mountaintops within the heavens. Now you are
connected to heaven and earth simultaneously. That’s integral yoga.
25. When you are correctly aligned in Tāḍāsana, the mind comes into a
thoughtless state of awareness, and the pose becomes a standing meditation.
Note: Beginners can start by pressing their backs into the wall with their feet
approximately eighteen inches away from the wall and knees bent. Bring the
outer edge of the shoulder blades to the wall while moving the inner edge of the
shoulder blades away from the wall. This moves the spine toward the front body,
lifting the heart center. Keeping the back on the wall, exhale and straighten the
knees, feeling the skin move down the back and the neck lengthen. This brings
awareness to the lengthening of the lumbar and cervical spine, which counteracts
the tendency to compress the lower back.
The hardest thing for most people working on the details of Tāḍāsana is the
breath. They need more abdominal breathing as they rise up and travel the path
of the mountain, which represents our spiritual aspirations.

Psychophysiological Benefits
By practicing Tāḍāsana we gain steadiness of mind and body. The pose
strengthens the stabilizing muscles of the abdomen and lumbar spine, as well as
the arches of the feet, so that they do not succumb to the pull of gravity. In
reflexology, the arches reflect the abdominal and pelvic organs. As we lift and
strengthen our arches, we prevent prolapse of the corresponding organs. My
mother, who was a reflexologist, used to say, “Your feet are the barometer of the
body.”
In Tāḍāsana, we create the perpendicular alignment of a straight line between
the earth plane and heavens, representing a dynamic ascension of consciousness
and our connection to the Creator. This alignment honors both the play of
prakṛti (symbolized by Pārvatī) at the base of the spine, and the timeless and
eternal state of Being within the crown of the head (symbolized by Śiva).
Tāḍāsana unites these two polarities, coming into the center of neutrality
between their magnetic poles. This is vairāgya — non-mood or nonattachment
— which is one of the ways that Patañjali outlines for quieting the waves of the
mind, the essence of yoga.
Practicing Tāḍāsana consciously — making adjustments to the feet, the knees,
the rib cage, the shoulders and neck — helps us expand peripheral awareness
and energize the corpus callosum, the connecting fibers between the right and
left hemispheres of the brain. This brings balance to the feminine and masculine,
the spatial and sequential sides of our nature.
Tāḍāsana prepares us for everyday life by teaching us to stand on our two feet.
In practicing this pose, we learn how to stay within the center of Being, while at
the same time interacting with the world around us. We gain strength of body,
mind, and emotions so that we can aspire to the highest peaks without losing our
connection to the earth. We find the mountaintop in the marketplace of life.
Tāḍāsana is the foundation of all standing poses. Preserve the feeling of
Tāḍāsana as you move into all other āsanas.
VṚKṢĀSANA
Tree Pose
Vri is to rise upward, as if transcending the ego in reaching for the light.

Philosophical Introduction
The tree represents the cycles of birth, life, and death and stands as a reminder of
the immortality of the soul. Tree of Life symbolism is found in many cultures
throughout the world, including Hinduism, Kabbalistic traditions, Aztec culture,
the Brahmā Sūtras (Vedānta Sūtras), and the biblical Garden of Eden, in which
grew the Tree of Life and also the

The tree is a magnificent symbol.

Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil. The tree is a magnificent symbol of
staying centered in the midst of change. It represents the passing of time and the
multitude of ways in which creation expresses itself.
We live in a world of duality where the moon rises and the sun sets, where night
and day are in contact with one another. In yoga, we attempt to balance these
polarities of body and mind to bring us back to the center, where we reawaken
from separative conscious and merge once more with the Creator. Both yoga and
Āyurveda are based on Sāṁkhya, one of the six philosophical systems of India,
which outlines a way to evolve from the plane of matter back to spirit. In
Sāṁkhya, the dualistic nature of the universe is sometimes compared to an
inverted tree springing from the roots of Brahmā, the creator, and branching into
Puruṣa (masculine, consciousness) and Prakṛti (feminine, matter). Together,
they gave birth to Mahat, the cosmic mind, and then to Ahaṁkāra, the ego. Thus
the tree symbolizes the soul’s journey from the Absolute into form and shows
how we can evolve back into the Absolute, the original dwelling place of spirit.
In this state, there is no separation of consciousness, no polarities of good and
evil, day and night, masculine and feminine.
Ahaṁkāra, the sense of ego, or of “I am,” is composed of three qualities, called
guṇas: 1) sattva, the quality associated with lightness and subtle perception; 2)
rajas, associated with fire, momentum, heat, and friction; and 3) tamas,
associated with matter, darkness, and inertia. Material reality is perceived
through the five senses (the tanmātras), leading to a concept of five elements
(the bhūtas): sound/ether (Ākāśa); touch/air (Vāyu); sight/fire (Agni); taste/ water
(Āpas); and odor/earth (Pṛthvī). Creation as we know it descended from spirit
into the density of matter, which is reflective in the play of life on the leaves of
the tree. The essence of our yoga practice is to reawaken the remembrance of our
source.
The tree also symbolizes free will and fate, the karmic cycle of creation. The
vṛttis, the electromagnetic waves of the mind, give rise to desires (kāma) that
lead to actions (karma). The result of actions lead to experiences (bhoga) that
lead to impressions (saṁskāra) that drop into the subconscious field of the mind
where most cannot be accessed consciously. In the Bhagavad Gītā Sri Kṛṣṇa
tells Arjuna that the result of past actions is known as karma, and that portion of
karma that gives rise to the present incarnation is known as prārabdha karma.

Release the shoulders downward as you raise the arms.

The trunk of the tree is prārabdha karma, grown from the seeds of past actions.
The trunk, which some call fate or destiny, determines the origin and family of
our birth. It establishes the place, time, and date of birth as well as the span of
life. It represents our physical and spiritual inheritance and our destiny in the
fulfillment of our life’s purpose.
The branches represent kriyamāṇa karma. Kriya comes from kar meaning “to
do” or “to act,” and Mana from man, “to think,” and manas, the mind. Some of
these branches are the result of past actions, and others are being newly created.
Free will is the outgrowth of the thinking mind. We are making choices in this
moment that will influence our future destiny.
When the tree’s fruit ripens and falls to the earth, reseeding itself, this is known
as saṇcita karma, when the created karma goes back into a dormant phase.
When the time and conditions are ripe, the seeds sprout up as a new tree. The
Yoga Sūtras tell us that every conscious experience becomes a subconscious
impression. Some are more deeply embedded in the layers of the subconscious,
the unseen part of mind, while others may be closer to the surface, the conscious
or pre-conscious mind. The ones that are deeper may not always come to fruition
in a single lifetime.
Tree Pose, like other āsanas, can bring up subconscious impressions or
saṁskāras. The subconscious impressions stored in the hidden depths of mind
are like the seeds of saṇcita karma that have fallen into the earth beneath our
feet. We cannot see them, therefore we dive into the earth with the sole of the
foot to feel them while the upper body grows toward the light. Like the Tree of
Life in the Garden of Eden, Tree Pose symbolizes our birth from the oneness of
Brahman into the world of duality or matter. From this world of matter, we now
aspire to return to the garden of the spirit.

Guidance
1. Begin in Tāḍāsana, the Mountain Pose, with the feet hip distance apart. If you
need help balancing, stand with the back or the side next to a wall for support.
Let the gaze of the eyes descend to a point on the ground about six feet in
front of the feet. This can be a practice of dhāraṇā (focusing) or ekāgratā
(one-pointedness). The point is like the bindu, the seed point of creation.
2. Keeping the hips level, grow down through the standing leg (the Tāḍāsana
leg) and bring the opposite leg up. Place the foot on the inside of the thigh of
the standing leg as high up as possible. The more adept can place the top of
the foot on the opposite thigh in a half-lotus position. Draw the knee back with
one arm while supporting the foot (if necessary) with the other. If the back
arches, bring the leg a little lower on the thigh, or even down to the inner knee,
 calf, or ankle. It is better to keep the hips open and the lumbar spine elongated
rather than bring up the leg prematurely.
3. Inhaling, bring the breath into the back, lifting the shoulders toward the ears.
4. Exhaling, grow down into the bottom foot, lifting the inner arch as the ball of
the big toe presses into the earth. Relax from the heel to the tips of the toes.
Draw prāṇa up the leg up from the earth to draw the top of the kneecap up,
and then lift the hip off the upper thigh and elongate the spine, bringing the
back spine into the front of the body, lifting the heart center toward the light as
you relax the shoulders down. Elongate the back of the neck without lifting the
chin.
5. Inhale and do nothing but breathe into the back, expanding it from the center
of the spine equally to right and left sides.
6. Exhale and grow down through the bottom foot, lifting the arch and the
kneecap. Lift out of the hip socket and elongate the spine, bringing the spine in
like a backbend.
7. Inhale and bring the breath into the back from shoulders to hips.
8. Exhaling, bring the spine in and up toward the head without lifting the head.
Extend the back of the neck on each exhalation without dropping the chin.
9. Inhale, breathing into the back.

Eventually, the palms will join together.

10. Exhaling, release the shoulders away from the ears and let the arms grow like
the branches from the trunk of the spine upward to the light. When raising the
arms, be sure not to arch the lower back or lift the shoulders to try to bring the
palms together. This creates neck compression. Instead, keep the arms parallel
to one another, and with every exhalation, relax the tops of the shoulders
down. Eventually the palms will meet. This relieves rather than creates neck
tension.
11. Inhale, rounding the back with the incoming breath and relaxing the head
slightly forward while lengthening the back of the neck.
12. Exhaling, grow down with the heel and ball of the foot, relaxing the toes.
Lift the inner ankle, the tops of the kneecaps, and continue lifting up from the
hips through the torso, elongating the spine and bringing it into the front body
to offer the heart, along with the arms, up to the light.
13. Inhale and bring the breath from the shoulders to the hips.
14. Exhaling, reach out like the branches of the tree, creating space between the
shoulder blades as the arms come down.
15. Inhale, do nothing.
16. Exhale, lowering the upper leg and returning to Tāḍāsana.
Note: If the arch of the standing foot drops, this collapses the adductors (the
muscles of the inner thighs), and these muscles will not engage equally along
the bones of the leg. Instead, establish your balance through the foot by lifting
the inner ankles or the medial knee. If possible, make this adjustment even
higher, from the side of the pubic bone, which will create openness through
the sacral and pelvic plexuses.

Psychophysiological Benefits
Vṛkṣāsana strengthens the bones and muscles of the legs and increases hip
flexibility, working on the gluteus medius and psoas muscles. As we lift the
arms, the pose benefits the kidneys and adrenals above the kidneys. Tree Pose
also centers the mind, aiding focus and concentration. In this and other balancing
poses, we affect the inner ear and the pineal gland (the ancient “third eye”), a
gland of receptivity that manufactures melatonin, which relaxes the brain and
nervous system and aids in healing insomnia.
On an energetic level, Vṛkṣāsana balances the three doṣas (vāta, pitta, kapha)
that comprise an individual’s constitution according to the science of Āyurveda.
A visualization for Vṛkṣāsana might be letting the roots go down deep beneath
the earth because it is out of our roots that we find stability. When you describe
the concept of “grounding” to students with dominant kapha doṣa (constitutions
with more of the water and earth elements), they understand. They usually have
their feet planted upon the earth. In fact, they may need to lift their arches
because they sometimes have flat feet. When you instruct students with vāta
doṣa (a dominance of the air element) to grow down through the feet, it may be
harder for them. Practicing Vṛkṣāsana helps balance the doṣas by distributing
prāṇa equally from feet to head.
Like a Bhakti yogi, we express our devotion through the sole of the foot as we
caress and offer it to the earth. The arms lift, not from the shoulders, but from
the base of the spine and the core stabilizing muscles: We are not reaching from
the superficial, but from the deeper aspects of our Being. To reach upward, we
must sink imaginary roots beneath the foot deeply into the ground. The deeper
the roots of the foot, the higher the tree can grow and aspire toward the light.
The leaves of the tree may blow about, but the trunk remains motionless in the
center of life’s storms.
Just as Vṛkṣāsana is a reminder to stay balanced in the midst of change — the
seasons of life — it also reminds us to remain neutral and unattached within the
center of the polarities of opposites: attachments and aversions, pleasure and
pain, praise and blame, criticism and compliment, success and failure. The tree
teaches us how to hold the unwavering center where we are not subject to the
pull or sway of opposites.
Tree Pose is a more advanced variation of Tāḍāsana. It is Tāḍāsana on one leg.
In Tāḍāsana, we learned to balance the polarities. Now in Vṛkṣāsana, we strive
to find the same balance on one leg that we found on two. How does this relate
to the balance of what we do in everyday life? Can we still hold the balance even
though life may at times ask more from us in one area? Can we still hold the
center (represented in Vṛkṣāsana by the spinal alignment and the hip opening)
even when the storms of life swirl around us?
NAṬARĀJĀSANA
The Lord of the Dance
The Lord of the Dance is one of the many forms of Śiva, whose dances can be
fierce or gentle, fast or slow. He dances in the evening twilight, and he dances to
the music of the gods. He dances on the battlefield and before his marriage,
showing that every moment in life is critical. His elations have all the rhythms
found in the cosmos. As Natarāja, Śiva dances the world into and out of
existence.

Philosophical Introduction
Śiva, the Lord of Yoga, is a contemplative hermit as well as the all-pervasive
energy that dwells in all of Brahmā’s creations, from the humblest insect to the
loftiest sage. There are said to be 840,000 wombs of Lord Śiva and 84 basic
Yoga Postures with 10,000 variations on each. These 840,000 postures represent
the Infinite within the finite expressions of all created forms. Known to be the
originator of the tradition of Hatha Yoga, Śiva was the guru of the first yogi,
Matsyendra, the Lord of the Fishes. (Matsyendra’s evolution from fish to man is
described on page 195).
As Lord of the Dance, Śiva is most commonly depicted as standing with one
foot on Apasmāra Puruṣa, the demon of ignorance and forgetfulness, while
raising the other with toes pointing to the heavens. In this form of Naṭarājāsana,
the pose resembles Śiva’s mythic bow. One story of Śiva’s bow is found in the
Rāmāyana epic:
When King Janaka offered his daughter’s hand in marriage to the one who could
lift and string Śiva’s bow, many princes gathered. Śiva’s bow was so mighty that
when it was brought to the court, it had to be transported by an eight-wheeled
chariot pulled by five thousand soldiers. Seeing this, some of the princes fainted.
None who tried could even lift it. The ten-headed demon king, Rāvaṇa, used all
his might and the power of his twenty arms. The earth shook like a cradle as he
struggled to lift the bow. When Rāvaṇa tried to string it, the weighty bow fell on
his bosom and, if not for his karma written on his forehead, he would not have
survived. It took five thousand men to lift the bow away from his body. In
disgrace, the demon king flew back to Lanka in his aerial car, shouting to King
Janaka, “When the right time comes, I shall carry away your beautiful daughter
Sīta,” and eventually, he did. Śiva’s bow was the catalyst of the great epic of the
Rāmāyana.
 Maintain the upward lift of the torso in Naṭarājāsana.

In Naṭarājāsana, the bottom leg descends into the perpendicular alignment and
gravitational pull of the earth. As we grow up out of the earth, like the mighty
trunk of the tree, the bowed bend of the upper body assumes a lightness,
representing Sīta’s prayers to lighten the weight of the bow so her beloved Rāma
could lift it. As one arm reaches for the ankle to emulate the stringing of the
bow, the other arm reaches for the light of the heavens, as if sending the prayers
to Śiva. Śiva must have heard Sīta’s prayers, for Sri Rāma lifted the mighty bow
as playfully as an elephant lifting a sugarcane.
While the upper body in the pose is light and playful, the lower leg and foot
offer weight, strength, and devotion deep into the earth, as if to stamp down the
contractive ego of forgetfulness. The other hand reaches above the clouds, where
the celestial nymphs, knowing of Rāma’s great feat, danced and rejoiced.
Flowers showered down from the heavens as Rāma won Sīta’s hand in marriage.

Guidance
1. Begin in Tāḍāsana, facing a wall with the feet approximately two or two and a
half feet away from the wall. Place the palm of one hand on the wall, elbow
straight. Maintain a strong foundation as you inhale into the back, spreading
the breath across the back from shoulders to buttocks.
2. Exhaling, bend the knee, bringing the heel toward the buttocks and taking
hold of the ankle.
3. Inhaling, relax the iliopsoas region from the core abdominal muscles to the
front of the thighs. Relax the quadriceps muscle of the thigh.
4. Exhale, growing through the heel of the bent leg as you rise up out of the hip
socket and extend the foot away from the hips.
5. Inhale, allowing the incoming breath to round the back as much as possible.
6. Exhaling, bring the spine in like a backbend, keeping the psoas region open
and bringing the foot back as far as it will go, increasing the tension of the
bow through the upper arm and the hand that is holding the ankle.
7. Inhaling, allow the incoming breath to round the back again.
8. Exhaling, bring the spine deep into the front of the body, lifting the heart
center and lengthening the back of the neck upward as the skin of the back
moves downward.
9. Inhale and breathe into the back.
10. Exhale and grow down into the earth with the bottom foot, lifting the top of
the kneecap. Align the hips by lifting up out of the hip of the standing leg and
lowering the hip of the rising leg.
11. Inhale and do nothing. It is a time to breathe.
12. Exhaling, elongate the spine as you move it into the front of the body. To
prevent neck compression, do not lift the chin but elongate the back of the
neck as the back skin moves downward. Flex the toes of the upper foot.
13. Inhale, pause, and on the exhalation come back to Tāḍāsana.
14. When you are ready, change sides. On an exhalation, bring the opposite foot
up. Be sure to give equal length and attention to both sides.
Note: Students with knee injuries must take care not to jar the knee or pull it
back too fast. Beginners can have someone support them, or they can use a wall
or chair for balance. Another variation is to practice with a partner, facing each
other and touching each other’s hands. The challenge of the pose is not to lean
forward, but to rise upward. Naṭarājāsana seems like a simple pose, but it can be
intense, depending upon the flexibility and strength of the practitioner.

Psychophysiological Benefits
The bow in this standing posture combines the strength of the lower body with
the flexibility of the upper body. This bow represents growing balance within all
phases and activities of our life. The arm is the bowstring and is taut, giving
leverage to the heart center to lift to the heavens while the bottom foot moves
deeper into the earth with the gravitational pull, like the weight of Śiva’s mighty
bow. The arc of the bow bends with the strength and purity of our intent.
The pose strengthens the lower body and gives flexibility as well as strength to
the upper body through the tension of two poles. The back of the neck elongates,
and as the skin moves down the back, this can be an excellent pose for releasing
neck tension. While Naṭarājāsana strengthens the physical body, it also acts on
the subtle body through the strengthening of the nervous system, as well as the
pranic channels or nāḍīs, the subtle nerve currents. The pineal and pituitary
glands are brought into balance, represented by another of the manifestations of
Śiva, Ardha Śiva, in which one breast is convex and the other concave,
symbolizing an androgynous balance between the feminine (pineal) and
masculine (pituitary).
One of Śiva’s multitude of forms, Naṭarājāsana — the Supreme Dancer — is a
reminder to us of the play of the Universe. His dance is sometimes veiled and
other times unveiled for devotees who recognize the Para Atman, the Supreme
Soul and ultimate reality, seated within his heart. Śiva’s dances tell us to
remember the illusion of life and to expand our consciousness to experience life
as Līlā, divine play. As the Lord of the Dance, Śiva creates, maintains, and
destroys until we realize that all forms come from the same source, and that
there is no separation. We are already One with the Universal Source of all
creation.
UTTHITA TRIKOṆĀSANA
Extended Triangle Pose
Ut means to “rise upward,” and hita (from the root, ri) means to “rise upward
again.” Kona means “angle” and tri means “three.” This is commonly known as
Triangle Pose.

Philosophical Introduction
Trikoṇāsana forms a beautiful energy field or yantra (geometrical pattern).
Yantras are said to be the dwelling place of the deity by whose name it is known.
In this pose, the body assumes the form of Sri Yantra, the sacred geometrical
force field or vortex within the heart Cakra (Anāhata). Trikoṇāsana is a matrix
wherein creation manifests (Shakti or Prakṛti) and returns to its unmanifest form
(Śiva or Puruṣa). The diagonal lines of trikoṇa give a dynamic quality to the
geometry of the pose. Whenever the body takes the form of a yantra in asana, it
becomes an invocation to the invisible energy associated with these particular
angles. Thus, Trikoṇāsana is a pūjā, an offering, and along with all standing
poses, a salute to the gods and goddess of Vishnu’s ten-sided Universe.
Triangle Pose honors the sacred number of three. Many things in life manifest in
patterns of three, including Brahma, Vishnu, and Śiva; the Father, the Son, and
the Holy Ghost; Mother, Father, and Child; and the three guṇas. Tri, the Sanskrit
root for three, is found in trinetri, the third eye, and in tripundra, the sacred
mark of Śiva and Trishul. It is seen as the trident carried by Lord Śiva.
Traditional Vedic mantras to the deities are performed in multiples of three. In
Vedic astrology, where angles rule the major domain of life, trikoṇa is where the
trinal houses join and is considered to be auspicious.

In the full expression of Trikoṇāsana, the upper arm hugs the ear.
The three guṇas — tamas (inertia), rajas (activity), and sattva (dynamic lightness
and stillness) — are the constituents that bind the force of all matter and
creation. We can see the guṇas operate in our lives. When we feel lethargic,
apathetic, or heavy, this may be due to excessive tamas. When we feel restless,
agitated or angry, this may be due to an imbalance of rajas. When we are
balanced between tamas and rajas and feel lightness, serenity, and contentment,
we are in the finest expression of sattva guṇa. The three guṇas can also be
applied to asana. When the head is tamasic (inactive), and the spine is rajasic
(active), the pose becomes sattvic (dynamically balanced, light, and serene). This
exemplifies Yogaḥ cittavṛtti nirodhaḥ, the second and most important verse in
the Yoga Sūtras, meaning “Yoga is the stilling of the mind waves.”
In Sāṁkhya philosophy, the three guṇas are the root of all creation and are
considered to be inseparable. They are found within the atom as electrons,
protons, and neutrons. They give perception and create the life force within the
human body as well as in the world around us. Commentaries on the yoga sūtras
say, “The ultimate nature of the guṇas is never visible; what is seen is
ephemeral, like an illusion.” The guṇas can also be thought of as the waves that
oscillate within the mind and all aspects of life. The ultimate goal of yoga is to
balance and transcend the guṇas, bringing them into equilibrium with one
another so that one is not more of a distraction than the other; this balance allows
them to return to their unmanifest state.
The unmanifest state within one’s Being is a point (bindu) where all knowledge
is in the seed form, from which all things are created and to which all things
return. This bindu is considered to be the seed of the entire universe. When the
bindu wants to manifest itself, it becomes a triangle. Trikoṇa, the three-sided
angle, is created by the effulgent luminosity of bindu.
Bindu, the still point, is Puruṣa or Śiva, immoveable and immortal. Trikoṇa
represents Shakti or Prakṛti, the primordial feminine principle that unfolds
dynamically, like our limbs in Trikoṇāsana. In this pose, the lower limbs unfurl
from the bindu within the procreative plexus in the pelvis, while the upper limbs
unfold from the heart center. In his book on Tantra, Harish Johari wrote, “The
point inside a central triangle and the center of the yantra is known as Sarva
Ananda Cakra, the cakra of total bliss. Śiva is the Bindu and Shakti is Trikoṇa.”
Trikoṇāsana depicts the blending and balancing in the mystic union of Śiva and
Shakti, the “Being” and the “Doing.” The upward-pointing triangle formed by
the lower limbs, with the apex at the pubic bone, draws energy upward and away
from the world. It represents the element of fire or male energy. This triangle can
be seen as Śiva, the upward ascent of consciousness. The downward-pointing
triangle is formed by the arm, torso, and leg, with the apex at the point where the
hand joins the earth, ankle, or shinbone. This triangle honors the element of
water or female energy (Prakṛti or Shakti). The other arm reaches straight up to
the heavens, creating a straight line between the hands stretching between the
earth and the heavens. This honors both the Puruṣa and Prakṛti, Śiva and Shakti.
Prakṛti comes from pra, meaning “to bring forth,” and kri “to do or to act.” Pur
means “to fill,” and uṣa is “the dawn.”
Many years ago, while Mr. B.K.S. Iyengar was demonstrating Utthita
Trikoṇāsana at a workshop at Harvard University, he kept asking the two
hundred yoga teachers who had gathered to open their armpits. They weren’t
exactly sure how to do this, so he shouted in frustration, “Open your armpits, I
say! You all want to see the light, but your armpits are lying in darkness.” As he
strode down the aisles, two hundred armpits opened to the light.
In the full expression of Utthita Trikoṇāsana, the upper arm is brought to the
side of the head and is drawn upward as the outer edge of the back heel grows
deep into the earth. Again, we honor the polarities. Now the head is resting in the
apex of the pyramid said to create regeneration. When the arm is brought to the
side of the head, it represents neutrality and balance and the joining of the
ascending consciousness of Śiva and the descending of Shakti. It seems to say,
“Be in the world but not of the world.” The two energies of Śiva and Shakti exist
in every asana. However, because the triangle is the first yantra to emerge from
the bindu, Trikoṇāsana is usually the first standing pose to be taken after
Tāḍāsana.

Guidance
1. Begin in Tāḍāsana to establish the breath. Create the base of the triangle by
stepping the feet three feet apart or the distance of your leg. Keep the feet
parallel to one another. The distance between the feet will depend upon the
flexibility of the hips and hamstrings. If there is strain on the knees, it helps to
bring the feet closer together.
2. Exhaling, turn the left leg in thirty degrees and the right leg out ninety
degrees. Keep the hips parallel to the long edge of the mat. It is important to
keep the feet engaged and lifted, as in Tāḍāsana. Lift the inner left ankle,
bringing the weight to the outer edges of the foot, and press down with the ball
of the right foot as the knee rotates over the median of the ankle. Center the
right knee over the midline of the ankle and foot to help realign the hip joint.
This equalizes the adductors (inner thighs) and abductors (outer thighs) and
equalizes the pressure on the bones of both legs. Keep the toes light and
separated.
3. Inhale, breathing into the back body, rounding it slightly and lifting the
 shoulders with the breath.
4. Exhaling, bring the shoulders down from the ears, lengthen the back of neck,
and let the arms fly upward like wings.
5. Inhale and again allow the breath to move into the back. The breath takes
consciousness with it. Wherever the breath begins, let it be the teacher to the
denser parts, until the entire back body can open and expand with the
inhalation.
6. On the exhalation, grow down through the inner left leg, stretching from the
left side of the public bone to lift the inner ankle. At the same time, keep the
right inner ankle lifted and grow down with the ball of the big toe. The upper
right leg and knee rotate externally while the bottom leg rotates slightly
internally.
7. Inhaling, spread the breath across the back.
8. Exhaling, allow the spine to move into the front of the body while reaching
the tailbone (coccyx) toward the earth, without dropping the heart center. This
elongates the lumbar spine.
9. Inhale and allow the breath to fill the back body from hips to shoulders. The
arms and hands are the extension of the heart. As long as they are held from
the heart center of Sri Yantra, they will not grow tired.

Keep the sides of the torso equally lengthened in Trikoṇāsana.

10. Exhale, externally rotating both thighs, bringing the tailbone down to
elongate the lumbar spine, and extending out of the right hip to bring the right
hand down to the ankle or shin or to a block. If the hips can stay open and
parallel to one another, then bring the fingertips or hand down to the floor in
front of the toes. The hand may also be placed on the top of the foot. Keep
both sides of the torso equal to one another. Extend the left arm upward.
11. Inhaling, maintain the position and allow the breath to round the back.
12. Exhaling, move the tailbone back and lengthen the lumbar spine, freeing the
upper back and allowing the spine to move into the front body like a
backbend.
13. Inhale and allow the breath to round the back.
14. Exhaling, lengthen the spine vertebra by vertebra toward the head and into
the front body, opening the heart center.
15. Inhale and create space with the breath, rounding the back to open between
the right and left sides of the rib cage, the kidneys, and shoulder blades.
16. Exhale and elongate the spine, moving the tailbone in the opposite direction
of the head, and bringing the spine in to the front of the body like a backbend.
Allow an organic rotation to begin from the base and ripple upward until the
heart and the head look toward the light.
17. Inhaling, expand the back laterally with the breath, relaxing the neck.
18. Exhaling, extend the bottom arm toward the earth and the upper arm toward
the heavens.
19. Inhale and allow the breath to expand and round the back, bringing the heart
center towards the thoracic spine.
20. Exhale, elongating between each vertebra by moving the tailbone back as the
spine rotates, turning the heart and face upward to receive the light. This
rotation may occur gradually over a period of time.
21. Inhale and do nothing. Make no adjustments, just watch how the breath
comes in to the body.
22. Exhaling, draw the spine in and the shoulders down and back as the upper
arm moves as close to the side of the head as possible. If the shoulder rises
toward the ear, stop at that point and release the top of the shoulder to avoid
neck compression. Otherwise, continue extending the arm over the side of the
head.
23. When you are ready to complete the pose, inhale, and on an exhalation, bring
the upper arm back up to the heavens, letting its heavenly aspirations draw the
body upward into the five-pointed star position. Release back to the standing
pose, Tāḍāsana.
24. Take the pose to the other side, staying for the same number of breaths.
25. Return to Tāḍāsana and observe the benefits of the pose.
Note: In the beginning phases, it helps to place the outer edge of the back foot
against a wall for support and to strengthen the leg. The wall gives something for
the foot to press against, activating the adductors and abductors and enabling the
hamstrings to lengthen, as well as providing leverage for the spine to elongate.
Years ago, I realized that in Trikoṇāsana and other standing poses, many of us
teaching and practicing yoga were extending from the inner knee down to the
inner ankle to keep the weight balanced on the outer edge of the foot. Since
bones grow along the lines of stress, a few of us were becoming noticeably bow-
legged. We were not extending from the inner thighs and psoas muscle. The key
to Trikoṇāsana and other standing poses is to extend the inner leg from the side
of the pubic bone and even from the skin of the pubis. This not only lengthens
and strengthens the psoas muscle but also opens and activates the coccygeal and
sacral plexuses.
As the upper torso extends to the side, it is important to lift the tops of both
knees gently. By lifting the tops of the kneecaps, we can prevent hyperextended
knees. Utthita Trikoṇāsana can also be practiced by placing the bottom hand on
the seat of a chair or on a block, rather than trying to reach the hand to the floor.

Utthita Trikoṇāsana with chair and partner assist.

When the upper arm extends skyward, the gaze can gently turn toward the hand
as the back of the neck elongates. It is important not to turn the head unless the
rotation originates from the base of the spine and the upper hip. When the neck
tightens, we tighten the lower back, hyperextending the lumbar spine. This can
happen when trying to open the chest prematurely, without first establishing
openness in the hips. When the rotation of the head and neck comes from a
natural evolution in the lower spine, Trikoṇāsana can alleviate, rather than
create, neck tension.

Psychophysiological Benefits
Utthita Trikoṇāsana relates to Ardha Candrāsana, Vīrabhadrāsana II, Utthita
Pārśvakoṇāsana, and Parivṛtta Jānu Śīrṣāsana. When Utthita Trikoṇāsana is
done appropriately, it releases pressure on the lumbar spine and eases neck
tension. It can be very beneficial for scoliosis. It works on the respiratory
muscles — the outer and inner intercostal muscles of the ribcage and the
sternocleidomastoid muscles — as well as on the carotid sinus and the arteries
on the sides of the neck. It is excellent for the kidneys, adrenals, and abdominal
organs, including the appendix and ascending, descending, and transverse colon.
It also benefits the uterine region for women and the prostate region for men.
The full expression of Utthita Trikoṇāsana stretches the oblique muscles and the
inner and outer intercostals. Trikoṇāsana firms the thigh and buttock muscles,
elongates the hamstrings, and preserves the arches of the feet. When
Trikoṇāsana is practiced by extending rather than collapsing the lumbar spine, it
stabilizes and strengthens the sacroiliac joints where the sacrum joins with the
pelvis. These joints can grow unstable with continued poor posture and the
passing of the years. If we rise up out of the hip joints rather than sink into them,
our hips can more easily maintain their suppleness and strength.
It is important not to close the hips by going beyond one’s svadharma (what is
right for the individual) by trying to reach the floor prematurely. This attempt to
open the heart center beyond one’s current capacity is evidenced by the convex
rounding of the upper side of the ribcage. Equally extending the bottom and
upper sides of the torso equalizes the prana between the parasympathetic
nervous system (the left side of the body) and the sympathetic nervous system
(the right side). The spine is equalized when the breath feels equal in the right
and left nostrils.
If the feet are not continually brought into alignment, there is a tendency to
collapse the adductor (inner thigh) muscles, which puts stress upon the bones of
the leg. Some students will try to find the balance by overextending the ankles,
others by pressing the medial knee down to the ankle without extending
throughout the inner thigh muscles. A complete extension of the thigh of the
extended back leg should come from the side of the pubic bone. This will
challenge the iliopsoas muscle, one of the largest in the body and one that holds
deep emotional memories of the past. As we open and lengthen the psoas on one
side the psoas on the other side is lengthened and strengthened and full release is
possible.
To find comfort and balance in Trikoṇāsana, it is important to extend the spine
first and then allow the rotation of the twist to organically unfold from this
extension. If the spine is healthy, when the face rotates upward toward the light,
the whole spine rotates all the way from the coccyx. It is the tailbone, or coccyx,
that turns the head in Trikoṇāsana, not the neck. This movement begins at the
feet, which give leverage for the thighs to rotate externally and open the
iliopsoas in the inner groin. This lengthens the lumbar spine. When the upper hip
moves back, the coccyx moves toward the front of the pubis, creating the sacral-
occipital alignment and activating the parasympathetic nerves. This is the part of
the autonomic nervous system that calms, cools, and dilates, creating a sense of
growing clarity and relaxation within the action.
Once the foundation is established, and the spine extended and rotated, then the
arm can be brought up and over the side of the head. Utthita Trikoṇāsana opens
Svādhiṣtāna (the sacral plexus), and Anāhata, the heart center. In order for
energy to reach the heart, it is important to keep the navel passive and relaxed by
elongating the lumbar spine. It is the length and suppleness of the lower body
that will determine the opening of the upper. Whenever we want to make any
adjustments or change in yogāsana, we first start with the foundation. This is a
great metaphor for life.
VĪRABHADRĀSANA II
The Warrior Pose
Vīra in Sanskrit has several meanings: to have unwavering faith and steadiness
in any situation, to be steadfast in body and mind, or to be focused and
concentrated with unwavering courage. The warrior is one who is balanced in
the midst of all life’s polarities. A warrior does not fear death but sees beyond
the body to the immortality of the soul.

Philosophical Introduction
One of my favorite stories relates the birth of Vīrabhadra, the great warrior who
arose from the hair of Śiva. Once, long ago, Dakṣa, a son of Brahma and the
father of Satī (the wife of Lord Śiva), held a yagna, a great fire ceremony. The
devas and rishis and the lords of heaven all assembled for this auspicious event,
but Dakṣa did not invite his son-in-law Śiva, who remained on his snowy abode
on Mt. Kailāsa.
When Satī arrived at the ceremony to find Śiva was not invited, she cried out,
“Father, only you would belittle such an exalted one. Out of your hatred, your
heart has turned from the lord who is loved and honored by the great yogis.
What is the use of my keeping this body if it has been born from the one who
looks down upon and speaks so ill of the great Lord Śiva?” Satī renounced her
father’s name and, turning her consciousness inward, she fixed her mind on Śiva
and consumed her body in the flames of a self-created fire, giving up her
physical form.

In the full expression of Vīrabhadrāsana II, the gaze extends over the fingertips.
 On an inhalation, allow the arms to cross in front of the torso to open the shoulder blades.

The sage Narāda immediately traveled to Kailāsa to inform Śiva of the tragedy.
Śiva was so distraught with grief that he tore a lock from his matted hair and cast
it to the ground. Out came the mighty and terrifying warrior Vīrabhadra, the
manifestation of Śiva’s grief and anger. In some versions of the story,
Vīrabhadra is joined by Mother Kali, who wears a garland of the skulls around
her neck. Kali never shrinks from battle but cuts off the head of the enemy
(symbolic of the ego).
Vīrabhadra’s power was equal to Kālī’s. He was so immense he touched the sky.
His thousand arms all wielded weapons that would make him invincible in any
battle. Together, these great warriors represent the androgynous balance of the
masculine and feminine poles of existence. They asked Śiva how they might
serve him, and he commanded them to destroy and desecrate the fire sacrifice.
Vīrabhadra and Kali rallied Śiva’s allies and, like a whirlwind, created chaos and
havoc at the ceremony. Satī’s father Dakṣa was killed by Vīrabhadra’s mighty
weapons. The reprisal was so devastating that Lord Brahma advised the devas
and rishis to go to Śiva’s abode on Kailāsa to entreat his forgiveness. They
approached with hands in supplication, and Śiva granted a boon: “May all of
those who were injured and maimed become healed. May Dakṣa be revived, but
with the head of a goat.” They returned to continue the ceremony of fire to burn
the karmas and bless the world.
Vīrabhadra represents the warrior aspect of Śiva, who is often depicted sitting in
contemplation, unmoving and unchanging. However, when it is time to act, the
spiritual warrior is powerful, decisive, and immense. Like Vīrabhadra, the
warrior has peripheral vision with 360-degree views that stretch into infinity.
The warrior transcends self-absorption, rising above his or her own pains that
spring from ego or individuated consciousness.
In Vīrabhadrāsana II, even though it looks as if the body is lowering as the knee
bends, the upper body is moving up. Polarities exist in everything. As one part
moves down, another part moves up. We learned in previous poses, such as
Tāḍāsana, to hold equal awareness to both upper and lower polarities. Now,
when we practice Vīrabhadrāsana II on the right side and then the left, we also
give equal attention to these polarities. In this way, we expand our consciousness
gradually to focus on upper and lower, then right and left, and eventually inner
and outer. In Vīrabhadrāsana II and the other warrior poses, we use our body as
the training ground for expanding peripheral awareness to every part of life.

Guidance
1. Begin in Tāḍāsana by focusing on the breath. Like the wings of an eagle, the
breath brushes across the back from the neck to the buttocks, moving
horizontally to the right and left of the spinal column.
2. Exhale and bring the feet four and a half or five feet apart, depending on the
length of the leg.
3. Inhale and let the breath expand the entire back body.
4. Exhaling, rise up out of the lower body and turn the left leg in 30 degrees and
the right leg out 90 degrees. Do not turn the hips with the right leg but keep
both hips facing forward as evenly as possible. The heels are aligned. As in all
standing poses, remember to relax the toes. Not only are they the nerve
reflexes to the brain and sensory organs, clinging with the toes represents
abhineveśa, the fifth kleṣa (affliction), which is the clinging to life and the fear
of death.
5. Inhale and feel the breath winging across the back.
6. On the exhalation, allow the spine to rise up out of the pelvis, lifting the upper
sternum up as the skin slides down the back.
7. Exhaling, release the tops of the shoulders, allowing the arms to fly up
effortlessly. Remember that the hands are the extension of the heart. If the
arms tire, renew the energy of the heart center with the incoming breath,
reaching out to the right and left equally on the exhalations. The arms reach
from the sternum, then the armpits, the elbows, the wrists, and last of all, from
the knuckles of each finger, with the palms facing the earth. In this pose, we
give to the earth as well as receive.
8. Inhale, rounding the back and lifting the back ribs.
9. Exhale and offer the spine into the front body, reaching the tailbone down
toward the earth and the heart center toward the light above. Elongate the back
of the neck as the upper shoulders release down.
10. Inhale and feel the breath spreading across the back, from shoulders to
buttocks, rounding the spine and lifting the shoulders toward the ears.
11. Exhale and roll the shoulders down and back, elongating the back of the neck
and offering the spine into the front body like a backbend, lifting the heart
center to the light above.
12. Inhaling, bring the breath to the back.
13. Exhaling, allow the breath to rise from the base to the top, lifting the heart
center to the light as the skin of the shoulders and back offers into the earth.
14. Inhale, breathing into the back and noticing any areas that the hands of prana
have not embraced.
15. Exhale and bend the knee of the forward leg, creating the yantra of the
square, a symbol of Gaṇeśa, the remover of obstacles. As the knee bends, lift
up out of the basin of the pelvis.
17. Breathe and observe, noticing the balance between right and left, upper and
lower, and inner and outer. Find the center.
18. On the next exhalation, maintain the geometrical pattern of the square as you
offer the spine and heart upward and extend the back of the neck a little more,
releasing the shoulders down.
19. Inhaling, allow the breath to round the back and lift the shoulders.
20. Exhaling, draw the shoulders down, lengthen the back of the neck, and
soften and open the throat for the head to turn toward the arm of the bent-knee
side, maintaining the strength, balance and steadfastness of the pose.
21. Inhale, breathing into the back.
22. On the exhalation, as the gaze extends over the fingertips, bring the prana or
energy of the eyes backward to the base of the skull (the cerebellum) and let
the gaze move through the back of the head to “see” the hand and fingers of
the opposite arm.
23. Inhale, do nothing.
24. Exhaling, keep the lift of the spine as the knee descends a little further. When
the breath becomes shallow or short, it is time to come out of the pose. Simply
straighten the bent knee while continuing to lift out of the pelvic base.
24. Inhale and bring the feet parallel to one another.
25. Exhale and return to Tāḍāsana. When you are ready, change sides.
Note: When we feel self-pity or pain there is a tendency to collapse and become
self-absorbed. When we are caught in the pit of our own pains, we cannot be
there to serve others. Vīrabhadrāsana II teaches us to rise up out of the self and
be there for the greater good. Practicing the pose supported by a chair can help
students lift up out of the self by opening the hips and lifting the thorax.
Beginning students can sit on the chair, legs relaxed, and focus on lifting out of
the pelvis by pressing down on the upper thigh with the hands. Next, they can
rotate and extend the back leg to get the feeling of opening and then rotate and
bend the front leg, still preserving the lift. Once students have found the
openness in a seated Vīrabhadrāsana II, they can simply step away from the
chair. Another helpful variation is to brace the back foot against a wall.

Psychophysiological Benefits
The physical benefits of Warrior II are similar to Utthita Trikoṇāsana. Practicing
these and other standing poses strengthens the lower limbs, increasing bone
density in the legs, pelvis, and spine. Standing poses help to prevent arthritic
conditions in the hips and joints of the lower limbs. As we strengthen the legs,
thighs, and hips, we gain self-trust, knowing that we have the strength and
connection to the earth to rise up out of the pains of the past. Because of the lift
up out of the pelvis and the external rotation of the hip, Vīrabhadrāsana II relates
to Utthita Pārśvakoṇāsana, Trikoṇāsana, Ardha Candrāsana, and Vṛkṣāsana.
Warrior II brings awareness to the root cakra as well as to the heart and throat
cakras. The bent knee forms a right angle or square, invoking the energy of
Gaṇeśa and creating foundational support for all life’s actions and interactions.
As the knee moves down, “we” are going up. This represents lifting beyond old
patterns that may have created restrictions and barriers in our lives.
Vīrabhadrāsana II helps us to renew faith in our own strength and, like Gaṇeśa,
lift the spiritual as well as material obstacles from our path.
The spiritual warrior transcends past pains and hurts, keeping the heart open in
the midst of all life’s challenges and complexities. The arms extend out from the
heart center, and it is said that when we serve from the heart, we never grow
tired. If the arms become tired during Vīrabhadrāsana II, bring the awareness to
the center of the sternum, breathe in, and on the exhalation let the arms fly out
lightly from the heart, forming a straight line.
A straight line, taken into infinity, becomes a circle. The warrior seems to have
eyes in the back of his or her head, or 360-degree vision. In yoga, the back body
is the intuitive, unseen side. When we bring awareness to this part, we develop
our intuitive faculties so that we don’t have to turn the head to have a peripheral
view of situations. The warrior’s circular consciousness or peripheral vision
gives her the ability to see all sides of a situation without blaming others or self.
The warrior is able to transcend the lower self by lifting up out of the lower
body, rising through the spine to stretch the consciousness to the mountaintops.
By developing inner strength and expanding consciousness, Vīrabhadrāsana II
helps us create a sense of self-empowerment.
UTTHITA PĀRŚVAKOṆĀSANA
Extended Side Angle Pose
Ut means “upward,” and hitta is from ri, which means “to rise upward.” Kona
refers to a right angle and pārśva refers to the side or flank.

Philosophical Introduction
In this pose, the bent knee forms a right angle. When the arm and hand are in
alignment with the lower leg, a square is formed. This is the yantra of the root
Cakra, and it is symbolic of Gaṇeśa, the Lord of Thresholds, who protects the
spiritual practitioner from any inner or outer obstacles that may arise. As one
embarks upon spiritual practices, Gaṇeśa’s presence turns stumbling blocks into
steppingstones because he brings good luck to those offering invocations. His
immense body rides upon the vehicle of a mouse, which reminds us to bear the
weight of life’s challenges and transcend the downward pull of mind and
emotions.
Gaṇeśa is connected with the principal of earth and to the mobility of prana. He
is a master of sound and the sacred syllable Om. Gaṇeśa is known to preside
over the Mūlādhāra Cakra, the root or support at the base of the spine. This is the
area where the goddess Kuṇḍalinī is said to rest in a dormant state, to be
awakened by Gaṇeśa. In India, Gaṇeśa is invoked for success at the beginning
of important endeavors, and his mantras usually precede any others in a mantra
practice.
Gaṇeśa represents change, which appears at every new situation we face in life
and in ourselves. He stands as the centurion at the gateway of transformation,
representing metamorphosis by letting go of old, rigid, separative beliefs and
limited perspectives. His energy is said to bring forth new perceptions, as he
opens the gateway of the intuitive mind, allowing for better understanding of our
destiny.

The Pārśva or side flank of this pose forms a diagonal line.

Gaṇeśa has the body of a boy and the head of an elephant, and his pot-bellied
form is one of the most loved and easily invoked of all deities. There are several
different stories of how Gaṇeśa got his elephant head. A popular story tells that
one day, when Śiva was away, his consort Pārvatī was alone. From sandalwood
and the dew of her body, she formed a boy to guard her chambers as she bathed.
That night, Śiva returned unexpectedly. The boy, never having seen his father,
refused entry to the Lord of the Universe. In his anger, Śiva took out his sword
and cut off the boy’s head. Pārvatī was so distraught that Śiva went out into the
night to find a new head. Unfortunately, he could find only an elephant’s head,
which he placed on the child’s body, bringing him back to life. Pārvatī rejoiced
and Śiva accepted Gaṇeśa as his son.
Through the loss of his head, Gaṇeśa is a metaphor for transcending the ego, the
limited separative consciousness. He is usually depicted holding a bowl of rice
or laddu (balls of sweetened rice) in one hand while holding the Vedas in the
other, showing that we need a balance of physical and spiritual sustenance. His
eyes are small, turning into the inner world, while his trunk symbolizes
discrimination because it takes a while for the food to reach his mouth, giving
time to discern what will be ingested and taken into the system.
The Gaṇeśa yantra of the square formed in Utthita Pārśvakoṇāsana represents
solidity and stability. It can also represent stagnancy or static energy. However,
when the square is rotated onto its corner, it becomes dynamic. This is seen in
the pārśva or side flank of the pose, in which the arm and leg form a line
diagonal to the earth plane. This prevents the square of the bottom leg from
becoming static, and the yantra of the pose becomes a dynamic energy field.
In Utthita Pārśvakoṇāsana, there is equal bilateral extension, honoring the
connection to the earth while reaching out toward the heavens. In this, as in all
poses, if one part of the body moves in one direction, the other moves equally in
the opposite direction. In Utthita Pārśvakoṇāsana, one reaches deeply into the
earth through the extended leg, the side of the foot, and the little toe, while the
upper flank, torso, arm, and fingers stretch for the heavens. This diagonal yantra
equally honors earthly and celestial realms.
The traditional Gaṇeśa yantra has a circle within the container of the square. The
circle is dynamic and represents the cyclic force. It is the zero point that contains
all forms within itself. (Interestingly, the great pyramid of Egypt was built upon
the geometric forms of a square upon a circle.) Within the circle, the Gaṇeśa
yantra also includes a triangle. If you practice Utthita Trikoṇāsana, then move
into Vīrabhadrāsana II, and then into Utthita Pārśvakoṇāsana, the body forms a
triangle, then a square, and then adds a diagonal line from earth to heaven. This
creates ever-new forms in our relationship to the magnetic pulls of the earth and
the energies of the Universe. In this way, asana can be seen as a living matrix of
sacred geometry.

Guidance
Utthita Pārśvakoṇāsana is an extension of Vīrabhadrāsana II. It requires even
more concentration (dhāraṇā) to hold all the parts of the body in equal
awareness.
1. Begin in Tāḍāsana.
2. Exhale and bring the legs four to five feet apart, depending upon the length of
your legs.
3. Inhale into the back.
4. Exhale, bringing the arms up as the tops of the shoulders move down.
5. Inhale and expand out from the inner shoulder blades through arms and
fingers, palms facing the earth.
6. Exhaling, turn the left foot in 30 degrees and the right foot out 90 degrees.
7. Inhaling, bring the breath into the back, allowing the breath (not the mind) to
round the back.
8. Exhaling, lower the shoulders from the ears and let the arms rise, extending
out from the heart center to the tips of the fingers. The arms are dynamic.
9. Inhaling, round the back.
10. Exhale and move the shoulders down, extending the arms from the heart
center, and bending the right knee to create right angle to the earth. Be sure the
knee doesn’t extend over the toes and that both sides of the torso are equal to
one another. Bring the right palm or fingertips down to the floor, either in
front of the bent leg or behind it. To experience greater extension, you can
alternatively place the right elbow on the thigh.
11. Inhale into the back, expanding the breath across the back.
12. Exhaling, bring the spine in like a backbend.
 Modified Uthitta Parsvokonasana using the assist of a chair for greater extension.
13. Inhale and breathe into the back.
14. Exhale and elongate the spine, bringing the spine into the front of the body
and allowing the spinal rotation to lift the heart. Effortlessly turn the head up
to the light, letting this follow the movement of the heart. The rotation of the
head and neck comes from the base of the torso, as both thighs are externally
rotated, opening the inner groins. This creates an evolutionary spiral of the
spine, bringing the bottom side of the torso, the heart center, and the face
upward to the light.
15. Inhaling, fill your back with the breath from shoulders to hips.
16. Exhale, bending the left elbow behind the ear and bringing the arm up to the
side of the head, behind the ear if possible. Draw the upper shoulder down
away from the ear and slowly begin to straighten the arm, but only to the
extent that the upper shoulder does not rise to the ear.
17. Stay in the pose only as long as the breath is calm, and then come out of the
pose the same way you went in. Change sides, giving equal length to the
opposite side.
Note: In Utthita Pārśvakoṇāsana, the further down the arm reaches toward the
earth, the harder it is to keep from collapsing the torso or closing the hips. To
prevent this, you can use a block or bring the elbow to the knee. Those who
haven’t developed the strength in the lower body to support Utthita
Pārśvakoṇāsana can practice this pose sitting on a chair. This allows them to get
the feeling of how to reach down with the lower body, pressing the thigh into the
chair. Then they lift up through the torso. After they lift, they can move to the
side and create the diagonal line. Practicing on a chair allows them to stretch the
pārśva, the side flank, without worrying about the strength of the lower body.
Assist: Working with a partner in this pose will help you lengthen the spine and
open the heart center. Your partner will stand behind you and use her thighs to
clasp your extended leg. She will gently move the leg and upper hip back toward
her as your arm reaches in the opposite direction. Still clasping your thigh
between hers, she can use her hands to draw your shoulders toward your hips,
moving the skin down the back to prevent neck tension as your arm comes to the
ear. The coccyx moves back as the head moves forward, which extends the
lumbar spine and in turn releases and opens the thoracic spine to bring the heart
center closer to the light.

Psychophysiological Benefits
Utthita Pārśvakoṇāsana releases the inner and outer intercostal muscles, freeing
the breath through the release in the lungs and diaphragm. The pose also works
on the obliques, the rectus abdominus, erector spinae, iliopsoas, trapezius, and
all muscles of the upper body.
On a spiritual level, Utthita Pārśvakoṇāsana prepares us to live on the earth
plane and in the innerdimensional states of consciousness at the same time.
Practicing this pose, we stretch from the earth to the heavens, from the little toe
to the little finger. We welcome the light into our being while connected like the
roots of a tree to the darkness of the earth beneath our feet. The light represents
the conscious mind, while the darkness represents the subconscious. If we make
the decision to release fear and penetrate the unseen depths of the subconscious
mind, the leg and lower torso will grow stronger in this process.
However, we can only reach as high as we can penetrate the deeper recesses of
Being. Make the final reach for the stars without losing the connection to the
earth. The reach is like extending beyond old stuck patterns of the past in order
to expand consciousness. If we lose the base and overreach with the arm, this
reflects a rajasic — restless or competitive — nature trying to get to a goal. This
can contract rather than expand consciousness. On the other hand, if one does
not make that ultimate reach, this reflects a tendency to get stuck in the comfort
zone, which can promote tamas — apathy and inertia. Sometimes we want to
stay where we are and don’t want to take that little extra step that may be
required at strategic points of our life. This, too, contracts rather than expands
consciousness.
This pose teaches us to stay balanced in the midst of polarities such as praise and
blame, criticism and compliments, success and failure. A square is a neutral
foundation that supports and sustains, like Gaṇeśa. It is balanced and strong like
the elephant. In the Yoga Sūtras (III:25), Patañjali says, “By practicing
saṁyama (concentration, meditation, and samadhi) on the strength of elephants,
the power of that strength can be acquired.”
PĀRŚVŌTTĀNĀSANA
Intense Side Stretch Pose
Pārśva means “side” or “flank.” Though tan is commonly translated as
“intensive stretch,” it means so much more. In regard to yoga and asana, tan
implies going beyond self-imposed limitations, the things that have bound us in
the past. Tan also means “to thin,” as in the thinning of the kleṡas, life’s
afflictions. In Pārśvōttānāsana we go beyond constrictions of the side flank of
the torso or beyond past limitations.

Philosophical Introduction
Pārśvōttānāsana creates a pole of tension between the base of the spine and the
crown of the head. When we transcend self-imposed limitations while in this
pose, we can learn how to go beyond the self-imposed limitations in our lives.
Our practice becomes a reminder that that no one does anything to us or holds us
back, that each of us has the power to make changes and create whatever we
wish for ourselves. This brings to mind a contemporary phrase that echoes the
ancient yogic concepts of karma and dharma: “There are no victims, only
volunteers.”
In Pārśvōttānāsana, we offer the upper body to the lower, the torso to the lower
limbs. The head humbles itself to the earth. In the fullest expression of the pose,
the hands are brought behind the back with the palms together in namaste. The
namaste mudrā (gesture) means, “I salute the divinity within you that also is in
me.” When the mudrā is held behind the back, the hands nudge the back of the
heart center, reminding it to hold back no longer but to give and open from its
core. The thumbs, which represent the Universal, do not point toward the
individual heart; in reverse namaste, they point toward the heavens. This, too, is
a pose of bhakti, in which the individual honors the Universal.

Parsvottanasana, full expression

Pārśvōttānāsana is a wonderful pose to teach us that as much as we move
forward into an action, we move back with equal dynamics. In Pārśvōttānāsana,
the tailbone moves back as the spine moves forward. Though the tailbone is a
small thing, we need to give it even greater attention when most of the body’s
weight is moving forward. This is like life. When something comes along that
takes up all of our attention, time, and energy, we totally disconnect from other
things. To maintain a balance in asana and in life, we need to hold two or more
polarities simultaneously, giving all parts equal attention.
In particular, Pārśvōttānāsana teaches about past and future. When we find
balance in the pose, giving as much attention to what is behind us as to what is in
front of us, consciousness is brought into the present moment. It is in the present
moment, when there is no pain of remorse over the past and no anxiety about the
future, that the mind becomes calm, clear, and balanced.
Practicing Pārśvōttānāsana brings to mind this sūtra (III:52): “Knowledge of the
Self and non-self comes from practicing Saṁyama [concentration and
meditation] on the moment and its sequence.” When a later moment succeeds an
earlier one without interruption, it is called a sequence. The moment is defined
as “the time taken by an atom in motion leaving one point in space reaching an
adjacent point.” Commentaries on this sūtra say that in the present moment, the
whole Universe experiences change, as past, present, and future exist in that one
present moment.

Guidance
1. Begin in Tāḍāsana. Exhale and grow down into the earth through the
circumference of the heels, elevating the spine and elongating the back of the
neck. The shoulders release away from the ears, and the skin moves down the
back.
2. Step the feet two and a half or three feet part, depending upon the length of
the legs. Turn the right leg out 90 degrees and the left leg in 60 degrees. Turn
the hips and torso with the rotation of the feet.
3. Inhaling, feel the breath spreading across the back in both directions, like
wings.
4. Exhale and position the hands (see note) or place the hands on the seat of a
chair, shoulder width apart.
 Placing the hands on the floor, or on a chair as a modification, allow the breath to round the back on the
inhalation.
5. Inhale, allowing the breath to round the back and lift the back of the ribs.
6. Exhaling, lift the tops of both kneecaps and rise out of the hips, bringing the
spine into the front body as though entering a backbend, elongating the back
of the neck. Anchor the back heel into the earth, lifting the inner arch and
ankle of the back foot, releasing any tension in the toes.
7. Inhale and let the breath round the back.
8. Exhale and elongate the spine, rolling the shoulder skin down the back while
bringing the spine into the front of the body and continuing to move the back
hip backward. Bring the forward hip back as you roll the front foot toward the
ball of the big toe in order to keep the balance of the foot.
9. Inhaling, allow the breath to round the back, bringing it as far down toward
the sacrum as possible.
10. Exhaling, release the neck, extending the cervical vertebrae, the base of the
skull, and the crown of the head forward. (Do this without lifting the chin,
which compresses the back of the neck.) Move the tailbone and both hips back
simultaneously to create maximum tension between the two poles of the spine,
bringing the mind into the present moment.
11. Inhaling, allow the breath to round the back, lifting the back of the ribcage
toward the back of the head and offering the spine to the heavens.

Pārśvōttānāsana, exhalation
12. On the exhalation, keep lifting the back ribs and the floating ribs toward the
head as the spine sinks into the front of the body. This elongates the front of
the torso and relaxes the navel. Keep the navel passive throughout the pose.
13. Inhale and see if the synovial joints of the ribcage (where the ribs join the
spine) can release and create a little more space. Spread the breath in the back,
as if spreading it across the earth plane.
14. Exhaling, elongate the spine, bringing it into the front body as though doing
a backbend while you enter the forward bend. Lengthen the torso as the weight
moves from the tailbone to the back heel. Bring the hips level with one
another. If possible, bring the center of the pelvis and the navel toward the
legs, and then finally offer the heart and surrender the entire upper body to rest
upon the lower.
Note: There is a tendency to lead with the head in Pārśvōttānāsana, bringing the
chin up and compressing the neck. This not only blocks the energy between the
heart and brain but also reveals our goal-orientation and the tendency to strive in
our lives. This striving to get somewhere in the pose takes us out of the moment
and usually thrusts the mind and body into the future. In Pārśvōttānāsana, it is
important to keep the head neutral and lead with the heart.
In practicing Pārśvōttānāsana, we balance the polarities by balancing the forward
momentum of the torso. We do this by bringing attention to the tailbone and
extending into the heel bone of the back leg. Both hips move back, and
eventually the hips become parallel. The kneecaps lift and act as a springboard
for the spine. To create more awareness of the backward movement, place the
back heel against the base of a wall for support. The resistance of the wall also
serves to strengthen the muscles of the legs and buttocks.
Students with contracted hamstrings can begin Pārśvōttānāsana by placing the
hands on a chair. Doing so makes it easier to sense the movement of the spine
between the polarities. Eventually, the hands can come to the floor while the
forehead rests on the edge of the chair. Supporting the forehead helps the neck
release, which in turn releases tension in the lower back.
 The reverse namaste mudra signifies the balance of the right and left hemispheres of the brain.
The head and heart humble themselves to the earth as the hands offer to the
heavens. If the hands are unable to press together in the reverse namaste
position, the elbows can be clasped behind the back. Yet another variation is to
interlace the fingers and reach the arms up behind the back. When we practice
the pose with the hands in reverse namaste, however, the mudrā activates the
plexus that innervates the arms and fingers, which relate to each of the five
lower cakras (see Lower chakras, page 34). If the hands press together equally,
this signifies the balance of right and left hemispheres of the brain. In this way,
Pārśvōttānāsana, which moves forward and back, also balances the right and left
halves or pārsva, the side flanks. Whichever arm variation is taken, it is
important to draw the skin of the shoulders down the back as the upper arm
rotates externally. This will expand the chest across the clavicle bone and open
the heart center.

Psychophysiological Benefits
Because bones grow along the lines of stress, practicing Pārśvōttānāsana and
other standing poses increases the bone density of the legs and hips, stimulating
circulation within the spine and pelvis. Pārśvōttānāsana, in particular, preserves
the flexibility and health of the hip joints and strengthens the musculature of the
lower body. It lengthens the hard-to-reach gastrocnemius and soleus muscles of
the calf and stretches the Achilles tendon, which relates to intestinal peristaltic
flow. Pārśvōttānāsana also lengthens the hamstring muscles in the back of the
thighs and strengthens the knees as it opens the minor cakras in the backs of the
knees.
Pārśvōttānāsana benefits the procreative organs, kidneys, and adrenals. As we
lengthen between the polarities of the spine, Pārśvōttānāsana releases spinal
compression and alleviates neck tension. Keeping the neck relaxed aids in the
sacral-occipital alignment. There is a direct relationship between the sacrum and
the occiput (the base of the skull). Whatever affects one area, affects the other.
When we look at the esoteric anatomy of Pārśvōttānāsana and other asanas, the
tailbone moving back represents tha, the feminine or lunar aspect of creation.
The crown of the head moves forward, representing ha, the masculine or solar
principle. These two poles (hatha) can also be seen as Prakṛti — the feminine
principle of creation or Mother Nature — and Puruṣa, the masculine, immutable
foundation of Being. As we balance the tension between masculine and feminine
poles, light and dark, day and night, this pose exemplifies Hatha Yoga, the union
of the polarities.
On emotional and spiritual levels, Pārśvōttānāsana helps us find balance in life
as we learn to move in two or more directions at the same time. We also learn to
re-center the mind in the present moment and move through life with an open
heart.
UTTĀNĀSANA
Standing Forward Fold
Ut means to “rise upward” and, as we learned in Pārśvōttānāsana, tan refers to
going beyond self-imposed limitations. Tan relates to the English word “tension”
and is found in the names of several asanas, including Jaṭhara Parivartanāsana
and Paścimottānāsana. It is commonly translated as “intensive stretch,” applying
only to the body; however, in asana names, tan refers to extensions of not only
the physical but also the subtle, mental, and spiritual bodies. These extensions
and expansions enable us to process the obstacles known as kleṡas, the reasons
for our afflictions in life. Once these have been released, we can then quiet the
mind.

Philosophical Introduction
The Sanskrit name of a pose reveals the part of the body that is to be engaged
and the energy form that will be invoked through the geometrical patterns
(yantra) of the body in the pose. Uttānāsana, as its name implies, means “to rise
upward and go beyond self-imposed limitations.” But how are we to rise upward
when the pose appears to be going downward?
Abhyāsa (checking the downward pull) is the first teaching that Patañjali gives
for stilling the waves of the mind: abhyāsa vairāgyābhyāṁ tannirodhaḥ (I:12).
A means “to negate,” and bhyāsa means “outward or downward pull.” Vairāgya
is unattachment. Tan — here’s that word again — means “going beyond self-
imposed limitations,” and nirodhaḥ is to still the storms or noise of the mind.
Thus, the first way to quiet the waves of the mind is by checking the downward
pull or reversing the pull of gravity. We can do this emotionally and even
spiritually through the upward ascent in the physical body. The concept of
abhyāsa can be applied to all yoga postures as well as to the postures or
positions we take in our life.
In Uttānāsana, we use the downward pull of gravity to transcend gravity by
inverting and bringing the head to the earth and the tailbone upward to receive
the light. In yoga, the head is a symbol of ego. Wherever our head is going is
where we think “we” are going. In this pose, the ego humbles itself. As the
crown of the head is offered to the earth, the tailbone — which usually lies in
darkness — has the opportunity to rise up and offer itself to the heavens. As the
feet grow into the earth, the tops of the kneecaps lift, acting as a springboard for
the spine to continue to lift as the upper body descends. Even though the
quadriceps muscles of the front thighs are engaged, the hamstrings in the back
thigh relax and softly elongate.
This creates the appropriate lift of the tailbone, and that in turn allows the
downward-moving energy (the apāna flow) to reverse and move upward to the
more complex cakras within the crown of the head.

Uttānāsana, full expression.

Yogis say reversing the spinal axis is like recharging the battery of body and
mind — bringing the negative emanations from the base of the spine to the
positive currents that emanate from the heavens. At the same time, the crown of
the head, which has a positive current, comes down toward the negative
emanations of the earth. As we reverse the poles of the spine, we gain new
perspectives. This effect is similar in other inverted poses, with the exception
that our feet do not leave the earth in Uttānāsana.
The feet, according to the Bible and also to the ancient yogis, are symbols of
humility and peace. Uttānāsana, which is a forward bend as well as an inversion,
humbles the ego as the head is brought down toward the feet. This is a
devotional pose that internalizes consciousness while the breath organically
brings the upper and lower body together. Uttānāsana becomes an act of Īśvara
Praṇidhāna, or surrender to God.
Uttānāsana can also be practiced as dhāraṇā, the sixth limb on the eight-limbed
path of Aṣṭāṅga Yoga. Dhāraṇā is concentration, the unwavering steadiness of
mind upon its object of contemplation, and it precedes meditation, or dhyana. In
Uttānāsana, the upper body is the subject and the lower is the object. It is not
necessary to bring the upper and lower together to have a wonderful sense of
communion and connection. It is the one-pointed concentration and devotional
offering of the breath that brings about this communion.
Uttānāsana stirs up the emotional sediment stored in the pelvis and solar plexus,
allowing it to rise with the gravitational pull towards the head, revealing past
stored impressions in the psyche. As Swami Jyotir Mayananada said, “When the
invisible becomes visible then, and only then, can it be eradicated,” or — as we
might say in today’s world — transformed. In the Yoga Sūtras, Patañjali
described what the ancient sages of India had discovered thousands of years ago,
that five main impediments (kleṡas) hold us back from our true nature. Kleṡas
comes from klis, meaning “to inflict.” The kleṡas are considered to be the
reasons for our pains in life. (For more on the kleṡas, refer to page 30.)
These limitations will show up on a physical level in the tightness of our
hamstrings and calf muscles, which result in restricted pelvic rotation and back
stiffness that prevent us from moving into the full expression of a pose. The pose
does not create pain, it simply reveals what is already there. Thus, the ut in
Uttānāsana is the rising up, not just of the back leg or tailbone, but of the kleṡas
that are stored in the unseen parts of mind. In yoga, the body is a vehicle to
access these hidden parts. When asana practice is centralized around the breath,
we can thin the kleshas and go beyond whatever has bound or limited us in the
past. Then asana is no longer just a physical exercise that projects outwards, but
becomes an “innercise” that brings us deeper into the Self by quieting the mind,
which is the essence of yoga: Yogaḥ cittavṛtti nirodhaḥ (Yoga Sūtras, I:2).

Guidance
l. Uttānāsana can be practiced with the back resting on a wall and the feet
approximately eighteen inches away on the floor, or it can be entered from
Tāḍāsana (Mountain Pose), with the feet hip width apart.
2. Inhale into the back, lifting the back ribs and shoulders up toward the ears.
3. Exhaling, keep the lift of the back ribs as you lift the front of the floating ribs
and bring the shoulders down, moving the skin of the back toward the
buttocks.
4. Inhaling, bring the hands to the upper thighs and press down while repeating
the movement of lifting the back ribs and shoulders upward.
5. Exhaling, press the hands against the thighs to give leverage to raise the back,
sides, and front of the ribcage off the pelvis and bend from the hips (not the
waist). Lift the pelvic rim away from the thighs.
6. Inhaling, stay wherever the pose is at this point while rounding the back with
 the breath.
7. Exhaling, bring the back spine into the front of the body as if doing a
backbend in the forward bend. Roll the shoulders and skin of the back toward
the buttocks, giving length to the back of the neck. Allow the head to hang
toward the gravitational pull to release any cervical compression.
8. Inhaling, take no movement or adjustments. Allow the breath to spread across
the back from shoulders to sacrum.
9. Exhale and lift the kneecaps a little more to activate the quadricep muscles of
the front thighs. Soften the hamstrings in the back of the thighs. Do not try to
stretch these muscles but allow them to relax and lengthen. Hold an attitude of
ease while focusing on the movement of the spine. As the exhalation
continues, bring the spine into the front body as if doing a backbend. Keeping
the navel passive, lengthen the front of the torso to bring the fingertips to the
floor (or to blocks or the seat of a chair), resting the fingertips either above the
toes or on the sides of the feet. Do not go too far down prematurely. Feel the
back of the spine. If the spinous processes are protruding, there is anterior
compression. Stop at this point: Breathe in and then, on the exhalation, see if
the front of the torso can lengthen a little more to bring the vertebra into their
natural alignment. If the face and neck are tense or if the navel puffs out, it
means the ego is involved in trying to get somewhere in the pose and we have
gone beyond what is right for us (svadharma). It is best at this point to
continue the pose by bringing the hands down to a chair or blocks. This also
helps the navel center to remain passive. When it is passive and the neck
extended and relaxed, the mind comes into a quiet and restful state of
awareness. If the pose can move from this point, it would be what the
Bhagavad Gītā refers to as the inaction within the action.
 Inhale, reaching through the fingertips as the breath spreads across the back.
l0. Inhaling, allow the breath to spread horizontally across the back, lifting the
back of the lower ribcage up toward the shoulders.
11. Exhaling, keep lifting the back ribs up as the side and front ribs rise, lifting
the upper torso off the pelvis. This gives space to the digestive organs as well
as the diaphragm.
12. Inhale, rounding the back and letting the upper arms internally rotate. Lift the
shoulders toward the ears as the back ribs lift.
13. Exhaling, roll the upper arms externally to move the shoulders away from
the ears and bring the back spine into the front body, opening the heart to the
lower legs. (This can be done with the hands on a chair.)

On the exhalations, explore the backbend as the counterpose within the pose.
14. Inhaling, continue to widen the back body with the breath.
15. Exhale and offer the upper to the lower body, bringing the spine toward the
front of the body as if doing a backbend in the forward bend. Offer the
tailbone (Mūlādhāra cakra) to the heavens as the head (Sahasrāra cakra)
humbles itself to the earth. Stay in Uttānāsana as long as the breath will allow.
If the breath has stopped or become shallow or arrhythmic, it is time to slowly
ease up out of the pose.
16. Inhaling, come up with a rounded back.
17. Exhaling, return to Tāḍāsana — relax the shoulders away from the ears,
grow down through the feet, and lift up out of yourself. As the crown of the
head lifts to the heavens, the tailbone once more faces the earth, its energy
acting like a grounding rod. Caress the earth with your feet as the crown cakra
lifts to the heavens and breathe.
Note: Do not try to stretch the hamstrings. Focus on the breath and spinal
elongation with rotation of the pelvis. Relax and allow the hamstrings to
lengthen as the tops of the kneecaps and the quadriceps lift upward toward the
hips. In all forward bending it is important to keep the navel center passive and
relaxed, whether inhaling or exhaling, or moving into or out of the pose. The ego
expresses itself in the navel plexus as self-will and competitive striving, trying to
reach a goal before the body is ready. It is important to honor where the body is
now, as it will reflect any known or unknown resistance within the mind.
When we stay on the edge of our abilities and go only so far as we are able, we
practice what is known in Sanskrit as svadharma. Sva means “one’s own,”
dharma (from drish) means “to see,” and ma is nature. In svadharma, we are
“seeing one’s own nature.” Practicing svadharma in asana means doing that
which is right for us personally regardless of how it appears to those around us.
In svadharma, we are not overreaching to achieve a goal or to compete with
those around us. Doing so could throw the body out of alignment and balance on
many levels. (For more about svadharma, see page 31.)
In Uttānāsana and other forward bends, anterior compression of the solar plexus
is revealed when the abdomen puffs, preventing the spine from fully
lengthening. When this happens, instead of creating more equanimity, the pose
can create more restlessness. When practicing svadharma, one does not compete
even with oneself. If we can move to our edge, then we can use the breath to
take us a little farther (tan). As we gently and gradually expand the parameters
of the pose we also expand the parameters of our consciousness.

Psychophysiological Benefits
Uttānāsana is central to all standing poses and is the standing equivalent of
Śavāsana, which reenergizes the body. In keeping the head and neck passive
while moving the thoracic spine toward the front of the torso, the pose becomes
a backbend in the forward bend — a counterpose within the pose. This is the
model for every asana, keeping the front and back spine — the central axis of
creation — balanced and lengthened to prevent any compression of the nerve
roots. In Uttānāsana, we use gravity as an ally, extending the spinal vertebrae
from the base to the top of the neck. This relieves compression of the skull upon
the atlas and axis bones of the neck, preparing the body for twists and all seated
forward bends.
Sri Aurobindo Gosh once called yoga “Compressed Evolution.” In Yoga, we
don’t wait lifetimes for the kleṡas to manifest; we reach into the cellular
structure of our being with the breath and the poses to clear the channels and
allow the impressions to reveal themselves. As this happens, there is a lightness
that permeates the cellular structure of the body and mind. This tanu, or
thinning, allows us to go beyond past patterns that have bound and limited us in
consciousness. By thinning the midline of the body in Uttānāsana we release
emotional barriers. Practicing this way brings the kleṡas to the surface where
they can be experienced and released.
The Sūtras tell us that when the kleṡas are scorched, they can no longer
germinate. This brings one into the state of nirbīja samādhi — samadhi without
seed. According to the scriptures of yoga, this is the highest samadhi because the
soul is liberated and not subject to eventual rebirth.
If, however, if we are interested only in stretching the hamstring muscles,
Uttānāsana is still an excellent pose to prepare the body for inversions, twists,
and forward bends. It teaches us how to maintain equanimity in any position of
yoga and life.
BACKBEND OVER CHAIR
Backbending with a chair teaches us how to surrender the spine into the front of
the body in order to open the heart.

Philosophical Introduction
Yogis say that you are only as young as your spine is flexible. The
hyperextension of backbends gives a youthful vibrancy and elasticity to the
spine and create lightness of spirit. Backbends keep the spine, and the mind as
well, supple and flexible.
Just as forward bends are an act of passive surrender, backbends are an active
form surrender. They are Īśvara Praṇidhāna, an offering to the Universal or
surrender to God or Self. In the Yoga Sūtras, Īśvara Praṇidhāna is the devotional
practice that Patañjali mentions more often than other methods for stilling the
waves of the mind. He says, samādhisiddhiḥ Īśvarapraṇidhānāt (II:45), which
one commentator on the sūtras translates thus: “Samādhi comes through the
surrender or devotion to Īśvara, the Lord of this world, the teacher of even the
most ancients.��
When the arms reach back during backbending there is no defense. We open to
our own vulnerability, which is where we gain the greatest strength. The eyes
and head also reach for the back body, the part we usually cannot see, which
relates to the subconscious mind. This may bring up memories and long buried
saṁskāras, or past impressions stored within the cellular memory of the psyche.
This backbend begins before ever moving the torso backward. The spine itself,
like a crescent moon, moves deeply into the front of the body so that the spinous
processes of the vertebrae cannot be felt with the hands upon the back. Thus, this
backbend begins in a forward bend. This asana teaches us the art of doing the
counterpose within the pose. It opens the back horizontally with the incoming
breath and elongates the spine vertically with the outgoing breath. The
movement of the backbend reminds me of a cross, symbolizing our horizontal
expansion and outreach in service to humanity. On the exhalation, when the
spine ascends vertically, I feel it is a personal communion with the Creator.
 Backbends are an active form of surrender.
If we take this asana or any asana without emphasizing the breath, the mind
becomes more active rather than peaceful and calm. It is important in any pose
to move only on the exhalation. Remember, it is through the exhalation that the
ego unravels itself. In backbends, we move on the exhalation not only to
transform the ego but also to release and unravel the body’s knots of
hypertension and stress.

Guidance
1. Begin by sitting sideways on an armless chair.
2. Spread the legs hip distance apart and press the hands down on the thighs,
using traction to lengthen the spine.
3. Inhaling, bring the breath into the back, rounding the back with the breath
from shoulders to hips.
4. Exhaling, press down with the hands on the upper thighs, elongating the spine
and moving it into the front of the body.
5. Inhaling, widen the back with the breath.
6. Exhale and again press down with the hands on the upper thighs. Move the
spine forward as you lift up the front floating ribs, extending the front of the
torso and bringing the navel center toward (not to) the inner thighs. Pause
when the exhalation ends.
7. Inhale and again allow the breath to round the back, observing the breath to
see if it will expand the entire back horizontally from shoulders to buttocks.
Let the head relax down.
8. Exhaling, offer the spine into the front body, elongating the torso so that the
front and back body are equally lengthened. Bring the navel toward the thighs,
keeping the lift and openness of the heart center. This preparation is the
backbend in the forward bend.
9. Inhale, staying where you are in the pose as the breath moves horizontally
 across the back, spreading the right and left sides of the torso out away from
the center of the spine. Move the hands down to the top of the knees to give
leverage to lengthen the spine on the exhalation.
10. Exhale, keeping the length of the front of the torso as you elongate the back
of the neck like a turtle coming out of its shell, extending the neck away from
the shoulders as the back skin moves toward the buttocks. (Do not compress
the neck by lifting the chin.) Bring the heart center toward the knees as the
spine moves into the front of the torso.
11. Inhaling, stay where you are in the pose and round the back with the breath,
allowing the shoulders to lift toward ears.
12. Exhaling, elongate the neck even more as the spine comes in like a
backbend. Touch the spine to see if all the spinous processes are embedded
into the front of the body. If the vertebrae are protruding, don’t go down as far.
Instead, elongate the spine a little more with each exhalation.
13. Inhale, rounding the back and returning to a sitting position. Sit erect for a
moment and enjoy any sensations that may arise and drop away. Sit in the
center of your Being.
14. When you are ready to continue, keep the knees bent and slide the hips
forward to the side edge of the chair. Supporting yourself with your arms on
the seat or back of the chair, lie back so that the shoulders are level with the
opposite edge of the chair. Just the head and neck will extend downward.

With knees bent and hips at the edge of the chair, inhale and clasp the hands behind the neck.
15. On an inhalation, clasp the hands behind the head, bringing the elbows into
the side of the head and lift the head away from the shoulders.
16. Exhaling, with the hands still clasped behind the head to support it, lift the
head, lengthen the neck again, and then gently lower the head. (This helps
prevent neck compression.)
17. Inhaling, take the breath horizontally across the back.
18. Exhaling, and while extending the neck, come up to the balls of the feet and
tuck the buttocks under without dropping the heart center. (This lengthens the
 lumbar spine and prevents compression.)
19. Inhale and round the back as much as possible, lifting the back ribs.
20. Exhaling, offer up from the base of the pubis to receive the light from above
as you simultaneously offer up from your heart center.
21. Inhaling, bring one bent elbow across the chest to open the back of the
shoulder blade away from the spine.
22. Exhale and keep the space between the shoulder blade and spine as you
reach the arm toward the floor and release the arm toward the earth behind the
head.
23. Inhaling, bring the opposite bent elbow across the chest, widening the space
between the scapulae even more.

Open the heart center without closing the space between the shoulder.
24. Exhaling, reach that arm above the head, opening the heart center a little
more without closing the space between the shoulder blades.
25. Inhale horizontally into the back.
26. Exhaling, stretch the legs out one at a time, keeping the heels on the floor as
you extend from the heels and then the balls of the feet without shortening the
Achilles tendon. Lift the kneecaps. The knees are the springboard for the
spine.
27. Inhale and exhale, staying in the backbend as long as the breath is rhythmic
and calm.
28. When you are ready to come out of the pose, exhale and bend the knees,
supporting yourself by bringing one arm to the back of the chair and the other
to the back of the head. With a straight back, return to the sitting position and
prepare for the counterpose.
29. Exhaling, press the hands down on the upper thighs to lengthen the spine and
bring it into the front of the body. Continuing to move on the exhalations,
lengthen the front of the torso and bend forward from the hips, to complete the
 backbend in the forward bend.
30. When there is a feeling of completion, exhale and sit up. Close the eyes (if
they are not already closed). Turn the palms upward, allowing the hands to
rest on the thighs. Enjoy the meditative aftermath or “fragrance of the pose.”
Note: The breath helps elongate the spine and the increased length prevents
compression. By moving on the exhalation, we create inner space. In doing this,
we will be better able to handle stressful situations in life, and won’t need as
much space around us. A feeling of outer pressure comes when we don’t have
the inner space to draw upon.

Psychophysiological Benefits
The backbend over a chair is not just for beginners. The chair gives a foundation
of support for every level of student to learn to open to the light of the universe,
knowing that we are supported and sustained by a power greater than ourselves.
It is through this support that we can release habitually contracted muscles to
create the inner space that brings about a quietness of mind.
With the support of the chair, we can create equal length to the front and back of
the spine and bring circulation to all the vertebrae. This releases tension in the
solar plexus and opens the diaphragm for improved breathing. The pose stretches
and strengthens the abdominal muscles and the erector spinae muscles, and
lengthens the psoas muscle within the groin. It creates space in the digestive
organs such as liver, gallbladder, spleen, pancreas, stomach, and intestines. This
backbend is wonderful for the kidneys and the adrenals. Due to the support of
the chair, backbending does not overtax the adrenals but helps restore and
rebuild their reserve in times of stress.
The support of the chair also helps us to lengthen the lumbar spine to prevent
compression in other poses. The most mobile part of the spine is between the
fourth and fifth lumbar vertebrae. Because this part of the spine is more mobile,
there is a tendency to do backbends only from this area. If the entire spine is not
engaged and extending equally, the lumbar area is overworked, leading to
possible compression and even disk degeneration.
 This variation of the backbend over a chair is an excellent preparation for headstand.

Thus, practicing this backbend over a chair is one of the best preparations for
forward bends, headstand, and shoulderstand, as well as for Fish Pose and other
hyperextensive asanas. The backbend over a chair helps alleviate neck and
shoulder tension and, if aligned appropriately, strengthens the spine and opens a
heart that may have been closed for a very long time. It brings us back into the
center and reminds us of the vast inner worlds that wait for our exploration.
Though it may appear to be a simple pose, this backbend opens us to our own
vulnerability, where we gain the greatest strength.
SETU BANDHĀSANA
Bridge Pose
Bandha means “to bind,” and setu means “bridge,” something that joints two
points of separation. In Setu Bandhāsana, we bridge the Ātman to the Brahman,
or the individual to the Universal.

Philosophical Introduction
A bridge is meant to bind two opposite sides or shores together. It is a
passageway from one place to another, from one body of earth to another. In the
Rāmāyana, the great epic of India, Rama builds a bridge to rescue Sītā. After
procuring the blessings of Varuna, the God of the Sea, Sri Rāma called for the
construction of a bridge made of rocks, earth, and trees to connect southern India
with Sri Lanka. This bridge allowed Rama’s warriors and Hanumān’s legions of
monkeys to cross and fight Rāvaṇa, the ten-headed demon who had kidnapped
Sītā.
Setu Bandhāsana represents the battle of our primordial instincts, in which we
slay the demon of the ego, or the illusion of separative consciousness. As we
bridge the gap between our lower and higher nature, we reunite with the light in
remembrance of our Eternal Self.
It is interesting to note that earth usually supports and gives form to water, but
the bridge, built from earth’s elements, signifies water supporting earth. In Setu
Bandhāsana, the first cakra of the earth element is prominent over the second
cakra, the water element. These elements are offered to the upper body. Prana
rises from the primordial centers of our being into the heart center, symbolized
by Hanumān, who represents bhakti or intense devotion. Eventually, the prana
moves even higher to the throat cakra, ultimately winding upward from the back
of the head to the crown cakra, Sahasrāra. The breath, which is the invisible link
or bridge between the mind and body, is the prana that flows from the base of
the spine upward to the crown of the head, uniting the polarities of bottom and
top, Shakti and Śiva, or Sītā and Rāma.

Bridge Pose is a simple but profound preparation of the body and mind for all
 asanas.
This story is deeply symbolic. The demon represents the many heads of the ego
that need to be vanquished or transcended so that Sītā, representing the Shakti
that dwells in the darkness at the base of our spine, can be freed to reunite with
Rama, the light dwelling in the solar region or crown cakra of the head. In this
sense, the bridge links two opposing forces within the self, allowing the
practitioner to rise above the alternating currents of conflicting mental and
emotional turbulence in order to still the waves of the mind. This is the essence
of yoga that Patañjali defines in the second of his sūtras: yogaḥ cittavṛtti
nirodhaḥ.

Guidance
1. Lie on the back, close the eyes, and breathe abdominally. Bend the knees,
bringing the feet to the floor as close to the hips as possible. The feet are
parallel to one another and the knees are hip distance apart. This aligns the
femur bone in the acetabulum or hip socket. (Bones grow along the line of
stress, and we don’t want to stress one side of the bone more than the other.)
The weight is evenly distributed around the circumference of the heels. Relax
the toes: Gripping with the toes indicates contraction of the brain cells.
2. On an exhalation, press down with the heels and lift the hips, offering the
heart center toward the head while elongating the lumbar spine down to the
tailbone.
3. Inhale, focusing on abdominal breathing, keeping the breath in the lower torso
versus the upper chest.
4. Exhaling, relax the head, face, tongue, and lower jaw. Relax the shoulders and
arms. Turn the palms to face the light to draw in the energies of the heavens.
This also relaxes the shoulders and neck.
5. Inhale, focusing from the back of the sacrum around the sides of the pelvis to
the front, comfortably expanding the abdomen with each incoming breath.
6. Exhale and elongate the lumbar even more without dropping the heart center.
Keep the upper body and arms relaxed.
7. Inhale and do nothing as the mind observes the breath
8. Exhaling, adjust the weight of the body equally on both feet (keeping the toes
relaxed) and both shoulder blades. Relax the buttock muscles. When the
buttock muscles are released, the pranic energy can flow freely from the base
 of the spinal axis — the Mūlādhāra cakra — to the Viṡuddhi cakra within the
throat center. When the buttock muscles are released, and the weight is
distributed equally beneath the feet and shoulder blades, Bridge Pose begins to
hold itself. When the body is perfectly balanced, the mind rests, and the pose
becomes like Śavāsana. We can even sleep within it.
9. Breathe slowly in and slowly out. Observe the mind getting fidgety and
wanting to come out of the pose. Hold beyond this point, releasing the mental
effort within the pose. Keep the eyes closed so the brain can rest. Relax every
part of the body, the parts that are not “doing the work” and even the parts that
are, like the buttock muscles.
10. While slowly and calmly inhaling and exhaling, relax the tongue and let it
drop back. Relax the face and head, and then spread that sense of relaxation
down to the shoulders and into the arms. When using the lower body, there is
a tendency to grip with the upper body. But if we release that grip, we can
experience the effortlessness where the asana holds itself. This is a metaphor
for life.
11. Inhaling and exhaling, bring the chest to the chin (rather than the chin to the
chest). Keep the thoracic region lifted. If this is difficult, place a rolled blanket
under the back midsection of the ribs.
12. Inhaling and exhaling, keep the flame within the heart center burning
brightly. This feeds the lower procreative centers just as the lower centers feed
bhakti, the devotion of the heart center.
13. When you are ready, exhale and slowly come out of the pose the same way
you went in. Bring the upper back down first, vertebra by vertebra, elongating
the lumbar in the descent, and then let the lumbar rest fully upon the earth.
Slide the legs out diagonally to relax the pelvic organs and allow the lumbar
area (which relates to the frontal brain) to relax and let go.
Note: Setu Bandhāsana is an excellent preparation for Śavāsana and Sālamba
Sarvāngāsana. When preparing to do the shoulderstand at a wall, first practice
Setu Bandhāsana with the feet on the wall. This lifts the torso in preparation for
inverted poses. Setu Bandhāsana with support of a bench or platform is excellent
for reversing the apāna flow of prana to prevent excessive bleeding during the
moon cycle, and has also been used in India to prevent miscarriage.

Psychophysiological Benefits
Setu Bandhāsana has many therapeutic applications. It is used to relieve lower
back pain because it releases anterior compression on the intervertebral disks of
the lumbar spine. By drawing the uterus and all pelvic organs back into their
natural resting place, it is one of the best poses to prevent uterine prolapse. It is
also an excellent posture for preventing hernias. It strengthens the abdominal
organs and increases peristaltic activity of the intestinal tract, increases
circulation, and stabilizes blood pressure.
Because the body is resting on the flat bones of the shoulder blades, where many
of an adult’s red blood cells are manufactured, practicing Setu Bandhāsana can
increase the production of red corpuscles. The upper back of the shoulders have
reflex points that affect the liver, gallbladder, pancreas, spleen, and stomach.
Even the breath benefits by the pressure on the shoulder blades, as this activates
the lung tissue. Setu Bandhāsana increases circulation at the base of the throat
and stimulates the nerve roots at the seventh cervical vertebra, which impacts the
thyroid and parathyroid glands, responsible for the body’s metabolism and
calcium levels. The immune center of the thymus gland is benefited, as are the
adrenals. We can relate the major cakras to each of the endocrine glands that
benefit from the reverse flow of energy within the torso.
Setu Bandhāsana promotes greater circulation between the spinal cord and the
brain. It also benefits the heart, bringing it higher than the head where it does not
have to work as hard to pump against the downward pull of gravity. This
increases circulation of lymph and cerebral spinal fluid as well as blood. It helps
bring circulation into the neck and shoulders, alleviating chronic tension in these
areas. For those who have been on their feet or sitting at a computer, Setu
Bandhāsana is a wonderful way to start a practice or end the day because it helps
release habitually contracted muscles.
Setu Bandhāsana firms the buttock muscles and strengthens the legs. However,
unlike typical exercises or calisthenics, which expend energy, Setu Bandhāsana
gives energy. Setu Bandhāsana creates an unimpeded causeway of prana,
bridging the gap between the polarities of lower and upper, and simultaneously
activating the parasympathetic and sympathetic divisions of the autonomic
nervous system. The sympathetic nerves come off the thoracic and lumbar areas
of the spine, and the parasympathetic nerves stem from the sacrum and the
cervical spine. The effect is very different than that of other backbends in which
the neck curves in the opposite direction. In Setu Bandhāsana, we bend forward
with the head while doing a backbend of the upper torso and the heart center. In
other words, we are doing a counter pose within the pose.
When practicing Setu Bandhāsana, we invert the negative pole of the tailbone
and the top of the spine, the positive pole, thus recharging the battery of our
being. As we practice Setu Bandhāsana, we lift the prana of the Mūlādhāra
cakra, or root energy center. If we focus on lengthening the spine in this pose,
trapped energy, usually in the solar plexus, can then move freely toward the
heart cakra, the throat cakra, and even into the back brain.
The front brain, related to the conscious mind, is active when our eyes are open,
but in poses like Setu Bandhāsana or Sālamba Sarvāngāsana, we come to rest
upon the cerebellum, the hindbrain at the base of the skull. This is a good
preparation for Śavāsana or — for those who suffer from insomnia — for sleep.
It is impossible to sleep unless we bring the prana from the cerebrum (the front
brain) back into the cerebellum. The pineal gland, also at the back brain,
produces melatonin, a natural sleep aid.
When we awaken the subconscious, we may awaken latent saṁskāras, the
psychic impressions that are the result of past thoughts and experiences.
Commentaries on the Yoga Sūtras tell us that every conscious experience
becomes a subconscious impression. When the samskaras emerge and come to
the surface for healing and releasing, it is as Swami Jyotir Mayananada has
described: The invisible must become visible before it can be eradicated.
Bridge Pose is a simple but profound asana that prepares the body and mind for
all asanas. This pose, more than others, reflects the way we often live life: “I am
efforting. I am really going to make this happen. I will sustain it no matter
what.” The beauty of Setu Bandhāsana is that it teaches the art of relaxation
within a pose, or as the Bhagavad Gītā says, the inaction within the action” and
the “action within the inaction.”
SĀLAMBA SARVĀNGĀSANA
Shoulderstand with Support
Sālamba means “with support.” Sarva means “whole” or “entire,” and ānga
means “part.” Sālamba Sarvāngāsana is the pose that affects the whole (“the
entire part”) of the body and mind.

Philosophical Introduction
Śīrṣāsana, the headstand, is known to be the king of or father of asana for its
effect upon the master endocrine glands, the pituitary and hypothalamus. These
glands relate to the frontal lobes of the brain and the sympathetic nervous
system, the “fight or flight” response activated by the adrenals. In contrast,
shoulderstand is known as the queen or mother of all asana. It impacts the lunar
subtle nerve channel, iḍā nāḍī, which relates to the parasympathetic nervous
system. Shoulderstand does this by emphasizing the cervical nerve plexus and,
when moving into Halāsana, the Plough, the sacral nerve plexus. This has a
dilating and cooling affect upon the system.

Shoulderstand is known as the queen or mother of all asana.

Sarvāngāsana is a beautiful and restful posture that can be practiced as prayer.
When moving into the pose with the breath, it may feel as though one is entering
a beautiful sacred temple. In this pose, the head rests upon the earth and bows to
the altar of the heart, humbling the ego. Whenever the head bows into a prayer
position, the senses automatically turn inward in pratyahara, which is a prelude
to dhāraṇā, concentration. If the mind is held in concentration for twelve breaths
or twelve seconds, it automatically fuses with the object, becoming the practice
of dhyana, meditation. In meditation, the subject and object merge like an
uninterrupted stream of oil being poured from one vessel into another. And if the
state of dhyana is held for twelve breaths or twelve seconds, it fuses into the first
stages of samadhi. This sequence (dhāraṇā , dhyana, samadhi), known as
Saṁyama Yoga, is described in the third chapter of the yoga sūtras.
Sarvāngāsana is a natural dhyanāsana, or pose of meditation.
In addition to bowing the head to the heart, this pose has another element of
offering or giving that arises out of the fullness of Self, when the legs and the
soles of the feet offer up to the light of the heavens. The feet, in turn receive the
light and energies from above. The alignment from the base of the skull to the
soles of the feet creates a vertical line between the earth and the heavens,
symbolic of our relationship to the Divine. It honors the polarities of Atman, the
individual soul, and Brahman, the Universal.
The shape of the body in Sarvāngāsana resembles the shape of a candle, and it is
sometimes referred to as Candle Pose. When the two legs are brought together in
a unifying balance of equal pressure of right and left (as in the prayer or namaste
position of the hands), we join the right and left hemispheres of the brain and the
mind comes into a focused state of awareness. Sometimes, the flame of a candle
may even appear at the forehead center point while practicing shoulderstand. If
we practice trāṭaka, gazing on the bindu of this point, the pose — and the mind
as well — feels steady and unwavering. Sarvāngāsana reminds me of a passage
in the Bhagavad Gītā (VI:12): “Let thy mind be like the flame in a windless
place.”
The shoulderstand has a direct benefit upon the medulla oblongata, which
Swami Yogananda called “the seat of the soul.” Here the spinal cord meets the
brain at the area of the pons, the relay center between the brain and body. When
we can eventually reach this area in the pose, the prāṇa of our eyes is pulled
backward to the cerebellum, the back brain known as the seat of the
subconscious, and the mind and senses are drawn inward into an organic
pratyāhāra, a withdrawal or, more accurately, integration of the senses.
The region of the medulla is also known as the cave of Brahman, the creator. It
is, I believe, the seat of akāśha, the ether element associated with Viṡuddhi
cakra, the throat center. The akāśhic records store every imprint of every thought
projected into the atmosphere. Edgar Cayce is said to have done his readings and
healings from this center.
I have also found that the saṁskāras, the cellular memories or latent imprints
from the past, are stored mainly in the cerebellum (and other cellular structures),
activated by the placement of the head in Sarvāngāsana. Whenever I need an
answer, or when I prepare to speak or teach, I practice shoulderstand beforehand.
The pose brings me to a place of spatial awareness and holographic information
that seems to give clarity and purpose of direction.

Guidance
1. Begin by lying on the floor with knees bent, feet on a wall or the calves on a
chair. Bring the hands behind the head, fingers interlaced, and on each exhale,
lengthen the neck. Relaxing the neck, gently lift the head so the chin comes
closer to the center of the collarbone. Pause on the inhalations. It is important
to take time at the beginning of the pose to elongate the neck so that the base
of the skull — the medulla — comes in contact with the earth. The placement
of the head affects the pons, the relay center where the spinal cord meets the
brain. You do not want to put pressure at the back of the skull. That would put
pressure on the eyes and sinuses and would do the opposite of what we want
to create in Sālamba Sarvāngāsana. We want the energy of the pose to go to
the pineal gland, which is at the back of the brain, and not push forward to the
pituitary gland, which has a stimulating effect on the frontal lobes.
2. On the inhalation, do nothing.
3. On the exhalation, make adjustments to lengthen the cervical spine. Take a
few moments to give space to the carotids, exhaling and extending the back
and sides of the neck and even the front of the throat. Pushing the feet against
the chair or wall, slide the skin down the back, making space between the
upper shoulders and the lobes of the ears.
4. Inhale without moving, and on the next exhalation press the feet into the wall
or chair, bringing the hips up into a bridge position.
5. Inhaling, let the breath spread across the back body. Exhaling, move the spine
into the front body like a backbend.
 Begin shoulderstand by taking time to elongate the spine while lying on the floor.

6. On the next exhalation, rotate the upper arms, externally anchoring the outer
elbows into the earth. Bend the elbows, bringing the palms to the back.
Anchor the outer edge of the elbow deep into the earth. This creates a lateral
expansion of the clavicle bone, improving lymphatic circulation and lymph
drainage. (In Śīrṣāsana, the headstand, we anchor the inner elbow but in the
shoulderstand, the outer elbow is the key.)

Establish alignment by anchoring the elbows, bringing the palms to the back, and pressing the feet into a
wall or chair.
/ After reaching up through the legs and feet, close the eyes to relax the brain.
8. Inhale and do nothing. Take as much time as needed. Relax the navel to relax
the mind. Relax the face continually, as if the head were in Śavāsana. Let the
head, brain, mind, and senses go to sleep as the body is enlivened in the pose.
9. When you are ready to move a little more deeply into the pose, exhale,
bringing the spine in like the backbend. Bring the hands a little higher on the
back to lift the feet one at a time off the wall or off the chair. The
 perpendicular alignment of the torso, legs, and feet come from moving the
spine in like a backbend. Soften and lengthen the neck with each outgoing
breath.
10. Moving on the exhalations, extend through the inner legs, from the sides of
the pubic bone to the inner ankle, offering up the heel and ball of the big toe to
the heavens. This balances the inner leg, which is said to relate to our subtle
body, with the outer leg, relating to the physical body. The ideal is to have
both big toes in alignment with the inner corner of the eyes. Once aligned,
however, it is important to close the eyes to relax the brain and especially
benefit the back brain. As the two legs reach up for the light out of the floor of
the pelvis, it lightens the pose. Bringing the legs equally together forms the
flame of the candle, and extending the legs equally balances the right and left
hemispheres of the brain, bringing the flame of the mind to that windless place
of one-pointedness, dhāraṇā or concentration.
11. With each exhalation, anchor the upper arm ever more deeply into the earth.
This lifts the prominent seventh cervical vertebra from the earth. As Mr.
Iyengar used to say, “Sālamba Sarvāngāsana is a shoulderstand, not a neck
stand.” This attention to the upper arms also elongates the spine and intensifies
this pose as an offering of Self.
12. Come out of the pose by reversing the directions.
Note: It is better to advance slowly in this pose using chair or wall for additional
support. Traditionally, Sālamba Sarvāngāsana is practiced after Śīrṣāsana, the
headstand, if not directly after, then somewhere within the same session. The
Shoulderstand and its one-legged variation, Eka Pāda Sālamba Sarvāngāsana,
can be sequenced after Setu Bandhāsana and before Halāsana.

Psychophysiological Benefits
The benefits of practicing Sālamba Sarvāngāsana are similar to those of all
inversions, particularly Setu Bandhāsana, where energy is also brought to rest in
the back brain. Sālamba Sarvāngāsana, as its name suggests, does benefit the
whole body. It is especially beneficial for balancing the entire endocrine system.
Its emphasis upon the pineal gland, which secretes melatonin, is helpful for
insomnia. It balances either a hyper-or hypoactive thyroid due to its direct
impact upon the spinal nerve roots of the seventh cervical vertebra, which relates
to the heart and thyroid.
Due to the stretch and elongation of the carotids, the shoulderstand is a
preventative for heart attacks and strokes. It helps preserve the health of the eyes
and ears, and it can even clear the sinus passages. It benefits the cardiovascular
system and the respiratory system through its pressure on the back of the lungs.
It is excellent for the thymus gland (the true heart cakra), which activates the
lymphatic flow and, in turn, the immune center. This pose also prevents
abdominal and uterine prolapse and benefits the eliminative organs.
In practicing Sarvāṅgāsana, we are meant eventually to rest on the tops of the
shoulders, where acupressure points relating to the digestive organs — such as
the liver, gallbladder, pancreas, stomach, and spleen — bring the prana of these
organs into balance. If the ligament on the back of the neck has been chronically
compressed due to emotional constriction, it will lengthen with practice,
alleviating chronic neck tension, eyestrain, and headaches.
Sarvāngāsana, more than any other pose, affects the medulla and the pons, the
relay center between the thirty-one pairs of spinal nerve roots and twelve nerve
pairs of the brain. This keeps our reflexes responsive and youthful. As we get
older, the intervertebral disks begin to disintegrate from poor posture. The disks
as well as the bones become increasingly brittle from the lack of circulation and
hormonal changes. This is another important reason to take the time to lengthen
and make adjustments before going into the pose.
More than any other posture, the shoulderstand impacts the subtle nerve channel
known as the vijñana nāḍī, “the pathway of shining light.” This nāḍī is the main
energy channel connecting the heart and the brain, and it correlates
physiologically with the carotid sinuses and carotid arteries. With the base of the
skull on the earth, these pathways are elongated and are cleared of any plaque
buildup that restricts not only the circulatory currents and lymph fluids, but also
the subtle pranic currents. When these pathways of light begin to open, we
realize the light that has always been. The hard pockets of our heart that have
developed through past hurts dissolve, and the pathways of shining light between
heart and brain illumine our mind and our Soul.
The way we do asana is the way we do our lives. We can never do the same pose
twice; asanas become like life’s postures. One day we may have an incredible
experience in shoulderstand, a feeling of comfort, quietness of mind, emerging
visionary experiences. The next day, we may approach the pose expecting the
same results, but this time, the neck is tighter, the mind is restless, and the body
is uncomfortable, and we cannot maintain a meditative aspect as we did the day
before. Even though we may try to recreate yesterday’s experience, the pose asks
that we stay in the power of the moment without trying to recreate what was …
so that we can be present to what is.
In yoga it is advisable not to compete — not even with oneself. Sālamba
Sarvāngāsana is a powerful pose for teaching us how to be noncompetitive, to be
in the moment without trying to recreate the past or to project too far ahead in
the future. In this pose, there is a perfection of being in the Now. In this moment
of Now, we transcend time, space, body, and mind to realize the timeless,
infinite consciousness. As Patañjali states in the yoga sūtras (II: 47), “It is
through relaxation of effort and meditation upon the infinite that asana is
perfected.”
MATSYĀSANA
Fish Pose
Matsya means “fish,” and this pose resembles a mermaid or merman, a human
torso with a fish tail. This form is symbolic of the evolution of humankind. (For
the story about this evolution, see the introduction to Matsyendrāsana, page
195).

Philosophical Introduction
Puranic scriptures refer to Matsya, who was said to be the first of the ten primary
avatars or incarnations of Vishnu, the sustainer and preserver of the universe.
Matsya is depicted with the tail of a fish and the torso and crowned head of Lord
Vishnu. As in much of mythology, there are colorful and varying stories.
In one story, King Manu was performing severe austerities. As he offered his
water oblation into the river, a tiny fish became caught in his folded hands. The
fish begged the king not to place it back in the water where it would be devoured
by bigger fish. Manu complied, placing the little fish in a small clay pot that he
carried with him. But the fish instantly grew larger and requested more space.
Manu moved the fish from pond to water reservoirs, then transferred it to a lake,
which it soon outgrew, and then finally placed the fish in the ocean. Eventually,
the king realized that this supernatural fish was Matsya, the first incarnation of
Vishnu, and he bowed down as its devoted servant.
Matsya predicted that a great flood would come in seven days and encompass
the entire universe. He instructed King Manu to assemble the saptarishi, the
seven sages that held the balance of the entire universe in the substratum of their
consciousness. Manu was to seek their counsel and gather seeds, animals, and
other living creatures, all to be placed on a boat on the day of the great flood.
(Similar stories of a great flood are told in many civilizations throughout time, in
Sumeria, Greece, and Africa, in New World tribes from the Algonquian to the
Mayan, and in the Christian Bible as the tale of Noah and his ark.)
On the day of the deluge, Matsya (who represents evolutionary metamorphosis
from its first stages as aquatic life) appeared as a giant horned fish. He used the
great serpent Vasuki as a rope to tie the boat to his horns, pulling the boat to
safety in the high peaks of the Himalayas. Manu’s boat is representative of
moksha (salvation), which helps one cross the ocean of samsara. The mountains
represent the boundary between earthly existence and salvation in the land
beyond.
As Matsya swam through the torrential rain and floods, he gave Manu discourses
on the Vedas, Puranas, and Samhitas. After the flood subsided, Manu became
the progenitor of the new human race. He is known as the first lawmaker, the
author of the Laws of Manu. This allegorical story is also a social commentary,
teaching that a good king protects the weak from the mighty, reversing the
ancient “law of fishes,” which is akin to the law of the jungle.

In the full expression of Matsyasana, the legs are in lotus position, resembling
the tail of a fish.
In the full expression of Matsyāsana, the legs are folded in the lotus position,
resembling the tail of a fish. The upper torso lifts to open the heart center, while
the chin points upward and the crown of the head is brought toward the earth.
The mouth may be exaggerated by forming vowel sounds, in English or Sanskrit.
This stimulates the pituitary gland and other glandular reflexes within the brain.
In ancient times, it was said that whoever listens to the tale of Matsya,
remembers him, or invokes him (as we do in Matsyāsana) is absolved of past
karmas and is granted success in all endeavors of life.

Guidance
1. Begin in a supine position on the floor. Place a rolled blanket equal to the
width of the shoulders underneath the lower ribs. Inhale into the back as much
as possible.
2. Exhaling, bend the elbows as close to the hips as possible and push up,
elongating the neck.
3. Inhale laterally across the back, bringing the breath into the sacrum and front
of the abdomen as much as possible.
4. Exhale and press down with the elbows to lift the heart center. Extend the
neck out before bringing the crown of the head down to the block or blanket.
5. Inhale, keeping more pressure on the elbows than on the head, expanding the
breath across the entire back if possible.
6. Exhaling, move the spine into the front of the body in a backbend of the upper
torso while extending the lumbar area. To make a self-adjustment, use the
 hands to move the hips down, creating more length. Each time we elongate the
lumbar without dropping the chest, we lengthen and release any tension within
the neck.
7. Inhale, feel the breath within the back.
8. Exhale, see if the spine will allow you to rise into the pose a little more, being
careful not to compress the neck.
9. To come out of the pose, inhale, and on an exhalation, lengthen through the
hips and sacrum to elongate the lumbar. Extend the neck out as the chest and
upper torso come down to the blanket. Move the blanket to the side and let the
spine relax in Śavāsana as you breathe.
Note: In all variations of this pose, it’s important to extend the lumbar as the
heart center lifts. The beginning version of Matsyāsana is practiced with the legs
outstretched. This way, students can focus on the upper body and avoid
compression of the lower back. Even so, there will be a bend in the lumbar that
corresponds to the natural C-curve of the neck. Matsyāsana is often sequenced
after shoulderstand and Plough Pose because it preserves the lumbar and cervical
curvatures of the spine. The first stages of the pose can also be practiced as an
extension of Setu Bandhāsana (Bridge Pose), using a blanket underneath the
back of the ribs to help create the lift of the thoracic region while the lumbar area
is lengthened by reaching the tailbone toward the feet.
A teacher or a partner can help the student into Matsyāsana. With two partners,
one person can draw the hips and buttocks downward to lengthen the lumbar as
the other lifts the upper ribcage. This allows the student to sense how much lift is
required to lengthen and relax the neck. The crown of the head is brought to the
earth only if the upper back is flexible enough to offer to the heavens so the neck
can bend in its natural C curvature without compression. Weakness or stiffness
will show as a collapsed thorax. If the heart center is not open enough when we
try to touch the head to the floor, we can create rather than relieve neck tension.
In this case, it is advisable to place a block or folded blanket under the head.
When the neck is compressed, in any pose of yoga or life, it can restrict
circulatory currents from flowing between the spine and the brain.

Placing the crown on a block helps prevent neck compression.

Another variation of Matsyāsana is to bend the legs underneath, with the hands
holding the feet and the elbows on the floor. More adept students can practice
Matsyāsana while the legs are in Padmāsana (the full Lotus Pose), the hands
holding the ankles, bringing the bent elbows slowly toward the floor. This gives
optimum leverage for the heart center to lift.
Fish Pose can also be practiced in the water with the legs folded in Lotus. The
body takes the form of the fish and, as the heart lifts and the head tilts back, one
can use the hands to flutter like the gills of a fish. The legs, which are the tail of
the fish, propel the body through the water.

Psychophysiological Benefits
Matsyāsana helps prepare us for other backbends, gently correcting anterior
compression and realigning the sacrum and pelvis as it helps to alleviate back
pain. It releases compression in the solar plexus and restores a flattened lumbar
curve. It is particularly helpful for opening the chest, preventing kyphosis and
preserving the cervical curve. It even helps to correct the reverse curvature of the
neck that is sometimes referred to as “military neck.”
It is important to take time after Fish Pose (and subsequent backbends) to relax,
deliberately slowing the breath and the beat of the heart. When we allow
ourselves to rest at the completion of the pose, we create a cascading effect of
deep sustained energy that increases as the day goes on. If we practice this pose
in such a way that we restore and rebuild the adrenals and kidneys, it can help
alleviate fatigue and depression.
Matsyāsana, through the arching of the cervical and lumbar spine, stimulates the
prefrontal cortex of the brain and the adrenal glands. It is an excellent
stimulation of the thymus gland, which is the physical correlate to Anāhata, the
heart cakra. Because of Matsyāsana’s stimulating effect on the thyroid and
parathyroids, it is one of the best postures for hypothyroidism and the activation
of the metabolism of calcium. It has been helpful for hypoglycemia due its
beneficial effects on digestive organs such as liver and pancreas.
When we free the neck, we allow the energy to spiral upward, like a fish
swimming up from the water element of the second cakra, Svadisthana, a name
that means, “Establishing one’s own place within the eternal cosmic vibration.”
As this evolutionary spiral of creation winds upward through the lower centers
and flows to the crown, it becomes symbolic of the evolutionary journey, from
fish to humankind to godhood.
Fish Pose helps balance the samāna prāṇa (at the navel center), the prāṇa prāṇa
(in the region of heart and lungs), and the udāna prāṇa (within the throat center).
Those who experience hyperactivity or vata imbalance should not do this pose
often. Vāta increases when there is any compression in the neck. Those who
have excessive pitta or restlessness in the nervous system should progress in the
pose very slowly, using the abdominal breath to help to balance pita.
On a subtle level, Matsyāsana is a powerful pose to awaken Viṡuddhi Cakra,
which corresponds to the thyroid and parathyroids. Viṡuddhi is the center of
speech and communication. Where there has been repression or fear of speaking
out, Matsyāsana helps to free past saṁskāras and open the channels for words to
flow freely. It is said that when the throat cakra is open, Sarasvatī — the goddess
of culture, refinement, music, and learning — dances upon one’s tongue.
ŚALABHĀSANA
Locust Pose
Śalabha refers to the locust. Śalabhāsana resembles the way a locust or
grasshopper lifts its hind legs when it is ready to leap.

Press the hands into the earth, let the legs leap upward, and maintain an attitude of lightness as you
breathe in.

Philosophical Introduction
The grasshopper is the Chinese symbol of good luck and abundance. It
represents taking a chance or a leap of faith, to act upon a vision or a thought and
jump right in. Those with locust or grasshopper energy do not laboriously take
things one step at a time but move quickly, trusting their own inner instincts to
guide them before they take that leap. It is interesting to note that grasshoppers
only jump forward and never backward.
When a grasshopper leaps into our life, it is believed to be a sign. We are being
asked to take a leap of faith, to do something out of the ordinary that may require
facing stored-up fears. These fears may be things we have avoided doing, and
they are often linked to a change or expanded direction. This could include a
relationship, a job, long-held beliefs and concepts, or deep internal changes.
This may be reflected in our yoga practice. What are the poses we have been
avoiding? What poses do we most favor? Usually we favor those that are
pleasant and comfortable. The ones we want to avoid are those that bring up
pain. As we say in yoga, “Yoga does not create pain; it reveals what is already
there.” Just as we can use the poses as a gauge of our being able to stay balanced
in the midst of polarities — such as likes and dislikes or pain and pleasure — the
locust and grasshopper remind us to face that which we have been avoiding,
going only forward, never going backward.
The locust/grasshopper is also linked to astral travel, meaning to leap into
another reality. It is said that the totem of the locust and grasshopper jumps
across time and space, traveling from one dimension to another. Like Hanumān,
it can leap over any obstacles that may appear within its path. This is a
magnificent reminder to honor all life forms as aspects of the Divine, for we
never know how and when the Eternal Cosmic Vibration will manifest.
Guidance
1. Begin by lying on the stomach, forehead down and arms alongside the torso.
2. Inhale into the back of the neck, bringing the breath down to the shoulders,
widening the distance between the shoulder blades.
3. Exhaling, let the spine descend into the earth, offering it and giving as
completely as possible.
4. Inhaling, let the breath ascend, as if offering to the heavens through the
upliftment of the back, bringing the breath from the neck, shoulders, and
ribcage. With the continuing inhalation, expand all parts of the back
horizontally.
5. Exhaling, surrender the spine even more deeply.
6. Inhaling, allow the entire back body to lift with the incoming breath. Use the
resistance of the floor (earth) to bring the breath from the shoulders all the way
down to the hips.
7. Exhale and surrender the spine even more deeply into the earth, bringing the
hands underneath the thighs. Position the hands with palms up or by making
fists or placing the palms turned downward next to the thighs. Keep the arms
as straight as possible.
8. Inhale, and again let the breath expand into the entire back body
9. Exhaling, press down with the hands. As the hands press into the earth, keep
the knees straight, and let the legs leap upward away from the earth. As the
legs come up, the muscles of the back body engage, including the soleus,
hamstrings, gluteus maximus, and spine extensors. Hold to an attitude of
lightness and ease as you continue to breathe in the pose. If the breath stops, it
is time to come out of the pose.
10. On an exhalation, lower the legs, turn the head to one side, bring the arms
out from the thighs, and rest while observing the breath. Slow the breath to
slow down a rapid heartbeat.

Take time to breathe into the back, surrendering the spine, before bringing the hands underneath the thighs.
 A partner can assist by lengthening the lumbar area to prepare for Śalabhāsana.

Psychophysiological Benefits
Even though this is a difficult pose for some yoga practitioners, it is one of the
most effective for rebuilding the kidneys and adrenals. In the Chinese system of
medicine, the kidneys and adrenals are not separate from one another. What
affects one affects the other. Śalabhāsana is also excellent for creating an aerobic
effect, which strengthens the heart.
It is important to use the breath effectively. The breath and the beat of the heart
speed up from the adrenal stimulation, but if we volitionally slow the breath
down, the heart rate slows and the adrenals come to rest. This is why
Śalabhāsana is considered to be a pose that teaches the system how to deal with
stress. As in other āsanas, we create a stressful situation and then steady the
breath to steady the mind; thus we raise our threshold of stress. When we learn
this skill in āsana, we can take it into the situations in our lives. The things that
once caused stress are now perceived differently, and we are able to keep the
mind quiet throughout the postures of our life.
It is after the pose that we receive the benefit. Śalabhāsana strengthens the
muscles of the lumbar spine, brings circulation to the pelvic organs, relaxes the
navel center, and firms the buttock muscles. It is said that we carry energy and
power in the gluteus maximus. The pose of Śalabhāsana, taken over a period of
time, gives sustained energy that we can take into areas of life.
While strengthening the body, Śalabhāsana also creates spinal flexibility. There
is a relationship between physical flexibility and emotional flexibility. Like the
grasshopper or locust, we can leap over obstacles when we feel a growing
lightness in both body and mind.
BHUJAṄGĀSANA
Cobra Pose
Bhu refers to the earth plane, and aṅga means “part” or “piece.” Remember that
āsana means “pose” and comes from as, meaning “to be” or “to breathe,” san or
sam, meaning “to sum up” or “become one with,” and na, the eternal cosmic
vibration. In Bhujaṅgāsana, it could be said that one rises up from the earth
plane and becomes one with the eternal vibration and essence of all creation.

Philosophical Introduction
In ancient Egypt, the serpent was depicted with a human head, representing our
primordial nature. The ancient Egyptians believed that we must escape from the
world of matter and leave behind the lower part of nature to focus on higher
aspects of the self and reflect the Divine. They viewed the serpent as one that
works to prevent the human soul from ascending to the realm or sphere of God,
similar to the serpent that tempted Eve to eat the forbidden fruit of knowledge in
the Garden of Eden. For Christian Gnostics, however, the serpent represented a
positive force of liberating knowledge.
In the yoga tradition, serpents include Takṣaba, the majestic prince of the Nāgas,
or serpent race; Vāsuki, who wound himself around Mandara to help the devas
recover the elixir of immortality; and Ananta, the thousand-headed serpent upon
which Lord Viṣṇu, the preserver and sustainer of the Universe, reclines and
rests. Ananta means infinite, or endless, and this great being known as the
serpent of infinity may resemble the figure eight on its side, or a mobius strip.
In Greco-Roman mythology, two serpents form the caduceus, the staff carried by
Hermes or Mercury. The caduceus, which became a symbol of medicine and
healing, shows the entwined serpents intersecting at six vortices. If we view this
as an image of Kuṇḍalinī rising, the two snakes symbolize the parasympathetic
and sympathetic aspects of the autonomic nervous system, the ganglia that
originate in the base of the spine and end at the top of the nostrils. The third eye
center corresponds to the meeting of the heads of the two snakes.

In Bhujaṅgāsana, the heart lifts majestically, emulating a cobra.

The serpent is the symbol of Kuṇḍalinī Śakti, which is the biological and
psychological nuclear energy that lies dormant within the human system. It is the
procreative power, the primordial energy that dwells on the subtle unseen plane.
In the physical body, Kuṇḍalinī is said to lie dormant at the base of the spine
between the 5th sacral and 1st coccygeal vertebra. The sacrum, which physically
resembles a downward facing serpent, has five vertebrae that fuse at puberty,
and the coccyx has four that also fuse at puberty. These bones safeguard and
protect the serpent energy of Kuṇḍalinī. The density of this area serves the
purpose of keeping us bound to the earth plane. That is, until the goddess
Kuṇḍalinī awakens and arises out of her resting place, spiraling upward through
the central canal of the spinal cord, piercing through the five lower energy
vortices (cakras) on her way to reunite with the masculine pole of Puruṣa in the
crown of the head. She is the ultimate primordial energy, the divine Prakṛti,
which cannot be seen with the physical eye but can be felt and experienced
within the body as well as within the human psyche. Kuṇḍalinī represents
unrealized potential and the rise of consciousness from the primordial instincts
of one’s lower nature toward the evolutionary light of Universal Oneness.
In Bhujaṅgāsana, the heart lifts majestically, emulating the seven-hooded King
Cobra. This majestic serpent is symbolic of the seven major cakras or energy
vortices within the subtle body, which correspond to the endocrine glands in the
physical body. Its seven hoods fan out from the brain stem, which can also
resemble the shape of a serpent. The pons in the human brain stem is a relay
center between the spinal nerve roots and the sensory nerves that fan out into the
brain.
The upper brain or cerebral cortex is associated with inspiration, thinking, and
free will. It relates to the sixth and seventh cakras. The cerebellum or reptilian
brain — activated in this pose when the back of the neck lifts and lengthens —
regulates respiration, biological functions, basic instincts, and genetic coding
(DNA). It is associated with the five major cakras from the base of the spine to
the throat center.
Even though some philosophers have dismissed the reptilian brain as an
unnecessary primordial appendage, it is the cerebellum or lower brain that opens
us to the vaults of memory. It brings us into the theta wave state of hypnogogic
imagery, where we can access genius-like areas within the collective
unconsciousness. This is the place where Edgar Cayce and
Albert Einstein were said to access information that transcended dimensional
limitations. The reptilian brain holds the secrets or imprints of humankind. It is
“the hall of records” where all things are known and all things are stored, the
subconscious mind. It is the energy of the lower body and the lower brain that
sustains, awakens and energizes the upper regions.
In Bhujaṅgāsana we honor the primordial instinctual nature of our own urges
and bring the prāṇa from the base cakra of the spine into the crown cakra. We
honor the foundation and potential for evolutionary unfoldment. As the
undulating movement of the serpent moves up the spine, the heart and head
reach for the evolutionary light of wisdom as if once more climbing the tree of
knowledge to find our way back to the Source in the Garden of Eden.
When aligned appropriately the Cobra will internalize rather than externalize
consciousness. This is done through the opening of the chest and heart center.
When the heart lifts, the head is drawn back, stimulating the cobra brain or
posterior brain of the cerebellum. This creates a magnetic pull for the focus
(dṛṣṭi) of the eyes. Instead of darting outward, the gaze is pulled inward. The
focus of the ears, the nose and tongue all seem to follow the alignment of the
head. This alignment creates a natural pratyahara, the withdrawal and integration
of the senses, where no one sense is more distracting than another. When the
senses are integrated into one-pointed awareness, this leads to dharana or
concentration, the sixth of the eight limbs of yoga. Instead focusing outward on
sensory stimulation that leads to desire and attachment, the prāṇa of the sensory
organs turn inward, to the vast realms where nothing is wanted or needed, All Is.
As the back of the neck lengthens more and more, the head is freed on its atlas.
When the compression of the skull and the top of the spine is eventually
released, something magical can happen. At times, if the alignment is just right,
it can feel as if an invisible hood rises up from the brain stem and fans out across
the top of the head like a King Cobra. This experience gives a sense of deep
internal strength and protection. It feels as if one is dwelling under the cosmic
umbrella of the great Śeṣa Nāga that supports Viṣṇu and all creation, like Atlas
holding the Earth.
Once I held a rainbow boa constrictor, and this gave me a new understanding of
Cobra Pose. When a snake moves, the action begins at its tail, and a peristaltic
response ripples up the body to the head. From that day, I began to practice
Bhujaṅgāsana from the bottom up, allowing the energy to ripple from the toes to
the knees, thighs, pelvis, and navel plexus to raise the heart and head, which then
receive the evolutionary light from above. In Bhujaṅgāsana, we emulate the
great serpent that provides Viṣṇu’s foundation by creating our own foundation
for awakening energy from the lower to upper regions of our Being, preparing
for liberation and self-realization.
Guidance
Serpents do not have arms, yet in this variation of Bhujaṅgāsana, we use the
arms as leverage to extend the spine and prevent compression. In this pose, it is
important to lengthen the back of the neck without lifting the chin. This brings
the base of the skull off the atlas and axis bones of the neck. At times, it may feel
as if the head wants to sway a little from side to side, like the coiled cobra. We
do not bring the face and eyes upward: This cobra gazes straight ahead with
unwavering, one-pointed intention, as if its two eyes become one.
1. Lie down on the stomach with the forehead on the earth, the arms
outstretched.
2. Inhaling, breath into the back using the resistance of the floor as an ally to
bring breath into the back of the neck, shoulders, ribs, lumbar, and sacrum.
With each inhalation, see how far the breath can move without strain. Allow
the breath to rise effortlessly and consciously but subtly direct it with to the
desired areas.
3. Exhaling, surrender the spine into the front of the body, beginning the
backbend before moving the body. At the end of the exhalation, bend the
elbows, bringing the palms under the shoulders. Keep the elbows close to the
torso.
4. Inhale into the back, expanding the breath to widen as well as lengthen the
back ribs. The upper arms may turn in, but keep the Venus mounds of the
thumbs and the balls of the index fingers firmly rooted, as if into the earth.
5. On the exhalation, press down with the circumference of the palms, extending
from the roots to the tips of the fingers and draw the spine forward as it lifts
from the earth. Move in incremental steps with the breath, letting the
movement of the lower body ripple upward.
6. Inhaling, pause and allow the breath to round the back.
7. Exhaling, surrender the back of the spine into the front of the torso, preparing
the heart to lift to the light above.

Use the resistance of the floor to expand the breath into the regions of the back, as in this variation of
Bhujaṅgāsana known as Sphinx Pose.
8. Inhaling, pause and allow the breath to fill the back, because when inhaling
we activate the cerebrum, the upper brain. This pose should enable us to focus
on the exhale when we bring prāṇa into the cerebellum of the reptilian or
cobra brain.
9. Exhale, and as the spine offers itself to the front of your chest, lift out of the
heart center. Tighten the buttocks to extend the legs out of the hips, moving
the heels and toes away from the upper body. You can move one leg at a time
on an exhalation, pausing on the inhalation.
l0. Inhaling, press down with the palms and lift the shoulders toward the ears,
rounding the back as much as possible.
11. Exhaling, press the palms down, keeping the hands firm as you use the
leverage of the arms to draw the shoulders down. Move the skin of the back
toward the buttocks to lift the heart center toward the light. The upper arm will
roll out slightly as the shoulders are brought down from the base of the ears.
The pelvis, legs, and feet are not dragged forward with the upper torso but
move backward.
12. Inhaling, keep the back of the neck passive as you press down with the palms
to provide leverage to round the back and allow the breath to fill the back of
the lungs.
13. Exhaling, relax the buttocks and drag the upper torso forward as if across the
earth while leaving the pelvis, legs, and feet behind. This lengthens the lumbar
region. Remember not to lift the chin or eyes but to lift from the back of the
neck as if a silver thread were pulling the base of the skull off the first vertebra
of the neck and opening more space.
14. Inhale and once again allow the breath to round the back, bringing the
shoulders towards the ears. The upper arms may rotate internally as the head
relaxes forward, the gaze turning toward the earth.
15. Exhaling, see if the spine is ready to lift the heart a little more, remembering
always to lengthen the back of the neck, keeping the gaze forward not upward.
16. Inhaling, round the back, allowing the shoulders to soften as before.
17. Exhaling, bring the spine into the front of the torso, lengthening the spine
even as you lower out of the pose, using the arms as leverage for greater
elongation.
18. Inhale and turn the head to one side, filling the back with the breath.
19. Exhaling, surrender into the earth as if emptying yourself through the breath.
20. Inhaling, turn the head to the other side.
21. Exhale, releasing into the earth while having moved beyond it. Enjoy the
benefits of the pose.
22. When ready, press back to Mārjāryāsana (Cat Pose), using the breath to
move the spine. Stretch up into Adho Mukha Śvānāsana (the downward-facing
dog) or Bālāsana, (Child’s Pose). Breathe and elongate the spine.
Note: One of the great errors in Bhujaṅgāsana is to lift the head without offering
the heart to the light. When the head is lifted prematurely, this creates posterior
compression of the neck and restricts the flow of lymph and of the cerebral
spinal fluids that pass from the spinal cord into the brain. A coiled serpent does
not throw its head back, but elongates all parts of its being from the base
upward, corresponding to the human heart center lifting upward to the light.

Psychophysiological Benefits
Bhujaṅgāsana may be called Cobra Pose because of its direct impact upon the
powerful energy hidden within the sacral and coccygeal plexuses. It stabilizes
the sacroiliac joint, which is affected by age and postural misalignment, giving
strength to the joints where the pelvis and sacrum join. Due to the bend at the
lumbar and thoracic regions of the spine, the Cobra pose stimulates the adrenals
and, in turn, activates the sympathetic nerves of the spine through the thoracic
and lumbar nerve roots.
The pose is excellent for strengthening the lower and mid back and helps to
prevent excessive curvature (kyphosis) of the thoracic spine. As the upper body
moves forward, the base moves back, creating space between the spinal
vertebrae and in the pelvis and abdomen which can help realign the reproductive
organs, stomach, intestines, liver, gallbladder, and pancreas.
Bhujaṅgāsana strengthens and firms the gluteus maximus of the buttocks, which
is said to hold power as it awakens the Śakti within the procreative centers. The
contraction of the buttock muscles also helps protect and strengthen areas of the
lumbar spine. However, when a student is more able, the buttocks can be
completely relaxed in Bhujaṅgāsana. Relaxing the buttocks allows the upper
body to be pulled forward, which creates immense extension and inner space
between the pelvic and thoracic areas. This releases compression of the spinal
nerve roots that enervate the diaphragmatic muscle. When the breath becomes
slow and rhythmic the pose begins to hold itself.
Bhujaṅgāsana can help balance the two nerve currents, sympathetic and
parasympathetic, which are referred to in yoga as piṅgalā and iḍā. When prāṇa
is balanced between these two nadis or channels, which run along the right and
left sides of the spine, the energy rises and enters into the central canal, the
suṣumnā, intersecting at the vortices we call cakras. (If we were to superimpose
the caduceus symbol upon the body, the serpents would intersect at six points
that correspond to the endocrine system on the physical level and the cakras on
the subtle level.) Piṅgalā and iḍā meet at the sixth cakra, Ājñā, which awakens
with the mystic union of the pituitary gland in the frontal brain and the pineal
gland in the back brain.
In the ancient past, the pineal was considered by some to be an actual eye that
sunk deeper and deeper into the brain with the evolutionary cycles. When the
energies of the pituitary and pineal are in alignment with one another, the
hypothalamus (the master endocrine gland) brings balance to the entire
endocrine system. With this union, it is as if the mind liberates and expands,
taking flight, like the wings of the caduceus, into the inter-dimensional planes of
consciousness.
UṢṬRĀSANA
Camel pose
Uṣṭra is the camel. Uṣṭrāsana resembles the way a camel bends its knees to rest
or to rise from a seated position.

Philosophical Introduction
The camel is an independent animal with a great reservoir of stamina and
endurance, known for storing energy and water, which enables it to cross vast
deserts without needing anything outside of itself. The camel conquers hunger
and thirst, which relates to our own need to fulfill desires, our hunger and thirst
after objects that distract us from one-pointed awareness.
At times we may feel as if we are drinking from the oasis of life and tasting the
sweet fruits of its fragrant garden. Other times, life’s challenges may feel like the
crossing of the arid deserts, bringing us to our knees like the camel. Passing
through life’s desert requires us to look more closely for the beauty that is
already there. If we are superficial in our outlook, we will see unrelieved,
colorless sand, without basking in the subtle beauty of desert plants, the
succulents and cacti that appear to be separate from one another but are
connected by a common root system. We may be so caught in the pit of our own
pain that we cannot fill our hearts with the sunrise, or bask in the aura of sunsets
that spread to vast horizons as far as the eye can see.
Uṣṭrāsana builds an unlimited reservoir of strength, both physical and
emotional, to draw upon during the spiritual journey, which may not always be a
lush garden oasis. The Camel Pose creates humility and flexibility, as
demonstrated by the bend of the knees, the extension of the spine, and the
opening of the heart to the bright light of the desert sun, which is always shining.

Guidance
1. Prepare for Uṣṭrāsana by kneeling on a soft blanket or mat, the knees hip
distance apart and the toes turned under. Turning the toes under helps to
massage the reflexes to the brain and sensory organs. To help elongate the
spine and lift the chest, I recommend beginning Uṣṭrāsana by placing the
elbows on the seat of a chair.
2. Inhale, expanding the breath into the back.
3. Lengthen the lumbar spine on the exhalations.
Bring the hands to the back of the hips, and with every exhalation draw the
buttocks down as the chest lifts up. If you are using a chair, press the elbows
into the seat of the chair. This gives the leverage to elongate the spine.
4. Inhaling, pause to observe the fullness of the breath.
5. Exhaling, press down with the elbows to elevate the chest, moving the spine
in like a backbend and offering the heart center to the heavens. Maintain the
perpendicular alignment of the thighs to the earth. The quadriceps (front thigh
muscles) are required to relax their grip and elongate.
6. Take as many breaths as you need, using the exhalations to lift the heart center
while simultaneously bringing the buttocks down to elongate the lumbar spine.
With every exhalation, the shoulder blades and the skin of the back descend,
creating space between the tops of the shoulders and the ears.
7. Pause on the inhalations to spread the breath horizontally across the back.

In the fullest expression of Uṣṭrāsana, the hands rest on the heels and the tops of the feet relax to the floor.

Lengthen the lumbar spine on the exhalations. Press down with the elbows to elevate the chest.
8. On an exhalation, deepen the pose by moving the spine like a crescent moon
into the front of the body, without compressing the lumbar. Elongate the back
of the neck, moving the skin of the back and shoulders down to create even
 more space between shoulders and the base of the skull.
9. Inhale and do nothing.
10. Exhale, and as the heart lifts, bring the hands one at a time to the heels.
Using the leverage of the pressure of the hands on the feet, lift even more on
next the exhalation, when the ego unravels itself.
11. If you want a deeper bend of the spine, exhale and relax the tops of the toes
to the floor, increasing the amount of extension to the spine. Do this only if
there is no lumbar or neck compression.
12. Come out of the pose the same way you went in, using the breath.
Note: A more advanced version of Uṣṭrāsana is to begin by placing the tops of
the feet on the floor and then reaching back for the heels. Even more advanced
would be to begin in Supta Vīrāsana and rise up from the floor like a camel
rising from its resting place in the sand preparing for its journey. Moving
between Supta Vīrāsana and Uṣṭrāsana is a wonderful feeling, an undulating
movement that echoes the grace of the camel.

Psychophysiological Benefits
Camel Pose gives us strength and flexibility at the same time. It strengthens the
knees and the arch of the foot, lengthens the quadriceps and psoas muscles, and
releases tension in the pelvis and solar plexus, relieving compression within the
abdominal organs, including the spleen, pancreas, stomach, liver, and
gallbladder. Like other backbending poses, Uṣṭrāsana helps to balance
hypoglycemia and speed up metabolism, stimulating the digestive and pelvic
organs, the kidneys, adrenals, and thymus gland, the body’s immune center.
When the head is extended back, the thyroid is stimulated, making Camel Pose
extremely good for hypothyroidism.
When the camel drops into its resting place, the forelegs bend first, and that is
reflected in the yantra of a dynamic diagonal line. In the full expression of this
pose, where the head is brought to the feet, the circle yantra represents the
expansion of consciousness from the bindu, the point within its center.
Practicing Uṣṭrāsana can help us move beyond the fear of the unknown. In
Uṣṭrāsana, the head looks back into the unknown parts of one’s self that are
represented by the back body. To do this without creating compression in the
neck requires an immense opening of the heart cakra, which is offered to the
light. The lower body remains humble yet strong, while the growing flexibility
of the upper body and thoracic spine brings about the increased ability to open
the heart, releasing past hurts to the light so that the heart can shine without the
shadows of the past.
Like the camel that stores water and food for long journeys, we can take in the
food of the spirit, such as the prāṇa from our practice, and store it within us. By
increasing our reservoir for prāṇa, we have something to draw upon during those
crisis times when we feel that we are crossing the desert. With this stamina
comes the ability to adapt to any situation and the insight to help guide us and
others through the sandstorms that at times occlude our vision.
SEATED TWIST WITH CHAIR
Even though Matsyendrāsana or Marīcyāsana are the twists most often practiced
in yoga classes, the same benefits can be found in the simplest of twisting
movements, using a chair for lift.

Philosophical Introduction
Many years ago, the late Ken Keyes, Jr., the author of Handbook to Higher
Consciousness and The Hundredth Monkey, visited my home. A polio survivor,
he was permanently wheelchair bound. As we were talking, he suddenly said, “I
practice yoga.”
I looked at his paralyzed body. “How…?” I faltered. He put me at ease. “I’ll
show you. This is my way of twisting.”
He then took a deep and quiet inhalation. As he exhaled, he turned his head to
one side and held his breath out. After a while, he inhaled slowly, rotating his
head back to center before exhaling. He then repeated the movement on the other
side. Afterward, his eyes were like deep shining pools of light. I was accustomed
to practicing very complex twists, but when Ken — in his wheelchair with
limited use of arms and legs — turned his head with the breath, I finally
understood the mystical essence of the twists.
All twists represent the evolutionary spiral of creation. Whenever we twist or
revolve around (parivṛtta), I think of turning around the vṛttis, or mind waves,
the painful and non-painful oscillations of our thoughts. Vri means “to come into
existence.” My Sanskrit teacher once described vṛttis as electrical impulses that
arise in the field of the mind (citta). The waves of the mind are ten-fold and
include correct perception, incorrect perception, imagination, sleep, and
memory. When the vṛttis are stilled through practice, the mind becomes as still
as glass. Then we can see our own reflection. The third yoga sūtra (I:3) describes
it thus: “Then the Seer and the Seen become one,” or as I prefer to say, then we
can realize the Oneness that already is.
In all of the twisting āsanas, the front brain or manas — the conscious thinking
mind — turns around to look into the shadow side of itself, the hidden depths of
the psyche. It looks to the back body, the part that we cannot see with our
physical eyes, which is symbolic of citta — the subconscious mind — as well as
of intuition. In other words, the conscious mind turns to look into the seat of the
subconscious. As we bring the conscious to the subconscious (said to reside in
the cerebellum), the back brain rotates to the front body, the side that we can see.
This evolutionary spiral brings that which is hidden to the light, the side of the
rising sun.

This variation of the seated twist uses a chair to emphasize lifting the torso, symbolic of transcendence.
Twists are poses of transcendence, helping the practitioner lift above self-
imposed limitations of body, mind, and emotions. We do this by creating
immense space in the midline of the body, which opens neural pathways for
cellular memories — saṁskāras or latent impressions — to bubble up to the
surface. Here they can be seen and transmuted.
Twists express themselves in a variety of forms. When we vary the twisting
movement by sitting, lying down, forward bending, or inverting, we change the
internal and structural effects upon the body. When we practice twisting while
seated on a chair, the leverage of the arms helps to lift the spine upward,
transcending the gravitational pull. This lengthens and strengthens the abdominal
and spinal muscles in preparation for more complex twists. Thus, twisting with a
chair is an especially good preparation for the seated twists, which have a
tendency to collapse the spine.

Guidance
1. Sit sideways on an armless chair, resting both hands on the back of the chair.
2. Inhale, bring the breath into the back, and spread it from the shoulders down
to the hips. Allow the breath to flow in, with the mind as the observer rather
than a participant.
 On inhalations, expand the back from shoulders to hips.

3. Exhaling, bring the back spine toward the front of the torso as if preparing to
do a backbend.
4. With each inhalation, allow the breath to round the back effortlessly.
5. With every exhalation, continue to elongate the spine by lifting each vertebra
off the one beneath it, breath by breath. As you elongate the spine more and
more, there will be an organic and effortless rotation of the spine toward the
back of the chair.
6. On an exhale, press the hands against the back of the chair and pull to give
leverage for even more extension and rotation as the shoulders drop down and
the skin moves down the back. The back of the neck lengthens without lifting
the chin.
7. Continue twisting as long as the spine is comfortable and the breath is
continuous and calm.
8. When you are ready to come out, exhale, turning the torso and head back to
the center.
 Press hands into the back of the chair or onto the thighs to help elongate the spine on exhalation.

9. Sit quietly, observing the breath, eyes closed. When you are ready, move to
the other side of the chair and repeat the twist in the opposite direction.

Psychophysiological Benefits
It is beneficial for all students, beginning or advanced, to practice twisting on a
chair in order to learn the art of lengthening and creating internal space. Using
the leverage of a chair strengthens the spinal ligaments and surrounding muscles,
and teaches us how to transcend the gravitational compression of a sitting twist.
The benefits of twists are numerous. When practiced with spinal elongation,
twists help alleviate back conditions, preserving the flexibility and youthfulness
of the spine. They help balance functions of the liver, gallbladder, pancreas,
spleen, and stomach. They work on the small as well as large intestines, if the
spinal rotation can reach down as far to the base of the spine as possible. If the
movement of the head follows the rotation of the lower spine, twists can be a
wonderful way to alleviate neck tension. In a healthy spine, when the head
rotates, the movement should be felt down to the coccyx.
In the twists, as we bring the subconscious to the light of the conscious mind, we
may bring up long-buried memories or stimulate dreams. This is because twists
activate Maṇipūra cakra, the navel center, which is the center of sight and
insight. Twists also balance samāna prāṇa, which is responsible for digestion,
adrenal and kidney function, as well as the health of our eyes.
Before taking any rotation, it is important to elongate the entire spine. This
action can relieve any spinal compression that restricts circulation to the
intervertebral disks. Mr. Iyengar used to say, “I don’t know which comes first,
compression or depression.” As we lift and transcend the compression in our
body, it is possible to lift above the compression of the mind and emotions.
JAṬHARA PARIVARTANĀSANA
Revolved Abdominal Twist
Jaṭhara refers to the stomach, as well as to all the digestive organs in the
midline of the body. Parivar is from parivṛtta, meaning “to revolve around” and
tan means “to stretch” or “to go beyond.”

Jathara Parivartanasana, shown here in its classical expression, is known as the Crocodile Twist.

Philosophical Introduction
Jaṭhara Parivartanāsana and its variations are also commonly known as the
Crocodile Twist. These variations taken from the supine position are especially
beneficial to learn spinal elongation without having to lift against the
gravitational pull as in seated twists. The crocodile has the unique ability to twist
its body and whip its tail around to catch prey or — as it could be said in relation
to the human species — to attain its goal. The crocodile represents sexual
prowess and vigor. It moves like a serpant.
The crocodile is the vehicle of Varuṇa, the Vedic god of the seas (and lord of all
waters, including ponds, lakes, rivers, and oceans). Lord Rāma invoked Varuṇa
to gain permission to build a bridge across the sea in hopes of rescuing Sītā from
the abode of the demon Rāvaṇa. The crocodile is also a symbol of the second
cakra, associated with the water element.
Brahma, the creator, is said to reside in the first cakra, but what follows creation
is that which maintains and stabilizes that creation. Therefore, the second cakra,
associated with the sense of taste, is the dwelling place of Lord Viṣṇu, who
presides here with his consort Lakṣmī, the post-Vedic queen of the waterways
who bestows her devotees with wealth, liberation, enjoyment, and integrity.
Viṣṇu is the spiritual power that is in every cell, atom, and molecule of our
bodies. It is the energy the pulses through the procreative centers of all species.
It is the breath, and the beat and rhythm of the heart. The word Viṣṇu means
“all-pervasive.” It is the prāṇa or life force that maintains the substratum of the
Universe.
It is said that Viṣṇu holds the balance between Brahma, the creator at the base
of the spine, and Śiva, the transformer energy that dwells in the crown of the
head. Viṣṇu represents balanced living and, like his later incarnation of Kṛṣṇa,
symbolizes the cosmic Līlā, the Divine play of life. The Jaṭhara Parivartanāsana
series, like all twists, represents the play of life through the evolutionary spiral of
creation.
One unique characteristic of the crocodile is that it swims with only the top of
the head and part of the eyes showing. So much more is submerged beneath the
water. When we practice Jaṭhara Parivartanāsana, we awaken that which we
cannot see on the surface. Twists reach down into the basic primal urges and
elements of the Self to bring up the subconscious impressions latent within the
psyche. They do this by elongating the spine and rotating from the base of the
pelvis and pubis, turning the lower body in one direction and the upper body in
another. This awakens the sleeping chambers of old and ancient memories,
bringing them to the surface of mind where they can be seen and transformed.
Most of these past karmic impressions lie hidden, like the body of the swimming
crocodile.
To “shed crocodile tears” means to display false emotions. This happens when
we don’t come from the depth of our own being, from our authentic self. False
façades create a wall of defense or hardness, like the skin of the crocodile, to
protect the deeper softer emotional layers of the subtle body. Many years ago,
when I was in India studying with B. K. S. Iyengar, our small class followed him
around the room like medical interns, viewing different bodies and their
corrective alignment. Mr. Iyengar bent down to move one woman’s back further
into a pose and stopped. “Her kidneys and surrounding muscles are hard,” he
said. “She is not ready to go further.” He stood and moved on, saying, “Hard on
the outside, soft on the inside.” Then he turned his head and casually threw out
another gem. “Hard on the inside, soft on the outside.”
This simple profundity stuck with me for years, and I have often observed that
when we have a strong inner core, physically and emotionally, we can afford to
be soft and open. Conversely, if the inner core of the physical and subtle
(emotional) body is weak, the body seems to compensate by armoring itself like
the crocodile, with layers of defense mechanisms. This quality of being hard on
the outside reflects insecurity, or a lack of confidence or inner strength. When
we are not strong at our deepest core, there is a tendency to make up for it by
hardening and tensing the muscles and organs, and even the skin and bones,
which reflects a need to hold strength in the outer layers.
In the twists, we bring the subconscious to the conscious and the conscious to
look into the hidden depths of our psyche. These poses may bring up long buried
memories and dreams as they also stimulate the Maṇipūra cakra of the navel
center, the center of sight and insight.

Practicing this twist at a wall helps create greater length through the spine.

Guidance
How we enter this āsana (and all āsanas) is so important. We progress slowly
with the breath rather than throwing ourselves into the twist. I recommend
synchronizing every movement with the breath, which makes any āsana a
powerful conscious and concentrated action.
1. Begin Jaṭhara Parivartanāsana by lying on the floor with the feet against a
wall. Inhale and, on the exhale, turn to the right side.
2. Inhale, do nothing, and then exhale, bending the left knee and placing the sole
of the foot upon the knee.
3. On the next exhalation, press the bottom foot into the wall and elongate the
spine. The emphasis is on moving the thorax away from the pelvis and the
pelvis away from the thorax, giving space to the midline.
4. Inhale into the layers of the back from top to bottom. Keep the neck relaxed
for the duration of the pose.
5. Exhale while lifting the torso up to lengthen the upper spine toward the head,
as the hips move toward the heel.
6. Inhale and spread the breath horizontally across the back.
7. On an exhalation, lift up out of the sacrum and the pelvis as the hip and thigh
move toward the foot pressing against the wall. The wall provides leverage to
elongate the spine and create space between the lower and upper body with
every outgoing breath.
8. Inhale, breathing into the back body, and exhale, moving the spine into the
front body like a backbend.
9. On the next exhalation, bend the upper arm and reach out from the spine,
 creating space between the shoulder blade, ribs, and spine.
10. On the inhalations, do nothing but continue to relax the neck. Create even
more space with every exhalation.
11. Exhaling, push the upper thigh away from the upper body with the right (or
bottom) arm.
12. Inhale and expand across the back, allowing the breath to lift the left set of
ribs up and away from the spine.
13. Keeping this space, exhale and move the spine toward the heart center. As
the exhalation continues, bring the outer edge of the scapula (shoulder blade)
toward the earth as the inner edge of the scapula moves towards the body but
away from the spine creating space at the back of the heart.

Move the shoulder blade away from the spine on the exhalation and use the hand
to lengthen the neck.
14. Inhaling, bring the breath into the entire spectrum of the back.
15. Exhaling, straighten the left (or upper) arm away from the spine, using the
right (or bottom) hand to elongate the upper thigh, moving the pelvis away
from the thorax.
16. Inhale and expand the breath across the back.
17. Exhale and move the spine in like a backbend while leveraging the bottom
foot against the wall for extension and elongation of the spine, stretching the
spinal muscles and surrounding ligaments.
18. Inhale, bending the left elbow. On the exhalation, move the scapula a little
further from the spine.
19. When you are ready, slowly return to the center while focusing on the breath.
Before taking the pose to the other side, take time to allow the energies to
neutralize and the mind to re-center. Observe sensations. This is the time when
we receive the benefits of the pose.
Note: The intermediate version of this pose would be to straighten the bent knee,
bringing the foot as close to the outstretched hand as possible. Continue the pose
as if the knee were bent. An advanced version would be to bring both
outstretched legs over to one side of the body, toes as close to the hand as
possible.
Assist: A partner can stand or sit on the side of the upper crossed-over leg (the
left side if the left leg is the upper leg). On the exhalation, use one hand to roll
the upper thigh outward and downward away from the upper torso while
bringing the other hand to the back to move the spine upward and inward like a
backbend. The partner can also stand on the opposite side where the torso and
head will turn, having the practitioner hold onto their ankle. The person in the
pose can use this as leverage for spiraling the rib cage, deepening the rotation.
This helps to release neck tension.

Psychophysiological Benefits
Twists express themselves in a variety of forms — seated, prone, forward bends,
inversions — and with each, we change the internal and structural effects.
Jaṭhara Parivartanāsana, as all twists, represents the evolutionary spiral of
creation. Twisting poses may bring up long-buried memories and dreams as they
stimulate Svādhiṣṭhāna (the second cakra) and Maṇipūra (third cakra at the
navel center), the center of sight and insight.
Psychologically, when we twist, revolve, or evolve, we are taking the conscious
mind and turning it back to look into the seat of the subconscious. I think of it as
revolving the vṛttis, the mind waves. In all twisting poses, the front brain, the
manas, conscious thinking mind, turns around to look into the shadow side of
itself. It looks to the back body, which is the part we cannot see with our
physical eyes, symbolic of the citta, our subconscious mind as well as our
intuition. As we do this, Jaṭhara Parivartanāsana becomes a pose of
transcendence, and we can fulfill the tan — “to stretch or go beyond” — aspect
of the āsana’s name by transcending self-imposed limitations in mind, body, and
spirit.
We do this by creating immense space in the midline of the body. Jaṭhara
Parivartanāsana and its variations are especially beneficial for learning to
elongate the spine without having to lift against the gravitational pull, as we do
in seated twists. Increased space brings increased blood flow to digestive organs
that may be habitually compressed, such as the stomach, liver, gallbladder,
pancreas, spleen, kidneys, and adrenals. This twist releases diaphragmatic
compression and can even correct breathing difficulties. It relieves neck tension
and is especially beneficial when practiced after the shoulderstand and the
Plough Pose. It neutralizes the sympathetic stimulation of backbends and the
calming, dilating effects of forward bends.
It is believed in yoga that we cannot make changes at a conscious level until first
the subconscious is shifted. The twists bring about a shift at a very deep
subconscious level, transforming the primordial reptilian nature that reverts to
instinct and strikes out when its egoic self-survival is threatened. When we
stretch and thin the midline of the body and stimulate the pelvic plexus, we
activate the water element of the second cakra. Like the churning of the ocean of
milk, twisting the spine stirs the waters, bringing up cellular memory and
saṁskāras — deep psychic impressions — from the vaults of the subconscious.
DAṆḌĀSANA
Staff pose
Daṇḍa means “staff.” This refers to the spine, which is also known as the Meru
Daṇḍa, the central axis of creation.

Philosophical Introduction
Mt. Meru is the celestial mountain around which everything revolves. This
relates to the axis of the spine, where the nerve roots originate and spread out to
peripheral areas of the body. Yoga, like chiropractics, is based upon the health of
the spinal nerve roots. If they are restricted, nerve impulses and the subtle nerve
currents (prāṇa) are impeded in their flow to corresponding organs.
A Daṇḍāsana spine is like the scepter held by kings and queens and wise elders
throughout the ages. In India, the Śhaṅkarācāryas carry a staff that symbolizes
spiritual realization and exalted station, not just in life but in consciousness. In
ancient Egypt, the pharaohs held two curved staffs crossed over at their heart
center.
In Hindu mythology, Hanumān carries a huge mace, symbolizing the power
handed down to him from Rāma, who was an incarnation of Viṣṇu. There is
magic in the staff, as demonstrated by Moses who cast down his staff in front of
the Pharisees, transforming it into a serpent. In many cultures and religions, wise
men have walked vast stretches of the earth with staffs, reflecting a long journey
from darkness into light. To this day, kings and queens hold a scepter, a symbol
of power and their high station and authority.
Meru also refers to the crowning jewel. Originally, the Divine Right of kings
may have been so named because the royal heads were once those whose crown
cakras were open. Kings and queens obeyed the descending command of Divine
Grace for the welfare of the people. The jewels within the crowns attracted and
invited the lords of the heavens into one’s being.

The yantra of Daṇḍāsana forms a right angle or square.

When divine energy descends, it spirals around the head like a crown, into the
center of Sahasrāra (the crown cakra), and then spirals down into the lower
inter-dimensional vortices of the body. This invisible force was not bound by the
third-dimensional world and could offer the sight, wisdom, clarity, and
compassion needed to carry out “right” actions for the future good of the people.
The royal ruler’s connection to the heavens was supposed to keep the balance of
nature, promoting fertility of the crops and prosperity for all.
Over the ages, the original purpose of the staff has been forgotten. The staff or
scepter was a grounding rod for the electrical impulses that manifested from the
divine through the brain into the spinal cord. When universal energy spirals
down through the crown cakra, the physical and subtle nerves, if not adequately
strong and resilient, may be overtaxed by too much voltage. You could say the
staff grounds the currents of enlightenment that descend into the suṣumnā, the
central nāḍī that relates to the physical spinal cord. As Sri Aurobindo Gosh
would teach in Integral Yoga, “in meditation the Ascent (of the individual
Kuṇḍalinī energy) is followed by the Descent (Divine grace).”
When Divine grace pours into its chosen vehicle, the descent of energy awakens
the sleeping Kundala, the coiled serpent that rests in the sacrum and coccyx with
its head turned downward. As the power of the Divine force descends into the
spine, it dilates the nadis or subtle channels, so the awakened bio-or psycho-
nuclear energy can rise like the flow of warm lava or like cooling waters, and not
as a burning fire that would dry and weaken rather than replenish the nervous
system.
The yantra of Daṇḍāsana forms a right angle or square. The square invokes the
divine energies of Lord Gaṇeśa, who is propitiated before any important
endeavor. A story told by Harish Johari reminds me of the essence of
Daṇḍāsana:
Śiva, the father of Gaṇeśa, was the guardian of the gaṇas — a mixture of gods,
sub-gods, humans, demons, spirits, and other beings. Since Śiva was in
meditation most of the time, the gaṇas found it difficult to communicate with
him. Lord Viṣṇu persuaded Śiva to appoint a new leader and, to find out who
was worthy, the gods and sub-gods decided to hold a contest between Śiva’s two
sons, Gaṇeśa and Kartikeya.
Everyone gathered to witness the contest. Viṣṇu was appointed judge, and Śiva
and Pārvatī sat in the center. The contest required the two brothers to circle the
universe and return as quickly as possible. The fastest would be heralded as the
Lord of the Gaṇas.
Kartikeya immediately jumped on his vehicle, a peacock, and flew off into
space. Gaṇeśa remained seated on his vehicle, the mouse, and didn’t move. Lord
Viṣṇu urged him to hurry and catch up. But instead of rushing after his brother,
Gaṇeśa rode around his parents, Śiva (who represents Puruṣa, the eternal
essence of being) and Pārvatī (who represents Prakṛti, the primordial cause of all
existing phenomena).
When Gaṇeśa returned to the starting point, he announced, “I have completed
my task.”
The witnessing gods and sub-gods were astounded. “It’s not true!” they cried.
Gaṇeśa bowed before Lord Viṣṇu (who understood what he had done), and
explained his action to the other witnesses: “The phenomenal world of name and
form is but an expression and manifestation of the Divine Mother and Divine
Father. They are the source and essence of all that exists. Everything else is
illusion.”
The gods and goddess applauded his wisdom, accepting him as Lord of the
Gaṇas, which is why Gaṇeśa is also known as Gaṇapati.
Like this story of Gaṇeśa, Daṇḍāsana reflects both the macrocosm and
microcosm. As we aspire upward from the spine, it is like the microcosm of
lifting our body, mind, and soul to aspire to the macrocosm of the Universal. As
we open our heart and crown cakra, the macrocosm reveals itself, showering
grace upon and through our spine, the pillar of light, to unite with the
microcosm. Gaṇeśa is that macrocosmic energy, and the little mouse symbolizes
the microcosm. Each time we make a micro step to lift to the essence of the
Universe, the Divine takes one hundred steps toward us. The centrifugal center
of the spine, the Meru Daṇḍa (“mountainous staff”), is what Gaṇeśa circled
around. It is symbolic of Śiva/Puruṣa and Śakti/Prakṛti. As Gaṇeśa did this, he
triggered the descent of consciousness (the macrocosm), which is followed by
the individual ascent (the microcosm).
When one invokes Gaṇeśa by forming his yantra of right angles, it is believed
that the spiritual as well as material obstacles will be lifted from the unfolding
path of spiritual awakening.

Guidance
1. To begin Daṇḍāsana, sit with the legs outstretched. Settle just in front of the
inner points of the ischial tuberosities (buttock bones). Above the apex of
these bones is the sciatic notch, where the largest nerve of the body passes
through. It is best to position the pelvis just in front of these bones for the
 sciatic nerve to receive maximum flow.
2. Exhaling, draw the flesh of the buttocks back diagonally, placing the back of
the thighs on the earth.
3. Pause to inhale into the back body.
4. On the next exhalation, press down with the fingertips, moving forward into
the back thigh, extending the backs of the knees and the heels. Then, without
shortening the Achilles tendon, extend through the ball of the big toe.

With hands in the thigh crease, inhale into the back and turn upper arms inward.

Press down into the thighs and lift, lengthening the spine with each exhalation.
5. Inhale, rounding the back and turning the upper arms inward. Let the head
hang forward.
6. Exhale, press the fingertips beside the hips and elongate the spine. Move it
like a backbend into the front body. With each exhalation you are lifting,
lifting, and lifting while moving the spine in like a backbend.
7. With each inhalation, gently round the back, spreading the skin out from the
spinal vertebrae from shoulders to buttocks. The upper arms will automatically
rotate in as the back rounds.
8. On an exhalation, lengthen the inner legs (symbolic of the subtle body) from
the side of the pubic bone to the inner ankles. It is important to lengthen the
inner legs and outer legs (symbolic of the physical body) equally.
9. Inhale, turning the arms in and rounding the back, letting the breath spread
across the back from shoulders to buttocks.
10. Exhale, and without moving the hands, roll the upper arms externally,
 bringing the spine upward and then into the front of the torso as the skin
moves down the back to give length to the back of the neck. (Do not compress
the neck by lifting the chin.)
11. Inhale, again rolling the arms internally and rounding the back, spreading the
breath out from the spine horizontally to expand the ribcage.
12. Exhaling without moving the fingers, roll the upper arm externally, lifting
the spine to offer it to the heart center. Lift, lift, lift each vertebra on the
exhalation and create space between the descending back skin and the base of
the skull. Keep extending out from the inner groin to the inner ankle.
13. Continue in Daṇḍāsana as long as the breath is deep and rhythmic.
Note: Daṇḍāsana is significant in that it brings us closer to the earth than when
we are seated in a crosslegged position. If short hamstrings prevent sitting
slightly in front of the buttock bones, then elevate the hips by sitting on a blanket
high enough so that there is no undue anterior compression of the lumbar spine.
This allows you to relax the lumbar spine and elongate the rectus abdominus
muscle.

Psychophysiological Benefits
Daṇḍāsana is the base or preliminary pose for all seated poses, particularly Jānu
Śīrṣāsana and Paścimottānāsana. As well as being central to all sitting poses,
Daṇḍāsana is a place to rest and re-center between seated poses. Daṇḍāsana
gently elongates the hamstring muscles in the back of the thighs and the soleus
and gastrocnemius muscles of the calf, while strengthening the quadriceps
muscles of the upper thigh.
Daṇḍāsana gives the student a relaxed opportunity to learn how to equalize the
stretch of the inner and outer leg, which represent the subtle and physical body
respectively. It also is an opportunity to learn how to extend the Achilles tendon
and, preserving this stretch, move the ball of the big toe forward to give greater
strength to the arch. This movement relaxes the reflex to the spine, an important
preliminary for taking any seated forward bends.
Daṇḍāsana strengthens the spinal nerve sheaths subtly as well as physically, so
the practitioner can receive a higher frequency of illumination. Ideally, the spine
in Daṇḍāsana is aligned as it is for meditation. For this to happen, the heart
center needs to lift, bringing the head back so that the crown aligns with the base
of the spine. Then the mind can be in a thoughtless state of awareness.
In crosslegged sitting poses, the outgoing energies that move through the feet are
recycled back up into the spine and upper cakras. Outstretching the legs in
Daṇḍāsana transmits energy downward and outward. As the thigh skin moves to
the buttocks and the calf skin to the heels, the sub cakra energy center at the
back of the knee is given space to open. Daṇḍāsana is an excellent pose to
balance excessive vāta energy, which flows upward above the diaphragm,
allowing it to be diffused and balanced through the feet. Some yogis say we
store deep saṁskāras or cellular memory at the base of the pelvis. In
Daṇḍāsana, we allow these memories to surface and be released through the
channels to the soles of the feet and out into the universe.
Psychologically, Daṇḍāsana teaches us independence. When the back can hold
itself, we are independent of the need for support. We become less dependent on
others for our own emotional needs. Practicing the pose leads to deep inner
strength indicated by the square yantra that represents Gaṇeśa. In this yantra, we
are grounded in the microcosm but in communion with the macrocosm of the
divine.
PARIPŪRṆA NĀVĀSANA
(The Full Boat)
ARDHA NĀVĀSANA
(The Half Boat)
The English word “navy” grew out of the ancient Sanskrit word nāva. The Boat
Pose has two parts, one with oars and the other without oars. Paripūrṇa means
“fullness,” and Paripūrṇa Nāvāsana is Full Boat Pose, or the boat with oars.
Ardha means “half,” and Ardha Nāvāsana is Half Boat Pose, or the boat without
oars. Ardha Nāvāsana is a more challenging variation of Boat Pose, requiring
greater balance and abdominal strength.

Philosophical Introduction
Many times, I have thought “Oh God! Thy sea is so great and my boat is so
small.” At those times when life seems overwhelming, I think of Herman
Hesse’s novel Siddhartha, about an ascetic who through solitude and meditation
found peace and contentment. During his wanderings, this monk found his way
to the court of a king. The king asked him what he did, and the monk replied, “I
wait, I watch, and I fast.”
The king was impressed with the monk’s answer and by his serene countenance.
He invited him to stay in his court as a spiritual advisor. A few years passed, and
gradually the ascetic became tempted by palace comforts such as rich foods and
wine, and he entered into a tryst with a beautiful courtesan. Over time, he lost his
serenity and peace of mind and became gross and slovenly. His undisciplined
life and insolent behavior forced the king to banish him from the court.
After many trials and tribulations he found work as a river boatman. Every day
he ferried travelers back and forth across the river from one shore to the next.
Slowly once more he began to feel the peace and serenity he had lost over the
years. He guided travelers to their spiritual as well as earthly destinations, and
his reputation spread far and wide as others found solace in his gentle presence
and wise words. His revelations came from the movement of floating and the
sound of the oars dipping effortlessly into the water. The boatman had at last
found truth in the water’s currents and ripples, always changing within their
constancy. He saw his reflection in the still waters and realized that the seer and
seen were One.
 In Nāvāsana the fingertips are extended to emulate the oars of the boat.
Nāvāsana is a challenging pose because it can reveal the difficulties in staying
balanced and centered as we ride upon the waves of life. Whether on a turbulent
sea or a gentle brook, navigating with the assistance of oars is easier than
without. In Paripūrṇa Nāvāsana, with the arms outstretched, it is easier to
balance than when withdrawing the oars of the arms and placing the hands
behind the head, as in Ardha Nāvāsana. The essence of either variation of
Nāvāsana is to find the place of alignment in the midst of the waters where one’s
own reflection reveals itself.
In Paripūrṇa or Ardha Nāvāsana, the body takes the form of a descending
triangle. The downward-facing Trikon is a yantra of the Divine Śakti. Thus
Nāvāsana can be seen as the invocation of Śakti energy, particularly of Goddess
Sarasvatī, who in ancient Vedic times was depicted near a flowing river, which
may relate to her early history as a river goddess. Adorned in white, she rides
upon a swan. The swan is a symbol of discrimination because it was said to have
the ability to separate water from milk and take only the cream. Sarasvatī is also
depicted as floating upon the waterways in the center of a white lotus, a symbol
of lightness and purity that grows out of the darkness of the mud beneath the
waters. In post-Vedic times, Sarasvatī became associated with literature, arts,
and music, representing intelligence, Divine knowledge, creativity, education,
and eloquence. She floats upon the universal waterways reminding us to do the
same.

Guidance
1. To practice Paripūrṇa Nāvāsana, begin in Daṇḍāsana. Inhale into the back,
spreading the breath from the shoulders to the hips.
2. Exhaling, keep the spine uplifted and the heart open, and bend the knees into
the chest with feet on the floor.
3. Inhale and do nothing except allow the breath to spread across the back
4. Exhale and take hold of the neck of the big toe with the thumb and forefinger
or, depending on the length of the hamstrings, hold the sides of the feet, the
ankles, or even the calves.
 Press the hands into the floor to help extend the spine.
5. Inhale, and then on an exhalation, bring the spine into the front of the body —
like a backbend — and raise the legs. If possible, bring the apex of the
downward-facing triangle just in front of the buttock bones. The legs may not
lift up as high, but the spine will grow stronger.
6. Inhale into the back, rounding it with the incoming breath.
7. Exhale, lifting the top of the kneecaps gently but firmly toward the thighs,
bringing the spine in like a backbend. Elongate the back of the neck and keep
the gaze steady.
8. Inhale, and then exhaling, move the spine up and into the front of the body
like a backbend, bringing the front of the torso toward the thighs as the legs
move toward the torso.
9. Inhaling, keep the gaze and the mind steady.
10. When you feel ready, exhale and release the legs, extending through the
fingertips to emulate the boat with oars, Paripūrṇa Nāvāsana.
11. If you choose, you may enter the half boat, Ardha Nāvāsana, from the full
boat pose. On an exhalation, bend the elbows and clasp the hands behind the
neck or head.
12. Even though Ardha Nāvāsana is the boat without oars, you can still “row the
boat” by moving the elbows forward and back with the breath. Begin by
inhaling, rounding the back. Keep the hands clasped behind the head as the
elbows come forward on the inhalation.
13. Exhaling, move the back spine into the front body as you draw the bent
elbows back.
14. Inhale, rounding the back and bringing the elbows forward.
15. Exhale and draw the elbows back. Continue rowing the boat this way as long
as the breath allows; this opens and strengthens the upper back.
16. When you are ready, come out of the pose the same way you came into it.
Note: Supporting the hips with a folded blanket or firm cushion will help lift the
thorax. Adjust the blanket or cushion so that you are balanced just in front of the
ischial tuberosities or buttock bones. It is better to bend the knees in order to
keep the back straight than to straighten the legs and have the back round. Round
the back only on the inhalations; elongate the spine and bring it in like a
backbend on every exhalation.
You can use the aid of a chair or a wall for Nāvāsana, which offers two ways of
elongating and lifting the spine. You can lean the shoulders against the wall for
support, or you can turn around and put the feet up on the wall, pressing the
hands on the floor beside the hips to create more lift. The idea is to relieve
compression, not create more. Students who have chronic anterior compression
should first focus on spinal elongation in the standing poses before practicing
Nāvāsana.

Ardha Navasana, the boat without oars, is especially effective for strengthening the abdominal muscles.

Psychophysiological Benefits
Nāvāsana is a good preparation for Sarvāṅgāsana, the shoulderstand, because it
strengthens the muscles used to lift the legs into the posture. Both variations of
Nāvāsana strengthen the abdominal muscles, especially Ardha Nāvāsana, the
boat without oars. The boat pose also strengthens the lumbar and sacral spine,
bringing circulation to both areas. It lengthens the hamstrings (back thigh
muscles) and strengthens the quadriceps (front thigh muscles).
Balancing creates emotional as well as physical stability. Nāvāsana teaches us
how to flow with life’s ebbs and flows. It is also an excellent pose for learning
ekāgratā (one-pointedness of mind) or practicing trātaka, one-pointed gazing.
Focusing the gaze helps balance the body and strengthens the “muscle of the
mind.” Finding the center of stillness within Nāvāsana helps us lift above the
tsunamis of emotions that at times threaten to engulf us. We learn to rise up and
masterfully ride the illusory waves of separative consciousness.
The nursery rhyme we learned as children was profound: “Row, row, row your
boat gently down the stream. Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily — life is but a
dream.” When we remember our oneness with the Divine, we realize that life is
but a dream.
JĀNU ŚĪRṢĀSANA
Head-to-Knee Pose
Jānu means “knee” and śīrṣ, “head.” Since bringing the head to the knee would
cause us to round the spine too much, it helps to think of Jānu Śīrṣāsana as a
forehead-to-shinbone pose.

Philosophical Introduction
Far more significant than its name implies, Jānu Śīrṣāsana is a devoted offering,
as described by the fourth niyama (observance) of Aṣṭāṅga Yoga, svādhyāya.
This niyama has been loosely interpreted as the study of scriptures, but what the
sūtra (II:44) actually says is this: svādhyāyāt iṣṭadevatā saṁprayogaḥ,
meaning, “One’s own meditation on that which one wishes to shine like [a role
model] brings forth the oneness and union of yoga.” This is a statement of
Bhakti Yoga, the path where emotion is transformed into devotion. I practice
Jānu Śīrṣāsana as a devoted offering of the upper body to the lower body. The
upper body represents the individuated self and the lower, the altar that is a
palpable reminder of a power greater than the self.

In Jānu Śīrṣāsana, the upper body is an offering to the lower body.

Many years ago, my Bhakti teacher, Sant Keshavadas, told a simple story of the
moth and nightingale to help illustrate the difference between the paths of Bhakti
and Jñana Yoga. The story of the moth and nightingale also emphasizes the
differences between dharana (concentration) and dhyana (meditation), and it
gave me a deeper understanding to practicing āsana. The tale begins on one of
those perfect summer nights, when the sky was the color of a blue lotus and the
full moon shimmered its radiance upon the earth. A moth fluttered into a
perfumed garden, where the air was scented with night-blooming jasmine. The
aroma of the garden filled the moth’s senses with an intoxicating, unearthly
fragrance.
The moth became entranced as a melodious song wafted through the garden. He
flew in toward the sound and discovered a delicate nightingale warbling its
heartfelt song as it was shedding a river of tears. “Oh nightingale,” the moth
asked, “Why are you crying?”
“Can you not see?” the nightingale answered. “I am serenading my beloved, the
rose. These are tears of joy that stream from the outer corridors of my eyes and
tears of sorrow that stream from the inner corridors of my eyes. I cry with the
ecstasy of love for my beloved and, at the same time, the agony of being
separate from my beloved. This is my way of showing my love for the Infinite
through one of its many forms, the rose.”
The moth pondered this for a moment. “Hrumph. Come, Nightingale. I will
show you love.” The moth flew to the light within the garden, circling its flame
and spiraling in closer and closer. The nightingale watched with wonderment
and shock as the moth reached the center and consumed himself in the flame,
becoming one with the light. Then, after a few moments, feeling once more the
pangs of separation from its beloved, the nightingale returned to its corner of the
garden to serenade the rose.
This story is a beautiful metaphor for the differences between individuals in their
approaches to yoga. Do we approach our practice like the Bhakti, the
nightingale? Or like the Jñani, the moth who becomes one with the flame?
Which is greater, the all-consuming approach of the moth, or the separative
offerings of the nightingale? If we approach the practice of āsana as a bhaktin,
we perceive one part of the body as separate from another. We enter into the
pose as a devoted self-offering, in which one part of the body offers itself to the
altar of the other. We offer our breath to the altar of our limbs, moving from the
base and heart of our being.
Or do we feel the two parts fusing together in a sense of Oneness, like the moth
consumed in the eternal flame and light of spirit? The Jñani is like a sugar man
who walks into the ocean to measure and analyze its depth. As he goes deeper,
he melts into and becomes one with the sea. There is no longer anything to
measure. There is no standard of measurement.
There is no separation between the sugar man and the sea; they are one.
This is a metaphor that I have carried into āsana practice throughout the decades.
Jānu Śīrṣāsana and Paścimottānāsana, in particular, are poses that can awaken
the Bhakti of offering the upper body to the lower, like the nightingale with its
beloved the rose. At a certain point, whether or not the upper and lower bodies
touch, you may feel as though the parts of your being merge and become one
with the Source.

Guidance
The first point of emphasis in practicing Jānu Śīrṣāsana is maintaining the
Daṇḍāsana spine, in which all of the spinal processes of the vertebrae are
moving anteriorly. As the spine lifts, it is moving upward and into the center of
the body so there is no anterior or posterior compression of the intervertebral
disks. This compression can be felt with the hand during the pose. If the spinal
processes protrude, this means you need to elongate the spine a bit more: Stop,
breathe, and lengthen before proceeding further in the pose.

Jānu Śīrṣāsana, starting position.

1. Begin in Daṇḍāsana, establishing the breath.
2. Exhaling, bend the left knee, bringing the foot to the inner thigh of the
extended leg. If the openness of the hips allow, bring the heel of the bent knee
to the center or even the left side of the pubic bone. Anchor the hip of the bent
knee downward and backward so that the thigh rotates externally. Place the
fingertips on the floor to each side of the hips.

Shift the position of the hands as you progress through the pose, moving the
spine like a backbend on the exhalations.
3. Inhale, do nothing but breathe. Bring the breath into the back, from the
shoulders upward toward the neck.
4. Exhale and press the fingertips downward, extending the neck up as the
shoulders move down toward the buttocks, creating space between the
earlobes and the tops of the shoulders.
5. Inhale into the back, rotating the upper arms internally and relaxing the head
and neck as you expand the breath from shoulders to hips.
6. Exhale, pressing the fingertips down and rotating the upper arms externally as
the shoulders descend downward.
7. Inhale, and again let the breath round the back, doing nothing.
8. Exhaling, press down with the fingertips and turn the navel toward the
extended leg. Bring the torso toward the thigh, drawing the kneecap up gently
as the torso descends more with each exhalation. The hands at the sides of the
hips give leverage to extend the spine. On the exhalations, move the spine
anteriorly, like a backbend, to the front of the torso.
9. Inhaling, bring the breath into the back, expanding it as far as possible across
the spectrum from shoulders to buttock.
10. Continue focusing on the breath, elongating the spine on the exhalations. If
pain arises in the backs of the legs, stop and back off your edge a little. Find
the calmness of the breath before proceeding, moving only on the exhalation.
If you feel a sensation of pain, imagine inhaling into that area and, on the
exhalation, release the tension that surrounds and protects the painful nucleus.
To stay within your svadharma — what is right for you — stay on your edge
without overreaching.
11. Breathe and let go into the devotional offering of the nightingale. When you
are ready, change sides.
Note: If the upper rim of the pelvis or hip is pulled backward due to short
hamstrings, it is important to use a folded blanket under the buttocks to help with
the lift. If the bent knee doesn’t reach the floor, it too can be supported with
blankets. Support is usually used for students who are heavier or less flexible. If
there is neck tension when in the pose, it is helpful to add a blanket between
abdomen and thigh, as well as a blanket under the forehead. When the neck is
elongated and relaxed, the lower back and sacrum start to release.

Psychophysiological Benefits
Jānu Śīrṣāsana is introduced before Paścimottānāsana, the full forward bend,
because it is easier to extend the spine toward one leg. Stiffness isn’t due only to
the hamstrings but also to fluid buildup in the sacrum and pelvis. The lymph
system in the pelvic area can become coagulated from sitting too much. Also, for
women, if the circulation is sluggish, stagnant blood can build up in the pelvic or
uterine area. In Jānu Śīrṣāsana, there is an internal rotation of the thighs that
opens the back of the sacrum. This stimulates the parasympathetic nerve flow
from the sacrum, which then releases the cervical spine, bringing about a sacral-
occipital alignment. When you can find a comfortable way to “hang out” in this
pose, relaxing the neck, then the pelvic region starts to open and release.
Jānu Śīrṣāsana releases neck tension if the pose is entered into with the breath. It
lengthens the hamstring muscles. The spine is stretched, increasing intervertebral
circulatory flow, which can possibly help rebuild degenerative disks over time.
Besides releasing lymph buildup in the sacrum and pelvis, this pose aids
elimination by stimulating the parasympathetic nervous system and massaging
the abdominal organs. By influencing the parasympathetic nervous system, Jānu
Śīrṣāsana and other forward bends help relieve stress on the adrenals and
kidneys. In the ayurvedic sense, forward bends balance vāta and pitta, calming
and slowing any mental hyperactivity. These poses balance prāṇa in the
ascending, descending, and transverse colon, as well as in the procreative and
reproductive organs, including the ovaries and prostate gland.
In this pose, we don’t just bring the head to the knee, as this could cause anterior
compression of the spine. Instead, on each exhalation we reach, lengthen, and
soften the neck, while drawing the spine forward to lay it upon the altar of the
shinbone. It sometimes feels as if the prāṇa that flows in the torso is uniting with
the prāṇa of the extended leg. When we practice Jānu Śīrṣāsana in this manner,
we become the Pūjari, the one who conducts the ceremonial rites of Pūja.
Forward bends, like Jānu Śīrṣāsana, close the gap between the Atman and the
Brahman, the individual and the Universal. When we offer the head toward the
knee, the head is the symbol of ego and the bent knee is a symbol of humility.
When our knees are unable to bend, it indicates that somewhere in our psyche
we are holding something back. In Jānu Śīrṣāsana, if we learn to offer the total
Self without the conflict of resistance, we learn to trust again. This newfound
trust can spill over from our yoga postures into the postures of our lives. This is
svādhyāya, our own meditation upon that which we wish to shine like.
Jānu Śīrṣāsana is a beautiful pose of Bhakti, in which we offer our Being in one
part of our body to the Divinity in the other. As we hold the field of love for
ourselves and others when we are in the pose, the gap between the upper and
lower body, Atman and Brahman, the individual and Universal, can close and
merge like the moth who became one with the light of universal love.
MARĪCYĀSANA I
Seated Twist and Forward Bend
This pose is named for Mārīca, a magician and an uncle of the demon king
Rāvaṇa.

Philosophical Introduction
Mārīca was a shapeshifter who used his magical prowess to change forms from
human to animal, from birds to insects. Driven by lust and desire, Rāvaṇa urged
Mārīca to change into a deer so beautiful that it would tempt Sītā to ask Rāma to
bring it to her. The plot was to lure Rāma deep into the forest, leaving his
beloved unprotected so that the demon could steal her away. When Mārīca
refused, Rāvaṇa threatened him: “If you do not do this, you will die by my
hand.”
Mārīca chose to become a deer, preferring to die by the arrow of Rāma rather
than at the hand of his demon nephew. He shifted his shape into a magnificent
creature with horns sparkling like sapphires, hooves of precious gems, and
golden flanks with spots that gleamed like silver. Sītā’s desire caused Rāma to
follow the deer further into the dark forest, and thus she was captured by
Rāvaṇa, representing the powerful energy of our instinctual nature and the
separative consciousness of ego.
In the evolutionary aspects of creation, the soul assumes innumerable forms.
Mārīca assumed a magnificent form only to be killed by Rāma’s arrow. But in
choosing to die by the hand of God, Mārīca transformed. Marīcyāsana I and its
variations honor that part of our nature that can shift shapes, rising out of the
egocentric self to that of our Divine Nature.
When we practice these twists, prāṇa from the base of the spine spirals up like
the evolutionary force of creation through the awakening of the Kuṇḍalinī Śakti,
bio-or psycho-energetic transformation. Like Mārīca, we too can make a choice
either to sink into our lower instinctual patterns, which lure us deeper into the
dark forest of our primordial self, or to rise and evolve out of that nature to the
mountain peaks of transcendent consciousness.

Guidance
Marīcyāsana I is both a twist and forward bend. It cannot be emphasized enough
how important it is to keep the head and neck relaxed throughout all movements
of the pose. The essence of all yoga is to still the waves of the mind. Every pose
then becomes dhyanāsana, a pose of meditation, in which the head and neck are
relaxed and receptive.
1. Begin in Daṇḍāsana. To align the spine, you may need to use a chair or place
the buttocks on a folded blanket. (See note.)
2. Exhaling, bend the right knee, bringing the heel as close to the perineum as
possible. Place hands beside the hips to give leverage to lift the spine with
each out breath.

When practicing twists like Marīcyāsana, emphasize the uplift of the spine.
3. Inhale and allow the breath to spread across the back. The inhalation offers an
opportunity to take the breath down into those regions that have been
compressed and contracted. See if the breath can move from the lateral
muscles of the back all the way down to the base of the hips.
4. Exhaling, press down with the hands (or fingertips) and lift the spine, bringing
the spine into the front of the body like a backbend. As the back of the neck
extends upward, allow the skin of the back to move downwards. Relax the
neck.
5. Inhale, allowing the breath to fill the back as before.
6. Exhale and again press down with the hands to elongate the spine and bring it
in as though beginning a backbend. Extend out of the inner groin of left leg,
all the way to the inner ankle. Extend the heel, stretching the Achilles tendon,
and without losing that length, extend to the ball of the big toe. This action
strengthens the arch of the foot and softens the spinal reflex within the arch.
7. Inhaling, keep the extension of the left leg and foot while you round the back
with the incoming breath.
8. Exhale, pressing down with the left hand to lift the spine. Bring the right arm
toward the extended leg, coming forward as in Jānu Śīrṣāsana. Bring the back
 of the right armpit to the shinbone. Press the arm against the shinbone and
rotate the upper arm internally as the lower arm wraps around the back of the
waist. There is a tendency to let the bent leg collapse to the side. To correct
this tendency, press the inner thigh toward the arm as the arm resists the inner
thigh. Keeping the leg aligned creates greater strength in the adductors, the
inner thigh muscles.

Keeping the leg aligned strengthens the inner thigh muscles.

9. Inhaling, stay where you are in the pose. Take no adjustments as the breath
expands across the back from shoulder to the base of the hips.
10. Exhale, lifting the spine and bringing it into the front body as if attempting to
do a backbend. Moving the hip and leg back helps to bring the spine forward.
Bring the left hand around the back of the waist to clasp the right hand. If this
is difficult, you may use a strap.
11. Inhale and let the breath round the back without unclasping the hands.
12. Exhale and press down with the right heel to lift and elongate the spine.
Moving the skin of the inner left leg from the pubis to the inner ankle, bring
the navel toward the earth in a forward bend. Bend from the hips, not from the
waist. The objective is to offer the pelvis to the earth, and then the navel, and
finally, the head.
13. Remember, throughout both inhalations and exhalations, to keep the neck
and throat passive and relaxed so that the mid and lower back can release.
14. If the torso leans to one side, exhale and extend out of the compressed side to
make the lungs equal to one another. Balancing the lungs balances the breath
in the right and left nostrils, and in turn, balances the twin hemispheres of the
brain.
15. With every exhalation, allow the spine to offer itself toward the head and
into the heart.
16. To complete the pose on this side, return to Daṇḍāsana. Breathe and extend
the spine before taking the pose to the opposite side.
Note: For many, shortened hamstrings pull the pelvis back and cause
compression of the anterior spine. Using a chair helps to create the lift needed
for this pose, allowing the spine to rise up out of its past compression. Beginners
can sit on the chair with one leg bent toward the torso and the other leg hanging
down from the chair, relaxing the hamstrings and making it possible to feel the
elongation of the spine as each vertebra is lifted from the next. Even seasoned
students will find it helpful to place a folded blanket under the buttocks to
elevate the spine for maximum extension. When the heel and buttock on the side
of the bent leg can press down at the same time, the spine is lifting. This creates
extension and a wonderful sense of lightness and relaxation within the pose.

Psychophysiological Benefits
The bilateral movements of twists equally benefit the sympathetic and
parasympathetic divisions of the nervous system. All twists have similar
beneficial effects upon the organs of digestion, the stomach, liver, gallbladder,
pancreas, and spleen. Marīcyāsana, in particular, activates energy down to the
root of the spine and procreative centers, benefiting the adrenals, kidneys,
bladder, and the prostate or ovarian regions for men or women. The placement
of the legs stimulates the small intestine and the ascending, transverse, and
descending colon. Marīcyāsana neutralizes the energies of backbends as it
strengthens the hips, knees, and ankles.
In Marīcyāsana, we rise up out of the basic instinctual nature of the first and
second cakras. As the spine elongates on every exhalation, the heart offers itself
to the light of higher consciousness without denying the base. It is the base
cakras that free the upper cakras. We don’t deny or repress their energy but, like
the transformation of Mārīca, we convert them, bringing them with us into the
upper realms. Marīcyāsana, like Matsyāsana (Fish Pose), represents the
evolutionary spiral of creation and reminds us that we are all in varying states of
spiritual evolution. This pose displays a revolutionary transformation of our
darker urges, which are brought up to the light of Being for healing. Like
Mārīca, we can all create the magic of revealing and healing any saṁskāras that
remain hidden in the deeper recesses of our cellular psyche.
Practicing Marīcyāsana I can bring up feelings of confinement or past
disempowerment — any experience that may have resulted in claustrophobic
feelings of being closed in. This is especially true if we reach around with the
arms before emphasizing the uplift of the spine. Without the spinal elongation,
we compress the lungs as well as the diaphragmatic muscle. When the breathing
is constricted, it may activate feelings of confinement. Conversely, when
Marīcyāsana is practiced appropriately, we may be able to alleviate feelings of
confinement either physically or emotionally.
It is not easy to lift in Marīcyāsana. It is so easy to sink into one’s self. When we
lift the spine, we aspire to something greater than our microcosmic self, an
ascent to the macrocosm of the Divine. As we ascend with the central axis of
creation represented by the spine, we invite the descending grace of
consciousness to enter into the newly created spaces. This awakens the dormant
creative impulses at the base of the spine so that they can rise up and meet the
descending energies. We then experience Divine Union, where the universal and
individual are one.
PAŚCIMOTTĀNĀSANA
Full Forward Bend
Paścima means “west,” the side of the setting sun. When the sun sets it grows
dark, and we cannot see with our physical eyes. The verb tan, some say, means
“intensive stretch,” but it suggests much more. Tan also means going beyond our
past self-imposed limitations — not limitations that others have imposed upon
us, but the restrictions we have consciously or subconsciously created for
ourselves. Thus, Paścimottānāsana is an intense stretch of the west or back side
of the body, which takes us beyond past boundaries. This is a pose that awakens
the posterior nerves of the spine and the hindbrain, the cerebellum, which is said
to be the seat of citta or the subconscious mind.

Philosophical Introduction
In Tantra Yoga there are ten directions. East, West, North, South, and their
variations are said to have presiding gods and goddess. In this pose, we honor
the energy of the Lord of the West, and at times, we may even feel the gentle
warmth of the setting sun streaming through the nerve roots of the spine.
Many years ago I studied with Mr. Iyengar in India. It was a cold January
morning as I sat in Daṇḍāsana, wearing shorts on the hard marble, while Mr.
Iyengar called out detailed instructions of how to move into Paścimottānāsana.
As I struggled to seek comfort in a most uncomfortable position, a fleeting
thought entered my mind: “Why have I traveled fifteen thousand miles, leaving
my children and my husband at a great expense, in order to sit on a hard marble
floor on a cold morning and be in pain?”

Pascimottanasana symbolizes the coming together of the individual and

Universal.
As soon as I asked myself that question, another arose: “Am I working out future
pains or future karmas?” I remembered the sūtra that says we cannot avoid the
pains of the past because they have already occurred. Nor can we avoid the pains
of the moment because they are in the process of occurring. As Patanjali noted in
the yoga sūtras (II:16), heyaṁ duḥkham anāgatam: “The only pain that can be
avoided is the pain yet to come.”
In this moment of suffering, I also remembered the words of Sant Keshavadas,
my Bhakti Yoga teacher, who said, “In pain, one remembers God. In pleasure,
one forgets God. One who remembers God in both pain and pleasure equally
attains immortality.”
It was in this time of great agony, as my head bent toward my shinbone in
Paścimottānāsana, that I came face to face with a deep primordial, instinctual
fear of death. My deepest fear at that moment was that if I surrendered fully into
the pose, the ego would dissolve into itself.
“So this,” I thought, “is abhineveśa,” one of the greatest obstacles in our spiritual
path, what the yoga sūtras call the clinging to life and the fear of death. My body
tensed with fear. What if this thingcalled “I” would drop into a cavern of the
unknown? This fear caused my body to tighten even more. The mind was
holding back, creating resistance while the body was trying to move forward into
the pose. This internal conflict set up even greater resistance.
I saw Mr. Iyengar’s feet approach my side. “Do you see the distance between
your upper and lower body?” He fluttered his hand between the vast space that
separated my torso and legs.

Expand across the back on the inhalation.

“Yes.” My voice quivered with even more fear. “This is the distance between
you and God!”
He then stepped on my back, and suddenly the upper and lower body became
one. There was no pain or pleasure, no this or that, no front or back body, no
subject and object, no here or there. The little me disappeared into an infinite sea
of effulgent light. There was no pain, only bliss and an indescribable peace.
Through this pose, I better understood the story of the moth and the nightingale
(see page 126) and how much courage it took for the moth to fly into the center
and become one with the flame. It did not hold itself back but gave and offered
its all from the depth of its being, beyond all resistance physically and
emotionally. Only then, I realized, can we have a glimpse of becoming one with
the Source.
Seated forward bends bring us into very deep communion with the Divine. Like
Jānu Śīrṣāsana, Paścimottānāsana symbolizes the coming together of the
individual and Universal, closing the gap of separation or the realization of the
Oneness of Atman and Brahman. Forward bends such as Paścimottānāsana are a
form of passive surrender. They are the practice of Īśvara Praṇidhāna:
samādhisiddhiḥ Īśvarapraṇidhānāt. This describes the fifth niyama of Aṣṭāṅga
Yoga, outlined in the yoga sūtras (II: 45): “Samādhi comes to those who
surrender to Self or God.”
This particular forward bend is a devotional practice. As long as there is a sense
of separation of upper and lower bodies, we are the nightingale. When we feel
the upper and lower merging into one another, we become the moth entering into
and becoming One with the light of the Universal flame.

Exhale, initiating forward bend at the hips.

Paścimottānāsana represents exploration of the unknown uncharted waters of
Self. It truly is an act of surrender. If we practice this pose as a bhakti, offering
the upper body to the lower body, it is not necessary to close the gap physically,
even if there appears to be a space between the upper and lower bodies, or
between one’s self and God. Like the nightingale, we can close the gaps in our
souls when we remember that these two parts of ourselves are already One.

Guidance
1. Begin in Daṇḍāsana. Place a blanket or support under the buttocks to get the
lift and forward tilt of the pelvis. Extend the inner and outer legs equally.
(Remember, the physical body relates to the abductor muscles of the outer leg,
and the subtle body relates to the adductors of the inner legs.) Draw the flesh
of the thighs back as you extend the heels forward, keeping the length of the
Achilles tendon. Notice the slight internal rotation of the thighs that opens the
back of the sacrum. Press the fingertips or palms on the floor beside the hips.
2. Inhale and do nothing. Simply feel the wings of the breath spreading across
the back. Inhale from the shoulders down to the hips.
3. Exhale, and let the breath draw the spine upward and forward as you bend at
the hips, not at the waist.
4. Inhale while keeping the mind still; feel the breath expanding and widening
the back from shoulders to hips.
5. Exhaling, elongate the spine upward and bring it in, like a backbend, pressing
the hands on the earth to lift the pelvic rim up over the flesh of the thighs. Still
exhaling, come forward, bringing the navel plexus (not the head) closer to the
thighs.
6. Inhale, pausing to bring the breath into the back ribs, lifting the bottom ribs.
7. As you exhale, keep lifting the back ribs, and at the same time, raise the front
ribs to bring the lower torso toward the thighs. The torso doesn’t go down as
much as it elongates. A useful image is to feel a golden thread pulling the
crown of the head toward the feet.
8. With each outgoing breath, offer your entire being upon the altar of life. When
the breath becomes erratic or shallow, come out of the pose slowly and lie
back in Savāsana.

Psychophysiological Benefits
Poses related to the full forward bend include Jānu Śīrṣāsana, Ūrdhva Mukha
Paścimottānāsana, Ardha Nāvāsana, Paripūrṇa Nāvāsana, Halāsana, Uttānāsana,
Pādānguṣṭhāsana, Pādahastāsana, and Triang Mukhaikapāda Paścimottānāsana.
Like many of these, Paścimottānāsana lengthens the hamstrings and the
gastrocnemius and soleus muscles of the calf. If we have harbored anger in this
region, when we elongate and create space we have an opportunity to transmute
any negativity toward self and others. Paścimottānāsana also preserves the
contours and flexibility of the hips. It massages all of the abdominal organs and
the procreative glands and also can release the diaphragmatic muscle, freeing the
breath.
Because of its impact upon the cervical and sacral nerve roots of the spine,
Paścimottānāsana activates the parasympathetic nervous system. This makes it a
good pose for insomnia and high blood pressure. It increases the digestive juices
and dilates blood vessels, which has a cooling affect upon the body and a
calming effect on the mind. Even people with high blood pressure can practice
inverted poses if they first practice Paścimottānāsana to dilate the blood vessels.

Focus on elongating the torso as you progress through the pose, moving the
spine in like a backbend on the exhalations.
On an energetic level, Paścimottānāsana stimulates the apāna prāṇa, the
downward flow of energy that governs the eliminative centers of the body. Once
we can extend and lower the torso far enough, the buttocks will lift so that the
backs of the thighs, rather than the pelvis, will be on the floor, and then the pose
creates a natural mūla bandha.
To allow the energy to flow from the base cakra upward, it is important to keep
the navel passive. If the solar plexus becomes engaged and pushes forward this
stimulates the frontal brain, and that is opposite of what wants to be created here.
As the elongation into the pose deepens, a natural uḍḍiyāna bandha occurs,
bringing the prāṇa to the heart and eventually to the crown of the head. The
energy then recycles through the feet and forms a loop or a cycle of pranic
currents that create the yantra of the circle, which symbolizes the expansion of
awareness from the inside.
By activating the posterior spinal nerve roots, Paścimottānāsana influences the
back brain, the pons, the medulla, and the cerebellum. These are the intuitive
parts of our being, which we associate with the feminine aspect of the universe.
Paścima, the side of the setting sun, is closely related to the subconscious mind,
the part of our mind that is not as accessible as the conscious or the preconscious
parts of mind. The conscious mind is easily accessible and is represented by
Pūrva, the side of the rising sun. When the sun rises, we can see. As we look
down the front of the body, we can see it, unlike the back of our being.
In reference to Paścimottānāsana, Mr. Iyengar once asked, “How do you know
you have a back body?” No one could answer. He continued, “The back body is
like God. You cannot see it; therefore, you must retire within yourself and there
you will feel it.”
AN INTRODUCTION TO SEATED POSES
Finding the perfection of asana in seated poses helps us reach the state of
meditation. But we may be reluctant to call sitting poses “meditation” because
we do not know if we will enter the state of meditation or even if we will be able
to concentrate when we “sit.” Because most practitioners do not know the art of
alignment in the sitting poses, they may spend needless hours trying to quiet
their thoughts — something that can be done almost instantly by aligning the
body with the gravitational field of the earth.
In seated poses, and in all asana, alignment grows out of the center of the breath.
We inhale without intentional movement, only awareness of how the breath
spreads across the back from the shoulders to the buttocks, moving equilaterally
from the spine. On the exhalation, the back body — which represents the
subconscious mind, the part we cannot see — is offered in toward the front
body, and the spine lifts vertebra by vertebra, offering the heart center to the
light above. This movement taken on the exhalation brings the head back and
aligns the crown with the tailbone. As the back of the neck lengthens without
dropping the chin, the prana of the sensory organs, which usually darts outward
to take in the world, now turns inward. This becomes an automatic pratyahara,
the withdrawal and integration of the senses.
With each outgoing breath, we check the downward gravitational pull (abhyasa)
by offering the spine upward like the trunk of a tree that grows toward the light.
The bottom of the thighs and the front of the tailbone are like the roots of the
tree, keeping their energetic connection to the earth. The brain cells become like
the leaves of the tree, sensitive to the tiniest breeze, while the trunk of the tree —
the spine — is strong, unmoving, and stable. This alignment brings us
effortlessly into the meditative seat … and perhaps into Dhyanasana, the pose of
meditation.
One day, while I was seated in Padmasana, Lotus Pose, Mr. Iyengar came over
and gently moved the side of his knee into my back, lifting the heart center. I
noticed that my head moved backward to a place where thoughts no longer
seemed to take form. He said, “When the heart becomes the extrovert, the mind
becomes the introvert.” As my heart lifted, my head was no longer moving
forward and stimulating the prefrontal cortex of the conscious thinking mind. As
my head and neck moved back, I felt more grounded, with a quiet energy in the
cerebellum at the base of the skull, an area yogis refer to as the seat of the
subconscious mind.
As the heart lifts and the neck lengthens, energy moves up the back of the head
to the crown and then down the front of the face, relaxing the skin of the
forehead from the hairline to the brows. This draws the prana of the eyes inward.
As the energy of the eyes draws back, prana moves slightly up and back toward
the pineal gland. This is a blissful joining point for maithuna, the mystic
marriage of the pituitary (the projective masculine energy) with the pineal (the
receptive feminine energy). Through this intercourse, Ajna, the forehead chakra,
has the potential to reveal the wisdom of the teacher within. Eventually, prana
leads to the opening gateway of Sahasrara, the thousand-petaled lotus of the
crown chakra. This is where experiential knowledge opens, the infinite
unfoldment of the brain cells, just as the lotus opens with the light of the rising
sun.
There is a special point at the crown of the head. When this point is balanced
over the tip of the tailbone, thoughts cannot take form, and we won’t need to
wrestle with our thoughts to quiet the mind. The mind comes automatically into
a thoughtless state of awareness, allowing what is already within us to reveal
itself.

Dharana
Dharana, or concentration, precedes meditation. During dharana the subject
focuses the mind on a single object. This object can be a symbol of inspiration,
for example, a yantra, a sunset, a beautiful flower, an uplifting piece of art, the
picture of a guru or teacher or role model who has qualities to aspire to. We can
focus on the breath or on a mantra. We may choose to focus on a deity
representing any of the world’s religions or, if agnostic or atheist, on an ideal,
such as the innocence of a child. We all seem to have faith in something greater
than ourselves.
Throughout the years, I was taught that if dharana is held for twelve seconds or
twelve breaths it would automatically stream into dhyana, or meditation, when
subject and object fuse as one.

Dhyana
Meditation (dhyana) has been described as oil being poured in an uninterrupted
stream from one vessel to another. During dhyana, there is no space or
interruption of the flow between subject and object.
From the time he was an infant, Prince Siddhartha was sheltered within the
palace walls. He lived a life surrounded by luxury, beauty, and youth. One day,
when he ventured out beyond the palace walls for the first time, he was shocked
to find that in his father’s kingdom, there was hunger, sickness, old age, and
death. In his dismay, he left the palace and his family on a quest for truth and the
meaning of life. He became a wandering mendicant, begging food from door to
door, living under the sun and stars. He sought teachers who taught him
austerities. He fasted and continued the severity of his practices, and still he
could not find the meaning and purpose of life.
After many years, his disciplines took their toll on his body and mind but to no
avail. In his anguish to find truth, he came to a tree (later named the Bodhi Tree)
and sat on the earth beneath it, saying to himself, “I will not move from here
until truth reveals itself.”
As soon as he took this vow, all the forces of Mara, the temptress of evil, tried to
move him from the earth and sway him from his resolve. “Get off my earth!” she
cried.
The prince replied, “Who is to say that this is your earth?”
Mara then brought forth all the forces of temptation. All the storms that arise
from the turbulence of the subconscious mind, the citta, whirled around the
prince as Mara’s armies of dark forces and demonic primordial forms testified
that this was her earth. “Now, who will testify on your behalf?” she asked.
Frail from his austerities, the prince said, “I call upon Mother Earth herself to
testify that I have a right to be here.” He then opened his palms to the sky and
pointed his fingers toward the earth, joining the index finger, the symbol of the
Atman (the individual soul) to the thumb, symbolic of Brahman (the Universal
Soul). Mara and her legions of dark forces became powerless and withdrew.
Sitting upon the earth, the prince at last found what he was looking for. He
became known as the Buddha, the enlightened one. Buddha is from bodh,
meaning “to know.” He transcended the trials and tribulations that appear upon
the spiritual path to realize truth and the meaning of existence. As all the
primordial, instinctual forces of his own nature rose from his subconscious
depths as well as from the collective mind, he was not shaken from his center.
He watched with dispassion as thousands of lifetimes sprang forth from the
storehouse of citta (subconscious mind) to be realized by the manas (conscious
mind). Free from attachment or aversion, he observed with dispassion, whatever
arose. For as it arose, it also passed away. Anicca, anicca — changing, changing.
In sitting, we observe whatever arises, including any pain of the lower body. If
we can sit like the Buddha, with dispassion, that pain dissolves away … until the
next sensation arises. We sit in the center of the pairs of opposites, not even
identifying pain or pleasure but merely sensations that arise and pass away. This
by itself is a powerful practice that can lead to self-revelation.
In the Vipassana tradition of meditation, we are asked to not move for one hour.
This practice, known as insight meditation, can lead to amazing revelations.
During Vipassana pains arise, stay for awhile, and then subside. The pains are
temptations to change positions, and I began to observe that when something is
uncomfortable, we want to fix it or stop it. But if we can come to the place of
observation without reaction, whatever arises will eventually pass away, and
then we see that everything — even the worst of our pains — is impermanent.
Thoughts too are impermanent; they rise and fall. Like the temptations of Mara,
they swirl around, absorbing the mind into their storms, taking us further away
from the discovery of Self.
When the body becomes still and unmoving, deeper recesses of the mind are
revealed and its oscillations move like waves, creating ripples of distraction. I
have found that even swallowing can be a distraction of the mind during
meditation. If the breath has too much friction, it too seems to create wavelike
ripples in the brain. I’ve experimented with refining the breath, shortening the
incoming and outgoing breath until they feed into one another. As the invisible
link between mind and body, the breath is a reflection of the wavelike
movements of the mind.
When I am able to find that place where I am not breathing but breath is, my
mind becomes still and whatever reveals itself as karma bubbles up to the
surface of the conscious mind. As we are taught in yoga, the invisible must
become visible before it can be eradicated or transformed.

Samadhi
If meditation (dhyana) can be held for twelve breaths or twelve seconds, it
automatically leads to the first stages of Samadhi. The term Samadhi is from
sam, meaning to “sum it up” or “bring it together” and adhi, which is to adhere
or to “stick to it.” In this state, one would be immersed and bonded in a state of
Oneness, no longer perceiving separative consciousness of body or mind. In this
state, it feels as though there is a fusion of consciousness that transcends this
world beyond the doing into a state of pure blissful being.
Samadhi, which some equate with enlightenment, seems far beyond one’s reach.
Over the years, however, I’ve found the first stage of Samadhi is not beyond
reach. This stage is accessible when following the prescribed practices of yoga.
We have only to create a space for the mind — through refining the breath and
aligning to the earth and heavens — and we will create space for grace to enter
in. In asana, we create the space where meditation can occur. We cannot make
meditation or Samadhi happen through personal will. When the time is right and
when we sit erect with an attitude of self-offering, we can find that still seed
point or bindu within the asana, and it is surprising what may arise out of the
unseen depths of mind.
One of my teachers, Dr. Haridas Chaudhuri, founder of the California Institute
for Integral Studies, was a close disciple of Sri Aurobindo Gosh. Dr. Chaudhuri
would ask students to sit and open the heart and crown of the head like a chalice
to invite direct revelation of the Divine into one’s being. He called meditation an
act of self-offering, referring to Sri Aurobindo, who said the ascent (of
consciousness) is followed by the descent (of Divine consciousness). Instead of
creating personal effort or trying to awaken kundalini, he suggested that inviting
grace would in turn gently awaken that bio-or psycho-nuclear force to reunite
with the Creator.
This first stage is known as Savikalpa Samadhi or sabija. Sa means “with,” kalpa
means “time,” and bija means “seed.” Thus, in this beginning stage, Samadhi
still has a seed in this dimension of time.
In this stage of Samadhi, the seeds of the kleshas are not fully scorched. In
Savikalpa Samadhi there is form, meaning that we can still be reborn upon the
earth plane when our celestial merits run out. But if this stage of Samadhi is held
for twelve seconds, and the breath is in Kevala Kumbhaka (not held through
force or will), then we may merge into the higher stages of Samadhi, known as
Nirbija (without seed) and Nirvikalpa (beyond time), beyond the prakriti or
nature of this world or the celestial temptations of the next. These stages of
Samadhi are considered more desirable because when the yogi transcends time,
space, and causation, he or she is not be subject to rebirth, and consciousness is
once more absorbed into the Source of all creation.
If Savikalpa Samadhi is held for twelve seconds, the fusion of the mind would
organically flow into the higher or more expanded states of Samadhi. We cannot
say “if it is held for twelve breaths” because in the first stages of Samadhi, the
prana of the in-breath and the prana of the out-breath merge into one. When this
happens, it feels as if the breath has stopped; we are not breathing, but breath is.
This state is what all asanas and pranayamas are meant to bring us to, kaivalya
kumbhaka, “the retention of that which is isolated and absolutely pure.” This
retention of the breath brings about a retention in the waves of the mind or, as
Patanjali says in Sutra 1.2, Yogas Citta Vritti Nirodhah.

Meditation in Asana
Over the years, I’ve known several teachers who felt that the practice of asana
and pranayama was not an end in itself, but was only a means to curb the
restlessness of the body and help quiet the mind so one could sit for meditation.
However, as I deepened my practice, I discovered that dhyana or meditation is
not just a sitting pose but can be found in the center of all yoga asanas.
In asana, it is possible to shift from concentration (dharana), where subject and
object are still separate, into meditation (dhyana), where the two become one. To
practice concentration within a pose, one part of the body becomes the subject
and the other the object. If we keep the mind focused on the breath and continue
the self-offering of one part to the other while in the pose, the energy of these
two parts can actually feel fused into One.
When Mr. Iyengar was staying in my home in California, he would stand on his
head for one hour every morning before other practices. Once, I naively asked if
he meditated. My question must have sounded impertinent, for he replied
brusquely, “My dear lady, I have been standing on my head for an hour. What do
you think I was doing?”
A year later, I traveled with Mr. Iyengar from Pune to Bombay, where he was
teaching a weekly public class for his Indian students. There was a young boy in
the class who attended with his family. Mr. Iyengar directed us into Kurmasana,
Tortoise Pose. As we completed this and went onto other yoga postures, I
noticed that the boy, who was next to me, did not move. He was still in Tortoise
Pose. Seeing my puzzled look, Mr. Iyengar rushed over and slid the boy’s small
body under a table, whispering, “Don’t disturb him. He’s in Samadhi.” It was in
that moment I realized that meditation is not just found in a crosslegged sitting
pose, but lies within the center of every asana … if we allow the consciousness
to go deep enough.
There are eighty-four basic asanas with infinite variations on each. According to
classical yoga traditions, however, they are all meant to bring us to one pose —
Dhyanasana, the pose of meditation. In the Yoga Sutras, Patanjali offers only
three sutras on asana. The first is Sutra 2.46 Sthira sukham asanam, which many
commentators have translated as “Take any comfortable pose” or “motionless
and agreeable form.” Some commentators go on to describe crosslegged
positions for meditation, with a straight spine and the breast, neck, and head kept
erect. My Sanskrit teacher, however, interpreted this sutra as “Take any pose and
be comfortable.” With this translation, the objective is to find the center and
stillness of the seated pose in every pose.
The next sutra on asana is a very beautiful one, giving us a guide into the inner
sanctum of yoga postures: “By relaxation of effort and meditation on the
Infinite, asana is perfected.” Fixing the mind on the infinite, or on the
surrounding void, also develops perfection of asana. The practice of keeping the
body always at rest and effortless not only helps us progress in asana but also
helps us to find the meditative state within the pose. As one sutra commentary
affirms: “My body has become like a void dissolving itself into infinite space
and I am the wide expanse of the sky.”
When the crown of the head is aligned with the base of the spine, the polarities
of the body align with the polarities of the earth, and whatever is to be will
reveal itself.

Mudras
It should be mentioned in sitting poses that there is a thin line between sleep and
Samadhi (the superconscious state of mind). Perhaps this is why ancients
referred to the poses as mudras. The verb mu means “form,” and dra is from
drav, meaning “to flow.” In mudra, one flows with form. Asanas are mudras
where the mind expresses itself through the body. Whether via a hand position or
yoga pose, emotional and mental states reveal themselves through the body.
If we take a sitting position with the promise of meditation but consciousness
drifts away from the awareness of the moment, the citta or “mind stuff”
withdraws itself from the central nervous system. The heart drops, the head
droops forward, and the spine no longer holds itself erect — this would be
considered a state of sleep. Even the chosen mudra of the hand may lose its
alertness, revealing that the mind is drifting into sleep rather than experiencing
the heightened and expanded states of awareness of dhyana or Samadhi.

Hand Mudras
In the meditative seated postures, the palms of the hands are usually turned
upward in order to open the heart center as well as to receive prana from the
pathways of the heavens into the heart. The cin mudra or blessing mudra is
practiced with the back of the hand resting on the knee, palms turned upward.
The three fingers are extended toward the earth as the thumb and index finger
touch, closing the circuit of prana that would otherwise escape from the body
through the fingertips. Prana is recycled back into the systems of the body when
the thumb, symbolic of the universal or Brahman, and the index finger,
representing the Atman, the individual soul, are joined together.
Some practitioners recommend bringing the index finger downward toward the
first knuckle of the thumb as a gesture of humility, showing that the individual is
not equal to the universal. Other teachers stress joining the tips of the thumb and
forefinger, representing the equal joining of the Atman and Brahman, the
essence of Classical Yoga.
A very simple hand position for centering is to rest the left hand on top of the
right, resting them both in the center of the lap. The left hand represents the left
side of the body and the parasympathetic nervous system, which correlates to ida
nadi on the subtle level. The left side of the body is associated with the right
brain hemisphere, which receives knowledge holographically; this is desirable in
the meditation seat. Bilateral integration is important in all yoga practices. When
we are engaged in linear left brain activity throughout the day, it is helpful
during sitting for meditation that we engage the right brain to create more
balance in practice as well as in life.

Assisting Seated Poses

In aligning any sitting pose, the most important thing to remember is that the
knees should always be a little lower than the pelvic rim. To achieve this, many
of us will need to elevate the buttocks by sitting on the edge of a folded blanket
or firm cushion. The height needed will vary according to an individual’s hip
flexibility. Sitting on a blanket or cushion this way relaxes and elevates the
spine, keeping it erect and preventing compression within the areas of the pelvic
and abdominal organs. This also prevents anterior compression of the lumbar
spine and helps to bring the head, neck, breast, and hips into a perpendicular
alignment to the earth. Aligning the head over the base of the spine helps the
mind to center itself between past and future, bringing it into the present
moment, experiencing the “power of now.” The essence of any sitting pose is to
keep the spine as erect in its natural alignment as possible.
Once the pose is established, a partner or teacher can gently press down on the
upper thighs to help lengthen the torso. Standing behind the student, the partner
can move the side of his or her knee into the student’s spine while holding the
shoulders down. Then the partner can cup her fingers under base of the student’s
skull and draw the head upward, lengthening the neck as the shoulders are
encouraged to relax downward. This aligns the head, neck, breast, and base of
the spine, helping to create a thoughtless state of awareness.
SUKHĀSANA
Easy Pose

Many students use a blanket or a mudrā in Sukhāsana.

Sukha is like sugar. It means “sweet,” “pleasant,” or “comfortable.” It also
means going along with that which is pleasant or easy. In this case, it is a natural
cross-legged position with the feet relaxed and resting under the backs of the
thighs. People with stiff hips can practice Sukhāsana. This is not a traditional
yoga pose because people who didn’t have furniture many thousands of years
ago had flexible hips.
Less flexible students can use a chair or, if using the floor, can raise the pelvis by
sitting on a folded blanket. Adjust the blanket to the height where the knees are
slightly lower than the pelvic rim. This elevates the spine and allows pelvic
rotation, which relaxes the inner organs and preserves the natural curvature of
the lumbar spine. When the spine curves naturally, the head is aligned over the
base of the spine.
If there is pain on the inner knee(s), you can place additional blankets or pillows
underneath the knees and thighs for support until the adductor muscles of the
inner thighs can relax and release. There are a great many “trust issues” within
these areas. Keep relaxing from the sides of the pubic bone to the inner knees,
opening as if to the universal light above, below, and within your Being.
SAMĀSANA
Balanced Pose

In Samasana, the student balances equally on the right and left buttocks,
symbolizing the union of the poles of opposites.
The word sama means “the same” or “equal.” In this pose, sama refers to both
sides being the same or equal to one another. It is the pose of “sameness.” In this
sitting pose one heel is aligned in front of the other and both heels are in
alignment with the pubic bone. The feet, of course, are relaxed. The heel of one
foot presses into the pubic bone, and the other heel is directly in front of it.
Samāsana creates a feeling of openness and helps to lengthen the adductor
muscles. It is a posture of equanimity and equality. In Samāsana, because we’re
balanced equally on the right and left buttocks, we can balance the left and right
brain, and the eros and logos respectively. On a spiritual level, this pose
symbolizes the unification of the poles of opposites.
In Samāsana we create equanimity between the polarities by balancing the right
and left sides of the spine. This equalizes the autonomic nerves that run on the
outside of the spine; the sympathetic on the right and the parasympathetic on the
left. As one (the sympathetic division) constricts and heats and the other (the
parasympathetic division) dilates and cools, the autonomic nervous system has
been equated with Ha (the Sun or masculine) and Tha (the moon or feminine).
Hatha Yoga is a way of balancing these two opposites within our own being.
Samāsana creates more balance than other sitting poses. If the weight is just in
front of the buttock bones with equal pressure on right and left thighs, the brain
hemispheres as well as the autonomic nervous system can come into alignment.
This balance can even be felt in the way the breath equally flows through right
and left nostrils. When this equality happens, we may feel a vibrational
awakening of the bio-or psycho-nuclear energy that expands consciousness into
the remembrance of our own Divinity.
When we sit in Samāsana, we create a triangle of energy. The head is at the apex
and the triangle moves out to the knees. It is possible to feel the energy that goes
from the lines of the knees to the hemispheres of the brain. It is as if we are
seated in the triangular center of a yantra with unwavering equilibrium; we are
connected to the base, as well to the dynamic upward movement that is lifting
consciousness toward the Universal.
In contrast to Lotus Pose (Padmāsana), Samāsana requires more vigilance to
keep the spine erect. If the weight of the hips is balanced just in front of the
buttock bones and the lumbar spine is lengthened, the heart lifts. It is this lift that
brings the head back into a meditative alignment where thoughts cannot take
form. As Mr. Iyengar said, “When the heart becomes the extrovert, the brain and
mind becomes the introvert.
ĀSANA II SEQUENCE
Siṃhāsana
Eka Pāda Adho Mukha Śvānāsana
Sālamba Śīrṣāsana
Ardha Candrāsana
Vīrabhadrāsana I
Vīrabhadrāsana III
Prasārita Pādottānāsana
Ūrdhva Prasārita Pādāsana
Gomukhāsana
Eka Pāda Sālamba Sarvāṅgāsana
Halāsana
Dhanurāsana
Eka Pāda Rājakapotāsana
Marīcyāsana II
Matsyendrāsana
Parivṛtta Jānu Śīrṣāsana
Vīrāsana
Supta Vīrāsana
Triang Mukhaikapāda Paścimottānāsana
Krauñcāsana
Ūrdhva Mukha Paścimottānāsana
Baddha Koṇāsana
Upaviṣṭha Koṇāsana
Siddhāsana
Padmāsana
Śavāsana, Intermediate
SIṂHĀSANA
Lion Pose
Si��ha is a lion, and this āsana can be associated with Narasiṁha, the lion
man who was Viṣṇu’s fourth incarnation. Viṣṇu took the form of Narasiṁha to
subdue a demon that threatened to destroy the Universe. This half-human and
half-animal form is symbolic of our own evolutionary rise above the primordial
instincts that bind our consciousness to third-dimensional limitations.

Philosophical Introduction
Today, we call the lion the King of the Jungle. In Hindu mythology, the lion was
a majestic vehicle for the great goddess Durgā, who was born from the gifts of
the Lords of the Universe. The gods were not strong enough to slay a powerful
demon, so they combined their gifts of power and light to create a magnificent,
radiant, and invincible goddess. Durgā was created for the intended purpose of
going into battle to slay the unvanquished demon. (All the battles in Hindu
mythology are fought to subdue the demoniac urge of ego, which sees only
separation and not unification.)
The lion depicts Durgā’s power, grace, and courage. Durgā, like the lion, was
invincible. Some stories say that Durgā was so powerful that she did not need to
enter into battle with the universal demon, who was symbolic of the collective
ego of human kind. Instead, she sent forth a ferocious smaller form of herself
from her third eye. Durgā supplied the energy and “held the space” (as we would
say today) while Kālī destroyed and vanquished the foe.
Kālī’s form is enough to frighten anyone, even a demon. Her unbound hair and
wild eyes symbolize that she has no boundaries or restraints. Her eyes turn up
into her head, and her tongue is thrust fully out of her mouth, which is red from
the blood of her enemies. She drinks their blood and wears their skulls like a
garland around her neck. In yoga, the head represents the ego. When an aspect of
the ego arises, Kālī cuts off its head and takes it upon herself so that its remnants
do not fall and reseed to one day rise again. She is the all-compassionate mother
because she lifts the burden of suffering by taking the pain onto herself. All of
humankind is considered to be her child.
What does this have to do with Siṃhāsana? Kālī’s mudra, tongue extended with
eyes wildly rolling up into the head, is the position we take in Lion Pose. This
pose was assumed by warriors in various cultures as a scare tactic to frighten and
in turn weaken the enemy.
 Simhasana, Lion’s Pose, with inspiration from Lionheart the Temple Cat.
New Zealand’s Maori warriors would thrust out their tongue, roll their eyes into
their head, and even beat their chests when approaching the enemy in battle.
Ferocious-looking Fu Dogs were placed at the gate of a Chinese temple or home
to frighten away all evil spirits. Beloved Gaṇeśa, with his elephant head and
boy’s body, is also placed at the entrance of the home so that contractive forces
cannot enter into the home. In subtle anatomy, Gaṇeśa guards the root cakra so
that as aspirants embark upon a spiritual path, they will not be beset by their own
primordial egoic natures, which hinder the unfoldment of expanded
consciousness.
In Siṃhāsana, we see Kālī as a warrior who does not cower away from a battle
and at the same time does not create it. When she sees injustice, she wants
immediate retribution. She steps into a situation and takes on the suffering, pain,
and grief of another because she can’t bear to see others suffer. The Kālī nature
passionately takes on a cause or another person’s challenges as if it were her
own. This very quality may exist in a family member, a friend, or within
ourselves. Kālī is like mother lioness that will do anything to protect her
offspring.
On the other hand, if we consider Siṃhāsana in the context of Durgā as the
third-eye source for Kālī, we might recognize the Durgā energy as the “space
holder.” Durgā does not rush in to resolve a conflict but holds the bigger picture.
She does not try to “fix it” as Kālī would do. Instead, Durgā might hold all
parties in compassion and understanding so they may find their own answers.
Durgā embodies the quiet compassion that the Dali Lama described as an
equation: Love + Detachment = Compassion. Durgā is said to represent the
ultimate in compassion because there are times we cannot prevent our children
(all of humankind) from falling and hurting themselves. Instead of rushing in to
help, like Kālī, Durgā holds them in her heart and consciousness, serving as the
onlooker who sends a mantle of protection and love as her children learn life’s
lessons for themselves.
As Durgā, we might feel the suffering of another, but not take it on. Far from
being indifferent, if we emulate this aspect of Durgā, we would feel the suffering
of all humanity from a universal as well as individual perspective. Durgā gives
the space for others to learn what they must and holds the space and love for all
parties so they may draw upon their own inner resources to create a living and
dynamic transformation.

Guidance
1. Begin by kneeling with the knees hip distance apart. Turn the toes under so
the weight of the buttock rests on the heels and creates pressure across the
balls of the feet (which in reflexology correspond to the chest, heart and
lungs). Turning the palms down, place the heels of the palms on the upper
knees. Stretch from the roots of the fingers to the tips, expanding the webs
between the fingers, creating as much space as possible.
2. Inhaling, breathe across the back.
3. Exhaling, elongate the spine and bring it into the front of the body, lifting the
chest.
4. Inhale into the back.
5. Exhaling, stick out the tongue as though you are trying to touch the chin with
its tip. The tongue relates to the five lower cakras, from the tip (which relates
to the root cakra) to the root (which relates to the throat cakra). This muscular
extension helps to quiet the acidity of the mind that precedes the buildup of a
cold or influenza.
6. Inhale across the back.
7. Exhaling, roll the eyes upward, directing your at the front crown of the head.
With the tongue thrust out, begin to roar like a lion. Allow the sound to
emanate on each exhalation.
8. On the inhalations, do nothing; there is no sound.
9. On the exhalations, produce the roaring sound, expressing the power of the
lion.
10. When ready, slowly relax the tongue, eyes, hands, and feet.
11. Stretch the legs out and lie down, resting in Śavāsana and allowing the body
 to receive the benefit of the pose. This pose is far more intense and has more
lasting effects than we may realize. It is a good pose to do once a day or once
every other day, especially during cold or flu season.
Assist: If it is difficult to sit on your haunches like the lion, place a folded
blanket between the buttocks and heels to help alleviate pressure on the knees
and feet. If it is too painful to turn the toes under, simply sit in Vīrāsana or even
on a chair. Although it is more effective to practice Siṃhāsana with the feet and
toes engaged, the pose can be practiced in any comfortable sitting position.

Psychophysiological Benefits
Siṃhāsana opens the gates of the lymphatic system, stimulating drainage of the
tonsils, which act to contain and protect the spinal cord from any infections. The
Lion Pose also activates the adrenal glands, which dry out the mucus
membranes, bringing the system into balance. This effect is especially helpful
for those with what ayurveda considers a kapha imbalance. When the eyes roll
upward, this stimulates the thalamus, hypothalamus, and pituitary glands, which
in turn balance the entire endocrine system. The hyperextension of the tongue
can eliminate toxins in the tonsils and stimulate the thyroid gland at the base of
the throat, which speeds up metabolism, acting with the adrenals to dry
excessive mucus production throughout the body.
Practicing Lion Pose clears the head when one feels foggy or confused. The
movements of Siṃhāsana, especially of the tongue and eyes, have the effect of
clearing breathing passages and airways. Sinus conditions may be alleviated, as
practicing Siṃhāsana is beneficial to the passages of the ears and the frontal and
maxillary sinuses.
In esoteric anatomy, the fingers and toes relate to the five prāṇas and
corresponding five lower cakras. In reflexology, the fingers and toes relate to the
sensory organs of ears, eyes, nose, and throat. In Chinese medicine, the
meridians from the big toe to the little toe relate to the liver, stomach,
gallbladder, and kidneys. The extreme extension of Siṃhāsana creates pressure
upon the reflexes and accupoints, helping to relieve congestion by stimulating
the pelvic plexus and the intestinal track. Stimulating these digestive organs help
us to release any excessive undigested matter, including sensory overload.
Siṃhāsana also opens and stimulates key lymphatic points to keep the lymph
fluids moving, which also help us process all that we are taking in physically,
mentally, and emotionally. It is also said to release negativity.
Siṃhāsana invokes the presence of its rider, the aspect of Divine Śakti known as
Durgā. She is the protector in the face of negative and contractive forces. Where
Durgā is present, it is said, negativity dare not go. We no longer have to fight the
battles in life, because we become unattached to a result and feel compassion for
every living being. With the rider of the lion, we can become inwardly
victorious, even in times that may look like defeat. Siṃhāsana clears the
channels of confusion and forgetfulness so that the Divine light can stream forth.
EKA PĀDA ADHO MUKHA ŚVĀNĀSANA
One-Legged Downward-Facing Dog Pose
Eka means “one.” Pāda is “piece,” “part,” or “chapter.” Pāda also refers to a leg,
limb, or foot. Adho is “downward.” Mukha means “face,” and śvāna is “dog.”
The Sanskrit meaning tells us what we are supposed to do in the pose.

Philosophical Introduction
One of the greatest revelations is that love is the greatest power in the Universe.
So much about love can be learned from dogs, who exhibit unconditional love to
those who care for them. We can’t call ourselves their masters or even their
owners, for they are our teachers. Dogs teach through their presence and the love
that they give freely and unconditionally.
The English word for canine is God spelled backward. In our country and other
cultures of the world, there is a growing trend to treat pets as members of the
family, and even at times like gods. How can we not? They give us love when
we may feel unloved. They are there for us when we feel alone. They want to
lick away the tears of sorrow and share in the tears of joy. They stay present at
the deathbed of a loved one, and they act as silent confessors, listening to our
rambling prayers without judgment and with the shining eyes of love. We are
blessed that they cross life’s path for the time they are meant to be with us.
My little “grand-dog” Obsidian will sweep into Adho Mukha Śvānāsana
whenever someone says “Downward-Facing Dog.” His back makes a beautiful
crescent moon as his tail reaches for the stars. His heart center opens wide, for
he doesn’t seem to harbor any restrictions, resistance, or hardened corners of
unresolved emotions in its chambers. He doesn’t compress his neck by trying to
bring his head up but humbles his head toward the earth, sometimes even
touching his crown to the ground as if in prostration or prayer.
What is it that dogs can teach us about this variation on Downward-Facing Dog
Pose? When it’s time for Obsidian’s walks, he struts along the red dirt paths
around Sedona and anoints bushes and rocks when lifting his back leg. As his
leg lifts, I’ve noticed that he does not keep the hips even but lifts one hip higher
than the other, which allows for opening and stretching the belly of this upper
side. His body weight tilts to the other side until he’s finished and then the leg
returns to earth.
In the basic Downward-Facing Dog position, we offer our tailbone to the
heavens and the crown of the head to the earth. The base of the pole of the spine,
which lies in darkness when we are upright, has a chance to lift to the light and
receive the emanations of heaven through the base cakra. The movement of the
spine allows for a non-muscular lift in the pelvic and solar plexus areas, creating
a natural, organic, and effortless mūla bandha and uḍḍiyāna bandha. The navel
is passive and elongated, allowing the prāṇa to flow freely to the heart center.
We see this openness of heart not only in the way the dog moves its body when
stretching, but also in its unconditionally loving nature.

In Eka Pāda Adho Mukha Śvānāsana, we honor the polarities of earth and
heaven.
I think there are times when it is not enough to lift the tailbone to the heavens
and humble the head, the symbol of ego, to the earth in Adho Mukha Śvānāsana.
At these times, my heart fills with so much love and gratitude for all aspects of
creation that I want to offer more of myself to the light of the Divine. The way to
express this is to expand the prayerful nature of the basic pose by lifting one leg
and stretching into the sky as far as consciousness can go, coming into Eka Pāda
Adho Mukha Śvānāsana. In this one-legged variation of Downward-Facing Dog,
we again honor the polarities of earth and heaven through the physical and
energetic body. The yantra of this variation adds a diagonal line to the triangular
base of the torso and the bottom leg. This creates even more dynamism for
invoking the Universal Śakti or energy into our Being. At times, it is possible to
feel the sub-cakra of the upper foot come alive, as if thanking you for fulfilling
the longing for light.
There is so much to learn from the dog, not just in “doing” this pose but as way
of being in life. Can we give as freely as we are given to? Can we listen as
deeply as we are listened to? Can we be compassionate when another is
suffering and dry their tears with our own? Dogs teach us to keep our hearts
open in the remembrance that love is the greatest power in the Universe.

Guidance
1. Begin in Mārjāryāsana (the cat pose). Inhale, bringing the breath into the
back, rounding as much possible.
2. Exhale and bring the spine in like a backbend, straightening the knees and
lifting the tailbone.
3. Inhale into the back from the shoulders to the hips, rounding with the breath.
4. Exhale as the spine comes in like a backbend. Raise the heel bone and come
as high to the ball of the foot as possible. The heel is the extension of the
tailbone.
5. Inhale, bringing the breath into the back while keeping the heel bone up to tilt
the pelvic rim forward.
6. Exhale and, without dropping the tailbone, allow the heel of the standing foot
to come toward (not to) the floor.
7. Inhale and allow the breath to round the back, still preserving the lift of the
tailbone.

To prepare for the full pose, open the hips by bending the knee while keeping the
naval passive.
8. Exhale and bend the knee of the upraised leg, opening that side of the pelvis
and torso, keeping the navel passive. Equalize the weight between the right
and left hands.
9. Inhaling, round the back with the breath.
10. Exhale and straighten the knee of the upper leg.
Offer the sole of the foot to the heaven while maintaining the elongation of the
upper side of the torso.
11. Inhale and pause. Relax as much as possible as you take the breath into the
back.
12. Exhale; see if you can create a little more space within the pelvic organs and
the digestive organs by elongating the back leg.
13. Inhale into the back body from shoulders to hips.
14. Exhaling, rotate the upper thigh internally and lift up out of the bottom hip,
keeping the lift of the tailbone. Equalize the weight and pressure of both hands
and arms. Biceps and triceps are activated equally to stabilize the weight upon
the bones of the arms.
15. Inhaling, bring the breath into the back.
16. Exhale and offer the foot to the heavens as the crown of the head bows to the
earth.
17. When you are ready to come out of the pose, bend the upper knee on an
exhalation, keeping the internal space of the upper side of the torso as you
lower the leg back to the floor.
18. You can rest and breathe in Child’s Pose before taking Eka Pāda Adho
Mukha Śvānāsana to the opposite side.
Note: In Eka Pāda Adho Mukha Śvānāsana, it is important to take time to open
the upper side of the torso while the knee is bent. If you keep the knee bent (as a
dog does), you have a wonderful opportunity to create space within the pelvic
and digestive organs and open the heart center so the love that has always been
there can shine forth. To create this space, we breathe while moving into the
pose, while staying in the pose, and when coming out of the pose. When the
torso opens, see if the upper leg can straighten without closing the space. Keep
the navel passive and on an exhalation lift up out of the bottom hip as the upper
thigh rotates internally. This brings the hips level to one another. However, it is
important not to try to bring the hips level if the space that was created begins to
close.
Working with a partner or using the support of a wall helps preserve the opening
as you level the hips.
Assist: A partner or teacher can stand facing the student’s back, holding the tops
of the shoulders and lifting them, which takes pressure off the arms and helps the
weight of the body to move backward toward the heels rather than forward onto
the finger tips. Once you have established the opening of the side of the torso of
the upper leg, your partner can step behind you so that you can place your
upraised leg onto his or her shoulders. At the same time, he or she can lift the
lower hip to give evenness and stability to the pelvis.

Psychophysiological Benefits
Since bones grow along the line of stress, in this pose we increase the bone
density of the arms and legs. The natural lift of the mūla bandha and uḍḍiyāna
bandha (see page 255) tones the inner core muscles of the torso. This not only
aids in digestion by massaging the small and large intestines but also helps
prevent pelvic prolapse. For women in particular, Eka Pāda Adho Mukha
Śvānāsana is an excellent āsana for preventing prolapse of the reproductive
organs.
The inversion frees neck tension that restricts the circulatory currents and the
flow of the cerebral spinal fluid. The sacrum acts as a pump for the cerebral
spinal fluid to rise against the gravitational pull. Bringing the leg up activates
this flow and, if the neck is relaxed and not constricted, energy can reach the
brain more easily. The increased energy from the inversion is excellent for
preserving the nerve impulses that flow between the spinal cord and brain.
With the hands spread wide and the middle finger facing straight ahead,
stretching the thumbs toward one another (as if spanning an octave on the piano)
will aid carpel tunnel syndrome. This is excellent for the wrists, alleviating the
repetitive strain injury so common from using computer keyboards.
Psychologically, Eka Pāda Adho Mukha Śvānāsana gives us greater trust in our
own strength and balance. It humbles the snares of ego that can cause future
pain. When we offer the leg to the heavens, extending and giving from that small
area of our heel and foot, it is a reminder that there is a power greater than one’s
self.
If you have dogs at home, it’s fun to practice this pose with them. Their
perfection in this āsana may cause you to feel inadequate, but their presence
helps you bask in the love of a heart that is open and unconditionally giving.
SĀLAMBA ŚĪRṢĀSANA
Supported Headstand
Śirṣ means head. Ṣa is “with,” and lamba means “support.” This is the
headstand with the support of the triangular base of the arms.

Philosophical Introduction
When my youngest child was born, her nine-year-old sister stood at her side and
whispered into her tiny ear, “Tell me what it’s like. It’s been so long that I have
forgotten.”
Since then, whenever practicing this pose, I think of the infant whose pulse can
be seen beneath the frontal fontanelle, the “soft spot” covered by membrane until
the skull bones join at about two or more years of age. This is the area of the
skull that we focus on when we practice the headstand. I have always wondered
if the closing and hardening of the skull bones relates to the ego becoming more
aware of itself.
One of the many reasons we practice Śīrṣāsana is to humble the ego,
transforming it from its individuated nature into a unified field of consciousness.
Perhaps this pose gives us an opening to return to that egoless infant state that is
beyond the separative consciousness, bringing back the remembrance of that
which the true Self has never forgotten ... that it is already one with the universal
source.
In yoga, the ego is said to be the part of the human mind that fosters separation.
It is the part of consciousness that seems to have a need to defend, compete, and
project criticisms onto others. It is the part that creates borders and boundaries
that separate nations, states, and people. The head symbolizes the ego. Wherever
our head goes is where we think “we” are going. In inverted āsanas, when one
humbles the ego to the altar of the earth and raises the feet, the symbol of
humility, as an offering to the heavens, this new spatial orientation may at first
confuse the ego.
 On an energetic level, the headstand opens the crown cakra.
On an energetic level, the headstand (often called the King of Āsana) opens the
crown cakra or Sahasrāra, the thousand-petalled lotus. The crown of the head is
considered to be the gateway of Brahmā, the creator, and when the crown cakra
opens, it unfolds like lotus petals, revealing a unified field of consciousness. As
the prāṇa rises from the sacral and coccygeal plexuses through the pathways of
the cakras, the lotus within the head, whose petals were dropping downwards,
are given new life and bloom upwards. Like the earthly lotus that unfolds with
the light of the rising sun, the petals of the Sahasrāra unfold with the dawning of
the Divine inner light. In this state there is no separation, only the remembrance
of our Oneness with the Divine source of all creation.
The center of the crown of the head is said to be śivaloka, the mystical dwelling
place of the Divine Union between Śiva and Śakti, which is the Supreme Yoga.
Śiva and Śakti unite when Kuṇḍalinī awakens from her serpentine sleep and
rises up the energetic channel of the spine. Kuṇḍalinī is the bio-or psycho-
nuclear energy that dwells in the sacrum (which looks like the downward facing
head of a serpent). By inverting the prāṇas and creating a pole shift of the spinal
subtle nerve currents, the headstand helps awaken this dormant energy, which
turns upward and flows up the spine, bringing clarity and light to the highest
centers within the brain and in turn, the mind.
A more esoteric element of the headstand is that it stimulates the solar entrance
of the crown cakra, known as the body’s sun or sūrya dvara, which means “to
fill with the sun god Surya.” The heart is said to be the point of contact between
the soul and the body. The current that flows from the heart to the brain is
known as suṣumnā. It cannot be found in the physical body and can only be
discovered through spiritual practices such as meditation, prāṇāyāma, and āsana.
In the yoga sutras (III:27), Patañjali says, “By practicing Saṁyama
[concentration, meditation, and samādhi] on the sun, the point in the body
known as the solar entrance, knowledge of the cosmic region is acquired.”
Śīrṣāsana clears the nāḍīs, or subtle nerve channels, for the dawning of the
effulgent light. It is said that that the body has 72,000 nāḍīs, the channels in
which prāṇa flows. The nāḍīs cannot be seen by the physical eye, but they are
the currents of prāṇa or energy — the Śakti that gives life. Of these, l08 are
important because they radiate out from the heart center in many directions. One
such ray is the suṣumnā, which rises to the brain and has the ability to open
Sahasrāra (the crown cakra), the thousand-petalled lotus. This is the solar region
that can reveal the secrets of the cosmos. Suṣumnā is also the name for the
central canal of the spinal cord.
Śīrṣāsana not only puts pressure on the sagittal and coronal sutures of the skull
to soften the fontanelle but in turn, can lift and open the heart cakra so that the
rays of effulgent light reveal the solar entrance. It is believed that focusing on
this effulgent light that passes between the heart and brain, the knowledge of the
entire Universe is revealed.
The yantra of headstand is twofold. The body forms a straight line, perpendicular
to the earth. According to the laws of physics, a straight line taken into infinity
becomes a circle. The arms form a triangle, one of the strongest bases in
existence. As the back of the head is placed in the apex of the triangle, the
energy created unites the pairs of opposites into a unified field of consciousness.
The crown of the head in the center of this triangle is like the bindu, the seed out
of which all creation flows.

Guidance
1. Begin in Mārjāryāsana, facing a wall. Bend the elbows, placing the forearms
on the floor and clasping the hands, joining the roots of the fingers firmly
together while relaxing the tips of the fingers. Place the hands one or two
inches away from the wall with the elbows shoulder width apart. Grow down
 through the inner elbow and the bottom wrist bone.
2. Inhale, do nothing.
3. Exhale and straighten the knees, bringing the buttocks up in a modified Adho
Mukha Śvānāsana, forming a triangular apex with the tailbone.
4. Inhale and wait, observing the breath while relaxing the neck.
5. Exhaling, keep the neck relaxed as you begin to walk toward the wall.
6. Inhale into the back and pause. Do nothing as the breath comes in.
7. Exhale and bring the spine into the front body like a backbend while
continuing to step toward the wall.
8. Inhale and pause. Do nothing while breathing into the back.

Placing the head into the apex of the triangle of the hands energetically unites
the pair of opposites into a unified of consciousness.
9. Exhale and bring the spine in like a backbend, moving the armpits toward the
ankles or shins as you walk a little closer to the wall.
10. Inhale and observe.
11. Exhale, lifting the shoulders and placing the top of head on the floor. (The
contact point is not at the very crown, but a little closer to the forehead.)
12. Inhale and elongate the neck, creating space between the tops of the
shoulders and the ears.
13. Exhale and lift the tailbone, coming onto the tops of the toes and bringing the
spine in like a backbend.
14. Inhaling, feel a new spatial awareness being established.
15. Exhaling, bring one leg up to the wall and then let its extension lift the other
leg.
16. Inhale and do nothing.
17. Exhale and move the thoracic spine in like a backbend, then elongate the
lumbar spine by extending through the heels and the Achilles tendon. Then,
without shortening the backs of the legs, offer the feet from the base of the big
toes to the heavens.
18. Inhaling, maintain the elongation of the spine.
19. Exhaling, grow down through the forearms, the inner elbows, and bottom
wrist bones to grow up through the spine, the legs, and the feet. Take care not
to arch the lumbar spine as you continue to grow down in order to rise up
through the backs of the legs. Make the backs of the knees as firm as the wall.
20. On the inhalations, do not take any adjustments but enjoy where you are.
21. On the exhalations, equalize the pressure between the forearms and head. If
there is any neck compression, put more pressure on the forearms than on the
head.
22. If the breath catches or becomes erratic, it is time for you to gently lower out
of the pose the same way you came into it, bringing one leg down at a time.
(Bringing both legs down puts more pressure on the neck and is a more
advanced variation.)
23. When both feet touch the ground, gently lower into Child’s Pose (Bālāsana),
stretching the arms out above the head. Stretch from the kidneys or sides of
the lumbar spine as the tailbone moves toward the feet. Stay in Child’s Pose
until the breath normalizes and becomes long and deep.
Note: Elongating the lumbar spine is important for preventing any compression
in Śīrṣāsana. Take any adjustments on the exhalation. On the inhalation, stop the
movements and allow the breath to renew and regenerate. If you can’t keep the
breath rhythmic, calm, and deep in the pose, take more time between poses to
stabilize the breath once more. This in turn helps to stabilize the vṛttis or thought
waves of the mind.
Assists: During the preparatory stages of Śīrṣāsana, a partner or teacher can sit
on the edge of a chair facing the practitioner as he or she takes arm and hand
position for Headstand. The partner supports and lifts the shoulders as the
practitioner raises the hips into the variation of Downward-Facing Dog Pose
sometimes referred to as Dolphin Pose. The head is not yet touching the earth as
the shoulders are lifted. As the student walks in, the partner keeps lifting the
shoulders and continues to do so even as the student’s head comes down. The
partner can use the side of his or her knees to gently press into the student’s
back. This is done to keep the armpits and chest from collapsing, which protects
the neck.
If the student wishes to progress toward the full headstand, the partner can reach
to support the student’s hips as he or she lifts one leg at a time. Keep the hands
on the student’s hips, not on the legs. Remind the student to keep lengthening the
lumbar spine, which draws the navel center toward the back to prevent any
compression.
When ready, the partner continues to support the student’s hips as he or she
lowers the legs one at a time, coming back to Child’s Pose. While the student is
in Child’s Pose, one or two partners can place their hands at the base of spine
and the base of skull, creating space between these polarities with every
exhalation.
 Press down through the forearms and lift up to release any compression in the
neck.

A seated partner or teacher can support the student as she progresses toward
the full headstand.

Psychophysiological Benefits
The body is subjected daily to the gravitational pull. When we invert the body in
Sālamba Śīrṣāsana, it is possible to prevent prolapse of the internal organs and
enhance circulatory flow. If the emphasis is upon the breath and the pose is
aligned appropriately, it helps alleviate and even eliminate neck tension.
The arms and hands form a powerful triangular base in this pose. When the head
is placed in the center, it is like meditating under apex of a pyramid, which is
said to slow the aging process, balance the metabolism, and renew, recharge, and
rejuvenate one’s energy and life force. The position of the arms and bottom wrist
bones represent the union of right and left, or the masculine and feminine
energies. This union also relates to the autonomic nervous system, with the
activation of the sympathetic nervous system through the downward pressure of
the right arm, and the parasympathetic nervous system through equal pressure to
the left. This equalized pressure stimulates the hemispheres of the brain: the
logical, sequential left brain and the intuitive, spatially aware right brain. To
create balance, the head must be placed in such a way that the energy moves to
the center, the corpus callosum that unites the two hemispheres. In this way,
neural pathways and quick reflexes are preserved through this pose.
Śīrṣāsana affects the thalamus gland, considered by alternative health pioneers
to contain a blueprint of every cell of the body. Just under the thalamus lies the
hypothalamus. The hypothalamus regulates the pituitary (known as the “master
endocrine gland”), affecting the entire endocrine chain, including the pituitary,
pineal, thyroid, thymus, adrenal, and procreative glands.
Known as the king or father of all āsana, Śīrṣāsana has a masculine quality due
to its influence upon the pituitary gland. The pituitary is close to the front of the
brain, which is believed to be related to the conscious mind, the more projective
or assertive part of one’s self. If the head is positioned closer to the forehead in
this āsana, it will have a more stimulating impact upon the pituitary, the
thoracolumbar nerve roots associated with the sympathetic nervous system and,
in turn, the adrenals. Practicing Śīrṣāsana with the head in this position has been
known to relieve depression.
If, however, the head is placed slightly behind the point where the sutures of the
skull join, it is known to stimulate the parasympathetic nervous system through
the impact upon the cervical spine. This head position for Śīrṣāsana is especially
recommended for those who are moving through stressful times, who have
anxiety or difficulty focusing the mind, or who suffer from sleep disorders.
When we practice Sālamba Śīrṣāsana, we reverse the currents of positive and
negative — the north pole of the crown of the head and the south pole of the
base of the spine — to create an alternating current between the negative
emanations of the earth and positive emanations from the heaven, renewing and
recharging the pranic life forces in the subtle and physical body. When I am
practicing this āsana, it feels as though I am reaching for the center of galaxy
with the feet, which are the extension of the spine. At times, I feel as if I’m
holding the disk of the sun in the soles of the feet or, more accurately, the
subcakras of the arches.
Practicing Śīrṣāsana is an excellent way to recharge brain cells and help prevent
memory loss. However, the full potential of Śīrṣāsana is to help awaken or
reawaken the remembrance that we are already one with the Divine source.
Śīrṣāsana represents a polar shift in body and mind, giving us a new perspective
on life. It is a pose of empowerment — the experience of doing something we
don’t ordinarily do or thought we couldn’t do. It helps us overcome the ultimate
fear of the unknown. It teaches greater flexibility by helping us to adapt to a
multitude of situations.
When practicing or teaching this pose, I think of the yoga sutra that alludes to
āsana: sthira sukham āsanam, which means, “Take any pose and be comfortable”
(II:46). This sutra does not say “take any comfortable pose.” Taking Śīrṣāsana
and even its preparatory stages, in which the feet do not leave the earth, helps us
to break free from stuck patterns that no longer serve us. This āsana takes us out
of old comfort zones and hardened belief systems to explore new perspectives
and widen our parameters of life.
This makes Śīrṣāsana one of the more powerful poses to bring up saṁskāras, the
deep psychic impressions created by previous experiences, from the latent
subconscious depths of the psyche. It shakes up the sediment from the vaults of
memory. “The invisible must become visible before it can be eradicated,” or as
we might say today, before it can be transformed.
ARDHA CANDRĀSANA
Half Moon Pose
Ardha means “half,” and candra is the moon.

Philosophical Introduction
The story of the churning of the ocean of milk has several versions. This
particular version is a prelude to the Mahābhārata, the great epic of India, and it
highlights the importance of lunar energy and its relationship to Ardha
Candrāsana:
Long ago, when the sea was milk, Nārāyaṇa (another name for Viṣṇu) said to
the gods of heaven, “Churn the ocean, and she will yield amṛta, the nectar of
immortality that is held in the cup of the moon. It will also bring forth precious
gems and all manner of illusion and revelation.”
So the gods placed the snowy mountain Mandāra in the middle of the milky sea.
Its deep roots rested on the ocean floor; its summit rose high above the surface.
The great serpent Śeṣa, whose hood is an island of jewels, stretched himself
across the sea, his body wrapped endlessly round the mountain in the center. On
one shore, his tail was held by the asuras, the dark, olden gods; on the other
shore his neck was held by the devas, the mortal gods of heaven. They each
pulled in turn, so that the mountain spun first one way then the other, while trees
and stones were thrown off into the foaming sea.
First the mild moon rose from the milky sea, and then Lady Lakṣmī, bearing
good fortune to all beings. Next came the smooth jewel adorning the breast of
Viṣṇu, the maintainer of the Universe. As the churning continued, out of the
ocean emerged the elephant of Indra, the god of the heavens; then Surabhi, the
radiant and sweet white cow who grants any wish; and then the wishing tree of
fragrance; followed by the nymphs and celestials. At last emerged Dhanvantari,
the celestial physician robed in white, bearing the cup of the moon filled with
amṛta, the essence of immortal life.
The chalice of the moon represents the fullness of our consciousness. The nectar
of immortality is the remembrance that we are already one with the Divine
Source — that there was never a time when we were not, nor is there a time that
we will never be.
Some versions of this story identify Lakṣmī, the goddess who rises out of the
ocean, as the bearer of the divine nectar. Lakṣmī, Viṣṇu’s consort, is the post-
Vedic queen of the waterways who is known for beauty, graciousness, and
benevolence. She bestows success in all endeavors, liberation of consciousness,
and enjoyment of life. In one of her four hands, she carries a white lotus,
symbolic of purity of heart. Another showers gold coins upon her devotees. And
in another hand, she holds the golden vessel of amrita.

Using a chair for support helps open tight hips and hamstrings.
The details and variations to this story seem infinite and unending, like the
changes of the moon that make the ocean rise and fall with the rhythms of the
tides. Every aspect of Ardha Candrāsana relates to varying positions of the
moon. The pose’s bilateral movements represent the moon’s waxing and waning.
The full expression of Ardha Candrāsana, when the arm is brought to the side of
the head, takes on the yantra or geometric pattern of the half moon.
The crescent moon is the symbol of the second cakra. This cakra, Svādhiṣtāna, is
associated with the water element and is significant in the practice of Ardha
Candrāsana. The sacral center holds our reproductive essence and our
experiences of pleasure and sweetness. (The Sanskrit word śukra refers to the
reproductive tissue. It also means “sweetness,” and it is the root for the English
word “sugar.”) Through this cakra, we experience the powerful urge for
procreation, which can be sublimated into the higher centers for the co-creative
union with the Divine.
In ayurveda, the reproductive essence is called ojas, and it is considered to be the
refined nectar of our nutrition. Ojas is the physical life force, the foundation of
our strength and immunity, and the lunar fluids in the body. Ojas is the
procreative seed with the power to create new life. Ojas is further refined into
soma. Soma, another word for the moon, relates to the cerebral spinal fluid,
which allows for expansion of consciousness and awareness. In some Sanskrit
texts, soma is said to be the nectar of immortality, which drips down from the
head and gives a sweet taste to the saliva during bliss states. It is said that eight
drops of soma (refined ojas) live in the heart, responsible for periodic feelings of
intense joy and love.
Soma must be equal in strength to agni, the fire element in the body that burns,
consumes, and transforms food and thought impressions. Without the balancing
lunar influence, too many fire practices can burn out the tissues and the nervous
system. (An ayurvedic teacher from India has said that with our current fixation
on fire practices, we don’t need sun baths ... we need moon baths.) The sun (ha)
and moon (tha), represented by agni and soma, must be balanced for us to move
into the higher states of consciousness.
Ardha Candrāsana activates the lunar, feminine energy of the moon. The divine
masculine energy expresses the creative life force of the lower centers, releasing
the ojas outwards as a gift to the divine feminine. She receives these juices and
transforms them into soma, which travels up the spine and radiates from the
heart back into the world to be recycled again.

Guidance
1. Begin Ardha Candrāsana by standing with the feet three feet apart. (Ardha
Candrāsana is commonly taken from Utthita Trikoṇāsana, but I like to
sequence it after headstand because it is an excellent pose for releasing neck
tension.) Inhale across the back.
2. Exhaling, move the skin up the neck and down the back to create greater
length between the shoulder and the ear.
3. Inhale and expand the breath horizontally across the back, from shoulders to
buttocks.
4. Exhaling, turn the right foot out 90 degrees and the left foot in 30 degrees.
5. Inhaling, allow the breath to once more expand across the back.
6. Exhale and bend the right knee, keeping the hips open. Bring the right hand
down to the floor or, if this closes the hips, to a block or to a chair. Using the
seat or back of a chair helps to open the pelvis.
7. Inhale, breathing in across the back.
8. Exhaling, move the spine into the front of the body like a backbend and
straighten the bottom knee, lifting up from the top of the kneecap to the top of
the thigh.
9. On the inhalation, remain steady as you take the breath into the back,
rounding slightly.
10. Exhale and rotate the bottom leg externally to open the upper hip.
11. Inhale and do nothing, allowing the breath to organically fill the back.
12. Exhaling, reach the upper leg back away from the head, giving the leg as
much attention as the upper body. This helps lengthen the lumbar, preventing
compression.
13. Pause on the inhalations.

With every exhalation, open the heart center and allow the rotation of the head
to follow.
14. With every exhalation, open the heart center toward the light and allow the
rotation of the head to follow the rotation of the base of the spine. Rotate the
neck only as far as the lower spine will allow. It is important to relax the neck,
as this in turn relaxes the lower back, allowing the pelvis to open and the
energy to flow from the lower cakras to the upper cakras.
Note: By moving into the fullness of the pose on the exhalation rather than on
the inhalation, the breath helps the mind to become calm. If there is any neck
tension, relax the elbow of the upper arm. If possible, bring the arm behind the
ear rather than in front. The neck rotates as a result of the rotation at the base of
the spine. Rather than turning from the neck, move by opening the upper hip.
To lift out of the bottom hip, rotate the bottom thigh externally to help open the
groin area. In order to move the top hip, one first must move from the base. If
there is strain on the back of the knee, the weight is too far forward toward the
toes. If there is strain on the hamstrings, the weight is too far back on the heels.
The key of the pose is to adjust the weight equally between the heel and ball of
the foot, lifting the arch as the ball of the big toe rolls downward.
 Every aspect of Ardha Candrasana relates to varying positions of the moon.
Assists: This pose can be entered from Utthita Trikoṇāsana (Triangle Pose),
using a wall as support for the back body. The bottom hand can be placed on one
or two blocks to help keep the hips as even as possible. Students with tighter
hips and hamstrings can bend to the side, bringing the bottom hand to a chair.
The upper hand can be brought to the back of the upper hip to help preserve the
length of the lumbar spine.
A partner or teacher can place one hand at the back of the student’s upper hip
and buttock, moving the hip toward the upraised heel, as the other hand gently
lifts the upper hip to help open the inner groin or psoas muscle. A partner can
also help support the student’s head and neck. As the neck releases in the pose,
the mid and lower back will relax and in turn open as well as lengthen.
If the pose is practiced without the support of a wall or chair, a partner can stand
behind, giving support, holding the student’s upper arm or drawing the shoulder
downward as the student lifts the arm to the side of the head.

Psychophysiological Benefits
Ardha Candrāsana opens the pelvis and releases pressure on all the pelvic
organs. It helps to release compression in the mid-torso and the digestive organs,
including the ascending, descending, and transverse colon. Because it affects the
parasympathetic division of the nervous system, it increases bodily secretions,
including digestive juices and hormones.
In Ardha Candrāsana, as in other inversions, the reproductive essence of the
second cakra is not inhibited by the gravitational pull. It can more easily travel
up the spine to the crown cakra, bypassing the fires of the navel, opening the
heart, and merging with the divine. Ardha Candrāsana represents the feminine
aspect of this divine union, the transformation of ojas from procreation in the
annamaya kośa (the sheath of the body) into Soma of the ānandamaya kośa (the
Bliss sheath beyond the body).
The Soma in the head is like a magnet for the Kuṇḍalinī Śakti to rise upwards.
This is referred to extensively in Vedic texts and mythology. In the story of the
churning of the ocean of milk, the celestial physician (Dhanvantari) arises,
carrying with him the chalice of the moon, the soma or nectar of immortality.
When we start to churn our spine in forward bends, backbends, twisting poses,
and inverted poses, we awaken the latent energy. And if we practice Half Moon
fully, it opens up all the channels, from the base cakra or earth element through
the third cakra.
Brahmā, the creator, is said to reside in the first cakra, but what follows creation
is that which maintains and stabilizes creation. The second cakra, therefore,
associated with the element of water and the sense of taste, is said to be the
dwelling place of Lord Viṣṇu, the sustainer, who presides here with his consort
Lakṣmī.
Viṣṇu is the spiritual power that is in every atom, cell, molecule of our body. It
is the energy the pulses through the procreative centers of all species. It is the
prāṇa of our breath, the beat and rhythm of our heart. The word Viṣṇu means all
pervasive. It is the all-pervading prāṇa or life force that maintains the substratum
of the Universe. It is said that Viṣṇu holds the balance between Brahmā, the
creator at the base of the spine and Śiva, the destroyer or transformer the energy
that dwells in the crown pole within the head. Viṣṇu represents balanced living
and like his later incarnation of Kṛṣṇa, symbolizes the cosmic līlā, the Divine
play of life.
The milky ocean represents the subconscious mind and its vast storage of
cellular memory. As the spine moves omni-directionally in Ardha Candrāsana,
that which is stored in the latent depths of the psyche arises up to the surface of
the consciousness. The story of the churning of the ocean alludes to a poison that
might have destroyed all creation. Śiva, the Lord of Yogis, was called to come
down off his mountain to drink the poison that arose from the milky sea. He held
it in his throat and his neck turned blue, iridescent as a butterfly’s wing.
In Ardha Candrāsana, the poisons that arise are the mental and emotional toxins
that must surface before the gems that represent insight and wisdom come forth.
As these long-stored toxins are released, the subconscious also unfurls, bringing
with it the darshan of the celestial beings who give their blessing to life’s
journey. Śiva’s drinking of the poison represents calling for Universal help and
intervention, or consulting a friend or therapist to help us understand the healing
reaction and to support us in our continuing practice.
At times, we all need reminders to keep up our yoga practice, even though toxins
may periodically rise to the surface of the mind. If āsana is appropriately
practiced, it does not create pain but simply (or not) reveals the pain that is
already there. Afterward, the beauty and wonders of that which lies in the hidden
depths of the psyche can rise to the surface. The celestial goddess Lakṣmī,
representing spiritual and material abundance, graces us with her vision and
bestows her blessings. The Celestial Physician finally emerges from the bottom
of the ocean. In the cup of the moon, he carries Amṛta, the nectar of the soul’s
immortality, which is a balm to soothe any wounds inflicted from life’s journey.
The story of the churning of the ocean of milk is the story of Earth’s creation,
the beginning of time. It reminds me of a verse in the Mahābhārata: “Wherever
land ends, there the sea dances with the uplifted hands of its waves, wide as
space and vast as time.”
VĪRABHADRĀSANA I
Warrior I
For the Sanskrit translation, refer to Vīrabhadrāsana II (page 75).

Philosophical Introduction
Vīrabhadrāsana I, II, and III all represent the salute to the Gods and Goddesses
of the Ten-Sided Universe. In the Warrior series, we honor the eight directions
of east, west, north, south, northwest, northeast, southeast, southwest, as well as
the external and internal center of one’s Being.
In Vīrabhadrāsana I, the forward leg forms the yantra of the square while the
back leg and foot move in a diagonal line from earth to heaven, giving śakti to
the static qualities of the square. Without the diagonal momentum and the
firmness and stability of the back leg, the pose could become tamasic or
lethargic, where energy becomes stuck in old patterns and puts a strain on the
forward hip and knee.

In Vīrabhadrāsana I, the forward leg forms a square, the yantra of Gaṇeśa.

By bending the knee of the forward leg to create a right angle, we form the
yantra of Gaṇeśa, who is known as the elephant god of good fortune because he
has great strength to remove obstacles, both spiritual and material, from our
path. Vedic astrologers invoke Gaṇeśa because he is said to hold the keys to
understanding the language of the skies. As the lord or presiding deity of
astrology, Gaṇeśa knows the destiny of all living beings. He is the overseer of
karma, allotting the results of all previous actions.
Gaṇeśa acted as scribe for the sage Vyāsa, completing the celestial dictation of
the Mahabharata, the Great Epic of India. Gaṇeśa is usually depicted with one
tusk; the missing tusk was used to write the scripture. His vehicle is the mouse,
the one creature elephants fear, according to folklore. One of Gaṇeśa’s hands is
raised in abhaya mudrā, the gesture that represents fearlessness. Gaṇeśa subdues
the fears that arise in the first cakra, and removes the fears that are obstacles in
our spiritual life. He is the macrocosm of the Universe, and the mouse is the
microcosm of the ego that keeps the mind and consciousness in the illusion of
separation.
When the body forms Gaṇeśa’s yantra in Vīrabhadrāsana I and II, we invoke the
energy field that the symbol of Gaṇeśa represents. Doing so helps us not to
destroy the ego but to master and transcend the ego and enlist it in service in our
realization of the Divine. In Vīrabhadrāsana, we reflect Gaṇeśa, this gargantuan
macrocosmic form who has conquered his fear of the microcosmic mouse and
now rides upon it as his vehicle in life. The tiny mouse, symbolic of the
contractive egoistic self, is now the support and carrier of its own transcendence,
the remembrance of our expanded Universal Self.
I often remind students that we can lift our hearts without lifting the ego. This is
the key to practicing this version of the Warrior Pose. In the Bhagavad Gītā, a
warrior is not attached to the result of his or her own actions: “Do the action for
its sake thereof without attachment to its fruits” (II:47). This reminds us not to
buy into culturally competitive ambitions that take us further from rather than
bring us toward our own center. A spiritual warrior does not enter into battle
because of anger (which can disempower), but steps in without attachment to the
results. The spiritual warrior enters into the battlefield of life because dharma —
destiny or life’s purpose — has brought him or her to the field.
The battlefield in the Bhagavad Gītā is known as Kurukṣetra. Ku means
“darkness,” ru is the light, kṣe means “destroying,” and tra means “in order to
transcend.” In ancient scriptures, the warrior moves from the darkness to the
light, destroying in order to transcend. What is it that is destroyed? The ego. The
individuated consciousness that keeps us from remembering that we are not just
this body, mind or passing personality but that we are One with the Universal
Source. We are all warriors upon the field of life, and this pose can be a vibrant
reminder that bravery does not mean that we are without fear; it means that we
have the courage to face our fears.

Guidance
1. From Tāḍāsana, step the feet approximately five feet apart.
2. Turn the right foot out 90 degrees and the left foot inward 60 degrees so that
the heel of the right foot is in alignment with the arch of the back foot.
3. Exhaling, rotate the torso and hips to the right, rotating the back leg internally.
In establishing the base, it sometimes helps to use the hands to draw the hips
down to elongate the lumbar spine. This also frees the ribs and upper torso to
lift to the light.
4. Inhaling, allow the breath to expand across the back (even rounding it visibly),
lifting up the back ribs.
5. Exhaling, keep lifting the back ribs as you lift the side and front ribs toward
the head.
6. Inhaling, bring the breath into the back from shoulders to buttocks.
7. Exhaling, make the back leg firm as if the back of the knees were expanding
vertically and horizontally. Bring the back heel into the earth, lifting up the
back inner arch. If there is strain in the back knee, rotate the back foot to 70 or
80 degrees.
8. Inhale and again allow the breath to fill the back body.
9. Exhaling, draw the shoulders down away from the ears as the arms fly out and
up effortlessly, not just from the heart but from the base of the ribs and the
kidneys.
10. Inhaling, fill the back with breath, keeping your awareness firmly on the
back leg.
11. Exhale and maintain the firmness of the back leg as you bend the forward
knee. Bend the knee only as far as the back leg will allow. Eventually the
forward hip will become level to the knee.
12. Inhale, holding steady while bringing the breath into the back, even rounding
it a little.
13. Exhale and offer up from the heart center while extending the back of the
neck. The chin stays parallel to the floor.
14. Inhale, filling the back with the breath.
15. Exhaling, elongate the spine a little more, creating even more space between
the rib cage and the pelvis.
16. Inhale and expand the breath horizontally across the back from shoulders to
 buttocks.
17. Exhaling, preserve the length you’ve created as you straighten the forward
knee, keeping the back leg firm and unwavering.
18. Without losing the awareness of the breath, come out of the pose the same
way you went into it. Repeat on the opposite side.
Note: It is not important to bring the hips level to one another. In the past few
years, it has become a trend to bend the back knee to bring the hips into
alignment with one another. However, in trying to do so, it puts strain on the
lumbar spine, the knees, hips and creates a loss of stability and centeredness
within the pose. If one loses the diagonal śakti of the back leg, the energy of the
pose becomes static. When the back leg is firm and unmoving, the psoas muscles
slowly elongate, freeing stuck energy within the sacroiliac joint.
Assist: A partner can stand behind the student and use a belt or his or her hands
or thighs to clasp the back of the student’s thighs. The student’s back thigh skin
can be rotated slightly internally to help free the back hip, allowing that hip to
move a little more forward. The partner can hold each side of the student’s
sacrum and bring the buttocks down, encouraging the student’s spine to rise up
as he or she bends the front knee. This helps to prevent spinal compression and
brings the internal pelvic organs back into their natural alignment. If the lumbar
area collapses, bring the buttocks down a little more and encourage the student
to lift the back ribs upward during the exhalation. Alternatively, the partner can
hold the tops of the student’s shoulders down as the arms reach out to the side
and then fly up.
Vīrabhadrāsana I can also be practiced by placing the back heel on a wall to help
give leverage to the back leg. This is the key to the spinal lift.

Psychophysiological Benefits
In this pose, the buttock muscles (gluteus maximus) become firm and space
opens in the hip joint, preserving the synovial fluids that maintain the flexibility
and youthfulness of the hips, knees, and ankles. Through the strength and
opening of this pose (and in Vīrabhadrāsana II), the secrets of the first and
second cakra begin to reveal themselves.
At the same time, if the back of the neck is lifted rather than compressed, we free
the prāṇa of the heart cakra to flow through the subtle nerves of the vijñana
nāḍī, which relates to the carotid arteries. This opens the channels for the prāṇa
to flow freely, allowing the brain to receive the light of illumination through the
crown cakra. The yoga sutras say that it is through the crown cakra, the
Sūryavara (also known as Sahasrāra, the thousand-petalled lotus) that the
knowledge of the Cosmos reveals itself.
When the front knee bends, we erroneously think we are going down. Instead,
every vertebra of the spine is going up, lifting to the light. As we do this, we
eventually free the back of the heart center, allowing the spine to offer itself into
the front body and lifting the base as well as top of the sternum, to receive the
grace of the Gods and Goddesses. However, if the head lifts with the heart, we
engage the ego. When the face lifts, the heart region has a tendency to collapse,
and the back of the neck becomes compressed, restricting the circulatory flow
from moving freely between spinal nerve roots, peripheral nerves, heart and
brain.
As the spinal axis remains in the center of the forward and backward movement
of the legs, the mind is brought into the NOW, into the present moment. It no
longer lunges into the future with anticipation, hesitation, or fear (reflected in the
tension of the toes). The energy from the top of the buttocks is given equal
attention as it grows into the earth from the back heel. It is this momentum that
gives dynamism to the pose and prevents any compression in the lumbar spine.
This equality of movement of front and back brings the mind into the present
moment.
As the arms rise, the shoulders drop down, creating ever-growing space between
the tops of the shoulders and the earlobes. Since the arms are the extension of the
heart, it is helpful to reach out of the heart center to the fingertips as the arms
rise. Allow them to lift effortlessly, without tension in the neck or arms. Move
and hold the arms from the heart center and, if possible, even down to the
kidneys. It is important not to bring the hands together prematurely, a common
tendency for most practitioners. Maintain the space between the earlobes and the
shoulders and preserve the lateral expansion of the clavicle bone: Do not bring
the hands together, but keep the arms shoulder-width apart or even wider if you
have tight or muscular shoulders. As the fingers extend from their roots to the
tips, the energy of the heavens streams into the heart center.
When the back leg extends from the buttocks through the heel down into the
earth, we become that warrior who is deeply connected to the source and the
ground of Being while performing the aspiration of his or her own dharma,
moving with equanimity through life, centered within Oneself in the midst of all
life’s actions and interactions. In this pose we adjust the forward movement of
reaching into the future with the backward movement that could be reluctance or
fear that keeps us stuck in past patterns that no longer serve us.
By honoring the Center of our Being in this pose, there is a tension between the
forward lunge and the firm unchanging quality of the strength of the back leg.
The pose is the balance of Puruṣa and Prakṛti, the changeless, eternal and the
play of life. When there is equal balance, front and back, right and left, inner and
outer, the pose feels light, sattvic, and serene. We may feel that we can stay in it
indefinitely. As the head, neck and breast come into alignment, it is possible for
the mind to come into a thoughtless state of awareness. In this state of
consciousness, we would be in what Patañjali calls Dhyanāsana, or the
meditative seat.
The meditative seat can be found in every āsana and its variations, not just by
sitting cross-legged. All āsana poses help to remind us that we are already one
with the Universal light. As we open the space of the darkened corners of mind
and emotions through our body, we come into that remembrance. A spiritual
warrior is one who draws strength from the remembrance of the Source and, in
offering all actions to the Divine, finds the “inaction within the action.”
VĪRABHADRĀSANA III
Airplane Pose
For the Sanskrit translation, refer to Vīrabhadrāsana II (page 71).

Philosophical Introduction
This variation of the salute to the gods and goddesses of the ten-sided universe is
popularly known as Airplane Pose, but when this pose was brought forth upon
this earth, there were no airplanes as we know them today. Instead, consider this
āsana in terms of older times. The pose honors the directions of a yantra, which
are different than a global map. While they honor north and south, the torso,
upper leg, and arms form a parallel and horizontal relationship to the earth that
stretches out to all humanity. The bottom leg is perpendicular to the earth plane,
offering to the gods of the east (pūrva) and west (paścima). This perpendicular
line can be seen as the vertical ascent of Universal Consciousness. When we rise
up out of the bottom hip and leg as the heel and ball of the foot grow down into
the earth, we caress the earth like a bhakti yogi, experiencing the spiritual
fullness of the pose through the body.
This variation of Warrior Pose springs out of Vīrabhadrāsana I. The length of the
front of the torso is preserved and even more energy is taken into the back leg
and heel as the torso comes to rest upon the forward thigh. So as not to create
strain or fluctuations in the mind, even more awareness soars from the back
buttocks to the heel as the torso and arms are brought forward. This creates a
diagonal line, which transforms the yantra of the square formed with the forward
leg from a static to a dynamic expression of the pose as an offering to the gods
and goddesses of the ten-sided Universe.
As the forward propulsion of the torso and arms automatically lift the back leg,
one comes effortlessly into Vīrabhadrāsana III, a pose that evokes
interdimensional planes of consciousness — the airplane. Here the planes of air
or airplane represent the various planes of existence from the netherworld
regions below the earth plane to the many celestial realms where the gods of
varying degrees of consciousness are said to dwell.
It is said that the etheric space within the nucleus of an atom — between the
protons and neutrons and the electrons that dance a million times a minute
around its center — is like the gap between the planets and the sun. It is believed
that if one contemplates this Ākāśha or space, or something as light as cotton
wool, the body will assume an aura of light and lightness.
 The forward propulsion of the arms and torso in warrior III effortlessly lift the
back leg.
Airplane Pose is a wonderful āsana in which to practice this lightness. Weight in
yoga means force that moves towards the center of the earth. As the bottom leg
in Vīrabhadrāsana III grows down into the earth, the horizontal plane of the
torso, arms, and leg grows up out of this gravitational force, giving lightness to
the particles that constitute our body. As one commentary on the Yoga Sutras
says, “Our Ego acting on the materials constituting the body shapes them into
the form of a body and makes it feel heavy. By concentrating on the relationship
between the body and Ākāśha or ether it is possible to transform the ego.”
Or, as I like to tell students, “We create space in the body so spirit can reveal
itself.”

Guidance
1. Begin in Vīrabhadrāsana I, inhaling across the back of the torso.
2. Exhaling, place the torso upon the forward thigh.
3. Inhale into the back.
4. Exhale, allowing the spine to surrender to the front of the torso creating the
sense of a backbend while in a forward bend.
5. Inhaling, wait and center the mind while breath-ing into the back body.
6. Exhaling, elongate the front of the torso as the spine comes in to meet the
front body.
7. Inhaling, allow the breath to round the back.
8. Exhaling, grow back with the back leg with as much attention as the force that
is propelling the torso and arms forward.
9. Inhale and bring the breath into the back, keeping the extension of the back
 leg.
10. Exhale, allowing the extension of the torso and arms to effortlessly lift the
back leg, and then straighten the front leg, lifting up out of the hip joint.
11. Inhale, bringing the breath into the back as much as possible.
12. Exhale, living in varying dimensions simultaneously — vertical and
horizontal — aware of the back (upper) leg and foot, the spine, the arms and
fingertips, and the standing foot, leg, and hip.
13. Inhale and hold your consciousness on etheric space or the lightness of
cotton wool. The bottom leg descends into the gravitational field of the earth
as you use it to transcend gravity.
14. Exhaling, reach back with the upper leg as the lower leg bends, bringing the
torso to the thigh once again. Come out the same way you moved into the
pose. Repeat on the opposite side.

Supporting the arms on the back of a chair aids in balancing and gaining
greater extension.
Assist: Support your arms on the back of a chair and/ or stand in front of a wall
and use it to support and extend through the back foot. You can also work with a
partner, who will support your arms while you gain greater balance and
extension within the pose.

Psychophysiological Benefits
Standing poses use gravity to transcend gravity. They lengthen and elongate the
spine, stretching the limbs from the seed center of bindu, the point out of which
all creation flows. In the standing poses, the bindu is the seed center within the
pelvic plexus. The Vīrabhadrāsana series, like other standing poses, are prayers.
They reflect an evolving psyche that can now transcend rather than sink into old
patterns.
Psychologically, this pose gives a growing sense of security and trust in one’s
own inner strength. We don’t have to “lean” or rely on others as we find an inner
strength radiating out, reflecting the new balance and strength within the body
and Being. Physically, this pose strengthens quadriceps of the front thigh while
lengthening the hamstrings of the back thigh. It strengthens the areas
surrounding the knee while creating space and increasing strength within the
joint of the hips. By concentrating on “lightness” within the pose, the body feels
lighter as it lifts above the gravitational field to create a growing confidence in
oneself.
The pose invoking the “air plane” relates to the third chapter of Patañjali’s Yoga
Sutras: “By practicing concentration, meditation on the relationship between the
body and Ākāśha (ether) and by concentrating on the lightness of cotton wool,
passage through the sky can be secured” (III:43). In his commentary on the
sutras, Yoga Philosophy of Patañjali, Swami Hariharananda Aranya elaborates:
“The Yogin becomes light and can move through the sky. By meditation on
cotton wool or other light things down to atoms, the Yogin becomes light. By
becoming light, the Yogin can then walk on water, then on cobwebs and on rays
of light and move to the sky at will.”
PRASĀRITA PĀDOTTĀNĀSANA
Wide-Legged Forward Bend
Pra means “to bring forth.” Sa means “with,” and rita is from ri, “to rise
upward.” Prasārita can also be translated as “to spread apart.” Pād means piece
or little part. In this instance, pad would refer to the foot or leg. The Sanskrit
verb tān, which is found in many āsana names, means “to go beyond” or to
stretch intensively. The word tanu is used in the Yoga Sutras in reference to the
kleshas, life’s painful afflictions, and in this instance it means “to thin.”

Philosophical introduction
The name of the pose gives us instructions as well as the possible benefits of the
pose. In Prasārita Pādottānāsana, we spread apart the feet and legs, rising upward
and going beyond our self-imposed limitations. How can we do this, we may
wonder, if the head and torso are moving down? The answer is because this pose
creates a different spatial orientation as the body offers itself in all directions,
including heaven and earth.
In Prasārita Pādottānāsana, the horizontal pressure of the legs honors the right
and left sides, or the masculine and feminine aspects of our being. The head, the
symbol of ego, is usually dominant over other areas of the body, including the
heart, but in this pose the head humbles itself to the earth. The tailbone
represents humility. When we are upright, the tailbone lies in darkness, always
facing the earth. Now the tailbone has an unusual opportunity — to face upward
and draw upon the energies of the heaven. Prasārita Pādottānāsana, like other
āsanas, is a prayer in which we offer the upper body to the earth and the lower
body to the heavens.

When the foundation is strong, we can relax more deeply into this pose of yoga,
and ultimately, all the poses of life.
If the foundation (the feet and legs) is firm and strong, we can relax more deeply
into this pose of yoga, and ultimately, all the poses of life. Patañjali says:
“Through the relaxation of effort and meditation upon the Infinite, āsana is
perfected” (II:47). As the feet are firm and the inner ankles uplifted, the adductor
muscles of the inner thighs elongate. By resisting the inner thighs away from one
another, space is created within the sacroiliac region. We assume a backbend
while in a forward bend — the counterpose within the pose. The tilt of the pelvis
is important in relaxing the spine and, due to the inverse gravitational pull,
releasing subtle blockages within the spine, which allows prāṇa to flow freely
between the base of the spine base and the crown of the head.
If the feet and legs remain firm and unwavering, this allows for fluidity of prāṇa
within the spine and its spiritual center, the Suṣumnā. When unblocked, the light
of spirit moves through unimpeded to the crown cakra, Sahasrāra, the seat of the
thousand-petalled lotus. This pose is excellent for learning the natural and
effortless bandhas or locks that allow prāṇa to flow freely between lower to
higher centers within the body. Mūlabandha is the first bandha affected in this
pose when the Mūlādhāra, the base support of the lifted tailbone, receives the
light of the heaven. Mr. B.K.S. Iyengar used to say: “Let your buttock bones
shine like the rays of the disk of the sun. Let them cast their light in every
direction simultaneously. They have been hidden in darkness; now let their light
be seen.”
If the next bandha, at the navel or solar plexus, is relaxed and elongated without
muscular contraction, it begins to fly upward like its namesake, the great bird
Uḍḍīyāna. Prāṇa flutters into the heart cakra, Anāhata. On each exhalation, the
spine is offered into the heart center, allowing prāṇa to heal any stuck, dark, or
hardened corners within the heart.
As the spine continues to elongate with each exhalation, prāṇa continues its
journey to the throat cakra, the Viśuddhi. The bandha within the throat is known
as jālandhara. Jāla is a network, grid, or lattice. Dhara means “support.” In the
subtle or pranic body, the throat center — the point of the finest element, ether
— has the strongest knot, or granthi. This keeps us on the earth plane.
In Prasārita Pādottānāsana, if the throat, neck, lower jaw, and face remain totally
relaxed, the prāṇa can move through to the crown cakra. Alternatively, we can
contain prāṇa within the spine by bringing the heart center toward the chin,
elongating the front of the throat without tensing the neck or chin.
Prasārita Pādottānāsana not only inverts the spine and brain but also, when
practiced with the breath, lengthens and thins the waist, softening and releasing
the solar plexus. This helps release the subconscious storehouse of impressions
from the depth of the psyche. When the kleṡas — the reasons for our afflictions
and suffering in life — are brought to the surface, they can be released and
transformed.

Guidance
l. Begin in Tāḍāsana. Step the legs four and a half to five feet apart. Place the
hands on the hips.
2. Breathe into the back body, allowing the inhalation to round the back.
3. Exhaling, bring the spine into the front of the body, elongating it upwards.
Turn the toes in to a slightly pigeon-toed position to internally rotate the thighs
and open the spaces between the right and left buttocks and the sides of the
sacrum. Lift the inner ankles to strengthen and preserve the inner arches of the
feet. Relax the toes, creating space between them as you grow down through
the outer heels.
4. Inhale across the back, from shoulders to the ribs and then to the hips.
5. Exhale, growing down firmly through the outer edges of the feet and lifting
the tops of the knee caps. Press the hands against the thighs and bring the
spine in like a backbend to create space in the front body and anterior spine
while bending forward. Bend from hips, not from the waist, keeping the spine
as straight as possible.
6. Inhale, pausing in the movement of bending forward. Focus on breathing into
the spine and the back body.
7. Exhaling, bring the spine toward the front body as you continue the descent of
the upper body, lifting the tops of the kneecaps and bringing the fingertips to
the floor while rotating the pelvis forward. Lengthen from the top of the pubic
bone, offering the navel (not the head) to the earth.

Let the breath round the back on the inhalation. Exhaling, elongate the spine,
bringing it in like a backbend.
8. Inhaling, let the breath round the back, allowing the head to relax to follow the
curvature of the spine.
9. Exhaling, press down with the fingertips for leverage and elongate the spine,
bringing it in like a backbend while rotating the upper arms externally to roll
the skin from the upper shoulders down the back.
10. Inhale and let the breath (not the mind) round the back, allowing the head to
drop slightly to relax the neck.
11. Exhale and grow down with the outer edges of the heels and the ball of the
big toe, lifting the slack out of the top of the knee caps. This raises the
quadriceps (front thigh muscle). At the same time, relax the hamstrings. As the
calf muscles move toward the earth, the knees lift, and the hamstrings gently
rise up. Soften the mind to soften the hamstrings.
12. Inhaling, stay in the pose while the breath fills the back body.
13. Exhaling, grow down into the earth with the outer edges of the feet. Lift the
knee caps without straining, soften the hamstrings, and let the head and spine
descend toward the earth as the tailbone and buttock bone rise with intensity,
like the morning sun.
14. Inhaling, hold the pose and allow the breath to flow into the back.
15. Exhale and proceed more deeply into the posture, bringing the back spine
into the front of the body.
16. Inhale, holding steady, allowing the breath to fill the back.
17. Exhaling, bend the elbows, moving them back (not out to the sides) and
bringing the spine into the front body, like a backbend. Allow the tailbone and
buttock bones to rise up to the heavens and the head to descend to the earth.
18. You may take a variation within the pose. Inhale do nothing, and then
exhale, bringing the spine into the front body and stretching the arms out to
thin the midline of the torso. Keep the head and neck passive and elongated.
(Do not raise the chin and compress the neck.)
19. Whichever variation of Prasārita Pādottānāsana you have chosen, keep the
mind quiet and still on the inhalations. On every exhalation, move the tailbone
back as the torso elongates and the neck and skull extend away from the
shoulders.
20. Come out of the pose on an exhalation, moving the feet and legs closer
together and then rounding the back to come up. Come back into Tāḍāsana.
Note: To alleviate any existing neck condition, on every exhalation roll the
shoulders down the back, away from the ears, and keep elongating the neck
forward without raising the chin or compressing the neck. The extension of the
hands and arms is excellent for relaxing and stretching the lateral muscles of the
back. The thinning of the waist helps to release past subconscious impressions
that can build up in this region.
Throughout this pose, the head is relaxed. As the student progresses in this
āsana, the head comes toward or to the floor. If the head comes down too far,
creating compression in the neck, then the legs have to come closer together.
The further apart the legs are, the easier it is for students to come toward the
floor. More flexible students can bring the legs a little closer together and then
tilt and elongate from the pelvic region.

Use blocks until the hamstring muscles lengthen adequately.

It is important to make sure the spinous processes are not protruding when
bending in this pose, for this indicates compression in the anterior (front) spine.
The front and back body are equal to one another. If the back is rounded, place
the hands on a higher surface (such as blocks or a chair) to help straighten the
spine until the hamstring muscles begin to lengthen.
Eventually, as the hamstrings lengthen, the elongation of the spine can be
maintained in the forward extension. Eventually the hands can touch the floor
and move closer to align with the feet. Ideally, the palms will come to the floor
in a perpendicular line from the shoulders, and the fingertips will align with the
toes.

Psychophysiological Benefits
More than other standing poses, Prasārita Pādottānāsana strengthens the
adductor muscles of the inner thighs. Practicing Uttānāsana with the legs
together or hip distance part stretches the two outer of the three hamstring
muscles, but Prasārita Pādottānāsana affects the inner hamstring muscle, the
semimembranosus.
This pose also opens the hips, preserving the flexibility as well as the strength of
the hip joint. To aid in hip opening, it is important to elongate the spine, creating
space between the pelvic rim and the thigh in order to release the lumbar and in
turn the psoas muscles of the inner groin. The pose will create space in the back
of the hips at the sacroiliac joint, where the pelvis joins the sacrum. The pose
releases compression on the lumbar spine and between the five fused vertebrae
of the sacrum and the four fused vertebrae of the coccyx (tailbone).
Even though the feet never leave the ground, Prasārita Pādottānāsana is
considered to be an inversion, increasing circulation to the head and brain. It has
a stimulating affect upon the thalamus and hypothalamus, which is the master
endocrine gland. This in turn impacts every other endocrine gland, from the
thyroid in the throat to the thymus, the immune center associated with the heart
cakra. It in turn influences the balance of the adrenals, which sit above the
kidneys, as well as the kidneys themselves. Due to the intense stretch or
elongation of the midline of the body, it not only helps reduce the buildup of
belly fat but also has a stimulating affect upon sluggishness by releasing
compression within the liver, gallbladder, pancreas, spleen, and stomach.
When we practice this āsana, we live in two polarities simultaneously. We
experience an expansion, not just a shift, of consciousness. When we focus on
one part, we don’t forget the other parts, instead moving the awareness from one
part of the body to the next. We expand the periphery of consciousness as we
hold intense strength from the feet, planted not just on but into the earth, as the
back of the legs release upward to the heaven. We expand consciousness by
holding the strength of the lower body while totally relaxing the upper.
As the breath carries us into the āsana, the head is relaxed. This gives the cells of
the brain an opportunity to open like the petals of a flower to receive the energy
of the earth. At the same time, the buttock bones receive the energy from the
heavens. Near each ischial tuberosity (the base of buttocks) is the sciatic notch,
where the branches of the sciatic, the largest nerve in the body, pass through into
the legs. This nerve has a tendency to hold an accumulation of saṁskāras, the
deep psyche impressions that are stored as a result of our past experiences.
Prasārita Pādottānāsana is powerful in its ability to release the bubbles of
saṁskāras as they come to the surface of the conscious mind. This is known as
the “thinning of the kleshas” or as tanu, going beyond self-imposed limitations.
This pose has many physiological effects, but the depth of experience may be
felt at sub-cakra levels. There are seven major cakras, but through the practice of
this āsana, I have sensed the openings of the sub-cakras, the energy centers that
help guide prāṇa from one cakra to the next. This experience is like discovering
the notes between the notes on the musical scale. As the base of the buttocks
becomes alive, we may feel the spiral-like movements of the sub-cakras. There
are sub-cakras in the palms of the hands, the bottoms of the feet, and the backs
of the knees that can be unlocked through the descent of the lower body in this
pose, creating an ascent of prāṇa through the upper body.
The great Indian master Sri Aurobindo Gosh said of meditation, “The ascent is
followed by the descent.” As we invoke and invite the Divine light into the
individual Being, the bio-energetic field or Kuṇḍalinī energy rises upward to
meet the descending energies. Prasārita Pādottānāsana is a beautiful pose for
practicing this meditative principle. As we offer the feminine (Prakṛti) at the
base of the spine to the light above, the head (the masculine pole or Puruṣa)
offers itself to the darkness within the earth. The descent of Divine energy
through the lower body brings forth (pra) an ascent of our consciousness through
the crown cakra. Through this, we create a balanced equilibrium and a new
relationship to the world and universe around and within us.
ŪRDHVA PRASĀRITA PĀDĀSANA
Leg Lifting
Ūrdhva is “upward,” and pra means “to bring forth.” Sa means “with,” and rita,
“to rise upward.” In this pose, we are lifting the legs and bringing them toward
the head, then lowering them as if we were in Śavāsana (Corpse Pose), relaxing
throughout the duration of the posture.

Ūrdhva Prasārita Pādāsana is one of the best poses to build true inner strength.

Philosophical Introduction
In the fitness world, so much emphasis is placed on exercises to build core
strength. This pose — in terms of both yoga and fitness — is one of the best to
build true inner strength. Ūrdhva Prasārita Pādāsana goes deeper than the lateral
core muscles of back and abdomen, penetrating to the deepest center of the body
and the Being.
All yoga āsanas emphasize the spine, which many refer to as the Meru Daṇḍa
— the mountainous staff or the central axis of creation. Yoga poses revolve
around the spine and the nerve roots of the autonomic nervous system, which
runs along the outside of the spinal vertebrae. Āsanas also emphasize the main
energy conduit, the central canal known as the Suṣumnā, which relates to the
physical spinal cord. This is, as the Bible calls it, the pillar of light — the most
important channel in the subtle body — where the light of illumination, if
unimpeded, can flow through.
So many speak of enlightenment, but so few can withstand the intensity of the
light as it pours through the subtle channel of the body and the Self. If the
nervous system is not prepared, this in-pouring of energy can have a drying,
overheating, and weakening effect within the physical as well as subtle nervous
system.
Leg lifts strengthen the abdominals and, in turn, the lower back, but Ūrdhva
Prasārita Pādāsana does far more. If practiced appropriately, the posture will
give great inner strength, both physical and emotional, as it strengthens both the
autonomic and central nervous system. The effects of Ūrdhva Prasārita Pādāsana
penetrate deep below the core muscles of the torso, strengthening the spinal
ligaments and the erector spinae muscles, as well as the nerve roots that extend
from the spine to the periphery of the body. The pose also strengthens the myelin
sheaths of the nerves: This not only prepares the nervous system to withstand the
light of illumination, but also insulates the nerves. raising the threshold for stress
and giving great inner strength.

Relax the navel center keeping the abdomen hollow and continue lowering the
legs if there is not strain.
As we develop inner strength by practicing Ūrdhva Prasārita Pādāsana, we also
gain serenity of mind. We can stay centered within ourselves regardless of what
is happening in the world around us. As we grow in this deep inner strength, we
have an opportunity to soften our defenses to people and situations around us.
If we are strong in the deepest core of our being, we will not have to armor
ourselves by tightening the outer muscles, which display a defensive stance to
the world around us. With deep inner strength, even the skin becomes softer. The
solar plexus, which reveals our defenses, can also soften. When this occurs, the
adrenals — usually in a fight or flight mode when we are defensive — can come
to a more relaxed state.
When we have that deepest core strength to rely on, we can allow ourselves to
become more flexible, listen more to others, even if their views may be different
then our own. With deep inner strength, negative situations that might have
entered our field at one time may drop away. We eventually develop an unseen
energy field that does not allow negativity to penetrate. And if it should, it will
not have the same impact and will soon dissolve, no longer having power over
the mind or emotions. With this deep inner core strength, we grow in our faith in
a higher power and feel more deeply connected to the Source of all creation.
Guidance
Begin in Śavāsana, for this pose is an extension of Śavāsana. In the beginning,
hold onto the leg or edge of a heavy chair or couch with the hands. Bend the
elbows out to the side and relax neck tension by drawing the shoulders down
from the ears.
l. Inhaling, allow the breath to fill the back of the body from the shoulders all the
way down to the hips, if possible.
2. Exhaling, lengthen the neck and spine as much as possible. Bend the knees,
bringing the feet to the floor, hip distance apart. Place the hands on the upper
thighs and, while exhaling, push the thighs away from the hips, giving greater
length to the lumbar spine.
3. Inhale horizontally across the entire back body.
4. Exhale, bringing the arms back over the head and bending the knees into the
chest while keeping the length of the front of the torso.
5. Inhale horizontally across the back body and relax the lumbar spine, navel,
neck and face.
6. Exhaling, bring the feet to the sky (or ceiling) while keeping all other parts
relaxed.

Until deep inner core strength increases, practice this pose with props or
partners to protect the lumber spine.
7. Inhale, spreading the breath across the back, still keeping all parts as relaxed
as possible.
8. Exhaling, soften the navel, neck, and face while bringing the legs slowly
toward the floor. When the breath stops, stop the movement.
9. Inhaling, hold the pose where it is relaxing the legs.
10. Exhaling, continue bringing the legs toward the earth, wiggling the hips
away from the head to lengthen the lumbar. If the navel puffs out, stop. Relax
the navel center and solar plexus. If there is no strain, continue lowering the
legs to the floor (only if the lumbar is in contact with the floor and the navel
 plexus is soft and relaxed). If there is any strain on the lumbar, stop and bend
the knees before continuing to lower the legs.
11. To repeat the āsana, on an exhalation, bring the legs away from the floor. If
the lumbar arches and the navel center is not relaxed, then practice Ūrdhva
Prasārita Pādāsana by focusing on bringing the legs down before attempting to
lift them away from the gravitational field.
12. To complete the practice, bring the feet to the floor to relax the back and
belly, and then slowly — keeping the heels on the floor — slide the legs out
back into Śavāsana.
Note: Sometimes people will inhale the legs up and exhale them down.
However, to deeply strengthen the nervous system and prevent overarching and
compression of the lumbar spine, I highly recommend using the exhalation for
both movements. This helps to keep the navel area passive and relaxed, sinking
back toward the spine. This in turn lengthens and strengthens the lumbar spine.
Assists: Until deep inner core strength increases, practicing Ūrdhva Prasārita
Pādāsana with partners or props can help protect the lumbar spine. It is important
(when bringing the arms up overhead) to hold onto something firm, such as a
piece of heavy furniture. Using a wall is helpful for gradually building inner core
strength while protecting the lumbar area. Bring the heels to the wall, keeping
the lower back connected to the floor. The distance between the wall and hips
depends upon the strength of the abdominals. The pose becomes more intense
when the hips are farther away from the wall.
Assistance from a partner or teacher is helpful. The partner stands an arm’s
length from the student’s head, the partner’s feet and legs a little more than hip
distance apart. The student clasps the partner’s ankles for leverage, bending the
elbows outward to create space between the top of the shoulders and ears, which
helps to keep the neck and face relaxed.
The partner may also bend forward, bringing his or her thumbs and forefingers
to the top of the student’s pelvic rim, the fingers reaching to the back of the hips
to move the hips down away from the upper torso when the student’s legs are
lowered or lifted. This helps the lumbar spine elongate and remain in contact
with the floor.
Another partner assist is to support the student’s feet and legs as they are
lowering. During this assist, the partner watches the student: When the face
contracts, the navel puffs out, and/or the lumbar begins to arch, the partner will
hold and support the legs. At this point, while the feet are held, the practitioner
can focus on relaxing and lengthening the lumbar. The partner can draw the legs
toward her to help release compression in the hips and spine.

Psychophysiological benefits
When the abdominal muscles are weak, it puts stress on the lumbar spine. It is
important to keep the abdominals strong for the health of the back and the spine.
Ūrdhva Prasārita Pādāsana strengthens the abdominals, which in turn protects
the lower back. It is one of the most powerful poses for strengthening and
rebuilding the nerve sheaths of the central and autonomic nervous systems,
which relate to the subtle channels of Suṣumnā, Iḍā, and Piṅgalā. These are the
three most important nāḍīs, which correlate to the nerves but are not the nerves.
They are the main pathways of enlightenment or self-realization.
Ūrdhva Prasārita Pādāsana is an extension of Śavāsana. The head, neck, throat,
and jaw are to be kept passive and relaxed whether bringing the legs down or
lifting them up. The key to the pose is preserving the elongation of the lumbar,
even during the leg lifts. If the spine arches and lifts from the floor during leg
lifts, the lumbar spine may be compressed.
Another major component to this āsana is the relaxation of the navel area. There
should be no willful muscular contraction. If the navel puffs out, this means
there is stress on the lumbar spine. Throughout this pose, the elongation of the
torso helps the navel to recede toward the backbone rather than tense and puff
out. If the spine arches, the pose produces more tension, stress, and weakness
rather than deep inner strength.
When the navel pushes out and the solar plexus tenses, it indicates that the ego is
engaged in the pose. To practice āsana in an egoless state — allowing the poses
to be done through us and not from us — it is important to keep the navel
relaxed. This is true in all poses, and especially in Ūrdhva Prasārita Pādāsana.
On a more esoteric level, if the mind focuses on the relationship between the
body and space (ākāśha), it is possible to transform the ego. This is a great way
to meditate on light and lightness.
The weight of the legs will be felt whether lifting them or lowering them, but we
can counter this weight with the deep inner strength of the physical spinal nerves
as well as with the unseen channel of suṣumnā. Weight means force, and this
gravitational force moves toward the center of the earth. In Ūrdhva Prasārita
Pādāsana, we are moving against this downward force.
In the first chapter of the Yoga Sūtras, the first word Patañjali gives to quiet the
mind waves is abhyāsa. It is commonly defined as continual practice; however, it
is can also be defined as “checking the downward pull.” This refers not only to
the body’s physical posture but also to the downward pull of mind and emotions.
Thus, Ūrdhva Prasārita Pādāsana is a wonderful pose for practicing this Sūtra
(I:12): abhyāsa vairāgyābhyāṁ tannirodhaḥ. Again, abhyāsa means continual
practice or checking the downward pull. Vairāgya means nonattachment,
dispassion. Tan means going beyond or thinning, and nirodhaḥ means to quiet
the storms or noise or turbulence of the mind. However, it should be noted that
there is a thin line between detachment and indifference. As one of my teachers
used to say, “Before we can know true nonattachment, we must first know
attachment. Until then all is indifference.”
Practicing Ūrdhva Prasārita Pādāsana, even though it may be difficult, can help
us find that neutral place within ourselves that brings us to the Buddhi state of
mind, also known as the Over-mind or as the detached (not indifferent) observer.
As we breathe out while elongating the spine, we go to a deeper place within and
hold the mind in a state of detached observation. This helps us to be in the
serenity of the Buddhi mind when faced with challenging postures of life.
GOMUKHĀSANA
Cow Face Pose
Go means “cow” and mukha is face; this is Cow Face Pose. The cow is
considered sacred in India. It symbolizes innocence and purity. It is the giver of
the life force of milk, and in turn butter, ghee, curds and whey, and cheeses of
many varieties. The cow nurtures and placidly gives all of itself, asking nothing
in return.

Philosophical Introduction
In the Bhakti tradition of yoga, it is said that the devotee should long for God the
way a mother cow longs for her lost calf. The great Indian epic, the
Mahābhārata, extols the purity and innocence of the white cow in its opening
story about the churning of the ocean of milk. After crystals, gems, and celestials
emerge from the swirling waves of the sea, Surabhī the magnificent white cow
emerges. Through her milk, she banishes old age, sickness, and death.
Surabhī, the wish-fulfilling cow, arose from the ocean of milk to grant wishes
for the devotees who were hungry for knowledge and wisdom. This beautiful
creature is said to exist on a subtle level, either within the Soma cakra — a sub-
cakra between Ājñā cakra (the brow center) and Sahasrāra (the crown cakra) —
or within the Shunya Maṇḍala, the void within the hollow space where the right
and left hemispheres of brain meet. This is known as the tenth gate of the body.
Yogins meditated upon Soma cakra to stop the process of aging and remain ever
youthful and even immortal while in the body. When the procreative seed of the
lower cakras is brought upward to the Soma cakra, it is known as Ūrdhvaretas
(Ūrdhva is “upward,” and reta means “stream” or “flow”). Soma, which is
associated with the moon, is also known as amṛta, the sought-after nectar of
immortality that inspired the story of the churning of the ocean of milk. Resting
within the Soma center is the crescent moon of Śiva, which is the source of soma
or the nectar of immortality.
In Gomukhāsana, the body assumes a position with one thigh crossed over the
other and one arm rising up and dropping behind the back to clasp the bottom
hand. The legs, arms, and torso assume the face or head of a cow, but more
significantly this pose brings about an emanation of light, like the radiance of
Surabhī that shines through the endless grace of giving. Practicing Gomukhāsana
removes psycho-physiological impediments in the physical and subtle heart.
Practicing Gomukhāsana removes impediments in the physical and subtle heart.
It opens the channels for the radiance and effulgent light to flow into Vijñana
nāḍī, the subtle correlate to the carotid arteries, which run from the heart through
the sides of neck into the brain, and the vagus nerve. In ancient times Vijñana
nāḍī was known as the “pathway of shining light.” Contemporary
neuroscientists refer to the vagus nerve as the “compassion nerve.” Its pathways
enervate the heart as well as the intestines, viscera, and lungs.
As we release old pockets of hardness from beneath the shoulder blades, we
open the rays of light that emanate from the Suṣumnā, the central nāḍī that
flows between the heart and the brain. This illumines the mind and heart as we
release past emotional blockages. As we allow this effulgent light to flow to the
highest gateways of the body, the face takes on a luminous radiance. As we
move through past restrictions within the subtle as well as physical heart, it is
possible to release past hurts and learn to trust and forgive. In releasing past
grievances, there is a lightness to body and mind helping us to feel more
youthful, as if we have taken a sip of the nectar of immortality.
Like Surabhī, we all have the potential to become more loving and giving. We
are not giving for the sake of getting something in return but for the sake of
giving and serving alone. This is the innocence and purity that the white cow
represents. The Cow Face Pose relates to the first niyama, śauca, which means
purity. This is not just purity of body but purity of heart, the purity of being
motiveless. As this relates to practicing Gomukhāsana or any āsana, it means
that we undertake the practice for its sake alone, not because we are trying to get
somewhere or something from the pose.
 Press on the feet to lift through the spine.

Guidance
1. Begin seated with one thigh crossed over the other. If the hips are tipped back,
sit on a folded blanket so that the tops of the hipbones are level with the knees.
Fold the legs as tightly as possible. You can sit on the edge of a folded blanket
to elevate the hips; the knees are approximately the same height as the pelvic
rim.
2. Inhale into the back, rounding it, allowing the head to bow toward the heart
center
3. Exhale and bring the back in as if trying to do a backbend.
4. Inhaling, spread the breath as far into the back as possible from shoulders to
hips.
5. Exhale and reach the left arm out to the side as far from the sternum as
possible.
6. Inhale into the back.
7. Exhaling, bend the left elbow, bringing the arm behind the back with the hand
reaching to the back of the heart. Widen the expanse of the clavicle bones as
well as the shoulder blades.
8. Inhale, rounding the back with the breath.
9. Exhale and bring the spine into the front of the body like a backbend.
Externally rotate the upper left arm to open across the clavicle bone (where the
lymphatic fluid drains) and bring the left inner shoulder blade into the heart
center at the left side of the spine.
10. Inhale and do nothing; just breathe.
11. Exhaling, bring the right arm up over the head and bend the elbow, taking
the forearm behind the back as far as comfortable. Observe: Do the hands
touch? If not, gently work with the bottom arm, bringing the hand up the back
as far as comfortably possible. If the fingers touch, hold them together. Those
who are supple in the shoulder blades may clasp the wrist with the fingers of
the other hand.
12. Inhale and exhale, continuing as long as the breath is rhythmic and calm
without overdoing or straining. This is very deep emotional work; move
slowly, and in your own time. On the inhalations, do nothing. On the
exhalations, gently ease yourself deeper into this pose.
13. Release the pose on an exhalation. When you are ready, take the opposite
side.

Continue practicing the pose as long as the breath remains rhythmic and calm.
Assist: A teacher or partner can gently press down on the crease of the student’s
thighs (where the thighs meet the hip joints), which gives the student leverage to
elongate by lifting out of the base of the pelvis. As the left elbow bends and the
forearm is brought behind the back, the partner can gently rotate the student’s
upper arm externally. Touch the inner scapula (the edge of the shoulder blade
nearest the spine), guiding it forward toward the heart center. The outer edge of
the shoulder blade comes back. Lift the skin on the student’s inner upper arm
and — without strain or effort — let the elbow bend and the forearm release
behind the back. Eventually, the upper arm can be brought behind rather than in
front of the ear.

Psychophysiological Benefits
On a physical level, Gomukhāsana helps preserve the flexibility of the hips. It is
also a marvelous pose for relieving shoulder and neck tension, but most
important it opens our physical and subtle heart. Energetically, the position of
the legs brings the procreative fluids up to the Soma cakra, a process known as
Ūrdhvaretas. The pranic stream of energy that flows downward and outward is
in this pose drawn inward and upwards. The position of the arms behind the
heart center continues to bring this seed up through the opening channels of the
heart center to ride upon the beam of light that radiates out of a pure and open
heart.
A healthy heart releases trapped emotions and becomes more loving, tender, and
compassionate with one’s self and with others. This is a heart that no longer
opens to one and shuts to another but radiates its rays in every direction
simultaneously, like the rays of the sun. With this opening, it is possible to
transcend the limited belief systems of the past and go beyond physical and
psychological boundaries. The love that has always been can now shine through
and reveal itself. A healthy heart has a beautiful rhythm, like a melody — a
heartsong. An unhealthy heart has an unharmonious and discordant sound.
Perhaps this is why Anāhata (the heart center) is known as “unstruck sound.”
The heart’s sound is a vibration that already flows within us, a sound produced
without friction or disharmony.
Whenever I think of Gomukhāsana, I think of Lord Kṛṣṇa, the playful,
mischievous incarnation of Lord Viṣṇu, who maintains and sustains this world.
Just as Lord Rāma came to be the example of dharma, Lord Kṛṣṇa, Viṣṇu’s
later incarnation, is said to have come to this earth plane to teach us love. When
the gopis and gopas — the cowherd girls and boys — hear the enchanting
sounds of Sri Kṛṣṇa’s flute, they drop their milking pails and their staffs, leave
their homes, and run toward the sound of the flute. Intoxicated with love of the
Lord, they rush to the rendezvous with their beloved. They join hands and
together dance the Rasa Līlā, which is the joyful dance of the circle of creation
that reminds us of the sweetness of the play of life. Even the cows gather under
the night sky, swaying to and fro with the celestial sounds of the flute.
Sant Keshavadas, one of my Bhakti Yoga teachers, once said, “Some of the great
Gnani Yogis and Rishis had to be reborn again as gopis and gopas.”
“Why,” I asked.
He replied, “They had great intellectual wisdom and knowledge, but they came
back to learn to open their hearts and love.”
How wonderful it would be if we could hollow ourselves like Kṛṣṇa’s flute,
releasing egoic feelings of separation so that the sounds of creation can be heard
flowing through us. As the gopis and gopas join hands and enter into the circle
dance of the Rasa Līlā, it is a reminder of the play of life and love in a circle that
has no beginning and no end.
EKA PĀDA SĀLAMBA SARVĀNGĀSANA
One-Legged Supported Shoulderstand
Eka is “one,” and Pāda refers to a foot, leg, piece, or part. This variation of
Sālamba Sarvāngāsana is therefore known as the One-Legged Supported
Shoulderstand.

Philosophical Introduction
The same philosophy and psychophysiological benefits associated with the
Supported Shoulderstand apply to this pose as well. Eka Pāda Sālamba
Sarvāngāsana is a more advanced extension of Sālamba Sarvāngāsana and can
be sequenced after Setu Bandhāsana and before Halāsana. This variation is
actually a good preparation for Halāsana because it is easier to extend one leg at
a time rather than both legs.
Over the years, I discovered that the ways our limbs move and unfurl into a
multitude of variations in āsana is like Prakṛti, the primordial śakti or feminine
principal of creation. The word prakṛti (activity) means “to bring forth doing.”
In turn, I discovered that there is a seed point or bindu in every pose that remains
unmoving, unchanging. This can be compared to Puruṣa (“to fill with the
dawn”), the masculine principal of creation, which is that point of stillness that is
changeless and eternal. Puruṣa is the remembrance that we are not this body,
mind, or passing personality. Rather, we are beyond form; we are Immortal
Beings.
In this Eka Pāda Sālamba Sarvāngāsana, the upper leg remains stable and thus
can be seen as Puruṣa, the substratum of creation that is unchanging, stable,
timeless, and eternal. Puruṣa is not subject to evolutionary change and is beyond
the evolutionary process. In this pose, the upper leg is still and unmoving, like
the proton and neutron within the center of the atom. The movement of the
bottom leg can be seen as Prakṛti, and compared to the electron that elliptically
whirls a million times a second around the atom’s stable nucleus. Like the
dancing girl of many veils, Prakṛti, the female śakti, is said to dance and circle
around the unchanging center of being. It is said she beguiles us and tempts us in
the forgetfulness of our Source.
In practicing variations of an āsana, there is a tendency to get caught up and
focus on the part of the body that is moving rather than the part that is stable. In
this variation of shoulderstand, if we can hold our focus equally upon both, it
brings us into the balance of polarities between the Puruṣa and Prakṛti, the
Being and Doing. The variations in this pose help our mind to transcend duality
and hold the transcendent light of consciousness within the play of life’s
polarities. These polarities can be seen in sun and moon, day and night,
masculine and feminine, success and failure, compliments and criticisms. As we
learn to hold the stable center within this pose, we learn that — even though
life’s variations may play around us — we can hold to the unchanging center
within.
The yantra of this pose can be seen in the perpendicular alignment of the torso
and upper leg, which is symbolic of desire, activity, and dynamism as well as of
our vertical connection to the Divine. The bottom leg is a diagonal angle that
also brings greater dynamism to the sacred geometry of the pose.

Practicing this variation of the shoulderstand strongly affects the medulla

oblongata, the principal entry point of prana.
In this variation of shoulderstand, the medulla oblongata at the base of the skull
is affected even more than in Sālamba Sarvāngāsana. The medulla connects the
brain with the spinal cord and its nerve roots. All communication between the
brain and spine involve tracts that ascend or descend through the medulla. The
medulla, measuring only about one inch in length, also contains vital reflex
centers, including the cardiovascular, which adjusts the heart rate, the strength of
cardiac contractions, and flow of blood through the tissues. The medulla is a
respiratory rhythmicity center, setting the pace for movements of breath. The
medulla is part of the cerebrospinal system, which controls the entire functioning
of the human body as well as the psychic centers. This is an ancient system that
is said to develop at conception.
Swami Parāmahansa Yogananda, the founder of the Self-Realization Fellowship,
called the medulla the seat of the soul:
 The medulla is the principal point of entry of the life force (prāṇa) into the
body; it is the seat of the sixth cerebrospinal center whose function is to
receive and direct the incoming flow of cosmic energy. The life force is
stored in the seventh center (sahasrāra) in the topmost part of the brain. From
that reservoir it is distributed throughout the body. The subtle center at the
medulla is the main switch that controls the entrance, storage and distribution
of the life force.
Swami Yogananda equated the center or “eye” of the medulla with the third eye
of the pineal gland. He said that the pineal and the eye of the medulla are one
and the same. It’s interesting to note in Sālamba Sarvāngāsana and in this one-
legged variation, stability in the pose draws the energy of the pituitary gland
(which is attached to the optic nerve), backward and slightly upward to meet
with the subtle energy of the pineal gland. Practicing shoulderstand or this
variation of shoulderstand seems to unite these two energy fields of the
endocrine system — the pituitary and the pineal — which represent polarities.
The pituitary projects its energy forward, and the pineal draws energy into the
back of the brain. The pineal is deprived of prāṇa during times when there is
more frontal brain stimulation: when using cell phones or computers, or when
working late into the night, or when experiencing insomnia. The pineal is
benefited each time we close our eyes, especially in āsana. It is the sleep gland
that manufactures melatonin. If the pineal is balanced, on a subtle level it draws
prāṇa into the back of the head at night and helps us to sleep deeply. The pineal
gland seems to correspond to parasympathetic activities, whereas the pituitary
corresponds more to the sympathetic ganglia of the autonomic nervous system.
When the pineal gland is activated through this pose, the medulla and the two
physical eyes unite in the mystic union of maithuna, and the energy of pituitary
and pineal meet in the center of the brain to awaken Ājñā cakra, known as the
third eye. In Eka Pāda Sālamba Sarvāngāsana, this can be achieved by
concentrating on the point between the two eyes. From the pressure and
elongation of the area of the medulla and the pons, the relay center where the
spinal cord meets the brain, the two eyes become one. One can then see the
medulla reflected as only one light. In the Bible (Matthew 6:22) it says, “If thine
eye be single, thy whole body shall be full of light.”
In Eka Pāda Sālamba Sarvāngāsana, we experience a bifurcation of
consciousness in which we practice dharana, concentration. In this case, the one
leg becomes the object and the other leg becomes the subject, and we are the
witness in between the two polarities, like the Buddhi, the higher mind that sees
differences but does not compare or favor the differences. In this pose, one leg is
rising upward, offering to the heavens, and one leg is coming downward,
offering itself to the earth. It’s a bit like living in both dimensions at the same
time. This is like holding two or more perspectives simultaneously, which is
helpful in any situation in life. When perspectives differ, we can more easily
hold our own center while listening to the perspective of another. This is the
essence of Yoga, staying centered in the midst of polarities.
This pose helps us to become inter-dimensional in our consciousness so we can
be in two places at the same time while holding the center in the midst of
change. When the bottom leg drops, we need to keep our awareness in the upper
leg. What happens when we lose the stabilizing point of focus on the upper leg?
The upper leg droops, the bottom hip collapses, and the torso and hips come out
of alignment. This may indicate how we run our lives. We put our attention on
one thing and then lose the focus on another thing. This āsana teaches us to be
able to expand the periphery of our consciousness to embrace equally whatever
presents itself in our lives.

Guidance
It is recommended that one remain in shoulderstand with calm rhythmic
breathing for at least five minutes before taking the variations.
1. Begin in Sālamba Sarvāngāsana, the shoulderstand. Keep the weight to the
outer edge of the elbows and keep the torso uplifted on the exhalations for five
minutes or more.
2. Exhaling, drop one leg back behind the head, while keeping the other leg
steady and stable. Keep the upper leg perpendicular to the earth even if the
bottom foot does not touch the floor.
3. Inhale, breathing into the back. This is a time to do nothing but to restore and
renew the energy.
4. Exhale and press down with the top of the big toe of the bottom foot to raise
the hip of the bottom leg until it is equal to the opposite hip. The hips need to
be aligned to hold the center and the physiological balance of the pose.
5. Inhale and do nothing except to observe the incoming breath.
6. Exhale, press down again to lift the hip while relaxing the psoas muscle of the
inner groin. Without forcing the stretch, relax and allow any tight areas of the
hamstrings and calf muscle to soften and release.
7. Inhaling, breathe into the back.
8. Exhaling, move the spine in like a backbend. Lengthen the front body to be
equal to the back body. This equalizes the anterior and posterior nerves of the
spine, which in turn equalizes the awareness to the frontal and back brain, the
pituitary and pineal glands, the cerebrum (front brain) and the cerebellum
(back brain).
9. Inhale and breathe into the back.
10. Exhaling, move the spine in like a backbend, open the inner thigh, and draw
the buttock back away from the head. At the same time, lift the bottom hip and
the spine upward.
11. Inhale into the back, feeling the breath within the palms of the hands.
12. Exhale and, from the top of the calf, move toward the heel and press down
through the tip of the big toe or the ball of the foot to preserve the arch of the
foot. As the heel moves back, the buttock moves equally in the opposite
direction.
13. Inhaling, breathe into the back.
14. Exhaling, moving the calf toward the heel, keeping the back of the knee
neutral and firm, if possible. If necessary, bend the knee to keep the spine
straight and the bottom hip (the hip of the lowered leg) in alignment with the
top hip.

Use a wall or chair to help keep the spine elongated.

15. Inhale, allowing the breath to spread across the spectrum of the entire back.
16. Come out of the pose on an exhalation, raising the upper leg to bring the
bottom leg up to meet it. Stay in Sarvāngāsana and breathe before taking the
pose to the other side. When you have completed practicing Eka Pāda
Sālamba Sarvāngāsana on both sides, exhale and come out of the pose the
 same way you went into it.
Note: The same principles described above will apply to Halāsana, only with
both legs.
Assist: Not everyone can get the foot down to the floor without collapsing the
front body. It is important to keep the spine straight and elongated, so it’s helpful
to place the foot on a block, a chair, or even a wall. Goal orientation (i.e.,
touching the floor) pulls people out of alignment. Ideally, the big toe of the
upper leg aligns with the inner corner of that eye. A teacher or partner can
support the student’s bottom hip and keep it lifted, helping to give the student a
feeling of lightness as she lowers the leg and lengthens the spine on the
exhalation, drawing the buttock back away from the head.

Psychophysiological Benefits
One of the greatest gifts yoga has given to the world is the shoulderstand. If we
can do only one pose a day, it is recommended that it be the shoulderstand.
Sālamba Sarvāngāsana and its variations benefit every bodily system and have
subtle, unseen correlates to the cakras, koshas, and prāṇas.
One of the greatest benefits of this pose is to keep the thyroid gland in balance.
The thyroid is an emotional gland that is impacted by sorrow, grief, and
repressed feelings of not expressing or speaking out. It is also affected by
electromagnetic fields in the atmosphere. The thyroid produces three major
hormones, one of which helps to regulate calcium levels in the blood. The
production of thyroid hormones is regulated by the higher gland in the endocrine
chain, the pituitary. The thyroid governs a number of important metabolic
functions. It accelerates energy consumption and increases oxygen consumption
of all tissues. When thyroid functions are depressed, we feel fatigued.
The thyroid also governs carbohydrate metabolism and the assimilation and
absorption of glucose from the intestines. There seems to be a relationship
between the thyroid and blood sugar, either high (hyperglycemia) or low
(hypoglycemia). The thyroid governs the heart rate, which increases when there
is hyperthyroidism (an overactive thyroid) and decreases with hypothyroidism
(an underactive thyroid).
The shoulderstand and its variations help bring the metabolism into balance.
They do not speed up the metabolism, as in backbends, or slow it down, as in
forward bends. The shoulderstand balances the metabolic functions of this most
important gland that reaches out to affect our entire body, our emotions, and our
energy levels.
Eka Pāda Sālamba Sarvāngāsana is exceptionally beneficial for the lymphatic
system, which cannot pump lymph fluid on its own. In Eka Pāda Sālamba
Sarvāngāsana, the movement of the legs activates lymphatic flow. Lymph nodes
are located throughout the body, even on the outside of the intestinal tract. The
movement of the clavicle bones in this āsana affects the lymphatic flow within
the chest cavity, lungs, and breasts, helping lymph fluids to drain and circulate.
Cerebrospinal fluid, which normally is pumped upward from the sacrum against
the downward gravitation pull, is greatly benefited by the inversion and counter-
body leg movement of Eka Pāda Sālamba Sarvāngāsana. The sacrum has five
vertebrae that fuse at puberty, and the coccyx has four that also fuse at puberty.
This fusion seems to protect the essence of the Kuṇḍalinī Śakti or bio nuclear
energy within the human system. The movement of the legs in the Eka Pāda
variation gently awakens this dormant energy by emulating the action of
walking. Combined with the inversion of Sālamba Sarvāngāsana, this pose
becomes superior to walking for getting the lymph and cerebral spinal fluid to
circulate. When we move our legs, we are also decongesting and opening the
lungs.
For the same reason, this is also an excellent pose for the heart. This inversion
puts no strain upon the heart muscles, and is actually beneficial for the heart.
This pose benefits the vagus nerve, a cranial nerve that passes into the carotid
sheath, contributing to the innervation of the heart as well as the intestines,
viscera, and lungs. A University of California at Berkeley researcher, Dascher
Keltner, suggests that the vagus nerve is “a bundle of nerves that are devoted to
trust and social connection. When it is activated, it feels like humming
vibrations.” Thus, researchers now refer to the vagus as the “compassion nerve.”
The vagus is the physical correlate to the Vijñana nāḍī, a subtle passageway that
runs from the heart to the brain. It is also known as Sūryavara, meaning “to fill
with the light of the sun.” This passageway can be opened through Sarvāngāsana
and its variations when consciousness expands beyond the granthi, or knot, of
the throat cakra to rise on a ray of effulgent light to Sahasrāra cakra, the
uppermost center in the brain.
Sarvāngāsana and its variations elongate and compress the carotid sinuses,
preventing any undue rise of blood pressure. The carotid sinuses are very
sensitive baro-receptors that help to regulate respiration, heart rate, and
circulatory pressure. The natural chin lock created in shoulderstand is used in
prāṇāyāma retention to engage the parasympathetic nervous system, which
dilates rather than constricts blood vessels. The carotid arteries and carotid
sinuses are known as consciousness producers. The brain requires a very high
amount of oxygen and glucose for its functioning and both are supplied by the
carotids. Through āsana and prāṇāyāma, the yogin can regulate his blood
pressure and heart rate. In the field of yoga therapy, carotid-stimulating positions
are known to help patients with high blood pressure. The stimulation to the
carotids also helps to draw consciousness from the external to the internal world.
Trapped emotions can influence our thoughts, create pain, malfunction, and
eventual disease. Āsana increases psychophysiological coherence. When we
move closer into the center of a pose such as Sālamba Sarvāngāsana, we move
closer to the center within ourselves. Through this Eka Pāda variation, we learn
to hold that center in the midst of change.
Eka Pāda Sālamba Sarvāngāsana can expand awareness and lead the soul back to
the Divine through the crown of creation locked in the secret chambers of the
human brain. As the highest inner temple of life and mysticism open, they reveal
the hidden secrets of the universe where the Ancient One looks into space and
there beholds his own image.
HALĀSANA
The Plough
This āsana, when done as a backbend in the forward bend with the feet turned
toward the head and the heels reaching to the earth, looks like a hand plough or
hala. The hand plough has been used throughout the centuries in many countries
and cultures.

Philosophical Introduction
One rainy and stormy night, I sat with other yoga teachers who had gathered
before a fire to listen to Sant Keshavadas, a radiant moon-faced saint of India.
He told us inspiring stories of kings and demons, princes and warriors, sages and
saints. As each story unfurled into the next, yoga poses would come to my mind.
During one story from the Rāmāyana, I was reminded of Halāsana, the Plough
pose:
King Janaka had no children. He wanted to perform a great fire sacrifice.
According to the scriptural injunction, he had to Plough a piece of land with a
golden furrow. As he was ploughing, he came across a thousand-petalled lotus in
which he found a transcendental baby girl crying, “Om, Om.” Because she was
discovered while the king was ploughing, she was named Sītā, which means
furrow. King Janaka and his kingdom all rejoiced at the manifestation of the
Universal Power of God in the form of that divine child. Sages declared her to be
the avatar of Lakṣmī, the goddess of prosperity and spouse of Viṣṇu, the
maintainer of the Universe.
Sītā grew up hearing the divine discourses given by great masters at the spiritual
assembly in her father’s court. She became versed in the Vedas and Upaniṣads.
When she was five years of age, a miracle happened. King Janaka saw Sītā
playing with the time-honored, mighty bow of Lord Śiva. She was lifting and
twanging the bow, known as Sunabha, a feat that was impossible even for
thousands of strong warriors. This convinced the King and his people that she
was Viṣṇu Śakti or the power of Viṣṇu, the stabilizing force of the Universe.
Plough Pose reminds me of this story of Sītā, who became the wife and consort
of Lord Rāma. The name Sītā, which means furrow, signifies fertility, or tilling
the soil for the seeds of creation to bring forth the new life force.
While in Afghanistan, I had the opportunity to observe a farmer ploughing his
small plot of land. His hand plough became a teacher to me, instructing how to
align and lift in the pose. The plough was more angular than rounded, a triangle
shape with an apex that actually looked like the buttock bone. In the fullest
expression of Plough Pose, we find the yantra of a triangle with the tailbone at
its apex, and the bindu or seed point in the procreative plexus.

When the hamstrings are tight and the back rounds, use a chair to preserve the
elongation of the spine.
Halāsana, in which the tailbone is offering itself to the heaven, aids the seed
known as Ūrdhvaretas to rise upward in its transmutation of sexual energy into
mental power. This is the ascent from earth’s elemental plane at the base cakra
into transcendency. As in nature, with the right conditions the seeds we have
planted will sprout and bloom, bringing forth a new birth that springs from the
elements of earth (the base cakra) and water (second cakra) to rise upward to the
Lotus of the Heart. Sītā represents Viṣṇu Śakti, the energy of manifestation and
preservation, where energy transforms itself from the procreative to the co-
creative plexuses in the upper cakras, where Śiva and Śakti meet.
Practicing Halāsana awakens the fertile parts of our Being in the reproductive
plexus. These become like the golden furrows of the earth in which we can plant
the seeds that will one day become an out-flowering of the Divine awakening.

In the variation of Halasana known as Karna Pidasana, we can withdraw from

the external to the vast universe within.

Guidance
1. Halāsana usually originates from Sālamba Sarvāngāsana, the shoulderstand.
Inhale and use the support of the hands to lift the spine, bringing it in like a
backbend.
2. Exhaling, drop one leg down.
3. Inhale and let the breath fill the back from the top of the shoulders to the
buttocks.
4. Exhale and drop the upper leg. If the toes touch the floor, press down on the
tips of the big toes to lift the spine and move it in as much as possible, as if
you are trying to do a backbend.
5. Inhale and relax the head, neck, lower jaw, tongue, and mind. The head is in
Śavāsana.
6. Exhale, growing down through the outer edge of the elbows and gradually
bringing the hands up toward the center or upper shoulder blades, supporting
each side of the spine.
7. Inhale into the back, slightly rounding it with the breath, keeping the
relaxation of the head, shoulders, and mind.
8. Exhale and see if the buttock and tailbone will lift toward the heaven as an
offering.
9. Inhaling, breathe into the back.
10. Exhale and divide the legs at the knees, moving the calves toward the heels
and elongating the Achilles tendon, while at the same time allowing the
hamstrings to move from the back of the upper knee toward the buttock.
11. Inhale, bringing the arms up over the head.
12. Exhaling, round the back, stretching the buttocks and legs as far back over
the head as possible.
13. Breathe and relax in the pose. When the breath becomes erratic or shallow,
the mind is no longer quiet, indicating that it is time to come out of the pose.
14. Exhaling, hold the ankles, keeping the legs as close to the torso as possible as
you slowly lower out of the pose, rounding the back and keeping the head on
the floor. Do not bring the legs straight down, as this puts strain on the back.
Coming out of the pose with straight legs is appropriate only in advanced
stages of yoga practice.

Continue elongating the spine as you come out of Halāsana.
15. Inhale when the hips touch the floor, and then exhale, bending the knees and
bringing the feet to the floor. Rest in Śavāsana, observing the breath. With
every exhalation, allow the lumbar to rest more and more deeply into the
earth.
Assist: Place a chair about an arm’s length away from the top of the head. When
you are ready, moving from shoulderstand, bring one foot at a time onto the
chair. Keep the legs and back straight. Bring the back spine into the front body
to strengthen the erector spinae and abdominal muscles. On the exhalations, lift
the hips and bring the spine into the front body like a backbend. Instead of using
a chair, you can practice with a wall behind the head. Lower the feet to the wall
and press them into the surface of the wall to give leverage for the spine to
ascend.
A partner or teacher can lift the student’s thighs to take pressure off the neck.
The partner observes the student’s spine, allowing the feet to move toward the
floor as long as the spine does not round or collapse.

Psychophysiological Benefits
Like the shoulderstand and its variations, Halāsana elongates the carotid regions
of the neck, helping to lower or stabilize blood pressure. As an extension of the
shoulderstand, Halāsana has similar benefits, especially to the thyroid and
parathyroid, which are responsible for our metabolism and assimilation of
calcium. However, Halāsana seems to give even greater stimulation and
relaxation to the adrenals and kidney area, and beneficially affects the digestive
organs.
In Plough Pose, the lower cakras are lifted above the upper centers, increasing
circulation, lymph, and hormonal flow, while opening the heart from the nerve
roots and plexuses at the back of the thoracic spine and sacrum. This strengthens
and revitalizes the procreative organs that feed the higher cakras, increasing
fertility in both male and female practitioners while helping to sublimate sexual
energies and bring the energy into the heart, throat, and upper two cakras within
the head. Halāsana awakens and balances the procreative forces, distributing
them equally throughout the subtle energy centers, bringing luminosity and
radiance to the practitioner.
The sacral-occipital alignment in Halāsana stimulates the parasympathetic
nervous system, which dilates blood vessels and in turn cools and quiets the
brain and neuromuscular system. This cooling and quieting affect can be helpful
in reducing constriction and inflammation. Plough Pose and its variations bring
the pranic energies of the frontal brain into the back brain, where the entire
nervous system can rest. Practicing Half Plough over a chair is excellent for
alleviating insomnia and headaches.
While in Halāsana, we can withdraw from the external world to the vast
universes within. This is especially so when the knees are bent next to the ears
and eyes are closed. This variation is wonderful for preparing the practitioner for
pratyāhāra, the withdrawal — or better yet, integration — of the senses.
DHANURĀSANA
Bow Pose
Dhanu is the bow, and when I practice Dhanurāsana, I think of the story of
Śiva’s bow, which gives this āsana great significance.

Dhanurasana represents the tension between two polarities.

Philosophical Introduction
One night long ago, several yoga teachers and I gathered for satsaṇg with Sant
Keshavadas, one of India’s beloved contemporary saints. He told us the story of
Śiva’s bow from the Rāmāyana: King Janaka of Mithali had a daughter named
Sītā, who was renowned on earth and in the celestial realms for her luminous
beauty and graceful presence. When she and Rāma, the handsome prince of the
kingdom of Ayodhyā, met by chance in the royal gardens, they instantly fell in
love.
King Janaka had a bow that originally belonged to Lord Śiva, which neither man
nor gods could lift. The King promised his daughter’s hand in marriage if the
young Prince Rāma could lift and string the bow. On the appointed day, it took
five thousand men to drag the bow before Rāma. To everyone’s amazement,
Rāma lifted the bow with ease. With the strength of the gods, he bent it back into
a great arc. When he released the tension of Śiva’s bowstring, the sound shook
the earth and heavens with a resounding vibration.
Dhanurāsana represents the tension between the two polarities in the body,
which are a reflection of the planetary axis. The upper torso and lower pelvis
form the arc of the bow, and the arms create the tension and extension between
the upper and lower body. If the head and neck elongate out and down, the
tension formed with the arms becomes the string of the great bow.

Guidance
1. Begin by lying on the stomach, placing one hand on top of the other and
resting the forehead on the hands.
2. Inhaling, bring the breath into the back from the shoulders to the hips
3. Exhale, extending the back of the neck and offering the spine into the front
body as if offering the torso into the earth.
4. Inhale into the back, lengthening the neck and spine toward the top of the
head as the legs extend out of the hips in the opposite direction.
5. Keep inhaling and exhaling in this way to elongate and give space to each
vertebra of the spine before progressing more deeply into the pose.
6. Exhaling, bring the hands under the shoulders with palms down. Draw the
spine forward, pushing up into a sphinx position.
7. Inhale, bringing the breath into the back and allowing the breath to round the
back. Lengthen the neck as the head drops forward slightly.
8. Exhaling, keep the elbows bent with the forearms on the floor. Pull the belly
and rib cage forward as the feet and legs crawl backward, giving greater length
to the lumbar and thoracic spine. Keep lengthening the spine on every
exhalation, pausing on the inhalations.
9. When ready, exhale and begin to straighten the elbows, coming into a semi
Cobra Pose.
10. Inhale and do nothing.
11. Exhale and bend the knees, bringing the heels as close to the hips as possible.
12. Inhale into the back, widening the back horizontally.
13. Exhale, bringing the spine into the front body. Do this without arching the
neck. Stretch the back of the neck forward, bringing one hand at a time to the
ankles.
 Elongate the neck, keeping the thighs on the floor to prevent lumbar
compression.
14. Inhale into the back of the body without lifting the head or arching the neck.
15. Exhaling, keep the knees as close to the floor as possible as you bring the
spine into the front of the body, elongating the back of the neck and relaxing
the head forward to release neck tension.
16. Inhale, staying where you are in the pose, bringing the breath into the back.
17. Exhale and bring the spine into the front body a little more while drawing the
tailbone toward the knees to prevent overarching in the lumbar spine. Try to
bend more from the thoracic spine.
18. When ready, come down slowly, release the ankles, and return to the starting
position.
19. Let go, breathing in and out and allowing the body to receive the benefits of
the pose.
20. Exhaling, move into a counter pose such as the Cat Stretch (page 46),
Child’s Pose (page 43), or Downward-Facing Dog Pose (page 49).
Assist: If it is impossible to reach the ankles, hold onto a cloth or strap. You can
also place a rolled towel or small blanket under the front of the rib cage, which
helps to lift the upper torso. A partner can hold the student’s heels, drawing her
feet back as she keeps the knees on the mat to prevent overarching in the lumbar
spine. When your partner is ready to come out of the pose, slowly help lower her
down, and then take the feet and ankles, drawing the legs out to elongate the
lumbar spine before she takes a counter pose.
Partner assists, best learned from an experienced teacher, can help students find
greater extension and relaxation in asana.

Psychophysiological Benefits
“We are only as young as our spine is flexible” is an oft-repeated phrase in yoga.
One of Bow Pose’s many physiological benefits is to preserve the health,
strength, and flexibility of the spine. The equal arching of the back in
Dhanurāsana maintains flexibility of the spinal nerve roots and strengthens the
bones of the pelvis. Bow Pose is excellent for lengthening contracted psoas and
quadricep muscles and, if done appropriately, it can relieve neck and shoulder
tension.
Dhanurāsana is also excellent for preserving the balance and health of the female
organs. It strengthens the adrenals and in turn preserves the health of the
kidneys. When one rocks back and forth in Dhanurāsana, placing pressure on the
abdomen, this stimulates the peristalsis of the small and large intestines.
However, there are subtle and esoteric reasons for practicing this pose.
Dhanurāsana helps open the main channel for revelation and realization, the
Suṣumnā. This is the central and most important nāḍī or subtle tubular vessel,
which correlates to the center of the spinal cord. The ancient yogis believed that
suṣumnā is fixed in the heart, forming a point of contact between the soul and
the body and marked by the current of subtle feelings flowing up from the heart
to the brain. In later texts and teachings, however, suṣumnā was located in the
central canal of the spinal cord, the most protected area of the physical as well as
subtle body.
Suṣumnā exists on a subtle plane and cannot be seen by the physical eye. Its
channel cannot be found in the gross physical body but can only be located and
experienced through meditation. It also can be experienced and opened through
āsana. To do so, it is important that the breath is coordinated with the pose.
Suṣumnā is associated with the sun (as is the warrior king and archer Lord
Rāma), and it is also known as the solar entrance. Like the sun, suṣumnā has
innumerable rays, of which one goes directly to the solar region, opening the
pathway of experience of the effulgent light that is always within and around us.
This open channel clears the way for knowledge of the entire universe. One
commentary on the Yoga Sūtras says that because of the similarity of the
microcosm and the macrocosm, the suṣumnā and the solar region of the universe
are related. Backbending poses, especially Dhanurāsana, are meant to open this
channel where the knowledge of the cosmos reveals itself.
Dhanurāsana also reminds me of a passage from Khalil Gibran’s The Prophet:
You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path as the infinite, and He bends you
with His might that His arrows may go swift and far. Let your bending in the
archer’s hand be for gladness; for even as he loves the arrow that flies, so He
loves also the bow that is stable.
EKA PĀDA RĀJAKAPOTĀSANA I
King Pigeon Pose
Rāja means “regal” or “king.” Kapota refers to a capon or pigeon.

Philosophical Introduction
Pigeons can be seen as a nuisance or a blessing. Just as all āsanas represent the
spectrum of all creation, the pigeon is a life force that is symbolic of what we as
humans can learn. The pigeon’s life force can be seen in the prominent uplift of
its chest as it struts through public parks with a confident air. A pigeon’s heart
has not pulled in and down because of hurts of the past. It seems to have no need
to protect or close down as it walks lightly upon the earth or takes flight to the
sky. What a great lesson the pigeon gives, teaching us to keep our hearts open in
all situations. In Rājakapotāsana, we offer our hearts upward to transcend the
pains of the past in the remembrance of the light of the Universal love.

Guidance
1. Begin in what is commonly known as “the yogini sitting posture” or Deer
Pose, one leg bent with the knee pointing outward (externally rotated) and the
other leg turned inward, as in Vīrāsana.
2. Exhaling, bring the Vīrāsana leg back, straightening the knee and leaning
forward over the forward bent leg. Place the hands where they are supportive
and comfortable, under the shoulders or one hand on top of the other under the
forehead.
3. Inhale, bringing the breath into the back of the neck and shoulders.
4. Exhaling, extend the neck out of the shoulders and allow the shoulder blades
to offer themselves into the earth.
 Eka Pāda Rājakapotāsana teaches us to keep our hearts open.
5. Inhaling, bring the breath into the lower area of the ribcage.
6. Exhaling, lift the back ribs toward the head and lengthen the front of the torso,
lifting the floating ribs towards the chin.
7. Inhaling, bring the breath from the shoulders to the lower back ribs to the
lumbosacral area of the spine.
8. Exhale and lengthen the back leg, turning the toes under and extending the
heel to give greater leverage. Can you equalize this backward momentum of
the leg with the forward extension of the spine and torso?
9. Inhale into the full spectrum of the back and spine.
10. Exhaling, place the forearms on the floor (as in Sphinx Pose) and slowly
bring the spine in as you gradually elongate, coming up into a backbend (as in
Cobra Pose). Keep extending the back leg to prevent any compression in the
lumbar spine.
11. Inhaling, stay where you are, simply allowing the breath to fill and round the
back, relaxing the head and neck.
12. Exhaling, elongate the spine, moving it into the front of the body like a
crescent moon. Lengthen the back of the neck without raising the chin. By
elongating the back of the neck, compression of the neck is prevented. The
pigeon does not raise its head, but the back of its neck is long, upright, and
majestic.
 Inhale and exhale with in the arms in Sphinx position to lengthen the spine.

Lengthen the back of the neck while pressing into the fingertips, which emulate
the feet of a pigeon.
13. Inhaling, allow the breath to spread throughout the back.
14. Exhaling, elongate the spine by offering the back spine to the front body.
Offer the chest and heart center up toward the light, coming up onto the palms
of the hands, if possible.
15. Inhale, allowing the breath to fill the back body.
16. Exhale, and if you would like to take the pose a little further, bend the back
knee, rotating the upper thigh slightly internally and reaching back with the
hand of that same side to clasp the ankle, if possible.
17. When you are ready, slowly come out of the pose the same way you went
into it, moving on the exhalations and pausing on the inhalations. Extend the
torso out across the forward bent knee, lengthening the spine before slowly
rolling to one side. Repeat on the opposite side.
Note: Another way to enter the pose is through Adho Mukha Śvānāsana
(Downward-Facing Dog), by stepping one leg forward. To exit Pigeon Pose, step
back into Downward-Facing Dog and then go into Cat Pose (Mārjāryāsana)
before taking the counterpose of Bālāsana (Baby or Child’s Pose).
Assists: Build up a blanket under the hip of the forward bent leg to make the hips
level to one another. A partner or teacher can help guide the breath with her
hands, first placing her hands on the student’s shoulder blades, and then the
lower ribs, to increase the intelligence of the breath at these points. Finally, she
can move her hands to the student’s hips to help make that denser area of the
torso more sensitive to the breath. As the āsana progresses and the student’s
torso begins to rise upward, the partner can gently lengthen the back leg to help
release compression in the lumbar area.
Psychophysiological Benefits
Rājakapotāsana is a pose one can do to gain or regain confidence. There is a
tendency for people to breathe in a shallow fashion using only the upper and
smallest lobes of the lungs. In yoga, there is an emphasis upon breathing into the
lower and middle lobes of the lungs, which corresponds to the abdominal and
intercostal regions of the torso. It is important when learning the abdominal and
intercostal breathing to bring the breath fully into the clavicle region, which fills
the upper lobes of the lungs. This in known as the three-part yogic breath, the
breath that moves from lower to upper parts of the torso affecting all parts of the
lungs. Why limit our breath to only one area? It is okay to give ourselves
permission to have it all.
The deeper reason for not breathing fully may be feelings of insecurity or
unworthiness to deserve the fullness of what life has to offer. The inability to
take in a complete and full breath may reflect one’s early upbringing or a
conditioning of lack. Limiting the breath may also reflect samskaras or deep
psychic impressions that were created out of previous actions — such as vows of
poverty, chastity, and humility.
These feelings or impressions may so deeply ingrained that it can be difficult at
first to lengthen and extend the spine to create the upliftment that says, “I am
worthy and can receive all that life has to give.” As we quietly work through
emotions and transcend past impressions, this pose reminds us that it’s okay to
give ourselves permission to “have it all,” whatever “all” may mean to each of
us.
In the full expression of Rājakapotāsana, the thoracic spine releases and offers
itself into the front body, while the heart cakra lifts to the sky. It’s as if we take
flight, like the pigeon, transcending the old stuck patterns and contractive
conditioning that had a gravitational pull on our bodies and our lives.
When bending the spine in Rājakapotāsana, it is important to remember the
extension of the back leg to prevent lumbar compression and over-stimulation of
the adrenals. As you lift to the light above, maintain awareness of the back leg,
reaching it backward to balance the lift of the heart center. The lifting heart
represents possibilities of future consciousness, while the back leg represents the
past. We don’t suppress or ignore the past but extend the leg as far back as
possible, bringing the subconscious to the light of the conscious. Here, long-
buried impressions can be transformed into a new confidence, filling those
empty spaces with the prāṇa of a complete breath.
This pose can create positive changes in one’s life. It’s interesting to note that
military recruits are trained to assume a posture of confidence and strength.
Assuming a posture of confidence and strength, whether it’s present or not, can
create it. To paraphrase Shakespeare, “Assume an attitude, though you have it
not, and it soon shall be yours.”
MARĪCYĀSANA II
Intermediate Seated Twist
Mārīca was the demon who was converted by fear in the Rāmāyana epic.
Throughout the eastern scriptures, demons symbolize the ego, that element that
sees and perpetuates separation rather than unification.

Philosophical Introduction
In the story of the Rāmāyana, Mārīca was the son of Tataka the demoness.
Mārīca and his family were a threat to the society of holy men, creating havoc
amongst the sages and saints by destroying peace in their forest. Together,
Mārīca, his mother, and his brother Sabahu plotted to destroy the fire sacrifice
that Rāma had planned. (Rāma was an avatar, an incarnation of Viṣṇu come to
earth for the destruction of the demons and the protection of the pious.) The
demons approached the fire ceremony and tried to pour blood and wine onto the
sacrificial altar to make it unholy. They roared like thunder and appeared as
different animals to drive away the assembly of sages.
Sabahu tried to kill Rāma, but Rāma’s fire arrows reduced him to ashes. Mārīca
grieved at the loss of his brother and wanted to retaliate. He showered thousands
of arrows upon Rāma, like a swarm of humming bees, but Rāma’s arrows
covered all directions, dispelling the illusory power of the demon.
Rāma told his brother Lakshmaṇa, “Just a few hours ago, Sage Viśwāmitra
taught me a secret mantra for this arrow. It will not kill the demon Mārīca but
will toss him across the Seven Seas.”
Rāma then launched the arrow, which hit Mārīca and carried him across the seas
like a withered leaf on a tempestuous wind. Mārīca fell in a forest in the far of
country of Lanka. Here, he built an ashram and meditated on Rāma out of fear. It
is said that the fear of God is the beginning of knowledge. This was the
beginning of Mārīca’s conversion.
This twisting āsana symbolizes Mārīca’s conversion or the metamorphosis of
consciousness. The spine elongates and makes an evolutionary spiral, awakening
consciousness from the egoistic, contracted mind to the expanded macrocosmic
mind, where all thoughts are directed toward the Divine.
 This twisting āsana symbolizes Mārīca’s conversion or the metamorphosis of
consciousness.

Guidance
1. Begin in Daṇḍāsana or from Marīcyāsana I (see page 129). If necessary,
elevate the hips by sitting on a folded blanket. Bend the right knee, bringing
the heel into the perineum and holding the hands around the front of the knee
to give leverage. Keep the spine elongated and uplifted as much as possible.
2. Inhaling, allow the breath to round the back, lifting the base of the back ribs as
much as possible.
3. Exhaling, keep the spine erect as you place the right hand on the floor behind
the hips and bring the bent left elbow to the outside of the right (bent) knee.
Don’t rush into the pose.
4. Inhaling, let the breath round the back, finding new places where the lungs
may not yet have experienced the breath.
5. Exhaling, bring the spine in like a backbend, moving the back of the body and
the back of the left arm to the front. Press the right hand on the floor to give
leverage for this rotation.
6. Inhaling, do nothing.
7. Exhaling, elongate the extended leg from the left side of the pubis all the way
to the ankle. Keep the toes facing upward as the knee is lifted.
8. Inhale and allow the breath to round the back organically, moving the breath
from the upper regions of the torso to the base.
9. Exhale and see if the body is ready to turn a little more to the right. Rotate the
head only when the coccyx, the base of the spine, rotates. Draw the skin down
 the back and elongate the back of the neck without dropping the chin.
l0. Inhale and do nothing.
11. Exhaling, lift the spinal vertebrae to give greater room for the intervertebral
disks. If the spine is collapsing and compressing anteriorly, focus on
elongation rather than continuing to twist.
12. Inhale and allow the breath to fill the back, rounding it to get more breath
into the lungs.
13. Exhale and return to the center, pressing down with your hands upon the
bone of the knee to lift the spine gently as you unwind.
14. When you’re ready, outstretch the bent leg into Daṇḍāsana. Take time to
breathe and elongate before bending the left knee and taking the pose to the
other side.
Note: The most important aspect of this pose is to lift and elongate; after that the
rotation of the spine will unfold in a gentle and profound way. The rotation
comes out of the elongation. The neck does not turn on its own but simply
receives the turn of the lower body.
Assist: A partner or teacher can stand behind the student and use the side of her
leg to support the student’s back. Draw the tops of the student’s shoulders down
on each exhalation (pausing on the inhalations). The focus of the assist is to help
the student elongate the spine.

Psychophysiological Benefits
This pose has all the benefits of its beginning version, Marīcyāsana I (page 129).
However, it is a more intense stretch, benefiting the pelvic as well as digestive
organs. Done appropriately, with breath awareness and elongation of the spine,
twists will strengthen the spinal ligaments, alleviate compression on the disks,
and strengthen the nerve sheaths, giving greater emotional as well as physical
stability. Marīcyāsana II helps to preserve strength and flexibility of the hips,
and releases neck and shoulder tension. This pose is excellent for increasing the
muscular peristaltic action of the large intension. When the breath corresponds
with each movement and variation, this pose helps to activate and cleanse the
liver and in turn benefit the heart.
Twistings are considered to be neutral poses and can be sequenced between
backbends and forward bends. Twists are also excellent poses to take after
inverted poses. All twists — seated, reclining, or taken as inversions — are
excellent for balancing samāna prāṇa, the energy in the navel center that
controls digestion and the digestive organs. If the twist can be felt all the way
down to the base of the pubis and tailbone, it will also regulate apāna prāṇa,
which is responsible for the elimination of bodily waste.
As the spine rises upward, it signifies the rise in consciousness. Spiraling from
front to back, we look into the seat of the back body, which is equated to the
subconscious mind. Thus, we fearlessly move from the known to the unknown.
This pose is named after a demon who converted all his thoughts upon God.
Even though he did so out of fear, he gained wisdom and knowledge and, as in
this twist named for him, he made an evolutionary shift in consciousness.
Marīchyāsana, like all poses, is a reminder not to destroy the ego but to
transform it.
MATSYENDRĀSANA
Lord of the Fishes Pose
Matsyendrāsana is the pose honoring the Lord of the Fish.

Philosophical Introduction
The fish is symbolic of the evolution of humankind. A wonderful story depicts
this evolutionary process:
One day many yugas (ages) ago, the great Lord Śiva was dictating the Tantra
Yoga Śāstras to his consort Pārvatī on the banks of a river. His teachings
included a way that the householder — someone with a husband, wife, children,
or job — could realize God. This was quite revolutionary at a time when only
ascetics sought enlightenment. A fish that happened to be swimming by heard
Śiva’s profound discourses and became transfixed. (Pārvatī, it is said, fell fast
asleep.) Śiva, who saw that the fish was becoming enlightened by these
revolutionary scriptures, declared that anything that the fish desired would be
his. The boon the fish requested was to become human. Śiva granted him his
wish, and the fish moved through the entire evolutionary spectrum of creation.
He became known as Matsyendra, or Lord (indra) of the Fishes.
Matsyendra is considered to be the first yogi to walk upon the face of the earth.
The āsana named in his honor, Matsyendrāsana, is a seated twist. The bent knees
and thighs resemble the tail of the fish, and the torso twists upward, symbolizing
the evolutionary spiral from human to Godhead. Matsyendra’s disciple
Goraknatha continued the lineage of the masters of the Natha cult, who were
considered to be the shining ones on earth, the Christ-like masters and the most
powerful of all lineages. Yogis today speculate that their teachings are the origin
of Svātmārāma’s teachings, the Haṭha Yoga Pradīpikā, meaning a “little light”
on Haṭha Yoga, which dates to the fourteenth century.
When sequencing a practice, it is good to do twists after the backbends. But then
again, forward bends can help prepare for twisting poses too. Twists can be a
bridge between backbends and forward bends or between forward bends and
backbends. You can also end a practice with a twist because it’s balancing and
neutralizing.
 Twists can be a bridge between backbends and forward bends.

Guidance
1. Sit in Vīrāsana.
2. Shift the weight of the hips to the right side.
3. Cross the left leg over the right thigh, placing the foot on the floor.
4. Place both hands on each side of the hips.
5. Exhaling, press the fingertips against the floor to give leverage for each
vertebrae of the spine to elongate upwards.
6. Inhale, round the back.
7. Exhale and clasp the hands together in front of the left knee. Use this
resistance to elongate both sides of the spine.
8. Inhale into the back.
9. Exhale and bring the spine up and in tooward the front body like a backbend.
To strengthen the abdominal muscles and spinal ligaments, stay here with
several breaths, getting upliftment of the spine and elongation of the neck.
 Press the hands into the knee to create leverage to lengthen both sides of the
spine.
10. When ready to move forward, exhale and bend the right elbow, bringing it
over the bent left knee. Bring the thumb and forefinger of the left hand into the
crease of the left thigh; press down to give length between the left hip bone
and the flesh of the thigh.
11. Exhale, lifting from the top of the pubic bone to allow the twist of the pose to
begin in the pubis and the sacral region of the spine.
12. Inhale and expand horizontally across the back.
13. Exhaling, press the knee against the elbow as the elbow presses back against
the outside of the knee.
14. Inhale, bringing the breath down from the upper shoulders to the thoracic
and lumbar spine and down into the sacrum, if possible.
15. Exhale, growing down through the tailbone and rising up through the spine.
Bring the skin of the back down towards the hips while elongating the neck.
16. On the inhalations, allow the breath to expand organically into the back,
rounding it if possible.
17. On the exhalations, grow down through the buttocks as the spine soars
upwards. Bring the spine into the front body like a backbend, lifting the heart
center. Allow the head to turn, following the spiral movement that begins in
 the coccyx at the base of the spine. Do not try to turn the head, instead, allow
it to receive the movement from the base of the spine.
18. Continue as long as the breath flows evenly and equally. When you are
ready, come out of the pose the same way you went into it, remembering to
breathe with every movement. Repeat on the opposite side.
Assists: Sit on a folded blanket to help elongate the spine. A partner can gently
press down with the thumb and forefinger on the crease of the hip. This helps
free the diaphragm and in turn the breath, and it helps prevent any compression
of the intervertebral disks. A partner or teacher can stand behind the student’s
back and, on the exhalation, draw the shoulders down and back while gently
pressing the side of the knee into the student’s spine to draw it up and inward,
like a backbend. When the head begins to rotate as a result of the rotation from
the base of the spine, a partner can bring his or her hands to the base of the
student’s ears, drawing the neck and head upward while the shoulders move
downward.

Clasping the hands together, another Matseyendrasana variation.

Psychophysiological Benefits
Whenever a pose twists or revolves — parivṛtta — I think of revolving the
vṛttis, the mind waves. In all of the twisting āsanas, the front brain, or manas
(the conscious thinking mind), turns around to look into the shadow side of one’s
self. It looks to the back body, the part that we cannot see with our physical eyes,
representing the citta or subconscious mind, as well as the intuition. In any twist,
we are taking the conscious mind and turning it to look into the seat of the
subconscious.
In the twists, we bring the subconscious up to the conscious levels, and the
conscious mind turns to look into the hidden depths of the subconscious. These
poses may bring up long-buried memories and dreams as they stimulate
Manipūra cakra (the navel center), which is the center of sight and insight.
Twists also balance the samāna prāṇa, the flow of energy responsible for
digestion, adrenal and kidney function, and the health of the eyes.
As we bring the shadow side to the light, this becomes a pose of transcendence,
helping the practitioner to go beyond self-imposed limitations of body, mind,
emotions, and spirit. We do this by creating immense space in the midline of the
body, which opens neural pathways so that memories embedded at the cellular
level can bubble up to the surface where we can transform them. It is best for
beginning students to twist while lying on the back until the spinal ligaments and
surrounding muscles are strong enough to transcend the gravitational
compression of a seated twist.
PARIVṚTTA JĀNU ŚIRṢĀSANA
Revolving Head-to-Knee Pose
Pariv��tta means “to revolve around.” Jānu is knee, and śirṣ is the head.

Philosophical Introduction
This wonderful pose combines a forward bend, a backbend, and a twist. It gives
all the benefits of Jānu Śirṣāsana, Head-to-Knee Pose, as well as the evolving
spiral of the spine that turns the heart center and the face upward to receive the
light.

During twists, we turn to look into the hidden depths of the subconscious.
When we stretch and thin the midline and the pelvic plexus of the body, we
activate the water element of the second cakra. The spine (like the great
mountain that churned the ocean of milk) “stirs the waters” and brings up
cellular memory and saṁskāras (deep psychic impressions) from the vaults of
the subconscious. In the ancient story of the churning of the ocean of milk, the
intent was to find amṛta, the nectar of immortality that lay at its bottom. Because
this ocean is milky, not clear, one cannot see to its depth. Thus, the story is a
metaphor of what lies within the unseen and hidden depths of what we refer to as
the subconscious mind. As we clear the impressions embedded in the psyche, the
celestial physician appears at last, holding the cup of the moon containing the
coveted nectar of immortality. The moon represents the fullness of
consciousness, the wholeness of our being. The nectar awakens our awareness to
what already is; that we are immortal beings who have forgotten our connection
to the Source.
Twists are powerful poses that reawaken our memory of immortality of the soul.
They bring up the saṁskāras or latent impressions embedded in the memory
vaults of the psyche. As it is said in Yoga, “The invisible must become visible
before it can be eradicated” (or transformed).
Guidance
Standing poses help us prepare for the sitting poses by developing elongation of
the spine. Otherwise, the tendency in a seated pose is to collapse. In this seated
twist, the emphasis is on maintaining a Daṇḍāsana spine, which means to keep
the spinal processes moving anteriorly, whether bending forward or twisting.
When the spine moves into the center of the body, this prevents anterior
compression of the vertebrae.

Lengthen from the inner thigh to the inner ankle.

1. Begin in Jānu Śirṣāsana with the right leg bent, bringing the foot as close to
the right side of the pubic bone as possible. (Beginning on the right side
activates the peristaltic flow of the large intestine, which moves up the
ascending colon on the right side of the abdomen.) The left leg is outstretched,
lengthening from the inner thigh on the left side of the pubic bone to the inner
ankle.
2. Anchor the hip of the bent knee, rotating the thigh externally as the pelvic rim
is lifted up and over the thigh of the straight leg. When moving into the pose,
the thigh of the extended leg rotates inward as the bent knee thigh rotates
outward.
3. Creating lift is essential in order to preserve the evenness of the spine. With
every exhalation, as you move deeper into this pose, it’s important to keep the
front body as long (if not longer) than the back body, as if you are creating a
backbend within the forward bend.
4. Emphasize the breath, pausing to inhale into the back. On the exhalations,
elongate the spine, moving the navel and torso toward the thigh of the
outstretched leg, bending from the hips (not from the waist).
5. Lift and widen the back of the rib cage on the inhalation.
6. Exhaling, continue to lift the lower back ribs, expanding them to the sides, and
then lifting the front ribs, freeing the lumbar spine. Keep that lift as you
exhale, preserving the opening in the ribcage as you bring the torso down
toward the knee.
7. Inhale and continue to widen the back of the rib cage with the breath.
8. Exhaling, lift the tip of the sternum even higher. Imagine that the sternum is
being offered to the knees and the diaphragm to the lower thigh. Try to lift the
xyphoid process (the tip at the base of the sternum) over the knee as you
extend from the top of the pubic bone.
9. Inhaling, expand the back.
10. Lower a little more, if possible, with each exhalation. Or stay on your edge
and breathe.
11. We have a tendency to go slack in the inner thigh of the outstretched leg. The
inner leg, like the inner arm, represents the subtle body. (The outer represents
the physical body.) In this pose and in all others, we want to strengthen the
subtle body (the prāṇamaya kośa) as much as the physical body (the
annamaya kośa). On an exhalation, grow down from the back of the thighs as
if into the earth, giving space for the pelvic rims to lift away from the flesh of
the thighs. This lift creates a slight twist over the outstretched leg, freeing the
diaphragm, which is attached to the lumbar spine. With the elongation in the
lumbar area, the breath opens, and there may be a feeling of being able to stay
in the pose comfortably. When the breath is compressed, there is an
impatience to come out of the pose.
13. While you stay in the pose and breathe, keep the torso even on both sides.
This balances the breath in the right and left nostrils and in turn equalizes the
breath in the right and left lungs and balances the right and left hemispheres of
the brain.
14. On each exhalation, the shoulder blades and skin of the back move gently
down the back away from the ears to lengthen and relax the neck.
15. Keep one hand on the thigh of the bent knee, rolling the thigh back and down
as you exhale and lift up out of that side, allowing the lung on the side of the
bent knee to descend as the opposite lung ascends.
16. Align the pose so that there is no anterior compression of the spine. On the
exhalations, elongate the spine, creating space between the disks of the
 anterior spine as well as the posterior spine. This increases the circulatory flow
and helps preserve the health of the intervertebral disks.
17. Now that the body is in the ���perfect” Jānu Śirṣāsana, stay in the depth
of the pose as you begin to rotate the spine from the hips and sacrum around to
the left, moving on the exhalations. Maintain the elongation of the spine on the
bottom side of the torso.
18. On the inhalations, do nothing except breathe into the back and widen the
ribs away from the spine.

Focus on lengthening the sides of the torso equally as you reach for the foot.
19. Exhaling, continue lengthening the bottom side of the torso, eventually
equalizing the extension of the top and bottom ribs, which equalizes the way
the breath is processed in both lungs.
20. On the exhalations, bring the spine in like a backbend, moving the thoracic
and lumbar spine into the front body while growing down through the backs of
both thighs.
21. Do not intentionally turn the head but allow the rotation of the cervical spine
to grow organically from the rotation at the base of the spine.
22. On an exhalation, lengthen the neck and move the skin of the upper shoulder
down toward the buttocks as you bring the arm to the side of the head. Keep
the elbow bent if you notice a tendency to bring the top of the shoulder to the
ear (which produces neck tension). Even if the arm does not touch the side of
the head, the bent elbow alleviates any neck tension.
Note: The idea is not to “get somewhere” in this pose but to be and to breathe,
allowing the breath to rotate the navel, heart center, and face to receive the light
of illumination from the solar regions of the universe while you remain deeply
connected to the earth.
Assist: Students may use a folded blanket under the buttocks (not the thighs) to
help create the lift of the spine. The knee of the bent leg should be lower than the
pelvic rim in order to prevent compression of the spine. If the bent knee doesn’t
reach the floor, it can be supported with blankets. The bottom elbow can rest on
the lower thigh just above the kneecap, with the hand facing upward to support
the side of the head and allow that side of the neck to elongate. When the neck is
relaxed, the lumbar spine and sacrum can more easily release and lengthen.

Psychophysiological Benefits
Parivṛtta Jānu Śīrṣāsana lengthens the hamstring muscles and adductor muscles
of the inner thigh. Like Jānu Śīrṣāsana, this āsana releases neck tension if it is
entered with the breath. The spine is stretched, increasing the intervertebral
circulatory flow, which helps prevent disk degeneration.
This pose helps release excessive fluid buildup in the sacrum and pelvis. The
lymph system in the pelvic area can become coagulated because of excessive
sitting and compression. When the circulation is sluggish, stagnant blood can
build up in the pelvic region or in the uterine area in women.
Parivṛtta Jānu Śīrṣāsana aids elimination by stimulating peristalsis through the
natural massage to the abdominal organs: the ascending, descending, and
transverse colon, the appendix, the procreative and reproductive organs,
including the ovaries and prostate gland.
When it is practiced by focusing on breathing and elongating the spine, Parivṛtta
Jānu Śīrṣāsana helps alleviate many back conditions. Through its particular
stretch to the side and back of the body, it benefits the liver, spleen, gallbladder,
and stomach, as well as the kidneys and adrenals that perch on top like little
nightcaps. This is a wonderful pose for releasing neck tension, while preserving
the flexibility of the hips and youthfulness of the spine. It impacts the subtle as
well as physical body through its potential to relax the solar plexus and open the
heart cakra.
In sequencing a practice, twists are a bridge between backbends and forward
bends or between forward bends and backbends. You can also end a practice
with a twist because it’s balancing and neutralizing. Parivṛtta Jānu Śīrṣāsana
activates the autonomic nervous system through the parasympathetic nerves that
come off the sacral and cervical spine. And when bringing the spine into the
front body on the exhalations, the pose becomes a backbend, and the bend in the
thoracic and lumbar spine stimulate the sympathetic nervous system. As the
spine moves in an evolutionary spiral, it can at times feel as if the life force of
prāṇa is spiraling upward from the lower to upper cakras.
Parivṛtta Jānu Śīrṣāsana is a graceful reminder of Patañjali’s Sūtra on āsana
(II:47): “It is through relaxation of effort and meditation on the infinite that
āsana is perfected.”
VĪRĀSANA
Hero’s Pose
SUPTA VĪRĀSANA
Reclining Hero’s Pose
Supta means “to recline.” Vīra is loosely defined as “hero.” In the Warrior Pose
(Vīrabhadrāsana), vira is energy, fortitude, and stamina, the qualities equated
with a hero. However, this Sanskrit root implies much more. Vīra is also known
as enthusiasm leading to sustained effort (tapas). In the Yoga Sūtra
commentaries, it has been said “where there is Śraddhā (faith) there is Vīrya.
Both relate to the attainment of Kaivalya, the state of liberation. When the mind
in meditation is tired and wants to drift to a different subject, the power which
one has to bring it back to devotional practice is Vīrya.”

Supta Vīrāsana impacts the parasympathetic nerves, making it an excellent pose

for hypertension and sleep disorders.

Philosophical Introduction
Vīrāsana is related to Vīrabhadrāsana, the pose of the warrior. Both poses
symbolize unwavering faith, stability, and steadfast concentration. They also
give bravery. Bravery in this sense does not mean fearlessness, but having the
courage to face one’s fears. Instead of turning away from fears, one develops the
courage to face them, humbly facing into the wind and the storms of life rather
than recoiling or retreating. Like Vīrabhadrāsana, Vīrāsana creates balance and
steadiness with alertness and a 360-degree of peripheral vision of whatever
situations may arise within life. In Vīrāsana, as a peaceful warrior, we learn not
to react but to act with dispassion, compassion, and equanimity in all of life’s
situations.
In yoga, it is believed that if we have no reverential faith in our objectives, we
cannot apply any energy to attain them. When the mind gets fixed repeatedly on
a subject, it leads to concentration, which brings forth wisdom and knowledge.
In the DhammaPāda, Lord Buddha said that all sorrows can be cured through
good conduct, reverential faith, enthusiasm, concentration, and correct
knowledge.
Yogis who adopt the tranquility of mind that is experienced through reverential
faith are sustained and supported like a child in the arms of a loving mother. This
kind of faith gives the seeker an energy that makes the mind undisturbed and
conducive to concentration. In such a mind dawns the light of discriminative
knowledge, where the Yogin begins to understand the real nature of things. We
sit in Vīrāsana to steady the body as a vehicle for steadying the mind.

Guidance
1. To sit in Vīrāsana, bend the knees; the shins are at the sides of the hips, the
thighs internally rotated. Relax the buttocks (the gluteous maximus muscles)
and elongate the spine, offering the heart center up towards the light of the
heavens. Use a blanket under the hips if necessary. Balance the weight under
both right and left hips to balance the twin hemispheres of the brain.
2. Place the fingertips on the floor, bend the elbows back, and press down to
create leverage to lengthen the spine on each exhalation.
3. If you can keep the length of the spine and the openness of the heart, then turn
the palms up, resting the backs of the hands on the thighs. Join the thumbs and
forefingers as a way of recycling the pranic energy that flows through the
fingertips back into the body.
4. Inhaling, spread the awareness of the breath across the back body from
shoulder to hips.
5. Exhaling, elongate the spine, lifting the base and top of the sternum toward
the head while keeping the length of the lumbar spine.
6. Continue breathing slowly and deeply on the inhalations and exhalations.

Supta Vīrāsana
1. When you feel ready to progress from Vīrāsana to Supta Vīrāsana, exhale and
lean back, bringing the elbows and forearms to the floor behind you.
2. Inhale and do nothing except breathe into the back, focusing especially on the
sacrum and lumbar area.
3. Exhaling, lift the hips gently from the floor, offering up from the base of the
pubis without dropping the vīrya of the heart center. Lengthen the lumbar by
bringing the muscles of the right and left buttocks together, which lifts and
lengthens the psoas muscles.
4. Inhale and stay in this position while organically rounding the back with the
breath.
5. Exhaling, bring the spine into the heart center like a backbend, lengthening the
back of the neck.

6. Continue proceeding in this way, inhaling as a way to re-center the mind in

the pose, and exhaling to lift and offer the heart, as well as the base of the
pelvis, to the heavens. Bringing the heart and pelvis up simultaneously
preserves the length of the lumbar.
7. If it is right for you, use the exhalation to lower yourself more deeply into the
pose. Are you in svadharma? Go only to the point that is right for you, letting
the breath be your gauge. As long as the breath is slow, powerful, and deep,
see if the body will allow you to move more deeply into the pose. If the breath
changes, becomes rapid, shallow, or erratic, stop and evaluate. Is the breath
telling you to wait at this point and not proceed further? If you have gone a
little too far, back off your edge, find your calm and easy breath, and then, on
the next exhalation, see if there is space within you to ease a little more deeply
into the pose.
8. Using your breath, come out of the pose the same way you went in.
Assists: Place a blanket under the hips to prevent strain on the knees. Build the
blanket up until any medial pressure is relieved. In Supta Vīrāsana, place a
bolster or a stack of blankets for the shoulders and back of the head to rest upon.
When the upper body is at rest, excessive contraction of the thigh muscles can
release.
Partners can assist students in the reclining position. As the student exhales, the
partner can place both hands at the back of the hips to give greater length to the
lumbar area and release the psoas muscles. A partner can also lengthen the back
of the neck, which helps to release the lower back and gives greater stimulation
to the parasympathetic nerves, which dilate, cool, calm, and relaxe the system.

Psychophysiological Benefits
As one proceeds cautiously in Vīrāsana and Supta Vīrāsana, and the thighs rotate
internally, the nerve plexus in the sacrum is activated. The plexus of nerves that
come off the five fused vertebra of the sacrum and the four fused vertebra of the
coccyx (tailbone) is part of the parasympathetic nervous system. The
parasympathetic nerves stimulate digestive fluids and the eliminative functions
of the body. Supta Vīrāsana in particular impacts the parasympathetic nerves that
stem from the sacrum and coccyx as well as the neck, making it an excellent
pose for hypertension and sleep disorders. Both Vīrāsana and Supta Vīrāsana are
excellent preparation for backbends. They alleviate neck tension and can be used
after the Headstand.
Practicing Vīrāsana helps to balance the cross-legged sitting poses, in which the
external rotation of the thighs can tighten the gluteus maximus (buttock)
muscles. Vīrāsana requires the opening and expanding of the buttock muscles.
When the buttocks are squeezed together briefly during Supta Vīrāsana, there is
an opening of the psoas muscles and the base (not the top) of the pubis rises to
the light of the heavens. When the floor of the pelvis is “offered up,” the heart
center is also offered to the heavens. This creates greater length in the lumbar
area, which in turn lengthens the psoas muscles and the quadriceps of the thighs.
The gradual opening and lengthening of the psoas muscles can bring up long-
stored emotions, which helps to free the mind and the emotions stored in this
area. This helps open the channels for spiritual remembrance or for the
awakening of the psycho-nuclear energy within the human system that is a
microcosm of the Universal macrocosm.
Practicing the Hero Poses also gives the steadiness of mind to face situations we
have avoided in the past. All poses with the root vīra or vīrya in their names
represent the inner peaceful warrior. We may not be fearless, but like the
warrior, we have the courage to face our fears.
TRIANG MUKHA
EKA PĀDA PAŚCIMOTTĀNĀSANA
The Three-Limbed Forward Bend
The name of this pose tells us how to assume it. Tri is three and ang is limb. Eka
is one and Pāda is piece or little part, like the foot. Pāda also refers to a chapter
— as in the Pādas of the Yoga Sūtras. Paścimottānāsana is the pose of the stretch
of the backside of the body, which refers to the setting sun, one of the eight
directions that is portrayed by yantra. Triang Mukha Eka Pāda Paścimottānāsana
is a derivation of Paścimottānāsana, with an intense stretch of the back body and
the face moving to one limb. Triang (three limbs) are showing: the first limb is
the thigh of the leg that is folded back, and the other two are the upper and lower
parts of the extended leg. Mukha, the face, extends over the eka Pāda (one foot
or piece), which is the extended leg.

Philosophical Introduction
In Indian mythology, there is a presiding deity for each direction. This side of
the setting sun is where darkness falls and we cannot see. We cannot visibly
perceive our back body without a reflection. Therefore, as Mr. B.K.S. Iyengar
would say, “We have to retire within ourselves and there we will ‘feel’ the back
body.” It is the intuitive side of our being and is said to be one of the directions
that is ruled by the gods and goddesses of the ten-sided Universe, the direction
known as paścima. The pose invokes the Lord of the West, the light or agni of
the setting sun.
In this pose, we are humbling the head, the symbol of ego, to the lower limb. As
the back is exposed to the light of the heaven, we receive knowledge directly
through the back brain or cerebellum as a holographic intuitive feeling. When
we are in this state, we don’t have to sift through sequential concepts or ideas
trying to deduce them logically. Instead, knowledge may arise holistically as a
symbol, a vision, a feeling, or a sense of knowing.
This back brain stimulation can also be felt in Paścimottānāsana, in which both
legs are extended, and in Jānu Śirṣāsana, in which one leg is bent out to the side
and the other is straight.
The Triang Mukha Eka Pāda forward bend may be more difficult for some, and
it requires a little more “letting go” with self observation. Again, it is important
not to go beyond your Sva Dharma, but to move, breathe, and stay on your edge,
and at times, even back off your edge.
Like all forward bends, Triang Mukha Eka Pāda Paścimottānāsana is a humbling
pose in that we offer the self. This is the fifth niyama, Īśvara Praṇidhāna,
surrender to Self or to the Lord of the Universe. Forward bends are wonderful
poses to practice breathing and letting go even when you may reach an obstacle
of pain. Do not plunge through the obstacle but honor it, breathe into it, and
circumambulate the nucleus of the pain, releasing any tension or armoring that
has been used to protect its tender center. Slowly move in this way, honoring
your body’s ability.

In forward bends, we practice breathing and letting go, not plunging through an
obstacle but honoring the body’s ability.
Close your eyes to alleviate any goal orientation. There is nowhere to go; you
are already there. There is no goal in this pose, only to be and to breathe and to
become one with the Eternal Cosmic Vibration. This is the definition of āsana.

From a strong foundation with the thigh internally rotated, move breath by
breath, expanding on the inhalations, lengthening on the exhalations.

Guidance
1. Begin in Daṇḍāsana. Fold one leg back, rotating the thigh internally.
2. Place the hands on the floor beside the hips.
3. Inhaling, breathe into the back, allowing the breath to round the back
organically.
4. Exhaling, press down with the hands, and draw the skin of the shoulders down
 as the neck elongates upward to the base of the skull. (Do not compress the
neck.) As the exhalation continues, elongate the spine upwards toward the
head, moving it slightly in as if in a backbend.
5. Inhaling, keep the lift and elongation while breathing into the back, rounding
it again.
6. Exhaling, lift even higher, pressing down with the hands, bending the elbows
back, and opening the chest.
7. It may be enough for some to inhale and exhale in this seated position,
without taking the pose deeper.
8. Exhale and lift out of the hips, elongate the spine, and offer the navel over the
extended leg.
9. Inhaling, stay where you are and breathe into the back, rounding it.
(Remember to relax the neck.)
10. Exhaling, see if it is possible to press down with the hands and lift,
elongating the spine and opening the heart center a little more as the navel
center comes closer to the thigh of the extended leg.
11. Inhale, allowing the breath to round the back from shoulders to hips.
12. Continue exploring the pose with each outgoing breath, moving only to your
edge. See if you can bring the torso close to the leg and place the hands on the
calf, ankle, or sides of the foot. Bend and raise the elbows up to release any
tension in the neck.
13. Inhaling, offer the spine to the heavens and to the Lord of the West.
14. Exhale and allow the spine and upper torso to surrender to the lower limb.
Closing the eyes helps draw the prāṇa of the eyes backward. This stimulates
the cerebellum, the back brain, which is activated by the “setting sun.”
15. When you are ready, inhale, rounding the back to lift up and come out of the
pose.
16. Exhaling, elongate the spine and slowly straighten the bent leg, returning to
Daṇḍāsana.
Note: This pose transitions well with Krauñcāsana (page 208). After returning to
Daṇḍāsana, you may continue on the same side with Krauñcāsana. When
lowering out of Krauñcāsana, go back to Triang Mukha Eka Pāda
Paścimottānāsana. Usually, it is possible go a little deeper into this pose on the
second repetition. Return to Daṇḍāsana before practicing Triang Mukha Eka
Pāda Paścimottānāsana and Krauñcāsana on the opposite side.

Psychophysiological Benefits
This pose is similar to Jānu Śirṣāsana, but instead of bending the knee out to the
side with the foot near the perineum, this time the bent leg is in a Vīrāsana
position. Through the internal rotation of the thigh, this position stimulates the
parasympathetic nervous system and has a cooling and calming effect as it aids
in digestion and elimination. The pose affects the ascending, transverse, and
descending colon. Because of its effect upon the back brain and the pineal gland,
the gland that stores melatonin, this pose helps alleviate insomnia as well as
what is now called “restless leg syndrome.”
It is important to keep both sides of the torso as equal as possible, for this
balances the breath in both lungs. This is experienced when the breath flows
through both nostrils equally, and this in turn balances the twin hemispheres of
the brain.
Whether the name of this pose can be pronounced or not, it doesn’t matter.
Eventually the pose becomes more comfortable, and we begin to feel it as a
surrender beyond whatever has held us back in the past. The root tan in
Paścimottānāsana means “to stretch and go beyond past limitations.” These self-
imposed limitations will show up as discomfort when trying to move more
deeply in the pose. Go only to your edge, breathe, and see if there is space to
release a little more.
Often, this pose brings up psychic imprints more often than the other forward
bend poses do. It teaches us to allow repressed emotions to bubble to the surface,
and to know our momentary edge. This edge becomes the Guru or teacher that
gives gentle reminders not to plunge through the pain that arises, but to allow it
to reveal the source of the self-imposed limitation. Yoga does not create
anything but only reveals what is already there.
KRAUÑCĀSANA
Heron Pose
Krauñca, according to the Indian scriptures known as the Purāṇa, is the fifth of
the seven Dvīpas. A dvīpa is a continent, island, place, or plane of existence.

Philosophical Introduction
Krauñca, a mountain, has vistas that spread like wild mustard seeds and is
surrounded by seven seas. One is of salt water, while the others taste of sugar
cane juice, wine, butter, curds, cream, and milk. It is said that in this Dvīpa dwell
the virtuous devas or heavenly beings and humans after their death.
In this Dvīpa, there was once an asura (a contractive force) named Krauñca. He
was aimlessly wandering the world when Sage Agastya began praying to Lord
Śiva. Śiva appeared and granted him a boon. The sage wanted help in creating a
holy place in Bhuloka, a plane of existence between heaven and earth. Śiva
agreed but upon the sage’s return, Krauñca mischievously blocked his way by
assuming the form of a mountain and making it rain heavily.
The sage lost his way and roamed the forests for a very long while. Eventually,
he understood what had happened, and he cursed Krauñca to remain forever in
the form of a mountain. This legendary mountain may be the one the
Mahābhārata refers to as Mahā (great) Krauñca. This mountain in the Himalayas
was said to be a mine of all kinds of gems, which are symbolic of gems of
wisdom and insight into things that cannot be seen with the physical eye.
A unique feature of Mahā Krauñca is its elliptical shape with a diametric narrow
pass. According to legend, this gap was created by Kartikeya (also known as
SubRāmaniyam), who was the son of Śiva and the brother of the elephant god
Gaṇeśa. It is said that Kartikeya pierced the mountain with his mighty sphere in
a battle with the Demoness Tharaka, who was hiding inside. In Krauñcāsana, the
body assumes the shape of the two sides of the mountain. The mountain’s central
gap can be seen as the space between the upward leg and the torso and head.
According to ancient scripture, swans, vultures, cranes, and herons would fly out
of Krauñca on their journey to Meru, the central axis of the planetary mountains.
Krauñca is also the Sanskrit name for the heron. Herons are birds of the
marshlands and shallow waters. They have long thin legs, long necks, and sharp
bills. In the Mahābhārata, the Kauravas used a military formation based on a
pattern resembling a heron’s flight. When the heron flies, its head is folded back
in a flat S-shaped loop, which is symbolic of an internalization of consciousness,
even in action.

Krauñcāsana lengthens the hamstrings and calf muscles, where we have a

tendency to hold knots of emotion.

Krauñcāsana is naturally sequenced after Vīrāsana and Triang Mukha Eka
Pāda Paśchimottānāsana. If the hamstrings are tight, you might hold the ankles
or calf, or use a strap.

Guidance
1. Begin in Triang Mukha Eka Pāda Paścimottānāsana, one leg folded back (as
in Vīrāsana) and the other leg outstretched. Inhaling, allow the breath to
expand over as much surface area of the back as possible, rounding the back to
feel the breath even more deeply.
2. Exhale and elongate the spine, bringing the spine into the front body like a
backbend. Keeping the spine elongated and perpendicular to the floor, bend
 the knee of the outstretched leg, bringing the thigh as close to the torso as
possible and holding each side of the foot with the hands. If the hamstrings are
tight, you might hold the ankles or even the calf.
3. Inhaling, enjoy rounding the back to gain even greater fullness of breath in the
lungs
4. Exhaling, elongate the spine, trying to bring it into the front of the torso as in a
backbend.
5. Inhaling, allow the breath to widen and round the back.
6. Exhale as you straighten the knee, continuing to hold the foot, ankle, or calf.
7. Inhale, allow the breath to round the back.
8. Exhaling, bring the spine in, opening the chest, which allows the head and
neck to move back as if in an S formation.
9. Inhale and do nothing.
10. Exhaling, bring the leg toward (not to) the torso as the torso lengthens,
bringing the spine in like a backbend.
11. Inhaling, feel the breath in the back
12. Exhaling, lift out of yourself majestically, elongating the spine toward the
heavenly planes. Bend the elbows out to the side and see if the upper body and
the lower leg can close the gap of separation.
13. Inhaling, remain in this position while bringing the breath into the back.
14. Exhale and bend the upper knee, bringing the foot to the floor. Straighten the
leg and bring the torso once more to the leg as in Triang Mukha Eka Pāda
Paścimottānāsana. (You may now find it a little easier to bring the upper to the
lower body for this forward bend.)
15. Come out of the pose very slowly on the exhalation, the same way you went
into it.

Psychophysiological Benefits
The heron is a marsh bird; its long, thin, delicate legs symbolize balance and
being able to wade deeper into the waters of life while connected to the earth.
Long legs also symbolize the ability to transcend what others would find
insurmountable. The longer the legs, the deeper the waters the heron can wade
in.
Even though the heron’s legs are thin and fragile looking, they are strong,
symbolizing that we don’t need massive pillars for support to remain stable;
rather, we can stand on our own and yet explore other dimensions above the
earth. Some varieties of herons are lone hunters, like some individuals who do
not need a lot of people in their life. They are not pressured by opinions of others
but seek their own uniqueness.
The pose can lengthen the hamstrings as well as elongate the gastrocnemius and
soleus muscles of the calf, where we have a tendency to hold knots of emotions.
The pose strengthens the hip area and increases its flexibility, if we keep
lengthening the spine and torso without compression of the hip joint.
The heron is as graceful in flight as it is in water and on land. When the heron
flies with the head pulled back, this reflects the internalization of awareness and
the innate wisdom of being able to maneuver through life and control life’s
circumstances by adjusting to any situation. The long beak of the heron reflects
an assertive movement towards opportunities that present themselves. The birds
that fly out of the mountain Krauñca are moving toward Meru, the central axis of
all mountains. In Yoga, the spine is known as the Meru Daṇḍa, the central axis
of creation out of which all things arise and all things return.
The form of Krauñcāsana creates diagonal angles, which represent the activation
of Śakti or dynamic energy. The triangular apex of this pose is in the buttock
bones. The pose brings the prāṇa into the lower cakras, which when honored
draw energy and offer it up to the higher cakras. It is the lower that feeds the
upper in this pose.
The splitting of the mountain to release the demoness is symbolic of opening
that place within ourselves to free the dark, restricted corners of the psyche. The
mighty spear of Kartikaya pierces past contracted conditions to open a space and
free the light so it can shine through. This pose, an upward surrendering, brings
the two sides of the mountain together, bridging the gap and reuniting the upper
and lower polarities that give the illusion of separation. Krauñcāsana reminds us
not to get caught up in this illusion, but to remember, even in what appears to be
a gap or separation, that we are united with Divine Source.
URDHVA MUKHA PAŚCIMOTTĀNĀSANA
Upward-Facing Forward Bend
Urdhva means “upward” and Paschim is the name for the god who rules the
western direction. The west relates to the backside of the body, the side of the
setting sun. Tan means “to go beyond self-imposed limitations.” In short, this
pose is the upward-facing stretch of the backside of the body, or Upward-Facing
Forward Bend.

Philosophical Introduction
The Sanskrit name of this pose tells us what we are to do in the pose. We
activate the back brain and the pineal gland that stimulates the parasympathetic
nervous system. Doing this helps us retire within ourselves and find space
between the thoughts and a quietness of mind.
In this pose named for the western direction, we also stretch with equal intensity
the Pūrvā, which means east, the side of the rising sun. When the sun rises we
can see. We can see the front of the body with the physical eyes. Paścima,
however, is the side of the setting sun, the backside of our body, the part we
cannot see. Mr. B.K.S. Iyengar once asked his students if we could see our back
body. “No,” we replied. “The back body is like God,” he said. “You cannot see
it. Therefore, you must retire within yourself, and there you will feel and come
to know it.”

In this pose, the front and back of the spine are equal to one another, as the pose
and counterpose are done simultaneously.
The posterior nerves of the spine activate the cerebellum at the base of the brain.
In yoga, this correlates with the subconscious seat of mind. Like the back body,
the hidden part of the mind is a part we cannot see and voluntarily access. This is
why Sri Aurobindo Gosh called yoga “compressed evolution.” The practices of
āsana, prāṇāyāma, meditation, and chanting open channels to reach deep into the
hidden parts of the psyche. These practices can help to bring past imprints,
known as saṁskāras, to the surface of the conscious mind, which is represented
by the front of the body and the anterior spinal nerve roots. The saṁskāras come
up for healing and releasing.
In this pose, the posterior spine and anterior spine have an opportunity to be
equal to one another as the pose (Paścimottānāsana) and counterpose
(Pūrvottanāsana) are done simultaneously. Urdhva Mukha Paścimottānāsana
honors the Lord of the east (Pūrvā), the rising sun, as it opens the east or front
side of the body. It simultaneously stretches and opens the side of the setting sun
or Paschima, the God of the west.
Reclining in Urdhva Mukha Paścimottānāsana helps to release the hamstring
muscles without effort, while keeping the spine extended equally in front and
back. It is a form of Śavāsana, which helps to release the “efforting” that tightens
rather than lengthens the hamstrings. When the hamstring muscles are tight, they
cause restrictions throughout other parts of the body as well within the mind and
emotions.
As the legs are gradually brought closer to the torso, the base of the buttocks
should move in the opposite direction. The spine does not round but moves from
the back to front body as if doing a backbend while holding the feet. This
preserves equal length of the east and west.
As the skin of the back of the thighs move toward the earth with the buttock
muscles, the legs move toward the face and torso. This is a pose of neutrality.
The spine is dynamic, as the head, face, and mind are practicing the second
Sūtra: Yogaḥ cittavṛtti nirodhaḥ. It is a wonderful pose to learn what is
described in the Bhagavad Gita as “relaxation within the action.”

Guidance
l. Begin in Śavāsana. Exhaling, bend the knees and bring the soles of the feet to
the heavens.
2. Inhale and allow the breath to spread across the back from buttock to
shoulders.
3. Exhale and, without raising the shoulder blades or neck from the floor, reach
for the outer edge of the feet, holding the big toe or behind the knees.
4. Inhaling, spread the breath across the back while keeping the navel passive.
5. Exhaling, gently elongate the spine, bringing the spine into the front body and
offering the heart center toward the head.
6. Inhale and relax as the breath horizontally expands across the back from hips
to shoulder blades.
7. Exhale and stay relaxed as you explore the possibility of bringing the legs
closer to the torso while drawing the base of the buttocks lower to the floor.
This gives a backbend effect to the spine as it is brought deeper into the front
of the body.
8. Inhale and exhale, repeating the previous movements as long as feels
comfortable. Preserve the relaxation within the action and the stillness of the
waves of the mind as you exit the pose. Without shortening the front of the
torso, bend the knees into the chest, and then bring the feet to the floor, sliding
(not lifting) them out to the Śavāsana position. Relax and let go.
Note: Bending the knees into the chest helps to prevent lumbar strain. If the
abdominal muscles are weak, this begins to strain the spine, eventually
weakening the lumbar area. As we strengthen and lengthen the abdominals, we
strengthen the lumbar and all parts of the spine.
Assist: If the hamstrings are tight, and the practitioner tries to reach the toes, this
will pull the body out of alignment and disturb the quiet state of the mind. Using
a belt around the bottoms of the feet can be helpful as long as there is no tension
in the arms, neck, and shoulders. It is important to keep the outer shoulder blades
and the back of the head — even better, the base of the skull — on the floor.
Doing so allows the body to keep the heart center open and gives equal length to
the front and back body. If the hamstrings are tight, it is also helpful to hold the
back of the knees and the thighs, but only if the torso and head do not lift from
the floor. If the chin or shoulder blades lift from the floor, this will produce a
restless mind.
The most important thing in this pose is not to round the lower back. Urdhva
Mukha Paścimottānāsana is not about trying to get the legs to the upper torso but
to preserve equal length of the east and west sides of the body. Do this by
bringing the buttocks and even the backs of the upper thighs toward the floor as
the calf skin moves upward toward the heels. This is a subtle movement but one
that can bring the practitioner into the fullness and intent of the pose.

Psychophysiological Benefits
Urdhva Mukha Paścimottānāsana is a wonderful pose to precede Śavāsana when
coming out of Halāsana. This pose is a great teacher for learning how to relax
within the actions of our lives. It teaches us to be centered in everything we do
and not be thrown off or imbalanced when faced with difficult situations.
The second Sūtra in Chapter I of Patañjali’s Yoga Sūtras is the most important; it
tells us why we are practicing yoga. “Yoga is to still and quiet the waves that
arise in the field of the mind.” To do this in Urdhva Mukha Paścimottānāsana,
we equally honor two of the ten directions of our planet, which are associated
with the gods and goddesses of the Universe. We offer to the east, the side of the
rising sun, and to the west, the side of the setting sun. These directions relate to
the masculine (the frontal lobes of the brain) and the feminine, the intuitive part
of one’s being (associated with the back body and brain).
As we attempt to equalize these two polarities, the shoulders remain on the earth
and the heart center lifts to receive the light. When space is created between the
earlobes and the top of the shoulders, it creates space and equanimity within the
mind.
BADDHA KOṆĀSANA
Bound Angle Pose
Baddha means “bound,” and koṇa is angle.

Philosophical Introduction
Though commonly thought of as a “hip opener,” Baddha Koṇāsana is much
more. In this pose, we not only create and preserve hip flexibility, we also create
the yantra of two triangles meeting at their base to form the shape of a diamond.
The angles of the legs and the joining of the feet can be seen as a modified
tetrahedron, which gives Baddha Koṇāsana its own particular energetic effect.
The tetrahedron symbolizes harmony and equilibrium. Its corner points, the apex
of the triangles, are equal distance from one another, creating geometric
equilibrium. (When the distances between the points of the angles differ, the
result is stress.) Thus, this pose gives rest with no strain or tension, as long as
one does not try to go beyond “the edge” or svadharma — what is right for that
individual.
The equilibrium of Baddha Koṇāsana brings the mind into a state of balance and
equanimity. When the feet are brought together with equal pressure, the pose
expresses “Namaste,” saluting the divinity in another as we acknowledge it also
within ourselves. This mudrā of prayer is also a way of balancing the left and
right hemispheres of the brain. Mudrā (Sanskrit for “seal”) brings the electrical
current of prāṇa back into the system, not allowing it to be dispersed through the
bottoms of the feet or through the fingertips and palm of the hands.
As the feet and hands come into alignment, Baddha Koṇāsana creates one-
pointedness of mind and evokes the star tetrahedron known as Merkaba. (In the
language of ancient Egypt, Mer means light, Ka is spirit and Ba is the body.)
This sacred geometric form is also familiar as the Judaic Star of David. In
Hinduism, the upward-and downward-facing triangles represent Śiva and Śakti,
the Divine masculine and the Divine feminine, which join at the heart center to
create the perfect equilibrium of the Sri Yantra. The tetrahedron incorporates the
Divine patterns used in the design of everything in creation, including the
cellular formation of the human body, all aspects of nature, and the sacred
geometry of architecture. Our third-dimensional world is built up in cubic form
that is hidden within itself.
As the feet and hands align, Baddha Koṇāsana creates one-pointedness of mind.
Two tetrahedrons rotating in opposite directions become a vortex or yantra that
transports spirit and body from one light dimension into the next. The Merkaba
is a geometric electro-magnetic field that extends through all possible
dimensions and parallel universes. It is a living dynamic field of energy. It is the
spirit/body which is surrounded by counter rotating fields of light and is a
vehicle to transcend the space-time continuum.
When we bend forward in this āsana, we enter into that perfect order that the star
tetrahedron symbolizes. As we offer the upper to the lower body, the senses
internalize. Instead of darting outward to the external world, the senses turn
inward in pratyāhāra to explore the universes within. Baddha Koṇāsana is a
reminder that we can only connect with our center of Divinity within ourselves
rather than directing our attention to the outer world.
While bending forward in Baddha Koṇāsana, it is important to tilt the pelvis so
the tailbone can lift, bringing the top of the pubis into the center of the base of
the triangles. In this point of the body there is an opening, a portal that reaches
from the base of the spine to the crown cakra. As we offer from here and then
from the navel center into this geometrical pattern that pervades all of creation,
we are drawn into the center of the universal equations duplicated within the
cellular structure of our own body.

Guidance
1. Begin in Daṇḍāsana with the legs equally outstretched. If the pelvis has a
tendency to drop back, and the spinous processes become prominent
(indicating anterior compression), sit on the edge of a folded blanket. Build the
blanket up to the point where the spine moves anteriorly in order to protect the
vertebra and give space to the disks. It is important for the knees to be lower
than the iliac crest of the hips.
2. Bend the knees out to the sides, bringing the soles of the feet together. Bring
the heels toward the pubic bone an arm’s length away.
3. Inhale, allowing the breath to expand horizontally across the back.
4. Exhale and elongate the spine, rising up out of the hip joints. Clasp the toes of
both feet together with the left hand, and then bring the right hand over that.
This binds the energy of the angle to energize the system through its own
circuitry.
5. Inhale across the back from shoulders to hips.
6. Exhale, bending the elbows out to the sides. Bring the skin down the back as
the neck elongates in the opposite direction.
7. Inhale, rounding the back to expand the breath into all lobes of the lungs.
8. Exhale and elongate the spine upward as the skin moves down the back. Tilt
the top of the pelvis forward.
9. Inhale into the back and do nothing; take no movement or adjustment. Just
breathe, allowing the back to round and expand horizontally.
10. Exhaling, lift up out of the hip joints and offer the top of the perineum to the
center of the angle. Bend the elbows out to the side as the torso offers itself to
the lower body. It is important to bring the spine in like a backbend when
lowering the torso. For some, it may be enough to sit in this position, making
sure the spinal vertebrae are not moving posteriorly but anteriorly — toward
the front of the body. Offer the thoracic spine into the heart and lift the heart
center toward the heavens. Instead of lifting the chin, continue to lengthen the
back of the neck and the base of the skull to prevent neck compression.

Baddha Koṇāsana is an excellent hip-opener, useful for preparing for other

sitting poses.
11. Inhale the breath slowly, allowing it to horizontally expand the back
12. Exhale and, wherever you are in the pose, slowly rise up out of the hip joints,
elongating the spine and bringing it into the front body.
13. Inhale across the back from shoulders to hips.
14. Exhaling, continue to lengthen the spine, rising up from the base of the pubis
and bringing the spine in like a backbend.
15. Inhale, expanding your breath across the spectrum of the back from
shoulders to buttocks. Stop at your threshold of discomfort, breathing into any
painful areas and releasing the tension around the painful area on the
exhalation.
16. Exhaling, continue lengthening the spine, including the neck. Relax the head
and face as you move into the center of the geometrical form of the bound
angle.
17. Inhaling, remain unmoving, simply allowing the breath to fill as many areas
of the back as possible, correlating to the upper, middle, and lower lobes of the
lungs.
18. Exhale deeper into the center of the tetrahedron of the pose. If you are able to
explore the full expression of the pose, with the heart center offering itself into
the center of the angles, bring the head to the altar of the feet. This completes
and recycles a circle of energy emanating from the head and the feet.
Assists: To help a student gain leverage for elongating the spine, a partner or
teacher can assist from behind, bringing the thumbs and forefingers to the crease
where the hip meets the thigh, applying gentle pressure. At the same time, the
student can press down with the fingertips on the outside of the thighs. To help
the student expand the breath, a partner can assist from the front by reaching to
gently guide the neck forward on the exhalations, then placing the hands on the
shoulder blades to guide the skin up the back on the inhalation and down the
back on the exhalation. From behind, a partner can guide the breath down into
the lower part of the middle lobes of the lungs by placing his or her hands on the
student’s lower rib cage, and then the sacrum, using gentle pressure on the
exhalation to help guide breath into the lowest, deepest, and most unused parts
of the lungs.

Psychophysiological Benefits
Baddha Koṇāsana elongates the adductor muscles of the inner thighs and
externally rotates the hip joint. This preserves youthfulness in the hips, giving
space for the flow of synovial fluids responsible for joint mobility and
flexibility. The pose strengthens the gluteus maximus, preserving the stability of
the sacroiliac joint (where the pelvis meets the sacrum), and elongates any
contracted attachments to the pubic bone. Even though Baddha Koṇāsana can be
an end in itself, it is also a wonderful preparation for other sitting poses such as
Padmāsana, Siddhāsana, and Samāsana.
As the base of the spine moves back and the iliac crests (the tops of the anterior
pelvis) tilt forward into the geometric space of the pose, the movement of the
pelvis allows the navel center, the seat of personal will, to surrender into the
central adjoining bases of the triangles. The heart center offers itself into the
powerful energy field that this pose creates. Last but not least, the head, the
symbol of ego, humbles itself toward the altar of the arches of the feet.
The center of the star tetrahedron of Baddha Koṇāsana is slightly above the
perineum, where there is an energetic opening in the subtle body. The energy
from this point runs through the central canal of the spine, all the way to the
crown cakra at the top of the head, and beyond. The perineum is important in our
yoga practices, a powerful center of stored prāṇa that rises upward to awaken
the heart center and release the granthis or knots at the throat cakra. The subtle
opening at the top of the perineum can awaken the two lower cakras, the
dwelling place of Kundalini Śakti, creating a counter-rotational field of light and
prāṇa. If unimpeded, this energy can rotate up the spine to awaken the crown
cakra where the inter-dimensional secrets of the cosmos reveal themselves. It is
important to extend and not compress the back of the neck in this pose so the
prāṇa can flow freely from just above the perineum to the crown of the head.
The physical perineum is located between the vaginal and rectal area in a woman
and between the testicles and rectum in the male body. There is an energetic
triangular connection between the coccyx, the pubic bone, the perineum, and the
sacrum. In some methods of Chi Gong training, attention is placed on the
perineum as the center of gravity, strength, and empowerment. Even the power
of the voice is said to come from the peritoneal area rather than the throat or the
solar or pelvic plexus.
As we honor this deepest part of our body, we honor the deepest part of the
authentic self. When we reach down into this place of origin, there is no
repression, no hiding or protecting an image we have of ourselves. When we
face and become familiar with the base and essence of Being, there is no
psychological sleep or tuning out when something appears uncomfortable. When
we reach down into this place of the origin of Self, we awaken that dormant
storehouse of energy that helps transcend the ultimate fear of the unknown.
Awakenings in this pose can bring us into a Divine encounter and a symmetrical
alignment with the collective unconsciousness of the planetary field and the
collective psyche of humankind.
The primordial form of matter, Prakṛti, is built around the divine tetrahedron.
The star tetrahedron is a replica of the subtle body and is a connecting link
between spirit and matter, heaven and earth. Thus, Baddha Koṇāsana is a
reminder that the geometrical patterns of universal life are a manifestation of the
Divine Self and dwell within each one of us.
UPAVIṢṬHA KOṆĀSANA
Upa means to “approach,” “go near,” or “come down near.” Kona is an angle.
Viṣṭha is from vesha or esha meaning “life” or “to live.” The name of this āsana
tells us to sit or come down near, enter in, and live within the angle.

Philosophical Introduction
The angle in this pose is the yantra (universal energy field) of a triangle, with the
pubis at its apex. Practiced as a reverential offering, Upaviṣṭha Koṇāsana can
reveal the inner secret of itself. We practice the pose as if we are entering into a
cosmic constellation or a Kendra, an angular house, the most auspicious houses
in Vedic astrology.
Every āsana has a bindu, a seed point within the center of the yantra or angles of
the pose. Bindu is the seed of the entire Universe beyond time and space. When
finding the bindu or point of stillness within a posture, our consciousness can
soar beyond time and space, bringing us into the true meaning of āsana. The
perfection of Upaviṣṭha Koṇāsana lies within its bindu, the center of the pelvis
between the pubic bone and the navel.
This āsana is an opportunity to offer the ego, represented by the head and the
solar plexus (as self will), to the Iṣṭa Devatā or personal deity within the angle
of the pose. In Upaviṣṭha Koṇāsana, when we focus on offering from the base
of the pelvis and the seed point above the pubis, we give from the fullness of our
Being. When we move from the strength and power of this base, eventually we
can offer the heart center to the earth, and then the forehead can touch the earth
in final surrender to the Lord of the Angle. The point bindu of the third eye
center, Ājñā cakra, awakens to the teacher and teachings within. As the forehead
offers itself to the earth, it simultaneously receives, for the bindu is the
beginning and end point of Universal creation.
 The yantra of Upaviṣṭha Koṇāsana is a triangle known as Kendra or angular
house of Vedic astrology.
This pose, like many poses, expresses the unfolding of the fourth niyama,
svādhyāyāt iṣṭadevatā sa���prayogaḥ, which is given in Sūtra (II:44):
Svādhyāya = one’s own meditation
Iṣṭa Devatā = on that which they wish to shine like
Saṁprayogaḥ = brings forth and becomes one with
Yoga = Union or Oneness with All Creation
Upaviṣṭha Koṇāsana is a pose of Bhakti, a devotional offering of one’s self into
the triangular field or yantra of the pose. It is an opportunity to center one’s self,
to breathe, and to begin the offering not from the upper body (which is only a
pretense of giving) but from the pelvic procreative force within. This is a full
offering of every part of self, a full-hearted prostration from the base of Being. It
is a form of giving our all, so to speak. As one enters into the yantra in the spirit
of this giving, the pose gives back, and we become the sūtra, as we become one
with the deity or energy field of the yantra.

Guidance
1. Begin in Daṇḍāsana. Bring the legs equal distance apart, as far as possible
without discomfort. If the lower back is rounding, elevate the hips, sitting on a
blanket or cushion high enough for the pelvic rim to be able to move forward.
(Sit on the back of the thighs, not on the base of the spine.) Draw the flesh of
the buttocks backward and diagonally, coming to rest more on the base of the
pubic bone. Extend from the inner thighs to the inner ankle without dropping
the feet out. Without shortening the Achilles tendon, extend to the ball of the
big toe to relax the spinal reflex in the sole of the foot.
2. Inhaling, place the fingertips on the floor between the thighs, shoulder width
apart.
3. Exhaling, press down with the fingertips to extend the spine upward and
inward like a backbend. It is not as important to go down as it is to go up.
4. Inhale and allow the breath to round the back, relaxing the neck and bringing
the breath from the shoulders to the buttocks.
5. Exhaling, elongate the spine upward and tilt the top of the pelvis forward,
bringing the top of the pubic bone toward the earth. Continue moving and
 breathing in this way, taking your time, pausing on the inhale and lengthening
on the exhale.
6. Inhaling, round the back to let the breath flow in.
7. Exhaling, lift the tops of the kneecaps toward the thighs and press down with
the fingertips or palms to give leverage to elongate the spine.
8. Inhale and stay wherever you are in the pose, breathing into the back.
9. Exhale and extend the inner thighs out from the sides of the pubis, offering the
back spine to the front of the body and the body toward the earth. Continue in
this way, only moving as far as a calm, deep, and easy exhalation will allow.
10. Slowly come out of the pose breath by breath, the same way you went into it.

Deepen the pose only if the breath will allow.

Assists: A teacher or partner can sit behind the student and use thumbs and
forefingers to press down on the tops of the thighs at the hip joints, rolling the
skin of the upper thigh externally while the student turns the bottom legs
internally. A partner can hold and support the student’s arms (without pulling) to
allow the spine to lengthen and not bend prematurely. Alternatively, the
practitioner can place her arms and hands on a chair to help lengthen the spine.

Psychophysiological Benefits
Emotional constrictions manifest in a variety of ways in our body. In Upaviṣṭha
Koṇāsana, we may confront long-held tightness within the point where the inner
thighs meet the butterfly shape of the pubic bone. Restrictions in the procreative
plexus fan out, preventing the psoas and adductor muscles from opening into the
full expression of this forward bend. It is important not to push or strain within
the pose but to move only to the point of svadharma — one’s own truth — and
hold as long as the breath is calm and fluid. Whatever the āsana, wherever we
are is the sacredness of the moment and the perfection of the pose. In this āsana,
it is far more important to bring the top of the pubic bone to the earth than to
over-effort, straining and rounding the back, which causes anterior compression
of the spine.
Upaviṣṭha Koṇāsana helps maintain the flexibility of the hips, as well as the
strength of the knees and spine. As we attempt to do a backbend with every
exhalation, the spine and nervous system are strengthened. The external rotation
of the thighs tones the gluteus maximus muscles and stabilizes the sacroiliac
joint. It is an excellent pose for opening space to bring the circulatory currents to
the male and female reproductive organs. The stretch and opening to the inner
thighs and legs increases awareness of the subtle and intuitive body, represented
by the inner legs and arms.
When the forehead touches the earth in the yantra of this pose, it is a form of
trātaka or steady gazing. Trātaka is a method for establishing concentration of
mind as a prelude to meditation. It is one of the ṣaṭ kriyās, but rather than being
a cleansing of the body, trātaka steadies the mind. Trātaka can be internal or
external. When the student finds the internal seed bindu within this (or any)
āsana, then breathes into and moves from this center, the mind becomes one-
pointed. If that concentrated state is held for twelve breaths or twelve seconds,
the subject and object merge as one: This is dhyāna or meditation.
Meditation is the mergence of subject and object, where consciousness is
compared to an uninterrupted stream of oil being poured from one vessel into the
next. It is possible to enter into concentrative and meditative states in āsana, as
well as the first stages of Samādhi. Trātaka is often practiced using a particular
deity or yantra as a way of transcending normal experiences to become one with
the object of one’s focus. In this āsana, we enter in and become one with the
formless energy field of the yantra as an expression of the Divine.
SIDDHĀSANA
Adept’s Pose
Siddhis are the yogic powers outlined in the third part of Patañjali’s Yoga Sūtras,
and Siddhas are the great ones, the perfected beings who have developed
through many years or lifetimes of spiritual practices and realizations. They are
able to access yoga’s hidden powers.

In Siddhasana, the heel is pressed into the root cakra, sublimating that cakra’s
energy and bringing it up to the higher centers.

Philosophical Introduction
Siddhas may sit long hours in meditation, and thus they are usually celibate.
Siddhas live monastic lives, although householders can be Siddhas as well.
The traditional way to sit in Siddhāsana is with the heel pressed into the root
cakra. This sublimates the energy and brings it up to the higher centers, rather
than allowing energy to build up in the reproductive glands. The right heel
would be placed on the left side of the pubic bone. The left foot is then crossed
over the right thigh, placing the foot between the right ankle and thigh.
Siddhāsana does not require as much elongation of the adductor muscles as in
Padmāsana, the Lotus Pose, but it does require flexibility of the external rotators
in the joints of the hips.
Classically, the right foot comes in first, and then the left foot, whether one sits
in Samāsana, Siddhāsana, Sukhāsana, or Padmāsana. The right side of the body
is associated with the sympathetic nervous system, which is more activating.
This division of the autonomic nervous system stimulates the adrenal glands,
which prepare us for fight or flight, and in turn activate the prefrontal cortex of
the left brain, which is logical and sequential and does not always perceive the
bigger picture.
When you prepare to sit for meditation, however, it’s time to curb the
restlessness of the sympathetic nervous system or, in terms of the guṇas, the
rajasic part of one’s nature. When we sit, if the right foot is brought in first and
then the left, the left foot becomes dominant over the right. This position creates
a little more stimulation of the parasympathetic nervous system. The
parasympathetic division is associated with the receptive, calming, and cooling
nature of the right brain, and it dilates and opens the physical and subtle nerve
channels. This helps our body to become an open receptacle for the Divine.
Mr. Iyengar taught that if we practice a meditative pose one way, we should
practice it the other way at times in order to preserve the balance of right and left
hemispheres of the brain, the sympathetic and parasympathetic. In his teaching,
Mr. Iyengar was considering the hip joints because after a while, a meditator can
develop tremendous tension in one hip. He was addressing the structural aspects
of the sitting poses and, in terms of structure, it is helpful to alternate sides.
Throughout the years, I have alternated the placement of the legs at times in the
sitting poses. However, when placing the left foot first, making the right foot
dominant, I found more frontal brain stimulation, which seemed to make the
mind more outgoing and sensitive to the external world. For meditation, I prefer
the classical pose, with the right foot in first and then the left foot crossed over
onto the right. This creates more of a right brain dominance, which is related to
spatial and holographic awareness. In this placement, you will notice that the
erector spinae muscles on the left side of the spinal vertebrae are more active.
This reveals more activity in the parasympathetic division of the nervous system.
This side of the nervous system quiets and calms the mind, bringing it into a
more receptive state. I have found fewer thoughts enter the mind when the left
foot is crossed over the right.
Through Padmāsana and Siddhāsana, we learn to sit in continual silence,
stillness, and deep meditation. It is in this profound stillness that we contribute to
the equilibrium of the planet and all life forms dwelling within this dimension.
PADMĀSANA
Lotus Pose
Padma is one of the names for a lotus flower. The lotus is a phenomenal symbol,
not just of sitting but also how we can live our life.

Philosophical Introduction
The beauty and purity of the lotus grows out of mud and murk. Its root system
goes beneath the waters, deep into the mud and earth. The stalk of the lotus
represents our spine. It’s thick at the bottom and it grows thinner as it comes up
to the top. The lotus flower blossoms above, but it is still deeply connected to the
earth beneath the waters. As the prāṇa of the spine rises, it is still connected to
the earth plane through the Mūlādhāra cakra at the base of the spine. The Śakti
rises like the flower to reunite with the energies in the crown cakra, the
Sahasrāra, depicted as the thousand-petalled lotus. (In the East, a thousand
means infinite.) The human neck, like the pad of the lotus, floats lightly upon the
waters of life, and our head rests upon its axis. When the energy is awakened,
the petals of the crown cakra unfold like the lotus flower that opens with the
light of the rising sun.
Although the lotus flower appears to float effortlessly on the water, a sinewy
stalk keeps it connected to the earth. If the spine is strong and powerful, we have
the same rooted connection to the earth. We can feel it through the hips, through
the buttocks, and through the back of the thighs. From here, we can lift and
extend while the mind can be in a calm and peaceful state. When the light dawns
within us, it feels as if there are petals unfolding from the top of the brain stem,
like the lotus opening to the dawn of the new day. This unfoldment, when the
effulgent light dawns within our own Being, seems infinite, without end.
The Bhagavad Gītā emphasizes how we should cultivate an attitude of
nonattachment. Sri Kṛṣṇa urges that one should live in the world like the lotus
leaf, which is unaffected by water. When the yogin places all actions in the
Eternal, abandoning attachment to the results, he or she can live in the world —
upon the waters of life. Yet, like the lotus leaf that grows from the mud beneath,
the yogin is not affected by the mud or by the water. In other words, the yogin is
in the world, but is not of it.
In the beginning stages of the Lotus Pose, students usually practice a loose
variation in which the ankles are bent, overarching the outer ankle and
compressing the inner ankle. As the body accustoms itself to the pose, the knees
may come closer together, helping the feet to be more relaxed upon the thighs.
Eventually, the inner and outer ankles become equal to one another without
ankle compression. In the “tighter,” more advanced version of this pose, energy
is not restricted or blocked in any way. The feet become dynamically alive and
the coccyx (tailbone) is automatically lifted off the earth away from the
downward pull of gravity. Certain materials, such as animal skins, were once
used to insulate the base cakra from the downward pull of the earth’s energy.
But when practicing a “tighter” Lotus pose, the tailbone is automatically lifted
away from the downward magnetic pull of the earth.
The full Lotus Pose is like abhyāsa (the first instruction that Patañjali gives in
the Yoga Sūtras), a way to still the turbulence of the waves of the mind.
Abhyāsa, commonly translated as “continual practice,” means “checking the
downward pull” of both body and mind. Lotus Pose helps lift descending
energies upward to the higher cakras and eventually to the crown cakra, the
center of the thousand-petalled lotus.

When the feet are dynamic in Padmāsana, this helps to keep the mind alert for
meditation.
In Padmāsana, when the feet become dynamic, they create a mudrā that keeps
the mind alert. The essence of the full lotus is also to keep the spine locked into
the position so that we don’t compress or tense the spinal nerve roots to hold the
pose. Padmāsana recycles prāṇa or energy that flows out through the bottom of
the feet, bringing it back into the spine to renew the pranic currents of the subtle
body and the nerves system of the physical body. The spine and torso are locked
into a vertical position so that prāṇa can flow unimpeded through Suṣumna, the
subtle spinal center. Yogis believed that if one were to enter the state of Samādhi
(altered state of consciousness) while meditating in Padmāsana, the body could
not fall over. The torso and spine would remain erect and the body would not
fall. Throughout years of meditative experiences, however, I have learned this is
not true. When in a trancelike state, one’s legs can remain folded in Lotus Pose
even when toppling backward.
The seated poses are conducive to a meditative state when the erect alignment of
the spine brings the crown of the head over the base of the spine. This brings the
mind into a “thoughtless” state of awareness. It cannot be emphasized enough:
The sacrooccipital alignment is important to meditation. As Mr. Iyengar said,
“When the heart is an extrovert, the mind is an introvert.”
Padmāsana is the most desirable sitting pose because it helps the spine, breast,
neck, and head to come into this natural alignment. (If one cannot do the Lotus
Pose, however, this does not preclude practicing meditation from any position.)
In Padmāsana, the head and mind are not leaning forward into the future or
pulling back into the past — they come into the moment. We don’t have to
wrestle with the mind to banish thoughts. Instead, the space is opened to receive
Divine grace. The meditative seat becomes, according to Sri Aurobindo, a self-
offering or dedication of self to the Divine. This pose is Īśvara Praṇidhāna,
surrender or devotion to Īśvara, the lord of this world, the teacher of even the
most ancients.
The Lotus Pose is our reminder to float upon the waters of life, lifting and
unfolding with the effulgent light that is always shining. Even though the lotus
grows from the earth beneath the waters, the mud cannot cling to it, and droplets
of water cannot penetrate it. Just as we may have grown out of the darkness of
the past, we rise up into the light of the new day and open ourselves into the
infinite and unending unfoldment to Spirit. The mud of past hurts can no longer
penetrate the purity and openness of our soul. Nothing can cling to us as we
continue to open with the Divine light that shines from within.
The Yoga Sūtras (III:35) tell us: “By practicing Saṁyama on the lotus of the
heart, knowledge of the mind is acquired.” Commentaries on the sūtras explain
this in more detail. One commentator says, “The Citadel of Brahma is the heart
center which is shaped like a lotus. There is a small aperture in it that is the seat
of knowledge. By concentration and meditation on this point, perception of citta
(mind) arises. It is from the heart that one can watch the action of the mind.”
ŚAVĀSANA
Corpse Pose
Sava means “corpse.”

The Deeper Levels of Śavāsana

The practitioner can experience four different layers of consciousness in
Śavāsana, which is why it is considered the hardest pose. With foundational
teacher training and general yoga classes, it is helpful to open with Śavāsana to
engage deeper breathing. This occurs as we stretch the neck to release the
cervical vertebrae and nerve roots because the C3, C4, and C5 nerves fuse
together to create the phrenic nerve, which innervates the diaphragm. When the
practitioner releases the sternocleidomastoid (SCM) muscles that run along the
sides the neck, this relaxes the diaphragm and, in turn, the breath. The SCM and
the diaphragm are two of the four breathing muscles. Next, by elongating the
neck and moving the legs in the opposite direction, we also the free the other two
breathing muscles, the rectus abdominus and the inner and outer intercostal
muscles. The elongation and alignment of Śavāsana that occurs with the
relaxation allows the breath to open spontaneously.
When Śavāsana is experienced on the surface level, the upper eyelids pull away
from the lower eyelids and the eyes will turn up to the frontal lobes of the brain.
When the front brain is active, the mind is restless. To calm the mind, place
something under the back of the head to bring the hairline higher than the chin.
Then the eyes and eyelids drop down while the eyes recede into the back of the
skull. If the head is positioned correctly, the energy of the eyes will descend
downward to the back of the heart. This helps the senses to turn inward
(pratyāhāra) and the whole body comes to a deep state for rest.
Avoid arching the lumbar spine. When the lumbar is elongated, coming as close
to the earth as possible, this also helps to quiet a restless mind. The teacher or
student may place a pillow underneath the knees to bring the lumbar and sacrum
to the floor, which helps relax the sympathetic nerves that come off the lumbar
spine and, in turn, the adrenals. Eventually, however, we want the whole leg to
extend and relax so the prāṇa can move freely through any blocks in the knees to
pass through the soles of the feet without impediment. This relaxes and creates
cellular space within the spine and internal organs.
 Śavāsana
The next phase of Śavāsana is when the student’s consciousness is not on the
surface but moving toward the mid-plane of the body. At this level, there may be
only a partial release; if the practitioner lacks trust in various aspects of life, she
may subconsciously believe that the earth may not support her. This lack of trust
keeps students from total release. Also, there may be a fear of giving too much
of oneself because the floor, like people or situations in life, may not always be
there to give total support.
In the next phase of the pose, as trust develops, the practitioner eventually lets
go. The front body drops into the back body, and the energies of the front brain
come to rest upon the back brain. The cerebellum, the seat of the subconscious,
is where the akāśic records are stored individually and collectively. In this state,
we can access the latent impressions (saṁskāras) stored in the psyche, where
they may surface to conscious awareness to be transformed or released. This is
the state where the hypnogogic images emerge out of the subconscious to the
conscious mind. Here, in the theta mind wave state, one learns to dwell between
the conscious and subconscious.
At the surface level of Śavāsana, we experience beta brainwaves. Alpha waves
are present at the midline level, and at the third level is the theta wave. At the
fourth level, the body relaxes so deeply that the organs, glands, and soft and
hardened tissues release whatever it is they have been holding onto, and the
awareness of the body drops away. In this state, it feels as if the earth’s contours
begin to mold to the shape of the body. Initially, it may feel as if the arms are
higher than the torso as the body sinks into the softness of the earth. Finally, one
comes into the thoughtless state of awareness where thought cannot even take
form. There is no bodily awareness. It is like returning to the source and
substratum of the Puruṣa that lies like a seed within one’s self. It is the bindu
from where we have sprung and where we will return.
APPENDICES
Creative Sequencing
Aṣṭāṅga: The Eight Limbs of Yoga
Practicing Yama and Niyama in Āsana and Life
The Pañca Kośas or Five Sheaths
The Five Prāṇas
The Bandhas
CREATIVE SEQUENCING
The idea of practicing āsana is to create internal space. We also need to create
space and inspiration in the way we sequence our poses. Like the choreography
of dance, in yoga āsana one movement flows into the next. Composing a class is
like composing music, with augmentations and resolutions that morph into the
next pose with grace and ease.
When I began training yoga teachers in the l960s, the new teachers wanted to
outline prescribed pose sequences for their classes. Many would put the outline
on a note card and hide it during class. Some would write a class sequence on
their hands for easy referral. One teacher was so nervous when teaching her first
class that her hands perspired, erasing her carefully planned sequence.
When I was asked for my thoughts on writing a class outline, I would say that it
was fine to do this, as long as they forgot it when they entered the classroom.
The reason: When there is too much preplanning, we are not open to the creative
impulse that is attempting to move through and guide us. There may be times
when we veer from the planned poses, not knowing why, until one or more
students say, “That was just what I needed.”
More than once, I raced to an evening class planning to do vigorous standing
poses. When I arrived, the students were in Śavāsana on the floor, obviously
fatigued by the day’s activities. All my best-laid plans flew out the window as I
gauged the energy in the room, attuned to it, and let go of my carefully
structured sequence along with my expectations. Times like this reminded me to
be sensitive to the moment and to adapt to the students’ needs.
While teaching an unchanging set of postures may satisfy the need for structure
and security, it does not always allow us to be present to the changing needs of
the moment, or to exercise one’s own creativity and responsiveness. Teachers
who have taught the same set of poses for a few years have said that after a time,
they felt “dry” and uninspired. If we parrot the words and teachings of our
mentors without finding the depth of those teachings, it is difficult to stay
inspired.
I learned the art of sequencing in the Sivānanda method, as taught by Swami
Satchidananda, Vishnu Devananda, and Walt and Magana Baptiste. I have also
been inspired by T. K. V. Desikachar, and I was strongly influenced by Mr. B.
K. S. Iyengar’s alignment-based methodology. Mr. Iyengar worked with me on
sequencing many years ago, when I established a yoga teacher training school in
San Francisco. The presentation of Āsana I and II in this book is a combination
of different methodologies that have been inspired by my personal teachers,
based upon a sequence that can be altered and adapted to one’s own practice or
teaching.
Whether you are a teacher or a student, remember that the practice or teaching
does not come from us; it comes through us. Creative sequencing helps us
continue to feel inspired, fulfilled, and attuned to the Divine essence that teaches
through us. By allowing creativity to direct our teachings, we become
instruments of Divine grace. We don’t just lead people through poses; we help
them experience the eternal cosmic vibration through each pose.
Creative sequencing draws on knowledge of how āsana realigns, balances, and
regulates the physical and subtle body. It is based on the biological
understanding of āsana in relation to the autonomic nervous system, the
endocrine system, and the body’s subtle energies. This understanding increases
self-awareness and self-observation through āsana practice. Through sequencing
poses and adapting them for our own (or our students’) personal needs, we
develop greater awareness of the efficacy of āsana. We learn to adapt, adjust,
and balance emotional needs and energetic patterns. For teachers, creative
sequencing expands consciousness to embrace and invoke the presence of the
masters who have gone before.
Creative sequencing teaches flexibility — not just of the body but in all areas of
life. We learn to trust in our intuitive impulses and allow guidance to enter into
our teaching. When we create a sequence, we create a mood — a mantle for the
presence of the Divine to enter the room and our hearts. When this happens, we
benefit in both body and spirit.

Sequencing and the Autonomic Nervous System

Whether sequencing one’s own practice or teaching a class, it is important to
understand the function of the autonomic nervous system (ANS), which consists
of the sympathetic and parasympathetic nerve ganglia that run laterally along the
spinal column. (The chart on page 232 illustrates the ANS.) The sympathetic and
parasympathetic nerve ganglia also relate to the left and right hemispheres of the
brain. All sequencing is based upon balancing the ANS through forward bends,
backbends, inversions, and twists.
The sympathetic division of the ANS correlates to what was known in ancient
times as Ha. The syllable Ha, in Sanskrit, refers to the sun, the projective energy
that heats, constricts, and activates. Ha is associated with the masculine universal
energy. The parasympathetic division was known as Tha, one of the Sanskrit
words for moon. The moon is known for its cooling influence, balancing the
heating and constricting effects of the sun. Like the moon, the parasympathetic
aspect dilates; it is a receptive energy associated with the universal feminine.
The essence of āsana practice is to balance Ha and Tha, sun and moon, heat and
cold, day and night, masculine and feminine, and all polarities that comprise
life’s existence. General sequencing is based on the bilateral integration of the
autonomic nervous system. When these two opposite forces are brought into
balance, prāṇa is automatically brought into the central canal of the spinal cord,
awakening the universal intelligence that lies dormant within.

The Sympathetic Nervous System and Backbends

The sympathetic ganglia arise from the spinal nerves of the thoracic and lumbar
vertebrae. The sympathetic nerves have a stimulating impact upon the heart,
thymus, and adrenal glands, preparing us for fight or flight. The adrenals are
sometimes known as the body’s brain. It is logical to assume that backbends
affecting the thoraco-lumbar spine would impact the sympathetic nervous
system. This is why backbends have a stimulating affect, speeding up the general
metabolic rhythms and functions of the body. Backbends and other postures that
influence the sympathetic nervous system are excellent for conditions such as
chronic fatigue, depression, hypothyroidism, and low blood pressure.
If backbends or other āsanas related to sympathetic stimulation (Headstand, for
example) are taken at or near or the end of an āsana sequence, the constrictive
effects make it difficult to relax in Śavāsana, and feelings of anxiety, anger, and
agitation may arise after the practice.

The Parasympathetic Nervous System and Forward Bends

The parasympathetic ganglia radiate out from the cervical spine and the sacrum.
When the parasympathetic nerve plexuses are activated through āsana, blood
vessels dilate, which reduces excessive heat and inflammation and balances
sympathetic stimulation. It is the parasympathetic nervous system that helps the
mind to become more focused and calm. Its activation is helpful for reducing
anxiety, hyperactivity, and high blood pressure.
It is logical to assume that the main āsanas impacting the parasympathetic
nervous system are forward bends, shoulderstand, and plow pose. Therefore, it is
highly advisable to end an āsana sequence with poses that engage the
parasympathetic response, such as a forward bend variation. Forward bends and
other parasympathetic poses have a calming and relaxing influence on both body
and mind, preparing the body for final relaxation in Śavāsana.

Twists
Twists are neutral. It is important to extend the spine before twisting; the
movement must start at the coccyx (tailbone) at the base of the spine before
proceeding upward through the sacrum, lumbar, thorax, and cervical vertebrae of
the neck. Twisting that involves the whole spinal spectrum in this way creates a
marvelous combination of a backbend in a forward bend. As a result, twists
impact both the parasympathetic and sympathetic ganglia. This is true for both
supine and seated twists.
In twists, the bottom half of the body is in a modified forward bend. The spinal
elongation and rotation creates a backbending affect by stimulating the
sympathetic nerves that emanate from the thoraco-lumbar spine. The cervical
spine (neck) mirrors the alignment of the base of the spine, and the movement of
the sacrum and neck activates the parasympathetic nerves.
In sequencing, twists can be taken between backbends and forward bends or
between forward bends and
backbends. Along with forward bends, twists are recommended for evening
practices. These poses affect the cervical and sacral plexuses — the
parasympathetic nervous system — and help the practitioner to relax and prepare
for sleep.

Standing Poses
It is suggested that morning classes start with standing poses, while evening
classes can begin with relaxing poses before introducing more vigorous poses.
Standing poses also impact the parasympathetic nerves and in turn influence
apāna, the pranic flow that carries waste matter and energy downward. Standing
poses develop strength, balance, and trust in one’s own strength.
Since standing poses and forward bends have a dilating impact upon the
parasympathetic nervous system, they can have the effect of reducing high blood
pressure. This is one of the reasons that standing poses are usually sequenced
before the Headstand. It is recommended that students with high blood pressure
practice forward bends for at least twenty minutes before attempting to invert the
body. Students with low blood pressure should avoid excessive practices of
standing poses, as they can cause fatigue.
For a basic practice, one would begin with standing poses: The body isn’t as
tired at the start of practice, and the standing poses will help stabilize high blood
pressure before taking inverted poses. Or, a practice session may begin with
Downward-Facing Dog, followed by a preparation for Headstand, with standing
poses taken afterward to help regulate blood pressure and release any neck
tension. People with low blood pressure and/or chronic fatigue would need more
inversions and fewer standing poses. Students with high blood pressure will
benefit from standing poses when they are practiced before inversions or
backbends.

Inverted Poses
Inverted poses are a good choice in the afternoon when one’s energy level drops.
Low blood pressure and chronic fatigue are brought into balance through
inverted poses. The main inverted poses are Headstand, Handstand, Peacock
Pose, and the most important of all inverted poses, the Shoulderstand.
The Headstand stimulates the sympathetic nervous system. If the Headstand is
done appropriately, the thoracic spinal nerves are stimulated, while the
elongation of the nerve roots of the neck, lumbar spine, and sacrum creates a
balance between sympathetic and parasympathetic stimulation and, in turn, a
balance between the polarities of Ha and Tha associated with the crown of the
head and base of the spine.
Shoulderstand is known as Sarvāṅgāsana, which translates roughly as “the pose
of the whole or entire body.” The name of the pose reflects the fact that
Sarvāṅgāsana affects all parts and systems of the body. It is important to include
Shoulderstand (or its modified variations using a wall or chair to support the feet
and legs) in every practice session. Shoulderstand activates the parasympathetic
nervous system through the angle of the neck and cervical nerves. When taking
variations such as Halāsana (the Plow), the nerves in the sacrum are also
stimulated, creating major impact on the nerve plexuses associated with the
parasympathetic response. Halāsana has a calming and balancing effect upon the
mind, and helps to bring the entire endocrine system into balance.
After practicing Headstand, Handstand, Peacock Pose, or their preparations, it is
recommended to follow with Shoulderstand or one of its variations. If
Shoulderstand is not taken immediately, it can be sequenced toward the end of
the session, then followed with forward bends and final relaxation. Though it is
usually recommended to end an āsana session with forward bends or twists,
which have a calming and soothing effect through the activation of the
parasympathetic nervous system, the Shoulderstand can also be sequenced at the
end of a practice session.
When practicing inverted poses or even just their preparatory positions, if the
Shoulderstand is not taken immediately after them or near the end of the session,
one might later feel heat and constriction and a weakness in the nervous system.
This could be expressed as impatience, frustration, and anger, reflecting too
much sympathetic stimulation.

The Autonomic Nervous System and the Subtle Body

All āsana is based upon balancing the sympathetic (masculine) nerves and the
parasympathetic (feminine) nerves, the anterior and posterior spine, and the left
and right hemispheres of the brain. Sequencing based on these polarities would
include standing poses, which stimulate the apāna prāṇa (downward flow), and
then inverted poses that stimulate the prāṇa prāṇa, the flow that brings the
descending energies upward and helps prevent depression and fatigue.
It is important to note that when we balance the sympathetic and
parasympathetic responses, we are also balancing the subtle energy channels
known as the nāḍīs. The central channel, which correlates to the physical spinal
cord, is known as suṣumnā. The channel that runs along the left side of the
suṣumnā, which correlates to the parasympathetic nervous system, is known as
iḍā. The channel that runs along the right side of the spine, correlating to the
sympathetic nervous system, is known as piṅgalā. Every āsana is based on
bilateral extension, and so is the way we design a sequence for a class or practice
session.
In the classical traditions of yoga, the physical nerves and subtle channels are
brought into balance by taking a pose and then the counterpose. However, in the
methodology of this book, we practice the counterpose within the pose. In this
manner, we can maintain continual balance of the autonomic nervous system and
the subtle energy channels (iḍā nāḍī and piṅgalā nāḍī) in each āsana. This has
the effect of quieting the waves of the mind, which is the very essence of yoga,
according to Patañjali’s second sūtra. Instead of doing the poses in order to curb
restlessness so that one can meditate, by doing the counterpose in the pose, the
mind can find that stillpoint of meditation in the pose.

The Endocrine System and the Subtle Body

The endocrine system and its relationship to the cakras (shown in the chart on
page 247) is another major aspect in designing an āsana sequence. The endocrine
glands are internally secreting; that is, they secrete their hormones directly into
the bloodstream. Also known as ductless glands, the endocrine glands include
the hypothalamus, pituitary, pineal, thyroid, parathyroids, thymus, adrenals, and
reproductive organs.
The endocrine system is the physical correlate of the body’s subtle energy
centers, or cakras. A cakra is a wheel. Ca means “to go” (as in the word
“chariot”). Kra is from kri, meaning “to do” or “to act.” Cakras are commonly
thought of as vortices of energy. The seven major cakras relate to the endocrine
glands, but there are also minor cakras located throughout the subtle body —
between the seven major cakras, at the physical body’s moving joints, in the
palms of the hands, the soles of the feet, and the backs of the knees. I call these
sub-cakras.
Cakras cannot be seen with the physical eye but are experienced in the subtle
sheath that is known as prāṇāmāya kośa. (For more about the kośas and the
subtle body, see page 245.) The health and balance of the endocrine system is
considered to be an important component in opening the subtle channels of each
gland’s corresponding cakra. The classical sequencing is brilliantly designed to
insure the balance and health of each endocrine gland in turn. After beginning
with sun salutations or a few standing poses, the Headstand or inverted poses
would come next.
Once, the pituitary was thought to be the “master gland” that controlled and
regulated the entire endocrine system. Now, however, the hypothalamus is
recognized as the master endocrine gland. The prefix hypo- means “under,” and
this gland is located under the thalamus, in the topmost center of the brain.
Within subtle anatomy, this area correlates to sahasrāra cakra, the thousand-
petaled lotus.
Śīrṣāsana , the Headstand, directly affects the thalamus and hypothalamus
located at the top of the head. Śīrṣāsana is called the king of all āsana because it
regulates and balances the entire endocrine system through these master centers.
The Headstand is meant to bring balance to the endocrine system through the
activation of the thalamus, which in turn affects the master gland of the
hypothalamus. The Headstand creates a pranic current that can activate a portal
opening of the crown cakra.
Next, the Shoulderstand would be taken, which brings the pressure to the base of
the skull, influencing the pineal and pituitary glands. Shoulderstand draws the
masculine energy of the pituitary backward and slightly upward in the brain,
where it unites with the receptive feminine energies of the pineal gland. When
these two pranic currents come together in a unified field of consciousness, ājñā
cakra opens. Ājñā, located at the forehead centerpoint, is the command center
where the inner guru may appear. It is from this center that intuitive guidance
arises.
Practicing Shoulderstand also benefits the next endocrine glands further down in
the chain of command. Located at the throat center, the thyroid stabilizes
metabolic processes of body, mind, and emotions. The parathyroids, which are
embedded within the butterfly-shaped thyroid gland, regulate the metabolism of
calcium. Shoulderstand is the very best pose for balancing the thyroid and
parathyroid glands. Due to its direct impact upon the thyroid, the Shoulderstand
stabilizes a hyperactive or hypoactive thyroid and in turn regulates the heart
rhythm.
Following Shoulderstand, the next posture that is usually taken is the Plow,
which is a variation of Shoulderstand. When the legs drop behind the head in
Halāsana, the balancing effects on the thyroid are even greater, moving
downward to the center of the chest to include the thymus gland. The thymus,
named for the thyme flower, is the body’s immune center until puberty, when it
shrivels. The thymus relates to the cardiac nerve plexus and the heart cakra,
known as anāhata, which means “unstruck sound,” or sound produced without
friction. When the subtle nerve channels open within us, we hear the Divine
sound that is ever existent and is produced without friction.
In classical sequencing, Fish Pose is usually taken after Shoulderstand and Plow.
Matsyāsana is intended to balance and preserve the C-curve of the cervical
spine. It stimulates the immune system through its direct affect upon the thymus
gland. It is an excellent pose for balancing an underactive thyroid. Students
throughout the years have also found Matsyāsana helpful in bringing balance to
hypoglycemic conditions.
Fish Pose elongates the solar plexus, helping to release built up anxiety and
tension, and also releasing toxins in the liver, gallbladder, pancreas, and spleen.
It is a good preparation for more complex backbends. All backbending poses
stimulate the sympathetic nervous system through their impact on the thoracic
and lumbar nerves. They temporarily speed up the cardiac rhythm, giving an
aerobic effect to the heart.
After backbending, the forward bends are taken to balance the autonomic
nervous system. Forward bends benefit the endocrine system through the
procreative organs, influencing the healthy balance of the ovaries in women and
the testes and prostate in men. For this reason, it is important that the movement
of forward bends originates in the hips rather than the waist. This also preserves
a healthy alignment of the spinal vertebra.
Breath and Sequencing
One day in India, I asked Mr. Iyengar why he did not mention the breath in
coordination with the alignment of the poses. He emphatically said, “First you
get the pose, then you get the breath.”
“Sir,” I timidly asked, “Will we ever get the pose?”
Over the years, sometimes practicing up to twelve hours a day, I found that I
would never “get” the pose and that āsana was infinite. It was the exploration of
the internal universe. Each time we think we reach the boundaries of the fullness
of the pose with the breath, a new portal can open, expanding consciousness into
ever-new galaxies of self-discovery.
It is difficult to teach or write about sequencing without mentioning the
importance of the breath. Originally, many of us were taught to take a pose and
then a counterpose. Now, I teach students to use the breath to find the
counterpose within the pose. In so doing, we create a balance between the
sympathetic and parasympathetic divisions of the autonomic nervous system in
every pose.
If we enter into a pose without using the propulsion of the breath, inner space
can close down, creating compression and repression of deep cellular memories,
known in yoga as saṁskāras. If we allow the pose to follow the breath, we open
the inner space for these deep psychic impressions to be released. A commentary
on Patañjali’s Yoga Sūtras says, “The invisible must become visible in order for
it to be eradicated.” If the pose follows the breath, we allow the embedded
subconscious imprints (saṁskāras) to emerge to the surface of the conscious
mind. When these saṁskāras arise, the invisible becomes visible, making
healing and transformation possible.
If there is no conscious breathing when entering, exiting, or staying in the pose,
it is difficult to direct the currents of prāṇa into the subtle nerve channels. This is
why I emphasize bringing the breath into āsana, allowing each pose to emerge
and unfurl from the center of each breath.
I believe that breath is the most important essence, whether we are practicing
āsana or spontaneously choreographing a sequence. I found that if I allowed the
alignment of the pose to organically unfold from the breath, it would open
consciousness to the vast unexplored spaces within. Through this organic
unfoldment from the inside out, one movement would determine the next,
allowing for a spontaneous choreography of sequencing to occur.
With breath, I felt that the pose could be held for an indefinite period of time.
The breath would also indicate when it was time to come out or to stay in the
pose and continue to explore the infinite space of the universe within.
AṢṬĀṄGA: THE EIGHT LIMBS OF YOGA
The eight limbs of yoga, according to Patañjali’s teachings in the Yoga Sūtras,
are the steps to transcend the painful afflictions in our life known as kleṡas.
Once the seeds of the kleṡas are scorched, never to germinate again, we can
reach full spiritual potential. Though I will describe all eight limbs separately,
my experience over the years is that they are not sequential and that they can be
simultaneously experienced in āsana. The eight limbs (aṣta = eight, aṅga =
limb) are:

1. Yama
(the five restraints or ethical disciplines)
Ahiṁsā (non-violence) is practiced in thought, word, and deed as
inoffensiveness, non-destruction, and non-injury. Violence is a state of mind, not
only a state of diet. To be in ahiṁsā is to be free of fear and anger.
Satya (truthfulness) is not limited to speech alone, although there are four sins of
speech: abuse, obscenity, gossip, and ridicule of the beliefs of others. What
appears as truth in one man’s eyes can be an error in another. Since the
definition of truth is illusory and colored through the lens of the ego, we must all
be motivated from the absolute resources of inner truthfulness.
Asteya (non-stealing) negates the desire for the possession of another’s property,
also misappropriation or the gathering of more than one’s needs.
Aparigraha (non-covetousness) means to be free from the desire to possess or
steal. Poverty of spirit is taking things that one does not require immediately.
Detached from loss or gain, the yogi finds his needs provided at the right time.
“To those who worship me alone with single-minded devotion, who are in
harmony with me every moment, I bring full security. I shall supply all their
wants and shall protect them forever” (Bhagavad Gita, IX:22).
Brahmacarya (abstinence) is commonly interpreted as celibacy or sexual
abstinence. The ancient teachings seem to consider the manifestations of sexual
impulses to be gross obstacles on the spiritual path. To the brahmacari, however,
sexual abstinence does not mean a forced negation and repression of the sexual
impulse. The sexual impulse in the form of energy is sublimated, transformed,
and used as an instrument for God-realization. Also, a brahmacari is one
established in Brahman, one who sees divinity in all things or who studies the
sacred Vedic lore.
2. Niyama
(the five devotional observances)
Śauca (purity) is cleanliness, both internal and external. By purging the darkened
recesses of the body through sattvic diet, āsana, kriya, and prāṇāyāma, and
burning the impurities and confusion of the intellect with the fires of svādhyāya
(study of the self), the mind and emotions are freed from disturbing emotional
influences. When freed from obstacles of debris, the temple of mind, body, and
emotions emanates radiance and joy.
Santoṣa (contentment) is to be without desire — content, tranquil, and serene. If
the mind is filled with movements of cravings (either conscious or unconscious)
it is not content and therefore is not concentrated. Santoṣa is a state of mind that
must be cultivated so that the seeds of one-pointedness can grow into
unwavering steadiness of thought. It is through this steadiness that the flame of
spirit cannot be snuffed or even disturbed by the winds of desire.
Tapas (self-training) is from tap, meaning “to burn,” “to illuminate,” or “to be
consumed by heat.” The austerities of tapas burn all desires that block divine
aspirations. Without the archer’s arrow of tapas, there is no aim, no value in
ritual or prayers. Life without tapas is like a heart without love. The three
disciplines of tapas relate to the body (action, postures, breathing), to speech
(japa, prayer), and to meditation. Whether the choice is one or many forms of
disciplines, the chosen methods are tapas.
Svādhyāya (study of the scriptures) dispels ignorance through the study of one
subject, which is the foundationless fulcrum from which all other subjects have
formed their base. As the bee draws nectar from many flowers, so too does the
spiritual aspirant savor the nectar in other faiths that enables greater appreciation
of his own. Yoga is the science of religions, not a religion by itself. As we study
sacred writings, we gain greater understanding of the faith of others as well as
our own faith. As we write, so we revise our own book of life.
Īśvara Praṇidhāna (love of God) is the giving of one’s smaller self (aham) to
the larger self (Brahman) as the instrument of divine action and love (Karma
Bhakti). All life’s actions then become the love offering to the divine. Mere
adoration and devotion without strength of character is an inert, trance-like
stupor. Physical strength and the attainment of siddhis (powers) without bhakti is
deadly. The gratification of the senses, whether in worldly pursuits or in
meditative pursuits, creates attachment and a desire to repeat the experience.
Only when the mind is emptied of desires and gratifications can it be filled with
thoughts of absolute divinity. As we become open to higher ideals through love
and devotion, illumination will penetrate the darkened corridors of our travels
with the light of divine direction.

3. Āsana
The third limb of yoga is āsana, a word that means much more than “pose.” As
means “to be” or “to breathe”; san is from sam, meaning “to become one with”;
and na means “the eternal cosmic vibration.” Āsana brings steadiness,
flexibility, health, and levity of limb. A steady, unwavering posture produces
mental equilibrium and prevents unsteady and fluctuating thought. Āsana
strengthens the physical nerves and subtle channels for the body to withstand the
light of illumination.
One of my teachers once said, “A soul without the body is like a bird who has
lost the power to fly.” The yogi believes that his body is not for the enjoyment of
the senses alone but is for the service of his fellow men. He does not consider it
“his property” and therefore is respectful and does not abuse it. Care is taken to
oversee the health of the body but not to the exclusion of mind. Āsanas are
named after all aspects of creation and are called “prayers” as each position is a
position of humble reverence for life and its creative force. Their names are
significant and symbolize the principle of evolution. They have assumed the
names of vegetation, insects, birds, reptiles, warm-blooded animals, and
legendary heroes.
The body is not an impediment to spiritual liberation, but it is an instrument or
vehicle or realization. It must be fit to serve and not to burden. The body is the
temple of the divine spark (or spirit). The yogi does not turn his gaze outwards
toward the heavens but toward the kingdom within, knowing and experiencing
them to be one and the same.
The body is the basis for all longings and spiritual aspirations of the mind.
Āsanas are performed by the body but are considered a reflection of the mind.
Where does one begin and the other leave off? The inter-relation of the body and
mind are part of this same all-pervading universal consciousness subservient
only to change, with no beginnings and no endings.

4. Prāṇāyāma
Let your life be measured not by the number of days but by the number of
breaths. Prāṇāyāma harnesses the life force by converting breath into prāṇa.
The meaning of the word prāṇa is as vast as the word yoga. Prāṇa is breath,
respiration, the vital life force, wind, or strength. It also corresponds with and is
related to “soul” more than it is the body. It is used in reference to the vital
breaths or winds of the body. (For more information about the five prāṇas, see
the chart on page 254). Ayāma means length, expansion, stretching, restraint,
control, or retention. Hence, prāṇāyāma would be the control of the vital winds,
breaths or forces of the body through all three respiratory functions — inhalation
(pūraka), exhalation (rechaka), and retention (kumbhaka).
A kumbha is a pitcher, water pot, jar or chalice. Just as a container may be
emptied of all air and filled only with water, it may also be emptied of all water
and filled only with air. This pertains to the lungs and the three states of
kumbhaka: 1) aṅtara refers to suspended breath on the inhalation, 2) bāhya is
suspended breath on the exhalation, and 3) kevala is the spontaneous fusion of
inhalation and exhalation, where the mind is void of thought waves. Kevala
means “isolated and absolutely pure.”
Prāṇāyāma, the science of breath, is a defined and regulated procedure where
the patterns and waves of rhythmic breath correspond to the patterns and waves
of the mind. Cessation of one brings stillness to the other. The out-breath is
symbolic of emptying the mind of its illusions, and the in-breath symbolizes the
realization of the Ātmā (I am) or existence of the individual soul. Steadiness and
concentration on the Ātmā or “I am” then becomes the kumbhaka only when it is
retained and held firm within memory.
Each breath is the unconscious prayer So Ham. Sah, meaning “he” or “that,” is
taken in on the in-breath.
Aham, meaning “I am,” is expelled on the out-breath. In reverse, hamsah would
mean “I am that,” like the mantra Tat tvam asi, meaning “Thou art that,” and
“That is thou.” This unconscious repetitive prayer is automatically breathed by
all living creatures.
The word prāṇāyāma can also be understood another way. Pra means to bring
forth; na is the eternal cosmic vibration; ya means “yeah” or “yes,” referring to
the Śakti that moves it forward; and ma, meaning to measure, represents third-
dimensional awareness where we experience polarity and separation. This is
known as maya, the illusory world. Prāṇāyāma, therefore, is to bring forth the
eternal cosmic vibration into this world of maya.
The calming and soothing effects of prāṇāyāma upon the nervous system
diminish cravings and desires and prepare the mind for the fifth limb of the
eight-fold path.
5. Pratyāhāra (sense withdrawal)
Pratyāhāra is often translated as “withdrawal,” not to be confused with escapism.
Contrary to escape, pratyāhāra is the sublimation of the less intense states of
consciousness that are identified with the worldly five senses that consistently
dart outward. With these senses circumvented and brought to one point through
the previous limbs of yoga, the mind is freed from external desires. The mind of
the aspirant then turns inward toward contentment and joy that rise from the
internal wellspring of “self.”
Pratyāhāra is also referred to as non-attachment in the sense of renunciation from
externals — for example, leaving one’s home, family, position, money,
possessions, etc. The integrated man, however, withdraws daily for meditative
moments or hours, depending upon his schedule, believing that true renunciation
comes from the heart, not from the pocketbook. He is in the world but not of the
world. He shares the joys of physical, mental, and spiritual well-being with all
who are eager to learn.
When there is true detachment, there is no need to push away or physically
divorce oneself from sense objects. The desire for sense objects automatically
vanishes, and these objects are observed with dispassion and detachment
(vairāgya). It is only when doubt and difficulty arise due to inner conflicts that
the aspirant may feel the need to divorce from society and remain in silence and
seclusion, helping humanity from afar through vibrations of strength and peace.

6. Dhāraṇā (concentration)
When the body is freed from the pains of opposition, the mind cleared and
refined through the fires of breath (prāṇāyāma), and the senses circumvented by
pratyāhāra, the aspirant reaches the sixth limb of dhāraṇā. Concentration is
defined as bringing together to a common center or point of union, or to
intensify by removing non-essential matters. The mind of the aspirant must
become one-pointed to engage in meditation. Mental states have five groupings,
described in the Introduction and illustrated on page 30: mūḍha, kṣipta,
vikṣipta, ekāgratā, and nirodha.
The mental state of concentration is ekāgratā, which means “one and foremost.”
In this state, the mind is closely attentive, with concentrative ability for a single
object. An ekāgratā personality knows just what he wants and uses his powers to
achieve it and has superior intellectual powers. Ruthlessness can happen in this
state. If the senses roam unbridled, the mind follows. Mental equilibrium can be
kept through the anchor of bhakti and concentration on divinity. The guṇa of
sattva predominates in this state.
From ekāgratā, the aspirate approaches the mental state of nirodha and the next
two limbs on the eight-limbed path. In the state of nirodha, the mind (manas),
intellect (buddhi), and ego (ahaṁkāra) are all harnessed, controlled, unified, and
offered to the Divine to be moved and used as an instrumentation of clarity and
divinity. This is sometimes referred to as “self-offering to the divine.” No longer
is there the separation of “I” and “Thine.” Without the previous state of mind
(ekāgratā), nothing can be mastered. Without nirodha — concentration on the
divinity that defines and shapes the universe — one cannot experience or unveil
the divinity within to become a universal man or woman.

7. Dhyāna (meditation)
Dhyāna occurs when there is uninterrupted flow of concentration (dhāraṇā), and
the subject has merged with the object of meditation into the blissful state of
unity and higher perception. Just as the bulb of electricity is illumined and
lighted by the uninterrupted flow of electrical currents, the yogi’s mind becomes
illumined by dhyāna. Body, breath, senses, mind, reason, and ego integrally
harmonize and merge into oneness with the object of his contemplations. The
universal spirit pervades within this state of consciousness, which transcends all
forms.
The outward manifestations of one who is experiencing dhyāna include physical
lightness, steadiness, clarity of countenance, a beautiful voice, and freedom from
cravings. There is humility and subservience to Divinity. The mind is balanced,
serene, and tranquil, taking up and giving up actions only for the sake of the
work and not for the reward. Free from the bonds of karma, the meditator
becomes a jīvāmukti, or liberated soul. Even within this blissful state of
consciousness, the meditator is still aware of separation between himself (the
lover) and the Divine (the beloved). The mind within the state of dhyāna still
perceives.

8. Samādhi
During samādhi, mind and intellect stop, as if in a deep state of sleep. Even
though appearing to be unconscious and oblivious to the world, the realized soul
is fully conscious and alert. As if in a deep sleep, he experiences only the
consciousness of truth and unspeakable joy and the attainments of true yoga
(union). This is “the peace that passeth all understanding.” Sam means “to bring
together,” and adhi means “adhere” or “stick to.” No longer of the material
world, the yogi is merged in the eternal, free from duality or separation between
the knower and the known.
PRACTICING YAMA AND NIYAMA IN ĀSANA AND LIFE
YAMA
Ahiṁsā (Nonviolence)
“As the yogin becomes established in non-injury, all beings coming near him
cease to be hostile.” (Yoga Sūtras, II:35)
Ahiṁsā In Life
To be truly nonviolent — physically, mentally, and verbally — it is necessary to
cultivate a spirit of non-judgment and forgiveness. Nonviolence requires a
continual refinement and awareness of one’s own inner process. It also requires
the reduction and eventual elimination of judgment, criticism, and projections
onto others. Not merely an attitude of negating harm to others, true nonviolence
is the development of a positive dynamic quality of universal love. Mahatma
Gandhi once said, “Nonviolence is the finest quality of the soul, but it is
developed by practice. Almost everything you do will seem insignificant but it is
important that you do it.”
Ahiṁsā In Āsana
To practice ahiṁsā in āsana, it is important to allow the breath to be taken in and
given out in such a way that it does not produce friction, either on the
membranes of the internal region of the body or the external region around the
body. If the breath is so refined that it does not disturb the waves of the mind or
even move a hair within the nostrils, it is a breath of ahiṁsā.
When one moves into āsana with this refinement of breath, the pose becomes
sattvic — serene with a sense of lightness. As āsana unfolds from the center of
the breath, it is possible to move through space without creating a ripple of
disturbance in the atmosphere, both within and without. A refined breath calms
the turbulence of the mind in the poses of yoga and of life. When we are in this
state, we don’t even disturb the earth beneath our feet or head. This is the
essence of yoga.
A gentle, frictionless breath is the protection against moving too fast and too far,
which can cause strain and even injury. Breath brings us into an attitude of
nonviolence within ourselves and with others. If we use the breath to unfold
organically into the pose, we preserve the inner space and the continuity of
breath, which calms the mind. If we move without breath, it produces more
restlessness of mind, which is opposite of the essence of yoga, and we close the
inner space and compress organs and muscles. As the second sūtra tells us, Yoga
citta vṛtti nirodhaḥ, or “Yoga is to quiet or calm the waves that arise within the
field of the mind.”

Satya (Truthfulness)
“When truthfulness is achieved, the words [of the yogin] acquire the power of
making them fruitful.” (II:36)
Satya In Life
Throughout the years, I’ve heard it said that satya meant being truthful to others
and staying truthful to oneself. But how is that possible if we don’t know the
Self?
Satya is keeping one’s word, following through with the simplest things such as
saying we will do dishes or take the dog for a walk. It is following through with
self-commitments or vows. Satya precludes procrastination. In keeping one’s
word, the mind and concentrative powers become stronger. If we say one thing
to someone while saying something else to another, it is considered to be
speaking with a forked tongue. The energy of our words is scattered in two or
more directions, and they lose their power of manifestation. Satya is being
“seamless” in all situations, being as authentic in front of a thousand people as
we would be with one.
This yama is purity of speech, which means not speaking about what we
perceive as negative qualities of another and especially not speaking ill of one
person to the next, negatively influencing one against the other. Gossip, even
though tempting, is not satya. Denigrating another is more likely to occur when
we feel insecure about ourselves and have low self-esteem. Truthfulness is the
gift of non-criticism. It expresses the thoughts and words that heal rather than
wound the hearts of others. There is great power in truthfulness. When
truthfulness is achieved, words acquire the power of fruition and manifestation.
Satya In Āsana
We observe satya internally and externally in āsana, by setting an intention to
practice, by practicing without distractions, and by going deep within to observe
the pose from one’s own experience rather than having to rely on the perception
of another. In satya, we observe sensations that arise in āsana with equanimity,
without identifying sensations as pain or pleasure. If the breath becomes
shallow, back off the edge of the pose until the breath can flow easily and
calmly, and then, when the time is right, see if there is an opening to proceed
further. Honor your own abilities, not seeing them as limitation but simple as
what is. Stay in the moment without psychologically tuning out. Keep the mind
present to what is, not what you would like it to be.

Asteya (Not Coveting or Stealing)

“When non-stealing is established, all jewels present themselves.” (Yoga Sūtras,
II:37)
Asteya In Life
Non-covetousness creates a feeling of nonattachment. We only want or covet
what we feel we lack, whether it is material possessions or qualities we admire
in others. If we envy the possessions and qualities of others that we feel we lack
within ourselves, it can create territorialism, competition, envy, and in turn, the
“downplaying” of others in order to boost our low self-esteem. When we are
fulfilled, there is no need to compete, criticize, or gossip about others to make
ourselves feel superior. When there is no envy or wanting what others may have
whether it is possessions or qualities, we can delight in their joys and successes
as we would our own. When we give up wanting, many things will be given unto
us and manifest in a variety of unexpected ways.
Asteya In Āsana
When we don’t feel confident or satisfied with who we are, there is a tendency to
compete with others. Sometimes we even compete with ourselves, attempting
more even if the body is not ready. In this phase, we always are seeking a new
goal, a new horizon to conquer. Asteya is to refrain from coveting the gifts,
talents, and abilities of others. If we compete with others in yoga, it propels us
beyond svadharma, what is right for us. By consciously or subconsciously
competing with another in a yoga class, we may prematurely stretch beyond our
edge to “get” the pose.
To remain in asteya during āsana, close your eyes, draw within, find your own
center, and allow the āsana’s unfoldment, like a flower blossoming out of the
breath from the inside out. When the eyes are closed, it prevents competition,
even with oneself. This helps us find what is right for ourselves, rather than
trying to accomplish what is right for another. To practice asteya, it helps to let
go of the past, even yesterday’s practice, and approach each pose as if coming to
it for the first time.
We can never do the same pose twice. If we can let go of trying to recapture a
pleasant sensation previously experienced in an āsana, the mind will be in the
power of Now. When we experience being in the moment, we are able to
cooperate rather than compete, remembering that there are no “others.”
Aparigraha
(Non-Possessiveness or Non-Acceptance)
“On attaining perfection in non-acceptance, knowledge of past and future
existences arises.”
(Yoga Sūtras, II:39)
Aparigraha In Life
Another scholar gives us this translation: “Questions regarding the past, present,
and future states of one’s body, in the form of ‘Who was I and what was I? What
is this body? How did it come about? What shall I be in the future? How shall it
be?’ get properly resolved in a yogin.”
Aparigraha, physical and emotional, is a natural sequential step from asteya,
even though Patañjali doesn’t order it this way in the Yoga Sūtras. The prefix a
negates; par is “to fill” and graha is “dwelling.” Therefore, aparigraha means
“not filling one’s own dwelling.” Aparigraha could be interpreted as avoiding
the over-accumulation of possessions that leads us to protect and defend. This
also refers to the emotional storehouse of memories of anger, resentment,
projections, and aggressive thoughts toward others.
As we develop a feeling of giving in all areas of our lives, we experience a
growing sense of trust and non-defensiveness. When we are bound by the
ordinary desire of a variety of needs for security, the walls we build to keep
something in are also the walls that keep something out. We become possessed
by our possessions and our need for security, which can also take the form of
attachment to personal, ideological, socio-political, religious, and spiritual
beliefs. When the desire to possess and accumulate is absent, we seek nothing
for our separated and individual self. Non-possessiveness is the stage when one
learns that “more is not always better,” and unlearns “if only things could be
different, then I would be happy.” It is the realization that little is required for
love and the true experience of happiness.
Aparigraha In Āsana
To practice aparigraha in āsana, we focus on the exhalation and releasing into
the pose with the outgoing breath. It requires courage to “let go” and ride the
wave of the outgoing breath. But if we can see the body as the dwelling place of
spirit, we can then clear unnecessary emotional hoarding to create space for the
light of spirit to shine forth. Then we allow the out-breath to carry us deeper into
the newly created space within each āsana.
According to one commentary on the Yoga Sūtras, “It is on the outgoing breath
that the ego unravels itself.” Aparigraha aids in the growing awareness that we
are not this body, not this mind, not this passing personality. Aparigraha in āsana
is the ability to release into the spiritual center of one’s own being, as if diving
into a sea of infinity through each pose.

Brahmacarya
(Regulation of the Senses)
“When continence is established, vīrya is acquired.” (Yoga Sūtras, II:38)
Brahmacarya In Life
Brahm is “to wander,” and acarya, refers to a teacher or conduct. Or the word
can be translated as Brahma, the creator, and carya, meaning “to go.”
Brahmacarya can be one who goes or travels and teaches of God, or one who
wanders and teaches. In ancient times, designated teachers traveled from village
to village and were fed and given shelter in return for spreading teachings of the
scriptures, the word of God. To prevent attachments, these acaryas stayed no
more than three days in one place. Because it took time for relationships to
develop, they could not foster a relationship that would lead to marriage. They
were celibates whose dharma was to travel and teach, and they put their
teachings first, before their own needs.
One commentator on this sūtra stated, “Incontinence deprives the nerves of vital
powers. Practice of continence prevents loss of vitality and increases vīrya or
energy.” It is believed that the words of wisdom of an incontinent person do not
go deep into the mind of a student because of the loss of vitality. However, one
who is established in self-regulation has the vital power or vīrya to instill
wisdom into the minds and hearts of students far beyond the spoken word.
In our world today, brahmacarya could be interpreted as avoiding physical and
emotional self-indulgence. Sensual regulation is not the repression of sensual
needs, but the sublimation of desire into the sacred act of giving oneself. For
instance, it is meeting one’s sexual partner as a manifestation of the Divine. It is
moving from self-gratification to understanding the roots of the needs of the
human soul. Brahmacarya is regulating the senses not only in reference to food,
drink, and the sexual drive but also to self-pity. When our eyes are filled with
our own tears, we cannot see the suffering of others. When we indulge in our
own emotional pains, we cannot extend our hands to another. Self-pity is ego
turned in on itself. It creates separation rather than unification. One absorbed
with the self does not have the energy to serve the greater good.
The word vīrya in this sūtra means far more than energy. It implies śraddhā, or
faith and tranquility, a feeling of reverence. Vīrya is also enthusiasm that leads
to sustained effort. When the mind is tired and drifts away from a focal point of
concentration, the power that can bring it back to devotional practices is called
vīrya. Śraddhā or faith leads to vīrya. If we have reverential faith in our
objectives, we then have the enthusiasm and energy to pursue them.
Brahmacarya In Āsana
Brahmacarya is associated with an ascetic or one who practices celibacy,
sublimating the śakti by bringing it from lower to higher centers of awareness. In
true celibacy, one raises the bindu from the procreative plexus, transforming it to
ojas within the ājñā cakra, the center of wisdom.
As a householder or as an ascetic, we can practice āsana as a brahmacarya by
bringing the primal instinctual nature (propelled by nature’s need for
procreation) up from the procreative plexus to the co-creative center within the
upper cakras. This is done not through forced bandhas, which may cause prāṇa
to coagulate in the maṇipūra cakra, the center of self-will, and increase the ego’s
assertions. Instead, we allow bandhas to develop naturally while keeping the
navel plexus passive as the spine is elongated. This allows the prāṇa to move
upward from the coccygeal and sacral plexuses to the heart, throat, and forehead
cakras. For bandhas to occur organically, it is important to take the pose on the
exhalation when the ego unravels itself. This is the Vedic form of prāṇāyāma,
where we empty ourselves of form in order to transcend duality.
In forward bending poses, if we lift the buttocks and tailbone to receive the light
from above, this inversion creates a polar shift, leading to a natural ascension of
śakti that creates sublimation and self-regulation. If the navel is kept passive,
without effort or muscular contraction, this organic or natural mūla bandha
becomes uḍḍīyāna bandha, the great bird whose energy flies upward.
Unimpeded by the contraction of the navel center, śakti can rise from the base of
the spine to the heart cakra and even beyond. In this organic sublimation, the
energy centers of the lower cakras energize the upper centers, creating an
integration of śakti in which prāṇa can flow freely between all the energy
vortices within the sphere of the physical and subtle body.
Master Sivānanda used to say, “One desire fulfilled leaves room for ten more
unfilled.” Sri Aurobindo Gosh, however, felt that one should give unto life what
is called for in life, rationing one’s desires so they are not repressed. He believed
that as one grows older, a natural sequential sublimation can occur, and that
premature celibacy can be psychologically detrimental, creating a backlash in
one’s being, one’s life, and one’s practice. There is a thin line between
repression and sublimation. He emphasized the importance of self-regulation.
NIYAMA
Śauca (Purity)
“Purification of the mind, pleasantness of feeling, one-pointedness, subjugation
of the senses, and the ability for self-realization are acquired.” (Yoga Sūtras,
I:41)
Śauca In Life
According to one commentary on this sūtra, “The yogin practicing cleanliness
gets purification of the heart, which leads to mental bliss, or spontaneous
feelings of joy. From mental bliss develops the power of realizing the Self. All
these are attained by establishment in purification.” But this sūtra is extremely
difficult to translate into today’s world. In a positive framework, it can be
interpreted as “purity of motives.” As we release arrogance, attachments, and the
motive of power and recognition, we learn to take up each action for the sake of
the action alone, letting go of the need or attachment to a particular outcome. As
we purify our motives, we become spontaneous channels for the outpouring of
love, with no self-reference or need for self-recognition.
Purifying one’s motives requires continual observation of all desires and hidden
agendas that cross our mental horizons. This means endeavoring to take an
action while at the same time, letting go of the desire for a specific result.
Without purity of motives or intentions, there may be desire for achievement or
an attachment to the result, and pride may be the outcome. Pride breeds
separation and is a hindrance to our sense of oneness with all humanity.
Śauca In Āsana
Why have we been drawn to the practice of Yoga? Whatever the motive, it is
likely that the motive will change over time. We may begin āsana for
physiological relief from a condition. That may lead to a deeper understanding
of the mind and a desire for more peace. We may want to relax, to experience
better health, or simply to work out, while others may desire to “work in.” One
day, however, we may forget why we are practicing. And that is considered the
time when the true practice of yoga begins, when practice no longer has a motive
behind it.
The purity of śauca occurs when we practice āsana for its sake alone, without a
motive or desire to get something from it. We know we have reached the state of
śauca in āsana when the pose spontaneously comes through us and not from us.
This is what the Bhagavad Gita refers to as detachment from the fruit of the
action. This is the true Karma Yoga, when we practice an āsana without trying to
reach a goal or overreaching beyond oneself.

Santoṣa
(Contentment and Serenity)
“From contentment, unsurpassed happiness is gained.” (Yoga Sūtras, II:42)
Santoṣa In Life
Dr. Andrew Weil was once asked about being happy all the time, and why
people are miserable trying to achieve happiness. He answered, “Negative and
positive moods like bliss and despondency mark the edge of our emotional
spectrum. They can help us discover a neutral midpoint of emotional health.
That midpoint is contentment, which is an internal state of well-being.” Dr. Weil
went on to say that this state of well-being is independent of what we have or
don’t have, of “getting a raise, a new car, a new lover. Contentment . . . is an
inner feeling of calm. It’s not dependent on external circumstances, possessions,
or a period of good fortune.”
Santoṣa is the spirit of nonattachment, experienced as the witness or onlooker
who sees all people and happenings through the light of Universal love.
Contentment is not a state of repression but a state of serenity that transforms the
negative into the positive, recognizing that every thought we have is contagious
and the time is coming when every thought will become public property.
Santoṣa can be seen as purification of mind, pleasantness of feelings, one-
pointedness, internalization of the senses, and opening to the possibilities of self-
recognition or self-realization.
In santoṣa, inner contentment radiates out and creates an atmosphere of serenity
and peace. Contentment is the deep, calm peace of a soul devoid of emotional
disturbances. It is seamlessness, where we are the same in all life’s situations,
whether at home, in the workplace, or on the battlefield. We cannot always avoid
situations of stress or conflict, but we can help heal them by contributing our
own calmness, serenity, peace of mind, and compassion. Contentment and
serenity are the way of the peaceful warrior.
Santoṣa In Āsana
Happiness often depends on getting something in order to fulfill a desire.
Santoṣa is the happiness that exists for itself alone, not based on getting or
acquiring. This is as true in āsana as it is in life. In the first sūtra on āsana, in
Patañjali says, “Establish steadiness and comfort in any pose” (Yoga Sūtras,
II:46). This could be translated as “Take any pose and be comfortable.” Often,
however, it is interpreted as “Take any comfortable pose.” Big difference. To
practice santoṣa in āsana, one finds a level of equal comfort in every pose, not
preferring one pose over the other. This would be reflected in the pose by a calm
and easy breath.
Santoṣa can be seen as the act of serenely moving from the known to the
unknown. In āsana and its variations we move from the familiar — that which is
comfortable or known — into a more expanded perimeter of the unknown.
Eventually the new spatial relationship of the unknown becomes the known.
Santoṣa is being the same, holding to one’s center in all situations, in all āsanas,
even while exploring new variations that represent unknown or unfamiliar
situations. In this way, we expand the perimeters of our consciousness instead of
staying in old stuck patterns, which can contract consciousness. We calmly
explore the unknown areas of āsana without attachment or aversion, accepting
each variation equally without fear of the unknown.
Santoṣa requires discernment. Are we content within a pose, or stuck in the
familiarity of the past? Discernment is needed to see if we are overreaching,
going beyond the svadharma of what is right for us in that moment. Are we
trying to achieve conscious or unconscious ambitions? Is it possible to find
contentment, happiness, and serenity where we are, rather than trying to get
somewhere or something out of the pose? In practicing santoṣa, a calm breath
will reveal contentment and an abrasive breath will reveal aversion within an
āsana. If we can create a calm, even inhalation and exhalation it helps us to be
able to accept all poses with equal serenity, not attaching to one while avoiding
another.

Tapas (To Burn)

“Through the destruction [transformation] of impurities, practice of austerities
brings about perfection of the body and the organs.” (Yoga Sūtras, II:43)
Tapas In Life
Tapas help the human psyche to transcend pain, like gold that does not fear the
flame because it cannot be destroyed. This is adamantine hardness, or hardness
like a diamond. Hanuman, the great monkey god of the Ramayana, was known
as the “diamond-bodied one.” A diamond is incorruptible; it can be changed
only through the purity of another diamond. It has many facets and dimensions
as it reflects the Universal Light upon earth. It represents not just adamantine
hardness of body but also of spirit — a spirit that cannot be tempted, corrupted,
or lured away from the ultimate goal of self-realization.
Rather than trying to get rid of life’s difficulties, be thankful that they are there
to smooth the ragged edges of the personality and to teach greater compassion
for others. Find a point of inner peace in the midst of any or all conditions of
life. Achieve equanimity both in praise and blame, success or failure, where the
opinions of others have no hold over your mind or emotions.
Tapas In Āsana
Tap is “to burn,” symbolizing the fires of the blacksmith who forges and shapes
and reshapes molten metal giving new form, new life. The practice of tapas in
āsana is a metamorphosis that changes every cell and atomic particle of one’s
being. It refines the body, the emotions, the thoughts, and even the quality and
gentility of one’s words. The practice of āsana is tapas, moving us from rigidity
and contraction into the fires of expansion and self-transformation. It brings our
consciousness from the darkness into the light.
When my young children were in school, I would immerse myself in yoga
practices for six hours or more a day. For me, āsana was like a deep meditation,
pulling me deeper into its secret chambers. I felt restful, peaceful, and even
blissful as I let go of resistance and went deeper than ever before. As I tasted the
fragrance within and between the poses, I didn’t want to stop, but it was time to
greet the children as they came home from school and to prepare the dinner. As
I’ve said to students a thousand times: “When we put the practice mat in the
closet, the yoga begins.”
I continued to explore how it was possible to take the bh va, that feeling or mood
from my yoga practice, into every action and interaction of life. I was torn
between immersion in āsana, which became a meditation, and fulfilling my
duties as a mother and householder. As I pondered the meaning of tapas as
discipline, I realized the practice of yoga had become like tasting the sweet
nectar of ambrosia, and that for me, the true tapas was to stop the practice and
cook dinner (with love).
A friend once said, “We seem to spend our time doing all the things we think we
should be doing to avoid the things we know we should be doing.” What is it
you’ve been avoiding? What is your tapas? Doing that which we’ve avoided
relates to the fourth kleṣa, dveṣa (aversion). Dukḥa anu ay dveṣa (Yoga Sūtras,
II:8) means, “To go along with that which is hard or painful leads to aversion or
avoidance.” In this instance, tapas is to face into the wind and move toward
rather than away from that which is hard.
We usually attach to (raga = attachment) and overdo the poses that come more
easily, āsanas that do not produce pain or fear and that are comfortable. You may
avoid poses you are afraid of because of where they might lead, or poses where
there is weakness and hence, a lack of trust in your own support, such as arm
balances or inverted poses. To practice tapas in āsana, take time for the poses
you’ve avoided. Using the breath as your guide, proceed slowly and cautiously,
until you have transcended aversion and fear, and these poses become
comfortable and familiar.
Is tapas stopping life’s “busyness” to take a few moments to internalize our
consciousness through yoga practice? Or does tapas mean stopping our practice
to attend to the poses of life? Perhaps one day the two will find their balance,
like raga and dveṣa, attachment and aversion, in a unified field of opposites.

Svādhyāya
(One’s Own Meditation)
“Through one’s own meditation on that which one wishes to shine like [chosen
deity or role model] become one with and bring forth yoga.” (Yoga Sūtras, II:44)
Svādhyāya In Life
Svādhyāya is usually translated as “self-study” or the study of the scriptures,
which is associated with Jñana Yoga. However, this is erroneous. Sva means
“one’s own,” and dhy ya refers to meditation. Viewed from the perspective of
Bhakti Yoga, the meaning of this sūtra, Svādhyāya iṣṭa devatā saṁprayogaḥ, is
“From study and repetition of the mantras, communion with the desired deity is
established.” Bhakti Yoga commentaries say, “The heavenly beings, sages, and
the siddhas (celestials) become visible to the yogin who practices svādhyāya and
the yogin’s wishes are fulfilled by them.”
During dhāraṇā, the state of concentration, as the subject and object come
closer, concentration merges into meditation or dhyāna. This sūtra reminds me
of the nightingale who serenades the rose as her iṣṭa devatā (desired deity).
Tears of sorrow stream from the inner corridors of her eyes, tears of joy from the
outer corridors. Her love of the beatific and fragrant rose is so great that she
chooses to be separate rather than merge with her beloved. In the separation, she
can worship on the precipice between agony and ecstasy, experiencing the pangs
of separation and the joy of offering fully of herself. Her ardor is so great it is
like a magnet invoking the Divine into manifestation. There is a saying, “If we
take one step toward the Divine, the Divine takes a thousand steps toward us.”
To practice svādhyāya, contemplate the lives and teachings of inspirational role
models, both living and non-living, who have incorporated principles of
nonviolence, love, compassion, and forgiveness into their daily lives. During
life’s difficulties, the dark nights of the soul, remember those who have shed
light on the darkened corners of mind and heart. Role models help us to aspire to
courageous heights and unimagined vision that transcends the human mind.
Whatever or whoever your iṣṭa devatā might be, hold it in the heart as a symbol
of transcendental awareness that will lift you above any spiritual and material
obstacles that may appear on your path to the “pathless land.”
Svādhyāya In Āsana
This sūtra is a form of puja, an offering of oneself onto the altar of Spirit. In
āsana, one part of the body can be an offering. In Uttānāsana, the head, the
symbol of ego, is brought toward the floor. The tailbone, that which lies in
darkness, is brought to the light. This puja is a reversal of the polarities of
heaven and earth. In Jānu Śīrṣāsana, the upper body is like the nightingale and
the extended leg is like the rose, a symbol of the Divine. If we were to practice
this forward bending pose as a Bhakti Yogi, we would honor the separation
between subject (the upper body) and object (the lower body). As the two come
closer and closer, the magnetic force would fuse into a sense of Oneness. Then
we would be in Īśvara Praṇidhāna, total surrender and offering to the Universal
Source through our body, the Temple of spirit.
As we devotionally offer one body part to the other, we create an altar that
awakens the life force within every cell of our being. When an object of divinity,
the iṣṭa devatā, is invoked with intensity and faith, it is said to appear before the
devotee. If this practice is done half-heartedly and mechanically, it will not
produce the same results. The mental state during the practice will determine the
outcome of the practice. If the mind of the practitioner is not focused during the
practice, it can produce a more restless mind rather than a quiet mind.
During āsana, the breath produces a strong nervous system and a concentrated
mind. In svādhyāya, when the one-pointed concentration from subject to object
is held, the yogin enters dhyāna, the state of meditation where subject and object
merge as one. This prepares the practitioner for Īśvara Praṇidhāna.

Īśvara Praṇidhāna
(Surrender or Devotion)
“Devotion to God, samādhi is attained.” (Yoga Sūtras, II:45)

Īśvara Praṇidhāna In Life

Īś is “to wish”; war is from var, meaning “to fill”; pra is “to bring forth”; and
dhāna is “wealth.” Īśvara Praṇidhāna is the bringing forth or filling with wealth,
where the knowledge of everything that is known or wanted is fulfilled. Īśvara is
the lord of this world and the teacher of the most ancients. The sūtra says that by
the attainment of samādhi, the yogin knows all that is desired to be known —
whatever happened in another life, in another place, at another time, or even that
which is happening at present. As one commentator says, “This enlightenment
reveals things as they are.”
Whatever our beliefs (or non-beliefs), when we remember God or higher self in
all life’s actions and interactions, life takes on a sense of centeredness and
fulfillment. In Īśvara Praṇidhāna, one develops growing sensitivity to the inner
voice that leads to the defenseless endeavor to dwell in the Higher Self. By
devotion to God, one can more easily hold the “remembrance” as perfect
steadiness of inner poise. This means holding onto the inner vision while
performing the outer work on the physical plane. It is doing the work of the
world with one hand, while holding the remembrance of God or higher self with
the other.

Īśvara Praṇidhāna In Āsana

As in Svādhyāya, the previous niyama, we are offering to our iṣṭa devatā, the
symbol of Divine Consciousness. When the subject and object of devotion come
together and merge, it is like the moth that professes his love of the eternal by
encircling and then entering into and becoming consumed by the flame. This is
Īśvara Praṇidhāna. When we surrender all thoughts and actions to Īśvara or God,
it means mentally merging oneself into God.
This can be practiced in āsana by releasing the separation in a pose. “The
distance between the upper and lower body,” Mr. B. K. S. Iyengar once said, “is
the distance between you and God.” This does not mean we have to effort,
strain, and overreach to close the gap of separation, but simply to breathe and
release into the pose. In Īśvara Praṇidhāna, we realize that we are already filled
with the fullness of God Consciousness, and as we move into a pose, we carry
that remembrance and devotion with us, aware that we have never been
separated from the Source. Like the moth that merges with the flame, we
mentally merge into the bliss of this God Consciousness within each pose.
Sometimes, like the nightingale serenading its beloved rose, we may feel
separation between ourselves and the Universal. Other times, we may take a
deep breath and let go of fears, attachments, aversions, and forgetfulness of the
Divine or the higher self to delve deeper into a pose. As we release past self-
imposed limitations and remember that there is a power greater than ourselves,
we discover the true āsana, which means to breathe and become one with the
eternal cosmic vibration.
THE PAÑCA KOŚAS OR FIVE SHEATHS
Ancient yogis recognized subtle fields of energy, called kośas in Sanskrit,
radiating from within and around the human body. The physical (or gross) body
is visible and palpable. It is the part of our being that we take to a doctor or
health practitioner for diagnosis and treatment. The kośas are also associated
with the body’s energetic or subtle body, invisible and impal-pable. These five
energy fields, commonly described as sheaths or layers, are interconnected. They
can be thought of as an ethereal egg-shaped membrane that allows spirit to
interact in the environment of matter.
Yoga āsana uses the body to transcend the body in order to connect with the
subtler realms of bio-and psycho-energetic fields. Because the body is a dense
manifestation of spirit, it is the easiest to identify with, leading us to think that
we are the physical body. In Patañjali’s Yoga Sūtras, this is known as asmitā or
egoism, misidentifying and mistaking one thing for another, in this case, the
body as spirit and the temporal for the eternal.

Annamaya Kośa
The first sheath is known as the annamaya kośa, the sheath of the physical body.
Anna refers to food, so sometimes this sheath is called “the food body.” This is
the kośa visible to the physical eye. We can see and touch this body that consists
of the skeleton, muscles, organs, glands, et cetera. We can see its arterial and
venous tributaries and its conduits of nerves, the brain and its interconnecting
fibers. We can see the actions of the central nervous system on the striated
muscles that carry out the brain’s commands through the body’s reflexes and
locomotion. We can also see the nerves of the autonomic nervous system, which
run along either side of the vertebrae and represent the polarities of
constriction/dilation, the body’s catabolic and anabolic processes, and the
involuntary functions of respiration, digestion, and elimination.

Prāṇāmāya Kośa
Pra means “to bring forth” and na is the eternal cosmic vibration. Prāṇa is the
life force that manifests through both the seen and unseen. In itself, prāṇa is not
visible, but it can be sensed moving through every cell of our body and being.
The pranic field, which is located within and around the physical sheath, was
described by ancient seers (the rishi). According to the systems of yoga that
acknowledge the subtle body, 72,000 nāḍīs or channels emanate from the nabi
or navel plexus, spreading out like the rays of the sun. The nāḍīs, sometimes
referred to as “subtle nerves,” cannot be located and identified physiologically.
The nāḍīs can, however, be felt and experienced through practices meant to
clear and open the subtle channels. When this happens, the light and vibrations
of the subtle energy field are revealed.
The nāḍīs correlate to the physical nerves but are not bound by the nerve
impulses. The prāṇāmāya kośa governs the subtle currents that interact with
many systems of our physical sheath. These currents are known as the five
prāṇas: Prāṇa prāṇa regulates respiration and heart. Apāna prāṇa regulates the
downward flow of the eliminative system and the downward movement of
energy at the time of the birth and during a woman’s moon cycles. Samāna
prāṇa is the energy field that controls digestion assimilation and absorption.
Vyāna prāṇa regulates the fluidity and mobility of blood, lymph, cerebrospinal
fluid, etc. Udāna prāṇa governs metabolism and relates to words spoken and
unspoken. (For more details, see The Five Prāṇas, page 254.)
Prāṇāmāya kośa is the subtle web connecting the endocrine glands and their
corresponding cakras. The cakras, thought of as wheels or vortices of energy,
can be accessed when the nāḍīs become clear and open and the endocrine glands
are brought into balance through āsana and prāṇāyāma (which work on the
subtle prāṇas that govern the physical glands).
There are seven major cakras, but I have experienced numerous sub-cakras or
energy vortices that connect the major centers. The intelligence of these vortices
does not suddenly awaken, but when consciousness becomes more sensitized,
we begin to “feel” the prāṇāmāya kośa that that has always been present. As we
transform the intellectual concept of prāṇāmāya kośa into experience, the energy
currents of the subtle field become as real as the physical body, and we can
recognize the interconnectedness between the visible and invisible aspects of
life.
According to yoga philosophy, the physical body is a vehicle for an inner
existence or soul. The subtle body or prāṇāyāma kośa surrounds the physical
sheath through many energy channels and subtle vortices. Yoga practices,
including āsana, activate the functions of the subtle as well as the physical body,
working on many dimensional layers simultaneously.
Of the 72,000 nāḍīs, three are particularly important to yoga practices: iḍā,
piṅgalā, and suṣumnā. Ida relates to the parasympathetic nervous system of the
physical body. Piṅgalā relates to the sympathetic nervous system. Iḍā and
piṅgalā represent the polarities of nature that manifest throughout subtle and
physical anatomy. Piṅgalā nāḍī is associated with the right nostril and puruṣa,
the masculine aspect that constricts and heats like the sun. Ida nāḍī is associated
with the left nostril and prakṛti, related to the feminine aspect in that it cools and
dilates, balancing to effects of piṅgalā nāḍī. Piṅgalā is known as Ha, one of the
words for the sun. Ida is Tha or the moon. The two subtle currents of Ha and Tha
are the basis of biological integration within āsana.
Iḍā and piṅgalā originate at the base of the spine and end at the third eye center
at the apex of the nose. At the third eye center, these currents cross over to
connect with the right and left hemispheres of the brain. In āsana we stand
equally on our feet or sit equally on our buttock bones to balance iḍā and
piṅgalā, which run respectively along the left and right sides of the spinal
vertebrae. Doing so, we in turn align the pranic energies of right and left brain.
The objective of yoga is to align the polarities and bring the currents of iḍā and
piṅgalā into the central channel of suṣumnā, which means “beyond.” In ancient
times, suṣumnā was said to be located in the area from the heart through the
carotids and into the crown of the head, which when open reveals the knowledge
of the cosmos. More recently, suṣumnā is associated with the central canal of the
spinal cord. When the subtle channels of right and left are brought into balance,
prāṇa is automatically pulled into the central channel of suṣumnā. Through the
breath (especially during āsana) and the practice of prāṇāyāma, it is possible to
direct and master these subtle currents to clear the channels so the light of
illumination may reveal itself in the fulfillment of our own spiritual destiny.
When the bio-energetic field or the Kuṇḍalinī force awakens, the iḍā and
piṅgalā spiral around the suṣumnā nāḍī, activating the wheels or movement of
the cakras.
In Sanskrit ca means “to go” and kra is from kri meaning “to do” or “to act.”
The word cakra refers to a wheel, which implies movement or momentum. The
cakras are spinning vortices of energy that are vehicles from the physical to
subtle realms of consciousness. Each of the seven major cakras is associated
with physical nerves and glands, with an emotional or physical function, and
also with the elements, and each has its own mantra. They are located at
sequential intervals along the suṣumnā, the central nāḍī or energy line that forms
a vertical path along the spine.
The first cakra, Mūlādhāra, correlates to the coccygeal nerve plexus at the base
of the spine. Mūla means “base” and dhāra, is the “root support.” Mūlādhāra is
associated with the earth element and survival. Svādhiṣṭhāna, meaning
“establishing one’s own place within the eternal cosmic vibration,” is located in
the sacral or procreative plexus and is associated with sensuality, pleasure, and
the water element. It relates to the reproductive endocrine glands. The third
cakra, maṇipūra, is translated as “the city of jewels.” This cakra relates to the
solar plexus (the body’s sun or storehouse of energy and light) and the element
of fire. Its physical correlate is the adrenal glands. According to some yoga
traditions, the 72,000 nāḍīs originate in the maṇipūra, which is the center of
self-will, mental stamina, and emotional fortitude.
The heart cakra is anāhata, which means “unstruck sound” or “sound produced
without friction.” It is associated with love, compassion, and the air element. It
relates on the physical plane to the thymus, the body’s immune center and the
gland that regulates the lymphatic system. At the throat, viśuddha cakra governs
divine speech, creative intelligence, and spiritual expression. It relates to the
ether element and the thyroid and parathyroid endocrine glands. Ājñā cakra is
located within the brow at the apex of the nose. Ājñā means “command,” as in
answering the command of God and awakening to the higher calling of one’s
destiny. It is at this center that the inner guru reveals itself. Ājñā cakra is beyond
the elements and beyond the earth plane. On a physical level it relates to the
pituitary and pineal glands.
The seventh cakra, relating to the crown of the head, is sahasrāra, which means
the “thousand-petaled lotus.” Physically, it relates to the thalamus and
hypothalamus glands within the upper region of the brain. It represents the
communion with the Divine, and its opening gives the Yogin experiential
knowledge of the cosmos.
Āsana and prāṇāyāma are connecting links to these subtle energy forms. During
these practices, the life force or prāṇa travels through the subtle body and
stimulates successive cakras to open and release their energy. Divine prāṇa can
consciously or unconsciously awaken, and the esoteric energy systems are put
into motion with consistent and steady practice of āsana and prāṇāyāma.
Mr. B. K. S. Iyengar once compared the skin of the outer arm and outer thigh to
the physical body (annamaya kośa). At the same time, he compared the skin of
the inner arm and inner thigh to the subtle body (prāṇāmāya kośa). The biceps
(impacted by the outer arm) would relate more to the physical sheath, and the
triceps to the subtle sheath. Thus, when we align both inner and outer legs and
arms and balance upon the balls of the feet, we not only equalize the weight on
the muscles and bones but simultaneously impact the annamaya and prāṇāmāya
kośas.

Manomaya Kośa
Man means “to think” and refers to the mind. We cannot see “mind,” but we can
see the mind expressing itself through the body. Āsana includes eighty-four
basic poses, but it is said that there are a thousand variations on each. In Eastern
cultures, “a thousand” means infinite. Thus, there are infinite ways in which the
mind manifests and expresses itself through the gestures of the body. Even
though we cannot see the mind, we can see it revealed through facial
expressions, postural alignment, fluidity of movement, and the upliftment of the
heart or the collapse of the chest.
The mental sheath also manifests as emotions. “E” is an Old English prefix that
means to project outward. “Motion” is energy. So emotions project energy or
motion outward. According to the Yoga Sūtras, emotions can be traced back to
their origins, which are the vṛttis or thought waves.
Four parts of mind relate to the manomaya kośa: 1) Manas, the conscious mind;
2) buddhi, known as the overmind; 3) ahaṁkāra, the ego; and 4) citta, the
subconscious mind. Manas is the part that gathers information through the
sensory organs of sight, sound, smell, taste and touch. It is neutral in its
experiences of life.

Cakra Element Prana Vayu Bija Associated Associated
Mantra Endocrine Glands Nerve Plexus
Sahasrara Surya Entrance to Cosmic Silence where the Thalamus, Cerebral Plexus
Vara Consciousness sound returns Hypothalamus
Ajna Beyond the Omni-directional AUM Pituitary, Pineal Cavernous
Elements Glands Plexus
Vishudha Ether Udana HAM Thyroid Pharyngeal
& Parathyroid Plexus

Anahata Air Prana YAM Thymus Cardiac Plexus

Manipura Fire Samana RAM Adrenals Solar Plexus
Svadhistana Water Vyana VAM Ovaries & Testes Procreative
Plexus
Muladhara Earth Apana LAM Perineum & Coccygeal
Prostate Plexus

Buddhi is from bodh meaning “to know.” It is the part of mind that sees many
perspectives simultaneously. When the sensory impressions enter into the vaults
of the mind, buddhi (if operative) discriminates. Buddhi mind sees differences
but does not compare those differences. It does not judge or criticize. It oversees
the thoughts that arise out of the senses without attachment and aversions. It
remains centered in the midst of polarities such as praise and blame, criticism or
compliment. It is the blameless state of mind where intuition has an opportunity
to flourish.
Buddhi mind is sometimes called the higher mind that sees all things as if from a
mountaintop. It has a 360-degree view of life’s situations and as a result is
proactive rather than reactive. Buddhi mind, when faced with the anger of
another, does not respond defensively or retaliate physically, verbally, or
mentally. Buddhi mind is able to observe the pattern and pain that led to the
expression of anger. It is the compassionate mind that transcends the need to
defend and attack and seeks nothing for its separated self.
Ahaṁkāra literally means “I am doing.” Aham is “I am” and kāra is from kri,
meaning “to do” or “to act.” The ahaṁkāra mind is contractive and self-serving,
taking care of itself before others. When this part of the mind is prevalent, it
territorializes and creates boundaries of separation, fueling life’s conflicts with
self and others. Ahaṁkāra reaches out beyond svadharma, competing and
aggressively going beyond what is right for itself to achieve. We can see
ahaṁkāra, in the collective ego of nations as they attack, protect, and defend,
crossing the territorial boundaries of other states and peoples.
Ahaṁkāra is necessary in everyday life to maintain consciousness and
individual identity, though it can sometimes trespass into the space of others
through mental or verbal criticism or gossip. The ahaṁkāra mind is opposite of
the buddhi mind. Ahaṁkāra contracts, while buddhi expands. When ahaṁkāra
dominates, we feel as if we are performing and “doing” āsana. In buddhi mind,
we feel as if a pose is being done through us. It can be difficult to transcend
ahaṁkāra’s contractive pull on consciousness so that we can lift to the
transcendent state of the buddhi mind. We make our choices: Contraction is
pain. Expansion brings peace of mind through transcendent awareness.
Cit means “to collect,” and citta encompasses the entire mind, including the
hidden parts we call the subconscious. In āsana, the front of the body correlates
to the front brain, the conscious mind. The back of the body, the side we cannot
see, relates to the subconscious. The conscious mind is like the tip of the iceberg
visible above the surface of the water. The citta or subconscious is like the vast
area of the iceberg that exists under the surface. It is this aspect of the citta mind
that yoga is most concerned with. It is believed that if the subconscious is not in
alignment, we cannot make changes on the conscious level of mind and, in turn,
in our lives. No matter how many affirmations one might make, they will have
little or no effect unless the subconscious is in agreement.
The impressions taken in — either through the lens of the buddhi or the lens of
ahaṁkāra — will determine the condition of the waves of the mind. They may
be turbulent or peaceful, or within the wide range between. As the mind filters
the incoming impressions, it will determine which conscious experiences
become subconscious impressions or saṁskāras. It is these impressions that
become the modus operandi, that govern how we approach the series of events
we call “life.” The impressions can be positive, negative, or neutral. According
to Eastern philosophy, they determine present and future life. Positive thought
forms lead to a quiet and more peaceful mind. Negative thought forms can lead
to a turbulent and restless mind, which is the opposite of yoga’s intended
purpose.
Imagine how a carriage traveling down the road relates to the four parts of mind.
The road represents the polarities of opposites, virtue and vice. The carriage is
the body, and the horses pulling the carriage are the five senses. The reins are
manas. The driver may be ahaṁkāra (ego) or Atman, the individual soul. If the
driver is Atman, the carriage will arrive safely. If the driver is ego, it may choose
circuitous routes, taking the carriage over rocky roads that threaten to stop the
journey. It may enter diversionary cul de sacs that lead away from the intended
goal, which is self-realization or self-actualization.
We cannot see the mind, but we can observe it through the breath, which is the
invisible link between mind and body. The breath will reflect which aspect of
mind is most predominant. The way in which the mind influences the body
reveals the interconnections between manomaya kośa, prāṇāmāya kośa, and
annamaya kośa, showing the way the life force moves from the subtler planes to
the denser physical plane. If the mind is turbulent, it can throw the prāṇas out of
alignment in the prāṇāmāya kośa and in turn create imbalance in the annamaya
kośa. When the prāṇāmāya kośa is out of balance, non-ease sifts into the
annamaya kośa and the tissues of the physical body, where it becomes known as
dis-ease or stress.
The manomaya kośa manifests through the five states of mind. Each of these
states also relates to the breath, and in turn, the prāṇāmāya kośa. The five states
of mind (described in detail in the Introduction, page 30) are: mūḍha (dull mind,
shallow breath), kṣipta (scattered mind, erratic breath), vikṣipta (mind and
breath alternate between scattered and calm), ekāgratā (calm mind and deep
breath), and nirodhaḥ (heightened awareness).
When the mind is in a state of nirodhaḥ, the thought waves are calm, and the
breath appears as to be stopped. However, this is the essence of prāṇāyāma
where the in-breath and out-breath feed into one another. In this state, we are no
longer breathing, but breath is. The mind is in a samādhi state of deep internal
awareness. This is the very essence of yoga described in the second sūtra, Yogas
citta vṛtti nirodhaḥ, or “Yoga is to still the turbulence of the waves that arise
within the field of the mind.”

Vijñanamaya Kośa
Vi means “to negate” and jñana (or gnana) refers to knowledge. Vijñanamaya
kośa can be thought of as the sheath that transcends the thinking mind. This is
the level of being where intellect is transformed into intuition. In this kośa, there
is a sense of knowing — or remembering — what we have never forgotten.
When one operates in the vibratory frequency of this sheath, there is faith and
spiritual understanding.
Vijñana nāḍī is the subtle channel that moves from the heart to the higher brain.
This nāḍī physiologically relates to the carotid arteries that run along the sides of
the neck, protected by the strong sternocleidomastoid muscles. This area is one
the most complex in the entire body. Shoulderstand helps to clear and open
vijñana nāḍī, which allows prāṇa to flow unobstructed from the heart center into
the brain. In other words, the vijñana nāḍī unites the mind and heart. This is
interesting because the vijñanamaya kośa is where intellect is transformed into
higher intuition.
Suṣumnā, the central energy channel correlating to the spinal cord, was once
said to be located in the carotids, which correspond to the subtle channel of
vijñana nāḍī. It is believed that when prāṇa becomes balanced in the iḍā and
piṅgalā (of the prāṇāmāya kośa) and in the sympathetic and parasympathetic
nervous systems (of the annamaya kośa), it is automatically drawn into the
vijñana nāḍī, which then opens the crown cakra, where the knowledge of the
cosmos is revealed.
The vijñanamaya kośa is where the right brain becomes active. Its role is to
bring knowledge in as a holographic sense of knowing (rather than the sequential
and compartmentalized thinking associated with the left brain). Holographic
knowledge is felt and experienced in every cell of one’s being, leading to great
faith in the unseen. This is the sattvic or serene state. It is bhakti, the devotional
path where we offer all life’s activities to the Divine. It is a form of Īśvara
Praṇidhāna, the surrender to God or Self. It is, according to the Yoga Sūtras, the
Buddhi aspect of mind. The buddhi or overmind does not compare or judge
people but holds all beings equally in its consciousness. It loves with equanimity
and holds great compassion. Vijñanamaya kośa transcends the thinking mind to
experience true nonattachment in the midst of a sense of immense love of all
humanity. When in the presence of someone in vijñanamaya kośa, one feels
comfortable and unconditionally loved.
In this kośa, one’s conscience becomes highly sensitized, like the ball of the eye,
to those things it may have been immune to at one time. As children, we may do
or say things that are hurtful to others, that we may not do as we grow and
evolve into greater sensitivity. We may no longer play games of killing ants or
bullying others. We not only restrain our unkind words, we also restrain our
unkind thoughts. We feel others’ journeys as ours and understand the motivation
behind their words and actions at a deeper level than ever before. We assign no
blame but hold all in our heart with compassion, feeling them as one with
ourselves.
In vijñanamaya kośa, we can practice āsana like a little kitten carried by its
mother. All we have to do is let go and loosen the nape of the neck, which is
symbolic of letting go of the ego that separates us from the awareness of the
Universal Source. Āsana becomes a devotional offering of one part of the body
to another, the offering the individual to the universal. Eventually, there may
come a time when it feels as if the two parts of the body merge as one. We no
longer have the separative consciousness of knowing what’s upper and what’s
lower, back and front, top and bottom. Instead, we feel as if All Is. This is the
merger that brings us into the experiential awareness of ānandamaya kośa.

Ānandamaya Kośa
In this sheath we feel oneness with the creative source and divine intelligence. In
Sanskrit, the prefix ā is a long vowel sound that serves to enhance or emphasize
the word parts that follow. Nanda means “happiness” (like Nandi, the bull that is
the vehicle of Lord Shiva, lord of all yogis). Ānanda, therefore, means
“superlative happiness” or bliss. Ānandamaya kośa can be compared to the
various samādhi states described in the Yoga Sūtras. It is the mergence into a
rapturous blissful state of consciousness — even for a few moments.
In ānandamaya kośa, we no longer know who we are, where we are, or even
what we are — all merges into a blissful feeling that transcends time and space.
The senses turn inward, and the fluctuations of the mind waves cease. It is as
though one pierces the clouds to bathe in the light of the sun that is always
shining. Ānandamaya kośa is above the individual and collective pains of this
world. First, however, one experiences the vijñanamaya kośa to understand the
collective pain of humanity before being able to expand beyond. One of the great
yoga masters has said that we must first experience attachment before we can
experience true detachment: “Until then, all is indifference.”

Āsana and the Kośas

In the practice of āsana, if we focus on muscles, we will strengthen the muscles.
But we can we use the body (annamaya kośa) to transcend the physical, mental,
and emotional pains that keep us locked into individuated consciousness. When
we practice āsana with breath awareness, we transform breath into prāṇa, and
we access prāṇāmāya kośa. Practicing āsana this way affects every muscle fiber,
organ, and system of the annamaya kośa (the physical body) and all the channels
and vortices of the prāṇāmāya kośa (the subtle body).
Because breath is the invisible link between the body and mind, self-observation
will reveal the mind’s hidden depths. We come to understand the mind and the
thought waves that produce emotions in manomaya kośa. This relates to dhāraṇā
or concentration, the sixth limb of Aṣṭāṅga Yoga that Patañjali outlines in the
Yoga Sūtras.
When āsana and prāṇāyāma are practiced as bhakti, a devotional offering to all
of creation and its source, the heart cakra awakens, and we remember our eternal
connection to the Divine. We transform intellect into intuition in vijñanamaya
kośa, which would relate to dhyāna or meditation, as it is described in the Yoga
Sūtras. Dhyāna is the state where subject and object merge and become one, like
oil being poured in an uninterrupted flow from one vessel into another.
If dhyāna is sustained, the yogin enters into the first state of samādhi, which is
related to Ānandamaya kośa. When we practice an āsana with the remembrance
of our eternal connection, we enter into yantra of that āsana. Here, we realize
that we are already one with the source of all forms, and we experience the
blissful liberation of Divine Union that is yoga.
THE FIVE PRĀṆAS
Pra means “to bring forth,” and na is the Eternal Cosmic Vibration. Prāṇa, the
life force, is influenced by thought and emotion, which may cause it to fall out of
alignment, which in turn can cause dis-ease or non-ease. The practices of Yoga
— including prāṇāyāma, āsana, and meditation — are meant to preserve and, if
necessary, realign and balance prāṇa.
Like breath-centered āsana, prāṇāyāma is a way to open the portals to receive
the light of illumination. The suffix ya adds emphasis, as in “Yeah, really do it!”
Ma refers to the worldly measurement of day and night, and all the polarities
they represent: sun/moon, masculine/feminine, sympathetic/parasympathetic,
and piṅgalā/iḍā. The purpose of prāṇāyāma is to clear the nāḍīs, the channels of
the subtle body that correlate to the nervous system, and the vortices of subtle
energy known as cakras.
There are five main types of prāṇa, which relate to the endocrine glands on the
physical level and to the five lower cakras on the subtle level. The five prāṇas
can also be brought into balance through the repetition of the corresponding bīja
or seed mantra that is inherent within each cakra. These mantras have no
meaning but are pure vibration. The five prāṇas (also known as vāyus) are
prāṇa, apāna, udāna, samāna, and vyāna.

Prāṇa Prāṇa
Centered in the cardiac region, prāṇa prāṇa controls respiration, the health of the
heart, and the thymus gland, which is associated with immunity and the
lymphatic system. Unlike the circulatory system, the lymphatic system has no
pump of its own, so lymph flow relies on the movement of the muscles, the
heartbeat, and the expansion and contraction of the lungs. Lymph gives energy
to the lower intestine and helps to balance the entire body.
Prāṇa prāṇa relates to the element of air and the sense of touch. It helps us begin
to sensitize and refine consciousness, relating to intuition and intensifying the
ability to “feel” what another is experiencing or even thinking.
Since movement stimulates lymphatic circulation, all āsanas would influence
prāṇa prāṇa , but it is particularly affected by āsanas that stimulate the nerve
roots coming off the thoracic region of the spine, including backbends such as
Uṣṭrāsana, (Camel Pose), Bhujaṅgāsana (Cobra Pose), Dhanurāsana (Bow
Pose), Matsyāsana (Fish Pose), and Ūrdhva Dhanurāsana (Upward-Facing Bow
Pose).
The bīja mantra for this area is yam, which stimulates and regulates the cardiac
plexus and anāhata cakra.

Apāna Prāṇa
This prāṇa relates to mūlādhāra cakra and the earth element. It is associated with
the olfactory nerves and is responsible for the sense of smell. Primarily, it is
responsible for the eliminative functions of the body. Apāna prāṇa governs the
small and large intestines, the rectum, and the excretion of urine. It is responsible
for the downward flow of blood during the menstrual cycle, which is why it is
recommended that women do not practice yoga āsanas that invert the body
during the their moon cycles. Constipation indicates that apāna prāṇa is
deficient; to balance this condition, one would work with the downward pull of
gravity in the coccygeal plexuses.
The seed syllable that lies within the subtle areas of mūlādhāra cakra is lam. This
bīja mantra can be repeated and chanted to increase energy or śakti in this
region, and to ground one’s mind and emotions when there is excessive vata.
Āsanas to help regulate and balance this apāna prāṇa include standing poses,
forward bends, and sitting practices with a downward sweep of attention.

Samāna Prāṇa
Located in the navel or solar plexus region at the midline of the body, samāna
prāṇa regulates digestion. This prāṇa may become blocked by poor posture with
anterior compression and by stress and anxiety held in the diaphragmatic region.
Samāna prāṇa controls the balance and health of the digestive process and the
organs of digestion such as the liver, gallbladder, stomach, pancreas, and even
the spleen. It regulates the kidneys and the adrenal glands, the little nightcaps
that sit perched upon the kidneys. In Western medicine, the kidneys and the
adrenals are considered to be separate. In Chinese medicine, they are one and the
same. What affects one, impacts the other.
This prāṇa relates to the element of fire, which corresponds to the eyes and the
sense of sight. It is associated with maṇipūra cakra and its bīja mantra, which is
ram. Ra is the sun, and this prāṇa is related to the solar plexus region, the
storehouse of energy, light, and warmth on physical and subtle levels of being.
Twisting āsanas work with samāna prāṇa to help balance digestive problems.
This would include supine twists, such as Jaṭhara Parivartanāsana ; seated twists,
such as Marīcyāsana and Parivṛtta Jānu Śīrṣāsana (Revolved Head-to-Knee
Pose); and twisting variations of standing poses like Ardha Candrāsana or
Parivṛtta Trikoṇāsana (Revolved Triangle).

Udāna Prāṇa
Located in the region of the throat, udāna prāṇa controls the health of the thyroid
and parathyroid glands. Through the thyroid, it is responsible for the metabolic
and catabolic process of the body, and through the parathyroids, the metabolism
of calcium. Udāna prāṇa relates to viśuddha cakra, the ears, and the sense of
sound. Viśuddhi is associated with the element of ether (akāśha or space), and it
is the last cakra holding our consciousness on the physical plane. When this
center awakens, it is said that the goddess Saraswatī dances on the tongue and
one’s words have the power to manifest and to heal — that is, the words will not
only be heard but will also be “felt.” The bīja for this cakra is ham, a mantra that
has the power to release negativity and negative thinking. This particular bīja is
spoken once on an exhalation, not chanted repeatedly like the other bijas.

Vyāna Prāṇa
This prāṇa springs out of the second cakra, svādhiṣṭhāna cakra, associated with
the water element and the sense of taste. Vyāna prāṇa is the regulator of the
currents that course throughout the physiological being, including the blood flow
and the synapses of the nervous system. It regulates any free-flowing energy that
may be sluggish. It also relates to the lymphatic circulation, the synovial fluid
within the joints, and the cerebrospinal fluid (CSF) that is pumped between the
spinal cord and the brain. Science has finally concurred that CSF is pumped up
against the gravitational field in accordance with the movement of the sacrum,
which is the home of svādhiṣṭhāna cakra. This pelvic or procreative plexus is
also where vyāna prāṇa is said to originate, within the area of the procreative
organs.
Because vyāna prāṇa is responsible for nerve conduction and the circulatory
currents of all fluids, including the flow of the heart and blood vessels from the
aorta to the tiniest capillaries, it is the prāṇa that balances the entire system.
Vyāna prāṇa nourishes, renews, and regenerates the nervous system, increasing
sensory impulses. It is responsible for clearing and strengthening blood vessels
and creating new lymphatic vessels.
Vyāna prāṇa is associated with the second cakra’s bīja sound, vam.

The Prāṇas and the Breath

The five prāṇas of the subtle body manifest in the physical body as the breath.
We can observe the prāṇas by becoming sensitive to the way breath circulates
around the circumference and center of the nostrils. Over the years, I have found
that it is possible to determine where prāṇa is deficient or overactive in the
organs and glands by observing the subtlety of the breath as it brushes against
the rims and center of the nostril. To practice this particular form of prāṇāyāma
requires concentration (dhāraṇā) upon the breath. This focuses and quiets the
mind.
The observation of the five prāṇas increases one’s sensitivity to the way the
breath enters and leaves the gateways of the nostrils. First, we observe whether
the breath is flowing through the right and left nostrils equally. If, for example,
the breath is more prevalent in the right nostril, it means the left hemisphere of
the brain is more active. This indicates a dominance of the fire element, which
suggests a greater stimulation of maṇipūra cakra or samāna prāṇa. This would
also reflect stimulation of the adrenal glands because the right nostril
corresponds to the sympathetic nervous system. When the breath predominates
in the right nostril, it can also reflect constriction in the blood vessels or even
high blood pressure. Constriction is one of the functions of the sympathetic
nervous system, which relates to piṅgalā nāḍī.
As we further refine our observations of the breath, we may, for example, notice
that the breath is less prevalent on the upper left outside edge of the nostrils. In
this case, the fire element and samāna prāṇa may be diminished, and the
digestive organs may be deficient in prāṇa. This could relate to the digestive
organs on the left side of the body, such as the pancreas, the spleen, and the left
aperture of the stomach. If the breath feels diminished at the inner corner of the
left nostril, which relates to the element of air, there may be deficient or
imbalanced prāṇa within the heart or region of the left lung.
Breath observation is a fascinating self-diagnostic tool. It helps us tune into the
subtle energy field, and it can be a powerful practice for concentration and
meditation that not only balances the prāṇas but expands awareness from the
gateways of the nostrils to the gateway of universal consciousness.

The Prāṇas and the Cakras

When they placed pressure on one finger or another, students have felt a
corresponding ley line to the points of prāṇa within the nostril and, in turn, the
prāṇa activated within the subtle centers of the cakras. The breath eventually
becomes so refined that it does not create friction upon the membranes and
passes eventually through the very center of the nostrils without moving a hair or
disturbing the membranes within the nostrils. This is the practice of ahiṁsā
(nonviolence) that quiets the waves of the mind, which is the essence of all yoga.
It can be a fascinating self-study to trace the pranic currents and see how one
part of the body interrelates with another, increasing self-awareness and
revealing the secrets of the universal ley lines through the energy field of the
body. Eventually, we may be able to diagnose illness in the pranic field before it
manifests from the subtle energy body into the tissues of the physical body. For
this reason, yoga is called a preventative rather than a curative. Yoga practices
detect the prāṇas as they go out of alignment with one another, and they can
bring the prāṇas back into alignment before the imbalance sifts down into the
physical tissues.
Pra To Bring Forth, going forward, force behind it
Na The Eternal Cosmic Vibration
Ya Yes, Really, Accentuates
Ma Mother Nature, to measure (time, distance, the polarities of sun/moon, etc.)
Prāṇāyāma Accentuates bringing forth the Eternal Cosmic Vibration into this world of duality.

Physics of the Five Main Prāṇas

Udāna Upward, levity
Apāna Downward, gravity
Samāna Center, spins
Vyāna Movement or Locomotion (allows earth to move around sun)
Prāṇa Drives them all

Prāṇa as an outward expression of āsana

Sitting Samāna Prāṇa
Standing Apāna Prāṇa
Inverted Prāṇa Prāṇa
Circuitous Vyāna Prāṇa
THE BANDHAS
The bandhas, often referred to as “locks,” are muscular constrictions of the body
that direct or redirect prāṇa from the lower to upper cakras. They are meant to
encase the prāṇa within the central energy channel of the suṣumnā, which
correlates to the physical spinal column and the central canal of the spinal cord.
In some cases, this will awaken the bio-or psycho-nuclear energy that the
ancients call kuṇḍalinī.
For several years, I studied and practiced intense bandhas with a Himalayan
master of prāṇāyāma. Years later, I asked Mr. Iyengar why he didn’t teach the
bandhas. His look was one of astonishment, as if to say, “Don’t you know?” His
gaze softened as he muttered, “Because the bandhas are in āsana.” Those few
words changed the course of my practice.
Now I understand why Mr. Iyengar was insistent that we lift the buttocks and
tailbone to reach for the light in Adho Mukha Śvānāsana or Prasārita
Pādottānāsana or Uttānāsana. Doing so creates a natural mūla bandha, the lock
that reverses an excessive downward flow of prāṇa. The excessive downward
pull of energy — which can result in such ailments as heavy menstruation,
miscarriage, irregular elimination, uterine or abdominal prolapse, and even
depression and fatigue — could be reversed in āsana.
I found it exciting to discover that mūla bandha was not merely a muscular
contraction of the anal or sphincter muscles, but that it could happen effortlessly
and spontaneously with an adjustment of the angles of certain poses. As I made
these adjustments while practicing āsana, I could feel pranic energy mildly
reverse its course, rising to an area just behind the navel or solar plexus. It felt as
though prāṇa was organically and naturally pushing through the granthi (psychic
knot) at the navel center in order to travel upward to the heart.
This is where the relationship between the bandhas becomes important. If we
were simply to tighten our muscles to create mūla bandha, this would intensify
the energy in maṇipūra cakra, the navel center that harnesses the energies of the
sun. This region is known as the solar plexus, the body’s generator of light,
energy, and warmth. The solar plexus is a storehouse for the digestive fires of
agni, helping us digest both food and emotions. If agni is low, we may not be
able to handle everything coming at us in life. As a result, mucus buildup may
occur, leading to colds and other ailments.
The navel plexus is also an area of self-will. Over-emphasizing mūla bandha can
direct prāṇa upward to this plexus, where it can get stuck and over-accumulate.
This can lead to a sense of defensiveness and emotional armoring, as well as to
an increase of willfulness and egoistic aggressions. Instead of bringing us closer
to the essence of yoga and the realization of the oneness of all life forms, this
can actually result in a growing sense of separation.
To offset this pranic coagulation, we focus on the next lock, uḍḍīyāna bandha,
which is used to redirect prāṇa up toward the heart center. This bandha is
described as the great bird Uḍḍīyāna, which (through the redirection of prāṇa)
flies upward toward the heart plexus. Uḍḍīyāna bandha is a major contraction of
the abdominal and digestive organs in a heroic effort to draw the prāṇa up from
the coccygeal plexus and solar plexus against the downward gravitational pull to
the area behind the heart center.
Engaging uḍḍīyāna bandha, however, can be problematic. It can increase blood
pressure and put strain on the heart. It can even, through its forceful muscular
action, increase vata imbalance and depress the eliminative function of the apāna
prāṇa flow associated with mūlādhāra, the root cakra.
Instead of creating mūla bandha and uḍḍīyāna bandha through muscular
contraction, which I found trapped and created more imbalance of the pranic
currents, I learned to relax, align, and elongate the spine, in turn lengthening the
midline of the front of the body. Doing this allowed for an organic and effortless
upliftment within the āsana. This gave space for the flow of apāna prāṇa, which
is responsible for elimination, and samāna prāṇa, responsible for digestion. This
movement, which might be more accurately thought of as a “non-movement,”
seemed to bring the prāṇa naturally and effortlessly to the heart plexus. I felt no
strain on the heart or lungs, and the granthi of the solar plexus seemed to
unravel, allowing the prāṇa to rise freely to the heart plexus.
When the bandhas are practiced this way — without straining the musculature
and with no strain showing on the face — the prāṇas seek their own balance. All
I did was to give them space through breathing and elongation. When we do this
in āsana, the prāṇas find their own place, settling into areas previously deprived
by the muscular overexertion that can lead to pranic coagulation and bodily
compression.
Using the breath is important when moving into a pose, holding a pose, or
exiting a pose. I have found it important to move only on an exhalation, while
relaxing and softening the abdominal and pelvic muscles to allow the prāṇa to
find its own course. It was miraculous to discover the intelligence that the pranic
currents have when we don’t block or interfere with their course.
It takes sensitivity and discernment to distinguish mūla bandha from uḍḍīyāna
bandha. The best postures for learning an organic unfoldment of these bandhas
are Uttānāsana, Prasārita Pādottānāsana, Adho Mukha Śvānāsana, Śīrṣāsana,
Halāsana (from Viparīta Karaṇī), and forward bending from a seated pose such
as Jānu Śīrṣāsana or Paścimottānāsana.
Traveling up the spinal column, the next bandha is jālandhara. Jāla refers to a
web or network, and dhāra is support. This bandha is commonly referred to as
the chin lock. It is often employed during breath retention, in particular aṅtara
kumbhaka or, as the ancients called it, stambha vṛtti, which describes
establishing a steadiness of the mind waves through retention of both the
inhalation and exhalation. Aṅtara means “internal” or “inward,” and kumbha is a
pitcher or jar. The jar is symbolic of our lungs. We can fill and hold in, or we
can empty and hold out.
In deep prāṇāyāma practices, one usually does not retain the inhalation for a
very long time. The retention begins with an exhalation. According to Patañjali’s
Yoga Sūtras, the prāṇāyāma of kevala kumbhaka is found on the exhalation, not
on the inhalation. Kevala means “isolated and absolutely pure.”
The action of jālandhara bandha is not simply to lower the chin to the chest
(which often causes students to collapse the shoulders). It is an intense lift of the
spine, which requires moving the skin down the back and up the neck
simultaneously. Doing this actually creates a slight backbend as the spine comes
into the front body to lift the heart center toward the softly descending chin. This
extends the cervical spine from C7 to the base of the skull, elongating the
ligament at the back of the neck, and elongating the carotid sinuses and arteries
on the sides of the neck. Through the cervical stimulation of the parasympathetic
nervous system, jālandhara bandha preserves the dilation of the blood vessels.
This helps prevent the blood pressure from rising during the retention of the
inhalation. The best poses in which to learn jālandhara bandha are Sasangāsana
(Rabbit Pose), Sālamba Sarvāṅgāsana (Shoulderstand), Eka Pāda Sarvāṅgāsana
(One-Legged Shoulderstand), Halāsana (Plow Pose), and Karṇa Pīdāsana (Ear
Pressure Pose).
The chin lock is one of the most difficult practices in yoga. It is an intense
movement and requires dedicated practice to develop the necessary elongation of
the neck and spine. When the head and chest are in the appropriate position,
meditation (dhyāna) occurs spontaneously. The senses turn inward, and the eyes
automatically are drawn toward the back of the skull, which brings
consciousness from the external to the internal realms of Self. For this to occur
there can be no tension in the throat, the neck, or the face. The tension is held in
the active uplift of the spine, which frees prāṇa to flow upward.
The essence of the chin lock is to contain the prāṇa within the octaves of the
spinal nerve plexuses, which brings the prāṇa into the central canal known as
suṣumnā. It is here that the goddess Kuṇḍalinī is aroused from her sleep and
arises, winding her way through the subtle centers. If this energy is unobstructed,
it brings illumination. However, pranic or psychic blocks can cause energy to
back up in the system, leading to a variety of undesirable conditions. But, as I
often ask students, why would we want to do this anyway? We are not living in
societal isolation in the high Himalayas, subsisting on a frugal diet of a couple of
glasses of milk a day.
I must say that after years of practicing prāṇāyāmas with the bandhas in the
traditional manner, I no longer practice this way. Instead, I practice the
prāṇāyāma and bandhas within āsana. By adjusting the hands, we can adjust the
breath within the nostrils, and as we become more subtle, we can even feel the
five prāṇas and their corresponding cakras within the rims of the nostrils. Within
various postures, we can alternate or balance the breath and in turn balance the
hemispheres of the brain by equalizing pressure between the hands, the elbows,
the buttock bones, the shoulders, and the feet.
The mind is far more subtle than the fingers. I prefer practicing non-digital
prāṇāyāma, using the mind to alternate pranic currents of right and left to bring
about the alignment of the polarities of the body. When the breath flows through
both nostrils simultaneously, this reflects balance between the two major
divisions of the autonomic nervous system, the parasympathetic (which dilates)
and sympathetic (which stimulates), and respectively, between the two
hemispheres of the brain.
Adho Mukha Śvānāsana (Downward-Facing Dog Pose) is ideal for developing
an awareness of mahā mudra, the “great seal” created by practicing three
bandhas simultaneously. In this āsana, a natural mūla bandha occurs when the
tailbone rises enough to organically and spontaneously bring the prāṇa up from
the root cakra. Then, with elongation, breathing, and the total passivity of the
navel plexus, prāṇa can flow effortlessly to the heart center. When the spine
comes in like a backbend on the exhalation, the chest lifts to the chin. As the
chest comes to the chin, the head and neck extend out and then relax, and the
chin bows gently, offering to the altar of the heart. The pose becomes a prayer
that unties the knots, allowing prāṇa to find its own path. We need to trust
prāṇa’s intelligence and allow it to seek out passages that have newly opened so
that the Divine Light may enter.
A HEART FULL OF GRATITUDE
When the heart is so full, it is difficult to find words to express gratitude. I am
grateful to all who have helped shape my life, which has been dedicated to
finding a way of serenity and peace in the midst of all the poses of yoga and life.
Many yoga teachers and students who have studied with me throughout the years
encouraged me to put these teachings into a written form, “to leave the legacy.” I
thank them for holding the vision and working to help make this happen. I also
honor my beloved teachers, many of whom are now in Mahā Samadhi, no longer
on the earth plane. My deepest gratitude to:
— Patañjali, the father of yoga, who compiled existing teachings and continues
to inspire and illumine those who endeavor to seek a way to traverse life’s
hurdles to understand and realize their existing Oneness with the Divine
— Thomas H. David, whose pioneering efforts led to chiropractic licensing in
the State of California. A man ahead of his time, he was a visionary of natural
health modalities. His school of naturopathy, his natural healing methods, and
his work with Dr. Bates saved patients’ vision and lives. His work was a boon
to the people of his time and era. I am proud to be his daughter and student.
— Gyda C. David, a licensed physical therapist and one of the first
reflexologists in the nation, who was my teacher, guru, guide, and also my
mother. She introduced me to my first yoga teachers and gave me invaluable
spiritual support. Her clairvoyant knowledge of the body was an inspiration
that I have continued to share with yoga students and teachers throughout
these many years.
— Dr. Bhagad Singh, who became my first yoga teacher when I was fifteen
years old. He taught prāṇāyāma and the secrets of life through a gesture of the
hand. His presence and fullness of Being began my course on the path of yoga.
— Master Kirpal Singh, who privately initiated my mother and our family into
the secrets of Shabda Yoga. He was a living example of the Christ-like
masters who once walked upon the face of the earth.
— Dr. Haridas Chaudhuri, disciple of Sri Aurobindo Gosh and the founder of
the California Institute for Integral Studies. For years, Dr. Chaudhuri was a
fulcrum for my spiritual exploration. He taught me how to integrate existing
teachings in a coherent web of understanding.
— Swami Vishnudevananda, founder of Sivānanda yoga centers in the U.S.,
Canada, India, and the Bahamas. His love for his master, Sri Swami Sivānanda
 Saraswatī of Rishikesh, India, continues be an inspiration of devotion, vision,
and selfless service.
— Sant Keshavadas, a great Hindu saint and well-known bhakti yogi who
inspired me to open the heart and bring love and devotion to my teachings and
my life in service to humanity
— Swami Satchidananda, founder of Integral Yoga and Yogaville, who traveled
the world to participate in interfaith dialogue as a way of bringing peace to
conflict situations. Swamiji was both inspiration and support for launching
yoga into the world and applying its universal qualities to bring warring
factions together in peace dialogues.
— Ma Yoga Śakti, a disciple of Sivānanda devotee Swami Satyananda. He was
the first ordained to teach the depths of Yoga Nidrā, and Mataji was the first
swami from India that our family hosted in our home in the U.S.
— Dr. David Teplitz, a disciple of Ramana Maharshi and a truly great Sanskrit
teacher. A linguist and choral director, he infused within me an infinite love of
Sanskrit and its deep Tibetan resonance, which clears the subtle channels so
that the sounds of creation can flow through one’s Being.
— Swami Nadabrahmananda, from the Sivānanda ashram in Rishikesh, India,
taught me the spiritual essence of sound through Indian music and the rhythms
of the universe through the tabla drums and the stringed instrument of the
veena.
— Swami Hridayananda, a doctor and disciple of Swami Sivānanda Saraswatī.
She built the first hospital at the Sivānanda ashram in Rishikesh, India, and
was a major inspiration through her example as a woman, wife, mother,
grandmother, and renunciate.
— S. N. Goenka, my Vipassana meditation teacher for several years, who
brought the Hiniyana system of Buddhism to the U.S. He was always an
example of meditative stillness, calm, equanimity, and compassion.
— Swami Bhimesan, a political science major from India, studied with the great
masters of Durgā worship in the high Himalayas. Swamiji took care of Master
Sivānanda during the last four years of the master’s life. He lived with my
family for over two years, blessing our home with his presence and
performing Durgā pujas five times a day. He helped host many other swamis
and masters who visited and stayed in our home.
— Baba Hari Dass, the silent saint who founded Mount Madonna Center, has
 inspired me throughout the years through his condensation of philosophy into
the smallest common denominator that pierces mind and heart like an arrow of
awakening and understanding.
— Swami Veda Bharati, a scholar of scriptures whose very presence conveys the
deeper teachings and experience of yoga. He teaches through his translations
and interpretations of Patañjali’s Yoga Sutras, as well as through his deep
meditative silence.
— Swami Jyotirmayananda Saraswatī, a disciple of Master Sivānanda, initiated
me and gave me the name Rama, which has lasted more than four decades. He
taught me the organizational simplicity of the Yoga Sutras and how they can
be integrated into daily life, in which we don’t just study the sutras but live
them.
— Mr. B. K. S. Iyengar, who inspired me to trust my inner experiences of the
convergence of asana with Eastern philosophy and my belief that we cannot
separate the body from scripture. He gave the world the gift of alignment, not
just within our poses but also within our lives, which we can change through
the practice of asana.
— Mr. T. K. V. Desikachar, son of the great Krishnamacharya and nephew of
Mr. B. K. S. Iyengar. Throughout the years, Mr. Desikachar has inspired me
by his unique integration of yoga philosophy in daily life. When I wanted to
quit teaching he was insistent that I continue, strongly urging me to write and
leave a legacy for future generations of teachers. His family now carries on the
teaching tradition.
— Ronald Eugene Vernon, who turned me upside down for my first headstand
and encouraged me to teach my first class. As the teaching grew and
consumed our married life and family in the flame of yoga, he continued to
open our home to visiting teachers and swamis, and he supported scores of
gurus and devotees from a variety of paths. His moral and financial support
helped me to help so many others to begin and strengthen their organizations
in spreading the light of yoga.
— My children, Adrian, Erin, and Andrea who received the teachings of yoga
through osmosis when the Great Ones held satsangs in our home. I commend
them for their patience and understanding, especially for those times when I
could not be with them even while I was teaching or conducting meditation
and yoga classes in our home. Today, their lives and their love and caring help
to assuage any guilt I felt those years when I was called upon to serve the
 macrocosmic family of humankind.
— My heart is filled with gratitude for the Universal Spirit that continues to
guide me, lifts me when I have fallen, and is patient in the hills and valleys of
life’s experiences.
I honor and acknowledge the following for their direct effort and continuing
moral support:
— Kathleen Bryant, who helped transcribe, edit, and organize interviews taped
fifteen years ago. A special thanks to her for holding the vision of possibilities,
and her endless patience and many hours of work in bringing this book into
the published form.
— Ruth Hartung (Sraddhasagar), founding director of Seven Centers Yoga Arts
in Sedona, Arizona. I thank her for her vision and faith in the teachings and for
her unwavering perseverance in bringing these writings forth to preserve the
teachings for yoga teachers in the years to come. She is the Śakti that has
made this project happen.
— Ana Hansen, who exemplifies and teaches the true heart of yoga. Her
precision, grace, and serenity have supported and encouraged me, and she
gave me the momentum and organization to finish these writings. Her editing
skills and insights were invaluable far more than she may ever know.
— Mira Michelle Murphy, my youngest child, whose love and innate wisdom of
yoga, Āyurveda, and natural healing supports and sustains me and so many
others when faced with life’s challenges. My heart is filled with gratitude for
her moral support and participation as a model for this book as well as her
continued commitment to carry on the work.
— Joan Giguirre Thompson, a quiet presence on earth who has always been on
the forefront of transformational visionary change. She heals through her
wisdom, beauty, and presence. She opened her heart and home for a handful of
teachers to gather for one week to ask questions, the answers of which formed
the foundation of this book.
— Joy Lindsey, whose vision of possibilities was the motivating force and
inspiration to put the teachings into a written form. She gathered together the
handful of teachers for recording my commentaries on asana and philosophy
that became the original basis of this book.
— Marybeth Marcus, founder and director of Desert Song Yoga in Phoenix,
Arizona, was one of the teachers who gathered for the interviews and
 recordings. A teacher of teachers, she is a continual light of integrity,
compassion, and inspiration for current and future generations of yoga
teachers.
— Zoreh Afsarzdeh, founder and director of High Desert Yoga in Albuquerque,
New Mexico, who also gave a week of her time to meet many years ago and
be part of the interviews that became the original transcript for this book. A
teacher of teachers, she too prepares and supports future generations to carry
the light of the eternal flame of yoga into darkened corners of our world.
— Ginny Beal, a yoga teacher and my friend in yoga and life. She believes in
and sustains the continuance of my teachings. Her vision, love, and ideas have
lifted my spirit when it was wavering. She has organized and inspired me to
continue to share yoga and is a continual source of strength, light, wisdom,
and encouragement. She makes it happen.
— Connie Reynolds, founder and director of the Yoga College in Sioux City,
Iowa, for her weeks of transcribing interviews in the midst of a busy teaching
schedule. Her heart, love, and continually unfolding knowledge of yoga will
ignite and light the path of students for generations to come.
— Dr. Cynthia Russell for her dedication to transcription and living with my
voice in her ear. Her intuitive understandings of the teachings permeate not
just the head but every cell of her Being.
— Friederike Almstedt, a dedicated student of Yoga and Sanskrit, for her
scholarly assistance in the final work of adding the diacritical marks to the
Sanskrit in this manual. — Kristi Hook, whose love and creativity is bringing
forth ever-new insights, clarity, and dedication to interpreting this work for
generations of Light Beings to come. Kristi carries the flame of yoga to inspire
the teachers of today and tomorrow.
— Barbara Kittel, whose love and nonjudgmental support sustains me on
whatever life adventures may arise. Her work in teaching and healing is on the
forefront of future modalities.
— Melissa Spamer and Christopher Neal, for their hours of work designing
illustrations for this book, which they fit into a schedule of studying,
international travel and teaching, getting married and honeymooning. They are
gifted artists, teachers of teachers, and healers with backgrounds in Āyurveda,
Chinese medicine, and yoga.
— Rev. Max Lafser, my husband, whose ageless wisdom expands far beyond
the pulpit of his Unity church. He touches my heart and the hearts of
 thousands of others who are inspired by his words and presence. I thank him
for his patience, understanding, and nurturing during this time of bringing my
teachings into the written form. Even though he does not formally practice
yoga, he is yoga.
— A special note of gratitude for the support of my friends and colleagues
throughout the years and a heartfelt tribute to the true teachers of yoga… the
students.
These writings are the outgrowth of my half-century of studies as well as the
study of the inner self. They have organically arisen from within me through
deep practices, self observation, and the discovery of yoga scriptures that
support the inner experiences.
I humbly offer them to the reader and future generations of yoga students and
teachers. Each generation is a springboard for the next. As Khalil Gibran in The
Prophet speaks of the bow launching the arrows of the future generations, he
reminds us that we are to let our bending be in gladness. For even as the great
archer “loves the arrow that flies, so He loves also the bow that is stable.”
May the blessings of the masters be with you as you continue your eternal
journey upon the path to the pathless land of Yoga.
Love to you always,
Rama
For more information about Rama Jyoti Vernon go to
www.ramajyotivernon.com