For most of us, yoga starts with the postures. At the studio where I studied, the classes were divided into levels – restorative, beginner, level 1, and so on. In my mind, the ultimate goal was to progress to the highest level. My approach was no different than the one I’d taken when I was in school. Once you’ve finished with grade 1, there’s grade 2. Once, you’re done with Junior High, you move on to High school. There’s an implicit hierarchy which accompanies that point of view. Someone who can do advanced balancing postures and head-stands must be better at yoga than those people who can only do standing asanas, right?

That mentality made me want to get through the so-called “beginner” postures quickly, so I could do “real” yoga. I often found myself impatient with my body, because it wouldn’t do what I wanted it to do. Sometimes it would even lead to injury. My teachers would speak about “being in the moment.” They made it sound peaceful and serene. I didn’t experience it that way. Being present meant feeling pain and stiffness. It meant teetering all over the place in Tree Pose, when everyone else in the room seemed to be doing it well. It meant being hounded by my inner critic, “Your hyper-extending your knees again.” “Your foot’s too far forward.” “Your hips are so tight; you’ll never be able to do Padmasana.”

The only difference between “being” and “doing” is acceptance. The reality was my body was stiff and sore. It could only do what it was ready to do. No amount of wanting it to be otherwise was going to catapult me into the ranks of Rodney Yee or David Svenson. Like lots of North Americans, I had my eye on the prize. Getting through the postures and getting them right would take me one step closer to the next level.

Then, I had a car accident. No more headstands. No more back-bends. An elbow injury prevented me from doing a lot of the balancing postures I was just starting to master. If I was impatient with my body before, I now became downright angry. I was angry at the accident. Angry at my body. Angry at the injuries. Angry. . . ANGRY . . . ANGRY!!!! I had to leave the class more than a few times and go out and cry in the hall. Eventually, I gave up going to the studio altogether. I gave up my home practice too. I gained weight. Being on the mat only reminded me of what I could no longer do. Before the accident, I got through the pain and stiffness by imaging a future when I could do more and more postures. I exchanged that view for looking back on a past when I could at least do some of them. Neither of those perspectives led to acceptance.

The beauty of limitations is they cause you to make a choice. It’s pretty simple. Either you accept things as they are, or you don’t. You can work with what you have. Or, you can rage against it. Luckily, rage is a very draining emotion. Eventually, most of us who get angry end up too tired to fight any more. When all the crying and swearing is done, you surrender. That doesn’t mean you give up. It just means you finally decide to take all the energy you were investing in anger, and re-direct it. You’re like a kid who stomps off to their room and has a good temper tantrum. After a while, you calm down. You become quiet. Then, comes the knock at the door. “Can I come in?” With surrender and acceptance come inspiration and healing.

The word, “yoga” comes from the root, “yuj” which means to yoke or harness. (1) Most of us associate yoga with an experience of unity. A union with God or the Self. Being “At One.” Though most of us come to the practice of yoga for physical reasons, this Oneness is what draws us into deeper practice. Oxen can be very ornery creatures. So can most human beings. That feeling of surrender we get after digging in our heels against pain or loss is simply God drawing us closer. Or, better put, Us becoming more Aware of Ourselves. When we put up resistance against what is, all we are doing is rejecting Awareness. As Wayne Dyer puts it, “If I could define enlightenment briefly I would say it is ‘the quiet acceptance of what is.’” (2)

As we progress in our understanding of yoga, we begin to study not only the postures, but also yoga philosophy. A familiar text to most yoga students is Patanjali’s Yoga Sutra. His “Eight Limbs” are often viewed much in the same way as the Ten Commandments and the Golden Rule of the Christian Tradition, as a guide to healthy spiritual growth.

But, it is easy to take the same approach to the Eight Limbs as one can with the asanas. Because they are often presented in the form of a list, it leads to the belief that one starts with the yamas, then moves onto the niyamas, etc.,with the Ultimate Endpoint being Enlightenment. As anyone who has practiced the asanas for a long time will tell you, there is no endpoint. No gold star. No stamp which says, “Completed.” Everyday is a new day. As the years pass, the body changes. Sometimes your mind is focussed and calm. Sometimes, even after years of practice, you can find yourself preoccupied. Accidents, illness, or obligations can steer your practice in a new direction. What does change in most cases is our perception.

As I head back to the mat these days, I bring a new attitude with me. I have to. If I force myself to assume postures which my body cannot do, I seize up instead of letting go. A larger body means I need to modify some postures or use props. In contrast to my previous thinking, I do not see my practice as inferior. Moving and breathing are beneficial to anybody. If we judge ourselves or others, are we truly practicing yoga? Acceptance of my body as it is, opens me up to a Wisdom which has been there all along. When you surrender and accept things as they are, the Wisdom of Patanjali’s Eight Limbs becomes more and more evident in your life. They are not a recipe for Enlightenment. They are signs that you are already there.

Anger and depression are incredibly useful gifts. They let us know we are resisting something in our life. Regardless of the challenge – a physical disability, unhealthy relationship, or financial loss - emotions like resentment, fear and despair are acting as messengers. They are sending you a wake up call. Tapas, one of niyamas, is often translated as “heat.” Most often this heat is created by practicing asceticism (fasting, etc.) But, heat can also be created by friction. In a case where you repeatedly bump up against something you cannot change, your emotions become heated. If left long enough, those emotions will burn up your ego. When your heart is open, what is left is Isvara pranidhana (surrender to God). If your heart is not open, all that is left are ashes. Luckily, most of our hearts are open. We emerge from those ashes as wiser people.

Often times, when one comes through what St. John of the Cross called, A Dark Night of the Soul,” you face that kind of spiritual fire. Tapas. A cleansing. You come through with a new point of view. A new acceptance of yourself and the world around you. And, when you surrender, you find new Wisdom. It is not a result of memorizing and adhering to a list of principles. It’s a Wisdom you’ve always had. It was just hiding under your anger or your depression.

The Eight Limbs happen from the inside out. Enlightenment is not a final goal. It’s a by-product. One day, you find yourself in your kitchen, and you can’t kill the spider which is scurrying across the floor. Before, you would have thought nothing of stepping on it. Now, you scramble to find a piece of paper for it to crawl onto, so you can release it outside. That’s ahimsa (non-violence). Perhaps you find your taste in food changing. That steak you used to enjoy, now repulses you. This isn’t coming from the thought that “good yogis” are vegetarians. This is coming from your True Essence. Eating steak simply doesn’t feel right anymore. Saucha (cleanliness) leads you to reject unhealthy foods, relationships and habits.

Telling “little white lies,” doesn’t feeling right any more either. That’s satya (truthfulness). Perhaps a job you’ve done or a relationship you’ve had for years is now in conflict with who you really are. “To Thine Own Self be True,” and the satya, which is now manifesting in your consciousness, makes it impossible to play those roles any more.

You used adore Christmas shopping. Now the excess of the season really gets under your skin. Aparigraha (non-greediness or noncovetousness) is in play. Keeping up with the Jones’ just isn’t important anymore. And, all of a sudden your house seems way too cluttered with loads and loads of unnecessary stuff. You find yourself making donations to charity, and giving things away.

If you were practicing the asanas before the Eight Limbs started manifesting themselves, you might find your practice changing. You don’t compare yourself to others at all any more. You accept where you’re at, and find contentment (samtosa). You listen to what your body is telling you. You truly listen to yourself. This is (svadhyaya – the study of the sacred scriptures and yourself). You rest when you need to rest. Challenging postures can be part of this too, but you take them on for the benefit of the body and the mind, not out of a sense of competition. Because of svadhyaya, your book shelf has at least one or two (or two hundred) books about spirituality. You find yourself drawn to people of like mind. Maybe you return to a church you’ve long since abandoned. You’re seeing things through new eyes. Maybe you keep a journal. Perhaps, you start writing volumes of beautiful poetry. Or, you become a painter or a sculptor when before you were too scared to draw more than a stick figure.

If you weren’t practicing the asanas before, you find yourself drawn to them and to the practice of pranayama as well. Your body simply craves it. More and more you feel as if you’re watching yourself. Pratyahara (withdrawl of the senses) is part of your True Nature too. When you read the simple definition of this term, you may think you’re supposed to become non-reactive. Detached. Unemotional. The actual experience of detachment can be more like this. You still have all the emotions you used to have, but instead of getting buried under them, the lessons they are trying to teach you come faster. You don’t hold onto them as long. Grudges aren’t as easy to cultivate or hang onto any more either.

At first, it might seem that you’re more emotional than you were before. Initially, a break-down, illness or accident might make you feel like a complete basket-case. You find yourself irritable for no reason. You don’t have the same tolerance for noise as you used to. Though it is frustrating at times, you aren’t “losing it. You’re actually “gaining It.” The “It” being Awareness. It is commonly thought, when one gains heightened awareness, one becomes constantly joyful. Your sense of joy can be heightened too, but it is only one of the emotions. As you become more and more enlightened, your experience of all emotions becomes sharpened. You’re not going crazy. This is a fantastic sign of progress. Before you can transcend emotions and sensations you have to experience them in the first place. If you feel like you are white-water rafting down a river of emotions, it’s a good sign that pratyahara is becoming part of your consciousness. Gradually, as you continue to meditate and engage in other spiritual practices, your emotional volatility will change. The emotions will still come, but your reaction is different. You feel anger, for example, but instead of exploding or planning revenge, a calm Inner Voice guides you to insights about your feelings. This is true detachment. You can’t rush this process. Pratyahara requires you to be compassionate with yourself.

Many people view Patanjali’s Eight limbs like rungs on a ladder. A different way to see them is like petals on a flower. Each one of them grows out of the Centre. If we study them only on an intellectual level and try to apply them like a recipe for enlightenment they can feel artificial and restrictive. Under those circumstances, you often end up feeling inadequate and impatient. Rules imposed from the outside can be hard to live by. True wisdom, however, comes from the Inside. Non-violence, truthfulness and contentment are products of this. How can you connect to Your Centre? To the Source of this Wisdom? All you need to do is seek out experiences in which you feel Stillness. Meditation. Being in Nature. Being in the Flow of creativity. Focusing on your breath. Anything which allows you simply to be. This is hard to put into words, but the best way to know if you’ve had this experience is that you lose track of time. Engage in one of these activities each day, if possible. For most of us, this is not an over-night process. It takes small steps over a long time. Eventually, your awareness will deepen and deepen. You will see the Eight Limbs manifest in your consciousness. Just as a flower grows toward the sun, you will be drawn to Your True Nature. So put away the recipes, be patient, relax, and above all, have fun.

- Catherine Dale – January 10th, 2007

1. p. 342 , The Shambhala Encyclopedia of Yoga, Georg Feuerstein, Ph.D, Shambhala, 2000.

2. http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/