Konalani Yoga Ashram, Hawaii.
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This class will deepen your connection to deity Vishnu through stories and new perspectives, kirtan, and meditation.
This class reflects further on Vijnana Bhairava Dharana 5 through discussion, free writing, and meditation.
This pressure or density is not only natural, but good for us. When diving underwater in the physical world, our body recognizes the pressure and slows down our heart rate, shifting our nervous system down towards a more restful and rejuvenating state. The pressure is also good for our lungs. In our subtle bodies when meditating there is a very similar experience, when we go inside our heart rate slows down and our nervous system down shifts. And similar to the water, there is a natural tendency to bob like a buoy in our heads all day long, staying at the surface, and it takes a certain kind of work to actually go deep within ourselves. And like water, we do this in small sessions— we don’t need to live underwater, we just need to practice going there over and over again. In fact, it is teh repetition that is the source of our depth, “Inserting the spark of awareness and letting it fade” as Shiva Sutra —- teaches. It is Effort over time, as Rudi teaches, that yields real growth. The pressure of this dive within ourselves is unique, subtle. I hope that by discussing this pressure it does not lead to any expectations of pressure and thus doership. Instead I hope that by discussion this subtle pressure that we feel when we go inside it helps us actually feel our experience more clearly, and interact with it more personally. Because, as Babaji has been teaching steadfastly for quite a while, we so often get attached to the technique and artificial goals in our practice, such as “how deep we are diving”, or “how long we can hold our breath” to keep with the analogy, and we not only miss the point of our practice, but we miss the experience, and thus also miss the growth. Technique is here to guide us to the present, to our direct experience, to our state of being— that is what I hope this discussion does for you. Because it doesn’t matter how deep you dive within yourself— its the pressure itself that is beneficial, the actual experience of going inside and working with that experience— and when you can shift your awareness from the ‘depth’ to the ‘experience’, every depth becomes more beneficial, sustainable and interactive. We are diving into the heart to interact with the experience, not to be done with the experience. As teh Sutras say, it is a subjective experience, not objective— meaning it is meant to be happening to you in the state you are in today, within the context of your life right now. We are each meant to really experience the process of going inside every time we do it, not to simply go through the motions like watching a TV show while you walk 3 miles on a treadmill. This is why it is beneficial to pay attention to the experience rather than focus on the destination— the experience is where the growth is. The subtle pressure that exists within us, that we slowly but surely breathe through, is the source of the healing— it doesn’t matter the depth or the time spent underwater/inside, it matters how much you are absorbing and participating in the experience. It Which brings us to the second half of the Dharana, the rising up. Diving down is the work, rising up is the serenity. In the water, diving down is effort, you not only have to actively swim against the natural buoyancy of the ocean, you have to stop every few kicks to actively clear your ears, and this process continues every few feet. At a certain point you stop and allow yourself to rise up slowly. There is no need to kick here, or even clear your ears, you simply rise up and expand to the surface. In our practice it is the same. The work of going inside takes time and effort, we work with the experience directly and gradually, and let it work on us. And eventually there comes a time to allow ourselves to rise up and expand naturally. In the big picture one could say this is the moment of our Kundalini rising up the spine to the crown chakra. If we zoom out even further, this could be said to be the description of enlightenment itself, a gradual rising up that takes place over liftetimes of Sadhana. From a more zoomed in perspective, this could also be referring to the latter half of the circular breath, wherein our attention rises up the spine. Or in an even more localized way, and the way we have been instructed to work more and more these days by our teacher, this is referring to the subtle expansion that takes place in the heart on each exhale. For the past year or so, Babaji has been emphasizing the practice of bringing our attention to the heart with our inhale, and then allowing the heart to expand with the exhale. The expansion that takes place in the heart is subtle, and happens gradually. When letting one’s self rise up from a decent depth underwater, it can often feel slow, or even impreceptible, compared to the effort one expels to dive down. But again, if we pay attention to the experience itself as we did when we dove down into the heart, there will be plenty to feel. For me, I was expelling too much effort in the expansion of the heart and missing the experience altogether— but when I thought of it like rising up from under water, I let go and actually felt what was happening. So this analogy was a bit of a breakthrough for my personal practice, helping me use a natural physical experience to better understand a natural subtle experience. From where you’re sitting, let your eyes close and turn your attention within. This initial turn already initiates the healing process, and you can feel the subtle shift. This is almost like the shift of being in water versus being on land, there’s a buoyancy in side, an ebb and flow like rising and falling currents. Breathe in through the third eye, and towards the base of the throat. Feel this slight shift in internal pressure, there’s a density being approached, like the density of water just a few feet under the surface. Instead of trying to go past the density you encounter, feel it. Absorb that healing pressure, let it do its work. Swallow to relieve the pressure in the throat, almost like cleaning your ears, and feel the path to the heart open up. This is the practice we have been working on with Babaji for a while now. The path to the heart. Notice the experience of getting to the heart with your breath— feel the subtle density that you encounter and work with it. That density is why we are meditating, it is literally what we are breathing through. With each inhale we can bring our awareness towards the heart, embracing the subtle hug of pressure that may exist there, and as we exhale we expand our experience in the heart in a different way.
This class will help you deepen your connection to goddess Parvati, followed by kirtan and meditation.
In this Teaching Moments episode, Sangha member Arati and Satyam discuss their experiences of finding refuge in the heart, our meditation practice, and the sangha. Arati: Talking about my practice is not something I’m very familiar with…I feel like I am still trying to learn, understand, and feel for what it means to have a spiritual practice. The talks that the sangha members gave at the intensive really resonated and inspired me to try and open up as I could relate to a lot of what they talked about and how they used their practice during rough times. The last couple of years have been very turbulent for me and I can’t say I’m totally on the other side so a lot of my experience is still current. A 10 year marriage ended and with it took a lot of people I considered family, I lost my house and most of my belongings, I left a job that I worked really hard to get to where I was and with all that change…so much else was shaken up and lost. It felt like my entire world and what I relied on for stability, security, safety, and comfort was all pulled out from underneath me in a blink of an eye. It felt so quick that I didn’t know who I was anymore. When people would ask me how I felt..it felt like I was jello, in the in-between…it was so scary and uncomfortable. Early on when these changes started happening, I went to Shoshoni for a weekend training with Satyam and Abhaya and when I returned to the east coast, I signed up for an online yoga teacher training with them. During that training, everything was falling apart and it was so hard for me to show up for those classes let alone meditate on my own each day. But ever since I connected to this practice, it’s been there for me when I didn't know what else to do. I had always dreamed of going to India and what better of a time than when you’ve lost everything? And because I have this practice and have been warned over and over throughout the years…I knew I wasn’t going to find anything out there to solve my problems or the key to my happiness but staying or going was equally tough. So I left my job and went on a big adventure with my new partner. I was traveling the world and in a newish relationship and although I’m so grateful for both of these experiences, after having my life dismantled, it definitely wasn’t a vacation. I won’t go too much into my traveling and it did strengthen my gratitude for these teachings and for Babaji but I also went through a lot more discomfort on so many different levels. Because of the state I was in internally, the chaos, uncertainty, and unfamiliarity all around me was so challenging physically, emotionally, and mentally. I kept making a (small) effort to do my practice but I have been exhausted by life and my mind felt like it was torturing me when I would sit to meditate. Still feeling pretty lost, I reluctantly reached out to Abhaya and asked about spending some time at Konalani. On the Big Island there is a place called the city of refuge where, in ancient Hawaiian times, if you committed a crime and you made it to this point, you would be absolved of your punishment, which was typically death. That sounds pretty extreme and I wasn’t running from a crime but even though I knew it wasn’t going to be easy, getting myself to the ashram felt like making it to my own place of refuge. I was right, it hasn’t been easy. Being at the ashram is not an escape from any of your problems and most days, they are highlighted for me. But I’ve been able to get some clarity and reconnect to my practice in a big way. I have a reason to wake up each morning and am committed to doing my practice each day no matter what. I’ve got a place to sleep, food to eat, work to do each day and the support of the sangha. When I have to face my stuff - feeling lost, confused, disoriented, sad, overwhelmed - I can be in the flow of the ashram and I can remember that I am here to do this work. My idea of a refuge has really deepened during my time here. I asked Babaji how I should work while I am here and he said to stay centered and when I feel myself getting drawn out to come back. He’s also pulled me aside during seva and told me to stop worrying and that I need to relax. I’ve always liked Babaji’s surfing references because I surf a little bit and I found this quote where he said: “” It’s been hard for me to find this state of being centered and balanced because my mind really wants to analyze all the loss and feel all the emotions over and over. It hit me during a movie yoga night when there was a really intense scene happening and I could feel myself getting pulled into the drama, feeling the anxiety and anticipating what was coming. Babaji told us all to take a breath and in that moment, I released the grip on the scene and felt a sense of relief and peace inside. It was so easy to realize that the movie was separate from me and the emotions I was feeling weren’t me. It made me wonder what if surrendering my own stuff was that easy? I truly want to experience my inner self as a place of refuge that’s always with me and can’t be taken away. So, I’ve really been trying to connect to this place inside and cultivate my inner refuge while I am meditating, while I am doing seva, and everywhere in between by recognizing that I am feeling heavy, tight, anxious or having negative thoughts and drawing my attention inside, relaxing, and allowing there to be calm. In Spiritual Practice, Babaji says: “ I am so grateful to have an actual place of refuge to go to and for the support I’ve received over the years and especially recently. It’s helped me prioritize my practice and start to feel my feet on the ground again. Mostly, it has helped me feel a glimpse of my inner self that is beyond the chatter, beyond anything external, so that I can feel safe, secure, and at peace no matter what. Satyam: A line that really stuck with me from Arati’s presentation was “I truly want to experience my Inner Self as a place of refuge that’s always with me and can’t be taken away”… I do too, and I’m sure you do as well. As she taught, We have a place of refuge in our hearts, a place we can go to at any time to dissolve the obscurations of daily life. But like the place of refuge here in Hawaii, It takes effort to get there, and effort to remain there, but no matter how much effort it takes what’s most important is that it really is there. And as Arati taught, we can find refuge in our practice if we are willing to seek it out throughout our daily practices, tasks and activities. We have to find refuge in each repetition of the mantra, each weed we pull, each breath we take, each dish we wash, each posture we practice... In classic non-dual understanding, the place of refuge is only revealed to those willing to walk with refuge. As the Shiva Sutras put it, ‘the path is only revealed to the revealer’— the path to the place of refuge is only revealed to those who are seeking refuge in their path. This unique effort is of course nothing new, but a foundational topic in every practice. How do perform mantra in a way that leads us to its place of refuge? We can’t yell the mantra, or do them faster, to accelerate the process— we start from where we’re at, and work our way from the vibration in the mouth, to the throat to the heart. The same goes for the breath— you can’t just jump into breath awareness, the mind pushes and pulls it immediately. You have to lengthen and smooth out the breath, and then slowly but surely release that effort and arrive at the experience of refuge in breath awareness. Swami Rudrananda always taught that the WIsh to Grow practice begins at a superficial level, none of us mean it at first, but we simply repeat each repetition with a little more sincerity, and eventually we arrive. The topic of refuge inspires a deeper appreciation for how we practice, not just what we practice, which has been at the forefront of Babaji’s teaching over the past year and a half. When he says we need to learn to relax as we practice, in my opinion this doesn’t mean we relax and then practice, as if they are two separate things, but that we learn how to use our practice to help us relax, that we use our practice not to blow up our karma, but release ourselves from it. Babaji recently used the analogy of dropping something out of your hand as a way of understanding surrender— when you use each mantra as a way to release, each breath as a way to release, then you become released. This is what the topic of refuge means to me, and how it has opened up my practice. So let’s take time to walk through our practice with refuge and see if the path to the place of refuge in our hearts naturally unfolds for us step by step.
Join us as we explore our practice through the art of writing from within. We will review Dharana 4 and spend time meditating, writing, and discussing, in addition to some light movement. You are welcome to bring previous writing to continue working on or use the prompts provided.
Dharana 4 concludes the breath and pause specific teachings in this portion of the Vijnana Bhairava, and is our focal point for tonight. In this Dharana we begin to lean into the pause skillfully, feeling for the moment when we are ‘all out’ or ‘all in’, and allowing ourselves to be absorbed in a space where our ‘small self vanishes’. Before we unpack it, we can sit for a minute with the dharana itself and let it speak to you directly: The breath itself is a ‘ceaseless pulsation’ of life force, a throb of Shakti described as Spanda. When the breath pauses, as we saw in the last Dharana, there is a moment of where the ceaseless pulsation of life fuses into stillness— this stillness is not separate from reality, but a unique experience within it— a moment when the surface of the water becomes absolutely still before the wave pool of the breath begins again. This moment comes and goes in a flash for most of us most of the time— yet it seems to be a Holy Grail of meditative experience. Holding the pause with the will misses the point— we only end up feeling our will, not the peace of the pause— so what other options are there? As Muktananda teaches in his text “I Am That”, if we want to expand the pause, we have to expand our experience of the breath itself: To expand our experience of the breath overall, we can slow down our breath, this guarantees that we will stay connected to the flow, while also taking ourselves towards the subtle destination of the pause. Of course this must be within reason and not create tension, but once the breath is slower, your mind slows down too and you can begin to work through the impurities that the Dharana alludes to. Because who are the impure that have trouble feeling the pause and slowing down? All of us, most of the time. As study after study concludes, our overstimulated nervous systems are stuck in a subtle state of fight and flight. And as we know about the sympathetic nervous system, when we are ‘fighting and flighting’— which is to say thinking, planning and scheming— the maintenance aspects of our biology go on hold. Our digestion slows down, our cellular repair and maintenance slows down, everything goes on pause so we can get through this or that struggle. Its like being in a hurry all morning and leaving the toothbrush open on the counter, throwing a towel on an unmade bed and leaving breakfast dishes in the sink. It helps us get to work on time this time, but studies are showing us that these biological dishes are just piling up inside, as a 2018 article from the University of Colorado health and medical center describes it— (https://www.uchealth.org/today/the-hidden-stress-of-cell-phones/) These are the impurities to which the Dharana alludes— when we are in this neurological state, it is hard to meditate. The solution… s-l-o-w…d-o-w-n… Slow it all down, and start to feel again. When we can start to feel again, then we can start to relax and release, we can start cleaning up the debris, and eventually we can even begin to experience something beyond it. A Student once asked Babaji, “I have been very bothered lately by tightness in my heart. Can you suggest a way for me to release that tension?” To which he responded, As Babaji says here, when we slow down we can begin to feel, relax and release. Slowing down opens the door to feeling, and feeling allows us to feel what needs to be released. When we are stuck in an over-stimulated loop, this can be hard to do— which is why the Yogic tradition teaches us to work our way there layer by layer, through the Koshas. One of the reasons we have incorporated yoga into our Thursday night class schedule is because Babaji wants people to start slowing down and consciously figuring out how to relax and release— and the body is the most tactile place to start this process. As Anju talked about a few months ago, her asana practice, and slowing down in her asana practice, was the key to breaking through seemingly insurmountable obstacles in her meditation practice. Many people have resistance to Asana because it doesn’t seem to work with the mind and heart as directly as meditation. But what’s better— running really fast in circles or taking slower conscious steps towards relief? I know we all feel that we can just drop our tensions with a breath, and maybe we can occasionally, but slowing down on the physical level helps us slow down on the pranic level, which helps us slow down on the subtler levels of the heart and mind. And the act of slowing down really just means open up. Every aspect of our tradition tells us this, so I thought we could work with it more directly in tonights guided practice.
In this class, we explore stories and new ways of relating to the Deities of our lineage, followed by kirtan and meditation. A deeper connection to our Deities - these powerful, loving spiritual forces - is always available, and our relationship to them is ever-changing. Today’s episode will open your heart to a greater and more expansive understanding of Shiva. Tonights Chants: Shiva Shiva Mahadeva Namah Shivaya Sada Shiva Refrain: Om Namah Shivaya Namah Shivaya Shiva Shiva Shankara Om Namah Shivaya Jaya Hara Hara Maha-dev Shiva Shiva Shankara Om Namah Shivaya
Let your creative juices flow as we recap and are inspired by previous class topics, especially the Shambhavi Mudra - the ability to keep your attention within as your senses are turned outward and you navigate the external world..
When considering the pause between the breath, it is almost automatic to approach it from the outside in— meaning, to watch your breath and feel for the pause to occur. This, we are told, was the practice given in Dharana 2, which taught us to watch the breath ‘turn, turn turn’. As Swami Lakshmanjoo begins his translation of Dharana 3, though, “now, [we are entering] a more subtle process”. The subtle teaching at the heart of this Dharana is that we can experience the pause between our breaths more fully through the internal gaze of the Shambhavi Mudra, described in the commentary as Bhairavi Mudra. The Shambhavi Mudra is the practice of keeping the senses open but bringing your awareness inside to the heart, as you continue to experience your life. This is an advanced practice because it asks you to hold your awareness inside with no external object , such as a mantra or pranayama. It is simply, and not so simply, the practice of keeping your attention “inside” while you live your life “outside”. This practice, we are taught in this Dharana, will naturally draw the pause between the breaths to us. In fact, the deeper inside we go inside, the bigger the experience of the pause between the breaths will become for us. The experience of this pause gives rise to spiritual energy described in the Dharana as “Nirvikalpakataya”, which refers specifically to the energy of the central vein, the Shushumna. The Dharana continues that when this practice is truly accomplished, “the energy of breath neither goes out nor enters in (na vrajet na viśet)”, meaning that the inbreath and out breath pause momentarily of their own accord. And here, in this space between the breaths, “one becomes one with Bhairava,” as Lakshmanjoo translates, “Bhairavarüpatà”. When the inbreath and out breath “fuse”, as Paul Reps teaches it, we have fused inner and outer realities, the essence of the Shambhavi Mudra. Which is perhaps why Reps describes the experience as an “energyless, energy-filled, center”— when inside and outside merge, empty and full become interchangeable terms— all that’s left is energy. Which brings us back to the illumination of the central channel at the heart of this Dharana, Nirvikalpakataya, which as Swami Lakshmanjoo comments, “is already illuminated”. So we aren’t filling ourselves with light, we are unveiling the light that’s already there. As we sit with this Dharana, we don’t start at the top, we work our way there. We can begin by focusing on establishing a natural breath flow, smoothing out the breath and using our mantra, like we did in Dharana 2. Once this is established, we can open the eyes softly, and start to use less and less effort to guide our breath, approaching Dharana 3. This opens the door to a deeper dive into the Shambhavi Mudra, as we start to witness our senses, and exert less and less effort towards them with each breath. We can explore the depths of this Dharana as we explore our capacity for the Shambhavi Mudra. As our attention truly does sink inside, while our awareness on the breath and senses remain open, what happens to the space between the breaths? Does it come to you? Does it expand? Is it easier to feel— how would you describe that ease?
In this exciting new class rotation, we explore stories and new ways of relating to the Deities of our lineage, followed by kirtan and meditation. A deeper connection to our Deities - these powerful, loving spiritual forces - is always available, and our relationship to them is ever-changing. (Text continues below video). Today’s class is all about the jolly, elephant-headed remover of obstacles Deity, Ganesh. Sangha member Chaitanya offers insights into approaching Ganesh simultaneously as a sweet, innocent child as well as an unimaginably powerful force of the universe. Ganesh being the child of Shiva and Parvati/Shakti, Chaitanya explains how befriending a child and gaining their trust is a guaranteed way to win over the affections of the mother. In this way, reaching out to Ganesh sincerely and directly (as a child would reach out to their mother) is one way to connect to Shiva/Shakti, our Inner Self, Universal Consciousness. We can also think of Ganesh as representing the wish to grow, what lineage teacher Rudi called “the most powerful force in the universe.” Like Ganesh, the wish to grow sits right in our hearts, and is a pure, innocent and unwavering longing of the heart. When we reach out to Ganesh before starting any puja or practice, we can do so with our sincere desire to grow, asking for his guidance and support. Building this connection with Ganesh will strengthen us on our journey of spiritual growth, and ultimately has the power to take us directly to union with our Inner Self.
The pause between the breath gives us an anchor of stillness amidst the constant fluctuations of mind and karma. Because the breath is as ceaseless as manifestation is infinite— and flowing with our breath, like flowing with our karma, takes practice and surrender. This is why the pause between the breath is such a resource helping us find and unite with this flow. The pause between the breath isn’t separate from the breath, but it is what unites the inhale and exhale into a fluid experience. The Shiva Sutras describe this as a type of “Triple Awareness”, awareness that goes beyond just the inhale and exhale, beyond duality, and encompasses the in-between space. “When you fix your awareness not only in two, but in three, you are carried to God consciousness and you become one with Svacchanda.32 (Svacchanda Tantra) What is the meaning of “triple awareness”? The verse tells us there must be triple awareness, not just awareness of two. Awareness of two is the awareness of two actions, such as inhaling and exhaling. Triple awareness includes the junction, the gap, between any two actions, between inhaling and exhaling and between exhaling and inhaling. It is the junction between one step and another step, between one thought and another thought, between one sensation and another sensation, etc. When you are aware of the three centers, then you are carried to Svacchanda, to God-consciousness.” Feeling the space between the breath is actually a means of feeling the breath itself— because triple awareness doens’t mean awareness of three, it means awareness of one. Duality is awareness of two, of inhale and exhale as separate, of like and dislike, accepting and rejecting. Non-duality posits a third option, that of surrender— this is what allows us to feel the breath as a flow, instead of just separate parts. The reason it is called ‘triple awareness’ is because this experience of surrender always exists within the realm of duality—duality is what we are surrendering in order to feel unity. So the pause between our breaths isn’t a separate practice, but a , of breath awareness. The pause, though, is elusive. If you think of our breath as a swinging pendulum, inhaling as it swings one way, exhaling as it swings the other way— the still point is almost mathematically impossible to calculate. This is because as the pendulum swings to one side, its distance towards that end point keeps getting exponentially smaller— Like slicing a cake in half, then fourths, then eighths, then sixteenths, then thirty-seconds, and so on— when will the cake slices become so small they disappear? When does the inhale become the exhale? Math and the mind can’t tell us exactly, but of course with a little practice we can all experience it for ourself. Meditation lets us directly experience a reality that our mind simply can’t comprehend. To support our path to the pause between the breath, this triple awareness that yields an experience of one-ness and unity, we are taught to watch the breath turn, to watch it taper down and taper up around this infinitely small yet existent pause. In this way we allow the pause to arrive within us, which is the only way to fully experience it. On our meditation cushion this would look like watching the exhale dissolve into stillness, and then watching the inhale spring up from that same stillness. Then watching the inhale almost levitate into a pause, and then the exhale rains down like a fine mist. When we pay attention to the tapering edges of our breath, the pause comes to us vibrantly. In our daily life this is possible too, as each experience of our day has a creation, maintenance and dissolution phase. In Sanskrit the dissolving phase is called a Nimesha, and the arising phase is called an Unmesha. When we watch the tapering edges of a situation beginning or ending, we naturally become more present during the activity, and the space between the activities. We do this for kids all the time, telling them that we’ll be leaving the playground in 10 minutes, then five minutes, then another five minutes, then ‘this is the last thing’, then another ‘last thing’, then the playground is dissolved fully as we drive home. It’s not easy for kids and its not easy for us, but its not only possible, but essential for our health, consciousness and bliss. We unconsciously relate to the space between breaths and events in our life as a void, which makes it sound empty, but when that void is described by lineage texts and teachings it is anything but, which is why the Vijnana bhairava teaches that “This [liminal] state, which is absolutely pure and filled with universal consciousness, fills the whole universe with bliss. (Vijñānabhairava Tantra 15)” Further, when we can maintain our awareness on the two ‘voids’, there is an ‘upsurge’ of energy in our Shushumna, which then causes ’the formation of Bhairava [to be] revealed’, meaning that awareness of this liminal space causes a rise in spiritual energy and an awareness of our true nature. Paul Reps once wrote that when we pause we overflow like a well from within— which is a vivid description of this ancient process. So we see that the space between our breaths and our activities is not empty, it is actually the potential energy into which the entire universe both dissolves and from which it rises.
This class revisits the Vijnana Bhairava's progressive training of awareness, particularly focusing on Dharana 2, which introduces the turns and curves of the breath. By following the turns and curves of the breath closely, we naturally arrive at the Shakti filled experience of the pause without doership. The is not only essential on our cushion, as well as in our lives by paying attention to the "turns" of our day and arriving more consciously in each experience. We will use this material as inspiration for a longer free write session on the topic, and then share it with each other, in our pursuit of cultivating our creative consciousness.
The Vijnana Bhairava is a ceaseless pulsation, and the first practices of the Vijnana Bhairava take us through a progressive training of awareness in order to use that pulsation to reveal our true nature. Dharana one teaches us to focus on the pulsation itself in the form of Ham and Sah, Dharana two introduces the turning point of our breath, a moment of pauseless presence. Dharana three dives deeper into that pause, and Dharana four leans into it. It should always be noted that the pause between the breath should feel as natural as breathing itself— anything less and we’re missing the point. Pranayama is no more about controlling our breath than Hatha yoga is about controlling our body. It is a means by which we enter the flow of the breath, just like Hatha yoga is how we start to move more harmoniously with our body. This means that our work with the pauses should always feel natural, and if it doesn’t, each of us has to be open to taking a step back in order to find a sustainable path forward. Dharana 2: Reps: “As breath turns from down to up, and again as breath curves from up to down—through both these turns, realize.” So as we see here, we begin to explore the pause not by seeking a pause, but by watching it turn. You can imagine a pendulum swinging in one direction, and if you watch it closely enough, it slows and turns and begins to swing in the other direction, did it stop? When did it stop? The math of this moment proves to be quite complex— as it approaches the end of the swing the speed gets slower and slower, the movement smaller and smaller, and the pause that takes place before it turns around is almost imperceptible, and mathematically almost impossible to predict. It would be like slicing a cake in Half, then quarter, then eighths, then sixteenths, then thirty-seconds, and sixty fourths, and so on, the slices of movement getting smaller and smaller as the pendulum approaches the end, almost infinitely. Which is why watching this turn can give us a glimpse of the infinite. Jai Deva Singh comments on the Sutra that at this point the inhale and exhale cease, and what occurs is an upsurge of energy in the Shushumna: “By the anusandhāna or one-pointed awareness of these two pauses, the mind becomes introverted, and the activity of both prâna and apâna ceases, and there is the upsurge of madhya dasa i.e. the path of the madhya nadi or shushumna becomes open.” But this is not a state we can grasp with our minds, or our bodies— as the math showed us. This is a state that arrives as we watch the turn with pauseless effort, or “Uninterrupted awareness”, as Swami Lakshmanjoo described it— meaning that we must be pauselessly present in order to actually feel this turn take place, and in that pauseless presence we perceive our True nature, “When you maintain uninterrupted awareness of these two voids, by this way of treading on this process the formation of Bhairava is revealed.” This is why the Dharana teaches us to focus on the turning, the slowing, the changing, as a way of cultivating pauseless presence. It can be very productive to approach this concept progressively, first in body, then in breath. To help us really notice the ‘turn’ we can incorporate Robin’s breath, and work physically to make the end of each movement come to an almost invisible end before turning in the opposite direction. After a few repetitions with the arms, we can continue with the same pranayama, using a little effort to keep our breath long and smooth, like it was with robins breath, allowing us to hone in on the imperceptible ‘turn’ of the breath. Homework: Taking this Dharana into your life means noticing the ‘turns’ of your day— all the in between moments when you are going in one direction with one activity, and then as that comes to an end, are going in a new direction with another activity. The spaces between the breaths are like the spaces between the activities of our life. In Sanskrit, these turns are described as Unmesha and Nimesha. It can be easiest to understand these by looking at the seasons. Summer and Winter represent the inhale and exhale, the two phases that we oscillate between. In between these two polar opposites are transitional turns we call fall and spring. Fall is the turn that takes summer into winter, and Spring is the turn that takes us from winter into summer. Paying attention to these turns can help us arrive more consciously in the experience that is either coming our way, or fading away. On a practical level, this means paying more attention to the turns of your day, between your activities. Such as the space after this class, and before whatever is next for you. The turn that is your morning commute, for example, how do you engage your awareness there so that you truly arrive when you arrive? Or the turn on your way back from work, so that when you get home you can be totally present? Waking up is a turn from sleeping to waking life, and going to bed is also another turn in our schedule. What we bring to these turns usually indicates what our next activity will be like for us. What are your turns throughout the day? How do you use your practice to engage your awareness in them naturally and effectively? We will revisit this as a writing prompt next week for our Creative Consciousness Class, but it will only make your work next week more fruitful if you take time to bring this practice into your life, as well as your cushion, leading up to that class.
We see at the beginning of the quote that there is a tendency in all of us to use the breath too strongly, like a jackhammer attempting to simply cut our resistance in half with a deep breath. Instead, we are taught to put our conscious energy and will into relaxing enough to feel the breath flowing within us— and when we do that our tension falls away, revealing a lighter state that is already within us. The practice of pranayama, or a breath based meditation, can sometimes be challenging to access when we are experiencing a strong tension, as Anju referred to last week in her presentation. Trying to go right from a tough day into your meditation practice can sometimes not feel productive—like trying to climb a ten foot wall— but should remember that the yogic tradition has given us a stair case to walk up whenever we need it. From the general arc of the Uppays themselves, to the Koshas, to Patanjali’s 8 limbs of yoga, and so on— everywhere we look we see a step by step approach to getting our mechanism moving from the physical to the subtle and beyond. Learning to surrender at the physical level through hatha yoga and Seva guide us to work with more surrender at the level of the breath, which also guides us to profound stillness of the mind and opening of the heart. Step by step is how we arrive at our destination in the yogic tradition, and the first step is learning how to work with surrender at the level of the physical body. Similar to the practice of pranayama, which begins by shaping the breath, Hatha yoga begins by shaping the body. But like pranayama, the shapes are not the goal— the shapes exist to generate inner sensation and awareness. As Shiva says in the introduction to the Vijnana bhairava, the flame is there to put the kettle on it, the techniques are there to heat and grow our inner awareness. This is crucial both for using our asana practice to grow, but also avoiding injury. Because without inner awareness, the postures are just exercise, or worse injurious— as injuries such as hamstring tendonitis and hip labral impingements in the overly physical yoga community have shown us. As the Shiva Sutras teach, the body, mind and senses can be the source of our growth— or they can be the very things that bind and limit us, depending on the fullness of our awareness. Hatha yoga helps us surrender tightness in our body in the same way a mantra helps us surrender tightness in our mind. Each posture is like a mantra, in that you put your awareness into it, feeling it effect you, and you keep coming back to it as the mind wanders. The tightness we feel in our bodies are what we work with— we don’t push the tightness away, or become obsessed with changing it, we simply apply our awareness to the posture and our breath and allow the contracted states to fall away. Just like Babaji said about the breath— controlling it is not the same as watching it and flowing with it. We aren’t here to control our body with hatha yoga, we are here to get in the flow of our body, to move more naturally, and this is accomplished with the tools of the asanas and the elixir of inner awareness. The experience of surrender we seek in our postures, as Patanjali taught it, is a feeling of effortless effort, of perseverance without tension. In this way, he wrote, the practitioner transcends the duality of physical existence, and experiences the infinite. This is how yoga guides us towards a more surrendered experience of our breath, mind and heart— one step at a time.
“When that flash of awareness arises, when I can say “aha” this is just a feeling and not who I am, then I can move into a place of GENTLE ACTION…I can’t just jump form a force field of resistance to my cushion and find meditation. I have to take baby steps putting one foot in front of the other and walk myself to my inner seat, to my Self. I have to practice Pratyahara, and for me the most successful way I have been able to find this is to lean into my hatha yoga practice.” One of my favorite moments in Anju’s presentation was how she described moving through resistance with “gentle action”— this seems like a great way to understand surrender, both at the level of the body, but also the breath and beyond. Gentle action means taking action while remaining gently receptive. “Be like water making its way through cracks. Do not be assertive, but adjust to the object, and you shall find a way around or through it. If nothing within you stays rigid, outward things will disclose themselves. Empty your mind, be formless, shapeless, like water.” We tend to think of gentle as weak, but gentle means receptive, sensitive. If you were trying to massage soreness out of a muscle, you would need to do it gently in order to find the source of the soreness and move through it consciously. And as we know with muscles, sometimes you have to apply more force, but even that must be gentle and gradual as too much too soon has the opposite effect— causing the muscle to recoil and double down on its contracted state. This is perhaps why Babaji has been so adamant the last couple years about the contradictory effects of doership in our meditation practice— and has placed so much emphasis instead on natural calm breaths. We see at the beginning of the quote that there is a tendency in all of us to use the breath too strongly, like a jackhammer attempting to simply cut our resistance in half. In our meditation practice this would look like taking deep strong breaths with the intention of opening our heart and getting past this tension. In everyday life this is when we might grit our teeth and work faster, only to burn out and drop the whole thing when we run out os steam. Babaji teaches here that its actually more effective to not treat the breath as an external tool that cuts through our resistance, but rather we should try to merge with it internally and let the flow of the breath itself dissolve our tensions. When we are experieinceing resistance and tension this can be one of the hardest things to do, because it requires us to begin to loosen up, soften our clenched jaw for example, relax our tense fore head, release the grip we have on ourselves trying to hold it all together— when we do that we might feel like we start to fall apart, but when done consciously, we actually fall into place. THis is the purpose of a Hatha yoga class, to guide students down teh path of surrender at th level of the physical body, so they can access deeper layers of surrender in the breath, mind, and heart. Patanjali’s eight limbs of yoga establish a clear trajectory for the practice of surrender— surrender at the level of the body in the form of asana practice is a stepping stone to surrender at the level of the breath in the form of pranayama, which guides us naturally to surrender at the level of the mind and heart in meditation. Effortless effort is a teaching for the body, breath, mind and heart. This means that when we are really experienceing a strong tension or resistance, we must be willing to step back and apply our practice to the physical Kosha in order to really get our practice moving in the right direction. As we know about surrender in our practice, it does not mean becoming a doormat— just lying down, waving a white flag and saying ‘i give up’. If it were that easy I don’t think we would have to practice it so much. Instead, we know that surrender is the process of consciously releasing a tension from the inside out. Surrender in the physical body is taught on the yoga mat through asana practice, and Patanjali’s maxim to describe the work is “effortless effort, perseverance without tension”, which calls back to Anju’s adept description of ‘gentle action’. So working with surrender in the physical body doesn’t mean lying down in shavasana, although eventually we do apply it there, but rather physical surrender in the form of asana practice is learning to move the body in a way that helps you flow with it, not against it. Surrender isn’t cutting anything into pieces, it’s harmonizing and getting in the flow. As Babaji says, surrendering with the breath is different than controlling the breath, and the same goes with the body. Surrender in the body doesn’t mean controlling the body by putting it into this or that shape and expecting some external result, but rather surrender on our mats means we are guiding our body towards a certain shape in order to get into the flow with it. And when done well, this gives us a very tactile experience of how to breathe with the flow, we literally can move with our breath like we move with our body. The breath becomes a bridge from the physical to the subtle experience of surrender.
In our previous two classes, we have taken time to invest in the ‘inquiry’ portion of the creative process, generating insight through Satsang teachings from Sri ShambhavAnanda and Swami Rudrananda, as well as the Shiva Sutras and Vijnana Bhairava. But, as Patanjali teaches, we will take more time to let that logic come to an end in Bliss as we write and reflect a little more, as well as one more key element to the creative process— Sharing! Sharing our writing with felling sangha members will allow us to both be supported and inspired by our fellow creative yogis, as well as bring us one more step closer to real comprehension of this process as a whole— the yogic experience of creativity. Thanks for being a part of the creative process with us! Namaste!
When we make a work of art, we hope that it speaks of an experience beyond the page it is read upon, or canvas painted upon, or ears it falls upon. Art strives to describe a universal experience, yet it is always of an individual thing— a landscape, a deity, a song, a character. The creative process is a dance of working with an individual manifestation of Shakti to describe an undivided experience of Shiva. It is no coincidence that our reality, and our meditation practice, is described as a dance— creativity takes us back and forth between shiva and Shakti endlessly. We see this dance of awareness in the Vijnana Bhairava as Shiva and Shakti discuss the path we must tread in our practice. “This is the journey we have to do, the journey we have to do in the field of Shakti, not in the field of Shiva [where] there is no journey (17)…For instance, [fire has many different manifesations]–lightening, giving light, burning, heating–but these energies [aka manifestations of fire] are undifferentiated with fire. [The important thing to remember is that these different manifestations are used] just to enter in that of fire, to put a kettle on it. (19)… So the path is Shakti, the path is not Shiva. (20)… Shiva is understood by Shakti (21).” When we work with intention we are working to describe our true nature, Shiva, through a specific manifestation of it, Shakti. We are trying to describe the infinite with the finite, and this is the journey the Vijnana Bhairava describes. In the quote we see the example of Fire. Fire has a fundamental energy, something that is in the background of all manifestations of fire. In terms of writing or creating with a prompt or intention, this might look like writing about ‘surrender’. To write about it you have to point to certain small maniestations of surrender in your life, small ways that you have uncovered the bigger concept— because no matter what you do, you can’t quite write about surrender in a way that doesn’t somehow diminish it. Does this mean the act of creating is always limited? Absolutely not, in fact, it is sometimes the only way we ever experience boundless freedom in the horizontal reality— art is a time when people really open up, and let something higher flow through. So we may not be able to capture surrender in our writing or art, yet we can feel surrender while we write about it and let it come through. In this way, our artwork may only be about one small example of surrender, but the actual piece itself will be imbued with surrender. We used the act of writing about surrender to do the real act of surrender, and in that way we grew and our creation gained life. As the Sutra says, we use the cooking flame to heat the kettle— we use the prompt or intention to explore the greater concept, and we use the act of exploring to grow spiritually. This is one way of understanding how we use the path of Shakti to find Shiva. “I went to see the Mona Lisa at the llouve. It was jammed with a lot of people, everybody trying to jam past everybody. And I just took a breath, everything in my mind got quiet and around me, and I could feel the incredible flow that created this wonderful piece of art. But we don’t tend to look at art that way, we analyze it too much, saying ‘well that’s imperfect, and that line or color is not right.’ We’re missing what its all about— the creative Spirit, always comes from beyond. Just like on Monday nights (laughs).”
Jai Deva Sing notes at the end of Dharana 1 that there is an important interpretation of the Dharana still to be considered- that this is the essential teaching of the breath meditation practice “Ham Sah”. The recitation of Ham Sah is an exploration of the ceaseless pulsation of the Goddess Shakti in our lives, a way of observing the pulsation of reality. The meaning of the mantra can only be discovered by listening, by letting the breath move naturally as Shambhavananda and Muktananda teach, which we are taught is the path itself of this practice. Jai Deva Singh (commentary on Dharana 1): “There is another important interpretation of this dhärana. In inhalation, the sound of ha is produced; in exhalation, the sound sah is produced; at the junction point in the centre the sound of m is added. So the whole formula becomes 'Hamsah'. The paradevi goes on sounding this formula or mantra ceaselessly in every living being.” Swami Lakshmanjoo commentary on Dharana 1: When you take your breath inside, the recitation of ‘ha’ will end in ‘ṁ’. When you take it out, [the recitation of ‘sa’] will end in visarga–‘saḥ’. And, in these two starting points, if you concentrate, you will become one with Bhairava because of its fullness.” Swami Muktananda from his book “I am That “This is what we also need to understand. Hamsa is not a mantra that you merely repeat. What you have to do is become established in the awareness of the mantra going on inside you, in the goal of the mantra, in the pulsation which exists in the space where the syllables arise and subside…” Sri ShambhavAnanda on the practice of breath awareness: “Instead of forcibly trying to control your breath, develop the ability to experience and witness it. Follow your natural breath flow and attach it to the mantra “Ham Sah”. A person breathes approximately 26,000 times a day. If you can be aware of your inhalation and exhalation, you will make progress in meditation. When you can control your breath, you can control your mind. But first you have to become aware of the breath. Don’t use any forceful practices. Make friends with your breath and be aware of what it is doing in different situations. When you have a certain experience such as fear, anger, or bliss, you will find that your breath will concentrate in a certain area. If you start to pay attention, you will gain some wisdom.”
In our previous class we took time to introduce the concept of Dharana as a method of concentration, as well as to reiterate that this focal point is meant to merge us with a state of being that is beyond the focus of our eyes or mind. Each dharana is a stepping stone to our state of being. We took time to sit with Paul Reps’ translation of the first Dharana, which is always so succinct and useful for meditation. His translation seemed to emphasize the practice of keeping our focus in the heart as we noticed the inhale come down and in, and then the exhale go up and out. RADIANT ONE, THIS EXPERIENCE MAY DAWN BETWEEN TWO BREATHS. AFTER BREATH COMES IN (DOWN) AND JUST BEFORE TURNING UP (OUT)—THE BENEFICENCE.” Let’s practice that now for a moment… We will continue to work with each of Paul Reps’ translations of the Dharanas, but there is also rich soil to uncover in the less abridged translations of Jai Deva Singh, as well as the commentary’s of Swami Lakshmanjoo. These translations showed opened the door to a few subtle details to the text— for example, that the visarga, the “:” notation in Sanskrit that indicates the addition of breath after a vowel sound, actually represents the two focal points of our breath, the heart and the dvadashanta. The point the exhale ends is specifically called the dvadashanta, an invisible point in space meant to represent the distance your breath travels outside of you. You can find this point, the text tells us, by measuring 12 finger widths from the tip of the nose. Be sure to measure with the angle of your nose, slightly downward, and you’ll find that this point is 8 or so inches in front of our physical heart. When you breathe out with a little bit of force, you can easily feel this as the end point of your exhale. As the breath moves back and forth between these points, life is projected and created, which is why the word Visarga means projection or creation. As Shakti is literally the projected or created universe, this verse describes the nature of Shakti as the same as Visarga, as an ceaseless oscillation between these two points, specifically in the form of the inhale and exhale. “ Let’s try that practice now for a moment… We will continue to explore this practice today, and describe its relationship to our breath meditation practice, Ham Sah. It should be noted that Swami Lakshmanjoo and Paul Reps were contemporaries, and that Jai Deva Singh was Swami Lakshmanjoo’s student. As the Zen saying goes, each one is best. Paul Reps, of course, was a dear friend of Sri Shambahvananda, our living teacher. Sri Shambhavananda also met with Swami Lakshmanjoo in India, and speaks highly of him as well. I mention this because it is so special to be able to study these texts and know that they are tied to the fabric of our lineage in a way— and that they are approved by Sri Shambhavananda for study. Today, this is a commonly overlooked aspect of spiritual practice, but for Shambhavananda Yogis, it is important to know the yogi behind the words you are reading. We open our hearts in this class, and trust these individuals in a very deep and subtle way— being able to trust the text is of paramount importance for my own work. “The outgoing breath is called prana,and the incoming breath is called apana. Apana is also called jiva, the individual soul, because only when the apana enters the body can it be said that the soul is in the body. If the prana goes out and the apana doesn't come back in, then the body is nothing but a corpse.” (I Am That) The Dharana continues: It can be misleading to think of these as two separate points, though, as if one were the beginning and the other the end. For the Yogi, inside and outside, Shiva and Shakti, are simultaneous, as light and a flame are simultaneous. We may begin our practice by moving back and forth between these two points, but the teachings of this lineage point to a another stage in the practice where the two points merge into one— an experience of the pulsation of our very being. As Swami Muktananda describes it: But as we have seen in the preface, this experience takes practice— only when the inside and outside dissolve can “a sense of non-dualism” dawn in us. So we watch the inhale, then we watch the exhale, back and forth, trying to keep our awareness surrendered in order to feel these “two places as one”, to experience the greater pulsation that is occurring between them. This is the practice of breath awareness, and specifically the practice of Ham Sah. In the Dharana, Lakshmanjoo translates Shiva’s instructions: We see here a straight forward description of the practice as we know it— silently recite Ham as you inhale and Sah as you exhale. One interesting Spiritual Grammar note, though, was that the actual words themselves are Ha and Sa, and that the visarga is actually responsible for the HamSah mantra as we know it. When you repeat the words Ha and Sa with your breath, you find a natural “M” sound at the end of Ha and natural “H” sound at the end of Sa. The mantra itself means “I Am That”, Ham means “I Am” and Sah means “that”. But as Sri ShambhavAnanda recently taught in Satsang, the meaning of the “that” that we are can’t be understood by the mind, but only through practice. Swami Muktananda also describes the meaning of the mantra itself: Repeating the mantra with our breath allows our mind to focus on the breath without controlling the breath. In this way we are able to tune in to the experience of breathing as an expression of Shakti, as a pulsation of the universe in the form of Spanda, instead of as an individual inhale and exhale. This is the ‘ceaseless expression’ of Shakti we saw at the beginning of the Dharana— our true nature is ceaselessly expressing itself through our breath in the form of our inhale and exhale. Through the practice of Ham Sah we can witness this expression for ourselves. As Sri Shambhavananda teaches:
“It is an ancient teaching, copied and recopied countless times, and from it Lakshmanjoo has made the beginnings of an English version. I transcribe it eleven more times to get it into the form given here.” Shiva first chanted it to his consort Devi in a language of love we have yet to learn. It is about the immanent experience. It presents 112 ways to open the invisible door of consciousness. I see Lakshmanjoo gives his life to its practicing. Some of the ways may appear redundant, yet each differs from any other. Some may seem simple, yet any one requires constant dedication even to test it. Machines, ledgers, dancers, athletes balance. Just as centering or balance augments various skills, so it may awareness. As an experiment, try standing equally on both feet; then imagine you are shifting your balance slightly from foot to foot: just as balance centers, do you.” A Dharana is a focal point, a method of practice. We use a dharana to find our center, but our center is not in the dharana, our center is in our own state of being. That’s why the preface to the Vijnana Bhairava took so much time explain that techniques are just the doorway, not the destination. It may be helpful to look at Patanjali’s explanation of the word Dharana as well, to see the transition we make from focal point to experience: 3.1-3.4 Dharana, or concentration, is the act of fixing the mind on one thing. Here there is a perceived separation between the object and the practitioner. Dhyana, or meditation, is when the focus of dharana becomes a steady, uninterrupted flow of attention. Here the separation between the practitioner and the object dissolves. Samadhi is when, in the practice of dhyana, both the practitioner and the object of focus dissolve into the Self. Then there is no such thing as practitioner or object, only absorption in the Self. These three limbs are grouped together because the difference between them is very slight, they may not all happen in a clear sequence, and they may intermingle. Together they comprise a practice called sanyama (integration). So once again we see the path we must tread, from an outer object of focus, to an uninterrupted flow of awareness, to our state of being. This recalls the original question from Shakti/Devi at the start of the preface, what is the path we must tread to our enlightenment? And after 8 classes together, Shiva answers quite simply— Energy is the path we must tread. These techniques are ways of helping us work with energy— they may begin on the horizontal level, but ultimately they exist to guide us on a vertical plane. With this we can begin the Dharanas themselves, via Paul Reps translation: “DEVI SAYS: O Shiva, what is your reality? What is this wonder-filled universe? What constitutes seed? Who centers the universal wheel? What is this life beyond form pervading forms? How may we enter it fully, above space and time, names and descriptions? Let my doubts be cleared! SHIVA REPLIES: (Devi, though already enlightened, has asked the foregoing questions so others through the universe might receive Shiva’s instructions. Now follow Shiva’s reply, giving the 112 ways.) 1. Radiant one, this experience may dawn between two breaths. After breath comes in (down) and just before turning up (out)—the beneficence.” Para devi or Highest Sakti who is of the nature of visarga goes on (ceaselessly) expressing herself upward (ürdhve) (from the centre of the body to dvdasanta, or a distance of twelve fingers, in the form of exhalation (präna) and downward (adhah) (from dvadasanta to the centre of the body) in the form of inhalation (jiva or apâna). By steady fixation of the mind (bharanat) at the two places of their origin (viz., centre of the body in the case of prāna and dvadasänta in the case of apâna, there is the situation of plenitude (bharitästhitih which is the state of parasakti or nature of Bhairava). This Dharana has points that we will unpack together: Shakti is the nature of Visarga and expresses herself in two points, the center of the body and the dvadashanta By steady fixation on these two points there is an experience of plentitude This practice is known as Ham Sah Para devi or Highest Sakti who is of the nature of visarga goes on (ceaselessly) expressing herself upward (ürdhve) (from the centre of the body to dvdasanta, or a distance of twelve fingers, in the form of exhalation (präna) and downward (adhah) (from dvadasanta to the centre of the body) in the form of inhalation (jiva or apâna). We begin by seeing a term that may be new to you, ‘visarga’ which is used in the Dharana to describe the nature of Shakti, of manifestation, as well as the movement of our inhale and exhale. Visarga is a Sanskrit sounds, a breath that is inserted after certain vowels and before certain consonants. For example, when we repeat the mantra Om Namah Shivaya, you’ve probably been taught or have noticed that there is a breath after the Namah, which I sometimes pronounced Nam-aha. That breath is an example of a Visarga sound. In Devanagari, this is represented by two dots, like a colon. These two dots are more than just a method of writing, but actually refer to the energetic destination points of the inhale and the exhale in our physical and subtle bodies. Yet another reason Sanskrit is such a profound language— it is born from the practice. The bottom dot represents the inhale, known as Apana, because it ends in the heart. The upper dot represents the exhale, known as Prana, because it ends outside the body, slightly above the heart.
Shakti is the face of Shiva, ie. we can only recognize Shiva by using our practice in the face of manifestation. When we feel a non-difference between these two, we acquire a state of Shiva, we enter the door of our true nature. ” We work on our cushions, with our techniques, as preparation for our work in the face of manifestation, Shakti. We spend time looking inside so that we can look inside while we live outside. And vice versa, we go out into our lives in order to grow inside. Technique alone, meditation in a cave setting, or samsara alone, just going through the motions of life, are both missing the union of shiva and shakti, and it is in this union where growth happens. It is like a cooking flame and a kettle, they need each other to achieve their purpose. Together, they cook down our karma and extract the nourishment and growth. And it is this Union that is at the heart of this text, it is its title and its purpose. Shiva concludes the preface with an additional take on the metaphor given earlier, teaching that there is no shiva or shakti apart from one another, they are one in the same— Jai Deva Singh helps us interpret this last line by looking at it from a few different perspectives: This seems like an easy point to agree with and understand, but I feel there is a lot of work required for true recognition. When we are describing inert things like light, it is easy to agree that ‘this too is shiva’, but when you have a misunderstanding with someone at work, and there is a lot of emotion, then it becomes much harder to find Shiva, a state of perfection, within what would otherwise feel very imperfect. This is because the ability to recognize Shiva within manifestation takes surrender, takes practice. When we apply our practice to all the various circumstances of our lives, only then, it seems, do we start to see all these circumstances as Shiva. As Swami Rudrananda teaches: Point Two : This reiterates the earlier point that we recognize Shiva through SHaktik that Shakti is Shiva’s face. The cooking flame needs the kettle, the kettle needs the cooking flame, they are two sides of one coin— the coin of digesting our karma and growing from it. The path of our practice, the path to the heart, is already within us. As Babaji said at the end of one of his satsang answers, “I am not giving you anything you do not already have. I am just making you aware of what is already there.” This path is more than personal, its our true nature. And it is the light of our own awareness that eventually illuminates this inner landscape— when the light of our awareness, which usually shines out, also shines back in. The Sutras and the lineage can point the way, can provide examples and direction, but the lights of this path are motion activated— only the footsteps of our practice can turn them on. We will eventually become enlightened not by someone else’s work, but by our own work.
Though there are many forms of fire, from a cooking flame to a heating element, from lightening to the light of your room, all of these forms of fire belong to the same energy of fire— in the same way all the different forms of Shakti that we see around us are all forms of Shiva, they are non-different from Shiva. The analogy becomes even more profound, though, when Shiva teaches that the purpose of all these different forms is to ‘enter into that state of fire’, or to enter into the state of Shiva. We use a cooking flame to heat a kettle, or a light to illuminate a room— we don’t just sit there and look at the flame or light on its own— in this same way, Shiva suggests, we use meditation techniques to enter into the state of our true nature, not to just look at it or think about it. We took time at the end of class to consider times in our life when we simply don’t believe that ‘this too is Shiva’— when a crazy driver cuts you off, for instance, or when you are so tired in the morning and don’t have the energy to practice. Hopefully the study of this verse gave you the inspiration you needed to grow through that challenge— and perhaps you had an experience of discovering that ‘indeed, this too is Shiva.’ [Time for sharing and discussion] The teachings of “this too is Shiva” continue with us into Verse 20 where we see a new analogy helping us to understand the non-dualistic possibility of “all this indeed being Shiva”… When we sit with a murti, we are practicing uniting Shakti and shiva. The murti is an external object, yet as practitioners we know it is also a doorway to an inner experience. So we look softly externally while feeling softly internally. It’s not automatic, it takes practice to see both, but as the text says, when you can feel shiva while perceiving Shakti, you acquire the state of your true nature. To help visualize this we can consider the principles of Prakasha and vimarhsa, which are fundamental aspects of Kashmir Shaivism. As the intro do Kashmir Shaivism teaches, Prakasha is the light of awareness that emanates from us, like the light that emanates from the sun. Vimarsha is the reflection of that light off of an external object back to us— the power of self reflection. In physics we know that when we shine light on an object, it is the light that reflects back to us that we see. For example, when driving on a rainy night it can be hard to see the road in front of you because the light bounces forward on the shiney wet surface, instead of reflecting back to you— sometimes you even wonder if your headlights are even on at all. Shiva without Shakti is like that— light shining out without anything to reflect it back within. Shakti, Manifestation, is what makes it possible to recognize Shiva, our true nature. But only if you apply your practice, the practice of seeing shakti while feeling shiva.
The maxim, “Don’t miss the forest for the trees” reminds us not to forget the big picture while we move through life’s details, and has been a prevailing message in the preface to the Vijnana Bhairava— don’t get too caught up in the technique, the path, and forget the goal. And the opposite also holds true— don’t miss the trees for the forest— meaning, don’t get so caught up in your study of the forest that you stop taking hikes and enjoying the forest. Don’t get so star struck by the goal of meditation that you stop participating and growing through your life’s karmic equation. Shiva and Shakti are these two inseparable sides of the same coin, Shiva is the ‘forest’ you could say, a static concept that pervades our life fully, yet is not itself a physical aspect. And Shakti is the ‘trees’, the infinite ways that the forest manifests all around us. Our goal, as yogis, is not to miss the forest or the trees, to participate in our lives fully while maintaining awareness of the goal in our hearts. Yoga means union, and this experience of union is the work of our practice. The Rudramalaya Tantra, the text in which the Vijnana Bhairava is situated, can be literally translated as ‘the union between shiva and Shakti’, and this union is at the heart of the teachings in this preface. This union we seek is a dynamic experience, beyond the realm of thought yet directly experienceable in the form of our practice. As we move into quotes and the text, try to feel this union within you. You are listening and learning, yet simultaneously you are feeling your heart and the breath in the present. You are whole, and yet you are studying the parts and learning how to be ‘more whole’, at the same time. You are on the path and destination simultaneously. Verse 17: “this state of Bhairava, which is sung in the Tantras, is really the supreme state of the Goddess, Pārvatī. But is there any difference of supremacy? Is there a difference of supreme-ness between Lord Śiva and Pārvatī?” Intro to KS: “[Shiva and Shakti] are consciousness and the power of consciousness. They appear simultaneously and are eternally related…The subject and object must be considered separately for the purpose of explanation, but it should always be remembered that both are present simultaneously. One is always predominant in the same way that a coin has two sides which can be seen, but only one at a time. These two factors are the first two tattvas in the process of cosmic evolution and are technically called the Shiva Tattva and the Shakti Tattva.” Verse 18: Since there is always non-difference between Sakti and possessor of sakti (Saktimän) therefore being endowed with His attributes Sakti becomes the bearer of the same attributes. Therefore being non-different from para (the highest i.e. Bhairava) she is known as para (the highest i.e. Bhairavi). “Because, for instance, when there is fire, its energy can be for burning, cooking, or lighting a room. All these energies are owned by fire, but those energies– lightening, giving light, burning, heating— but these energies are undifferentiated with fire. These energies are not different from fire…It is just to enter in that state of fire, i.e., to put a kettle on it…So, [in the same way], [the path of shakti] is to enter in the state of Lord Śiva.” Guru Gita Verse 97: Idam Eva Shivam, Tvidam Eva Shivam, Tvidam Eva Shivam, Tvidam Eva Shivam. Mama Shasanato, Mama Shasanato, Mama Shasanato, Mama Shasanata Indeed, this is Shiva. Indeed, this too, is Shiva. Indeed, this too, is Shiva. Indeed, this too, is Shiva. This is my teaching. This is my teaching. This is my teaching. This is my teaching. Journal Prompt: When do you need help remembering that “This too is Shiva in your day and practice?”
Episode Note: When we bring our attention inside, do we miss out on what’s happening around us? When we draw our awareness within, do we become reclusive or do we become inclusive? Take a moment to pull your awareness within, picture a single point in the center of your chest. Let your awareness be guided there with each breath in, and let that space gently expand with each breath out. The inhale pulls your awareness inside to that single point in the heart, and as you exhale you keep your attention there and allow that single point to expand. Now try to keep your awareness there as you read/listen to this story: No Loving-Kindness THERE WAS an old woman in China who had supported a monk for over twenty years. She had built a little hut for him and fed him while he was meditating. Finally she wondered just what progress he had made in all this time. To find out, she obtained the help of a girl rich in desire. “Go and embrace him,” she told her, “and then ask him suddenly: ‘What now?’” The girl called upon the monk and without much ado caressed him, asking him what he was going to do about it. “An old tree grows on a cold rock in winter,” replied the monk somewhat poetically. “Nowhere is there any warmth.” The girl returned and related what he had said. “To think I fed that fellow for twenty years!” exclaimed the old woman in anger. “He showed no consideration for your need, no disposition to explain your condition. He need not have responded to passion, but at least he should have evidenced some compassion.” She at once went to the hut of the monk and burned it down. In the story we saw that meditation should not make you reclusive or exclusive, but deeply inclusive. It should not make you dispassionate, but compassionate. And if your meditation practice is not making you more open, warmer, and inclusive, then watch out! Because the universe might have to wake you up like this old woman in China did for her meditating friend. And we can check in with ourselves— how’s it going with having your attention inside while listening to the story, or to this portion of the talk? Are you missing anything, or are you gaining so much more? For me, having my attention inside in these classes is how we turn water into wine, so to speak. Sure, there is amazing benefits from the philosophy on paper, but when you use the philosophy to open up inside, what you taste is real nectar. So the inside not only doesn’t cut you off from the outside, it makes the outside blissful, as we will see in the following sections from the VB. We know this as the Shambhavi Mudra, the ability to have our attention inside while navigate our external lives. But its not enough to say that we simply navigate our lives better through meditation, that meditation helps us survive— although it does— but really its what enables us to thrive, and to find joy on our journey as we live it. It makes life both fun and functional. As Sri Shambhavananda teaches, “A truly spiritual person is loving and compassionate and can function very well in just about any situation. People who have those qualities don’t need anything special to find happiness. They have found it in themselves, and they share it freely and gladly with anyone who comes around.” Verse 15: “That state of Bhairava which is full of the bliss of non-difference from the entire universe (bharitākära) is alone Bhairava or Sakti of Bhairava.” Verse 16: “That should, in verity, be known as Bhairava’s essential nature, immaculate (vimalam) and inclusive of the entire universe (visvapuranam).” Verse 16 commentary, JDS: Ksemaraja says in his commentary that Bhairava's essential nature has been characterized as vimala (immaculate) because though it manifests the universe on its own screen, ti is not veiled by it Verse 16 cont.: “Such being the state of Reality, who can be the object of worship, who is to be satisfied with worship.” Verse 16 commentary, JDS: “When the essential nature of Bhairava is recognized as our own inmost self, the distinction between the worshipper and the worshipped disappears and there dawns a sense of non-dualism.”
A recent holiday movie began with the question, “Do people really change? Like real lasting positive change? I hope so, because we are in the business of change.” In classic holiday theme, an angelic character seeks to change a Scrooge for good. But the twist occurs when we see that the only way for the angel to change scrooge is if the angel also changes themself. And as the story progresses we see that this internal change on the Angel’s behalf is ultimately the only thing that touches the heart of our Scrooge. change, we see, is the only path to change. As New Years approaches, we are all in the midst of making a resolution or two, hoping to change this or that aspect of ourselves or our lives. Studies show, though, that only 9-12% of people keep their New Years Resolutions. At first this might seem depressing, but I actually find it amazing— 1 out of every 10 people change an aspect of themselves for good? Wow, that’s amazing! Because Yogi’s are in the business of change, it’s at the very root of all we do in our practice— growth is change. Essentially we Practice in order to change our small self into our Highest Self, the Inner Self. And for anyone who has put time into their daily practice, they know that change takes a lot of work. It’s sort of like in baseball where if someone strikes out 6 out of every 10 at bats, they are actually considered an MVP, hitting 400 percent of the time. Change is difficult, change is powerful, and change is what we are here to do. Even the simplest step of spiritual growth changes our lives dramatically— sitting 1-2 times per day isn’t a matter of adding another item to your calendar, it’s about changing your entire calendar— ie. to get up earlier you have to go to bed earlier, to have a productive evening sit you have to adjust your evening activities, and so on. And when you finally do arrive on the cushion, we see that even the simplest level of change— that of redirecting our awareness from a pesky thought to a sacred mantra—requires a deep internal and sustained effort. Every aspect of our practice requires that we interact directly with change. And for that reason, yogis tend to view change with reverence and awe. The Guru Gita gives us a glimpse of the yogic perspective of change— change is nothing short of a transformation, like that of a caterpillar transforming into a butterfly, or a larva into a bee. The Guru Gita writes, “Just as a larva transforms into a bee, similarly, through meditation, one is transformed into that state in which one may abide anywhere.” (118) Change takes place at an atomic level, when grow grows, it’s an experience that goes beyond the mind and senses. This is why the Vijnana Bhairava takes so much time to teach us that change can’t come from the mind, because what we are changing into is “beyond the limitation of space, time, and formation. It has no space, It has no time, It has no form–It is beyond that, beyond these three…this state is, in fact, indescribable, It can’t be described.” The mind can describe and anticipate change, but the mind itself cannot comprehend the growth and transformation associated with change. The Vijnana Bhairava teaches “That state [Our True Nature] is not the object of vikalpas, It can’t be perceived by vikalpas (thoughts). You can’t perceive It through the mind…[Bhairavī] has gone above [becoming] the object of thoughts.” Thoughts, vikalpas, are inherently limited— they know reality by breaking up reality into parts, but all these parts are not equal to the whole, ie. We can’t know the experience of the whole from its disparate parts. Try driving a car by putting all the parts in a room, or eating a pie separated into its ingredients on a counter— the parts do not equal the whole, there is a chemical change that must take place. As Jai Deva Singh comments in his exposition notes, “It is when we cling to the part that we miss the whole, that is [the moment] when we stumble” (Note 3). Or as Patanjali teaches in his Yoga Sutras, “Through self-enquiry the practitioner gains insight, but eventually all mental logic must come to an end in bliss. Following that is the comprehension that all is the Self (yoga).” (1.17) The mind can point us towards change, but change and growth themself are something beyond the mind. So the question is then asked of Shiva, how can we change if it’s impossible to know what and how to change? How does a larva know how to change into a bee or butterfly? Shiva responds that if we calm our mind, then our true nature, Bhairava, will rise effortlessly to the surface. Just like when the surface of the ocean becomes calm, and you suddenly see the fish and coral beneath the surface. Or, Shiva continues, you can focus on releasing the attachments of your ego, the likes and dislikes we cling to with every waking breath from dawn to dusk. This will also lead us to lasting transformation. The more the caterpillar gets out of the way, the easier its natural transformation becomes. And then Shiva concludes that the experience of transformation, the experience of change, is specifically a experience, a ‘state of being’. As the text writes it, “That state of Bhairava, [the state of being] which is full of the bliss of non-difference from the entire universe, [that state] is alone Bhairavi, of Shakti of Bhairava.” (JDS translation, emphasis added in brackets). Swami Lakshmanjoo takes extra time in his commentary to emphasize the value of this teaching. “In other words…you can’t find out [what is the real state of Bhairava] because the real state of Bhairava is, in fact, the real state of the knower. It can’t be found [because] It is the [finder]. The real state of Bhairava is the perceiver, It is not perceived. You can’t perceive that state…when there is a desire in you to perceive It. You can perceive It [only] when It comes down in the state of Bhairavī.” We will never be able to change from the outside in, we have to ‘become the change we wish to see in the world’ as Gandhi put it. This is the state of being we seek in meditation— a state that goes beyond technique and into direct experience. As JDS comments, “This is Shambhava Yoga: Though the highest state of Bhairava cannot be described, it can be experienced.” (P.16, exposition, note 2) So this New Years let yourself consider this slightly more subtle approach to change and transformation. Instead of getting too wrapped up in a list of external items you wish to change, let yourself use that same time and energy to feel inwardly and participate directly with the spirit of transformation itself. When you breath reaches your heart your halfway there, the other half is beginning to make room for the metamorphosis to unfurl.
It’s easy to feel stress around the holidays, to get caught up in all the particulars of getting the right presents for everyone, cooking the best meal, and even spending enough time with loved ones. It’s true, we have to do a little extra during the holidays, or a lot extra, but we shouldn’t limit the ‘extra’ to our ‘to do lists’, instead we should remind ourselves that the real ‘extra’ of the holidays is the extra awareness it takes to feel the ‘spirit’ of the season. Tonight’s teachings remind us that we have to quiet the mind if we want to open the heart and feel the spirit of the season, and that the real spirit we seek to experience is the Bliss of our own hearts. For tonight’s discussion, we can consider Shiva/Bhairvava to be the spirit of the holiday season. Verse 14: “This state of Bhairava is beyond the limitation of space, time, and formation. It has no space, It has no time, It has no form–It is beyond that, beyond these three…this state is, in fact, indescribable, It can’t be described. Akathyā paramārthataḥ, in reality, It can’t be told. Antaḥ, internally It happens; It is filled with your own ecstasy, your own ānanda. It is beyond the apprehension of vikalpa (vikalpa unmukta gocara), beyond thought…That state is not the object of vikalpas, It can’t be perceived by vikalpas (thoughts). You can’t perceive It through the mind…[Bhairavī] has gone above [becoming] the object of thoughts.” We see here that the experience of Bhairva cannot be found with a map, at a particular time, or in a particular form. The spirit of the season can’t be described exactly, or even precisely told to you. It is a personal experience of your own heart opening. This holiday spirit is beyond all thought, above all thoughts, and can’t be comprehended by the mind. JDS: “Vikalpa is a thought-construct. Vikalpas are various mental counters through which people carry on the business of life. Vikalpas may refer to various things of the external world like tree, flower, river, ect. or various images, fancies, ect. of the mind. In vikalpa, mind sets a limit to one particular thing or idea, and differentiates it from the rest; mind constructs a 'particular' by means of thought which it marks of from the rest of the world or from other ideas. Each vikalpa has two aspects; the positive aspect consists of the idea that is selected, and the negative consists of the rest that are set aside or rejected. [Which is why we say that] Vikalpas are concerned with particulars. Secondly, vikalpas are relational i.e. there is always a subject-object relationship in vikalpas. Reality is non-relational, there is no object outside Reality. Therefore vikalpas are unable to grasp Reality. There is, however, one suddha or pure vikalpa, viz., the thought that I am Siva’.” Shiva tells us that it is the nature of the mind to dissect— to differentiate, and that this is essential for daily life, as it allows us to tell one street from the next, one plant from the next, etc. But this method can never truly describe the experience of unity at the heart of the yogic tradition. It can say “unity”, but the mind itself can’t experience it. So how do we ever know the experience of Unity, of Shiva, of our true nature, Parvati asks for the benefit of all… Verse 15: One can be aware of that only when one is COMPLETELY FREE OF AL THOUGHT-CONSTRUCTS (vikalponmukta-gocarä). One can have an experience of that bliss in his own inmost self (when one is completely RID OF THE EGO, and is established in pürnahanta i.e. in the plenitude of the divine I-consciousness). That state of Bhairava which is full of the bliss of non-difference from the entire universe (bharitākära) is alone Bhairava or Sakti of Bhairava. Here we see three descriptions of the path to our true nature. First we are told that when we calm our mind, our awareness of our true nature naturally rises up. This is also the first 3 sutras of Patanjali’s text, like the surface of the water calming and instantly revealing the life within it. Second we are told that we can rid ourselves of the ego in order to experience it— this is the active processes of yoga that we are familiar with, the practice of surrender, of tapasya, our daily sadhana. Of course these are both sides of the same coin— the practice of surrender is how we calm our mind. And last in this verse we are told of a very unique aspect of this experience— something that Babaji teaches us often. THat the experience we seek is not of the mind, but is a ‘state of being’, a ‘state of Bhairava’ as its written in the text. The taste of honey can be described to you, but the experience of honey can only be alluded to— the experience of Shiva is different than the description of Shiva, and as practitioners we must remember that it is the experience we seek, not the description. This means that at the heart of our journey is the necessity of going beyond the limitations of the mind. As Patanjali put it so eloquently: Through self-enquiry the practitioner gains insight, but eventually all mental logic must come to an end in bliss. Following that is the comprehension that all is the Self (yoga). And this is the leap we all must take— we open a door and then we walk through it. Ask for help and it is given. Knock on the door of your heart and let it open. As Faith teaches, we repeat Tara’s mantra, and then we receive the energy— we don’t just keep knocking and knocking. The holidays are a time that we say to each other, ‘magic does indeed exist’. It might not exist in the way the movies portray it, but for a yogi we have the tools to make the most of such a season— and even more importantly, we have a practice that keeps this door open all year long. No matter what tradition we might have grown up in, or how we have merged them in our lives, the path is the same— as can be seen in the old zen story that shows the similarities between followers of Jesus with the teachings of Buddha. The story begins with a university student visiting his mediation teacher, Gasan. THe student asked him: “Have you ever read the Christian Bible?” “No, read it to me,” said Gasan. The student opened the Bible and read from St. Matthew: “And why take ye thought for raiment? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow. They toil not, neither do they spin, and yet I say unto you that even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these....Take therefore no thought for the morrow, for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself.” Gasan said: “Whoever uttered those words I consider an enlightened man.” The student continued reading: “Ask and it shall be given you, seek and ye shall find, knock and it shall be opened unto you. For everyone that asketh receiveth, and he that seeketh findeth, and to him that knocketh, it shall be opened.” Gasan remarked: “That is excellent. Whoever said that is not far from Buddha-hood.”
The Vijnana Bhairava begins with a timeless question as Parvati asks Shiva, ‘which is the path we must tread to our enlightenment? There are so many techniques, please clarify this process for our listeners.’ Shiva replies that this is indeed the question of questions, the ultimate question. (I personally wonder why this is the the question of questions— is this the fundamental challenge we all face when trying to meditate? Is this the same question as ‘am I doing this right?’ That haunts so many of us?) Shiva first says that what he is about to say should be kept secret. (Why should it be a secret? In my experience, telling this to people who are not ready makes them angry, upset, or depressed. Unless you have put in the time to actually practice, you cannot comprehend anything beyond technique. This is giving a nickel when a nickel is asked for.) Shiva then states “pithily”, as Jai Deva Singh writes, that all techniques whether they divide or unites, (meaning no matter their method), are all bogus, without essence, delusion, even deceptive. They are expansion of Maya, illusion, and are like cities in the sky. This is the shocking answer of Shiva. But why then do we have so many techniques, Parvati asks for the benefit of us all. Technique does serve a purpose, Shiva tells us. Technique focuses a scattered mind. Technique is good for people who can only think in terms of a to-do list, who are always ‘getting things done’. Also, rules and techniques help keep us out of trouble when we are young, when we are not capable of understanding a bigger picture. (My mind goes to the 10 commandments here). And perhaps an even more important level of this discussion is that technique is not the problem, its the misuse of technique— when technique over shadows the goal itself. When becomes the goal it leads to imbalance. For example, the Guru Gita says that when our pranayama becomes “long and windy” it “brings disease” instead of heals disease. In this particular verse, the Gita recommends allowing the breath to be stilled by its own accord, naturally, which is to say, to use technique but also let it be natural. In Shiva Sutra 2.2 we see a similar point, Akrita, sincere effort, is defined as intense desire, but is also defined as completely natural and emanating from the center of the heart. Effort and technique are always kept in balance by our ability to let them go and dive into our natural experience. The story of Banzo’s sword spoke to this point. In this story we saw that a young man wanted to become a swordsman, but was rebuked for having many of the previously stated qualities— he was a ‘doozer’, meaning that he expected that if he wanted to become a swordsman he simply should be able to do so when he chose to become it. He was picky about his growth, meaning that he wanted only to be a swordsman and thought there were no other paths that might support him in that regard. He was also in a hurry, saying that he thought it should be able to determine how long it would take if he worked hard enough. The more he insisted, the longer the teacher, Banzo, said it would take him. Eventually the student relented and said that he would learn in whatever method the teacher chose, and would take as long as the teacher told him. So the student was put on dish duty, and worked in the garden. He greeted guests, set up the temple and closed it. Cleaned the chicken coop, watered the cacao. Helped with online marketing for teacher trainings, and weeded the bamboo. In short, he moved in to the ashram. After three years he started to worry that he would never learn how to wield a sword, and the next day, while doing the dishes, his teacher Banzo jumped out at him with a wooden sword and struck a hard blow. The student was caught off guard for sure. The next day, while taking out the trash, Banzo jumped out from a bush and smacked him again with the wooden sword. And from that day forward the student had to learn how to find his center in any and every activity so that he would not have to taste Banzo’s sword. This student showed us that technique is not the problem, its the attachment to technique that is the problem, as Shiva told us. His teacher took all swordsman ‘techniques’ away from him, but in reality replaced it with many other techniques that the student would not get lost in— such as dish washing technique, and gardening techniques, etc. The student used these other techniques as they were meant to be used, to clean a dish and grow a garden, and so these techniques served him in many ways, as they serve us in the ashram. This class is one of those many techniques— philosophy can be a technique that serves you or a technique that binds you, as Shiva Sutra 1.2 states, Jnanam Bhanda. In this story, as in the ashram, the techniques of living a simple and positive lifestyle served him— they focused his busy mind, they relinquished his attachment to ‘doership’, and they kept him out of trouble long enough to grow. So it seems that Shiva’s teachings are two fold, as so much of non-dualistic philosophy is— use technique, but don’t become bound by it. Ultimately, we are taught, Bhairava (our true nature), the path to self-realization, is not just a path of technique. That path is something else, something more. Technique is like the sugar coating on a medicine— it helps you take the medicine, but if taken alone is simply sugar, like junk food. We need technique to take the medicine of our growth, but technique itself is not the path. So the question is asked here— how do you experience the difference between the sugar coating and the medicine in your practice? When you recite a mantra, gaze upon a murti, visualize your heart opening, balance your breathing with pranayama, or center your body through asana— how do you tell the difference between the sugar coating and the medicine? And perhaps more importantly, how does knowing this difference serve your practice? Because to know the difference is to become the difference— ie. to know the sugar is to know the medicine. So how does this process, of differentiating technique from its goal, serve your practice?
