Yama is generally translated as control, restraint, or discipline. As a practice the Yamas focus attention on the quality of our action, and the nature and extent of our relationship with ourselves and the world. Of the practice of Yama, Patanjali says: “ete-jati-desa-kala samayanavacchinnah sarva-bhauma mahavratam.” (II.31) “Irrespective of life, state, place, time, and circumstance, these (yama) are universal – – the great vow.” The yamas are the bedrock of the eight-limbed path; they are Ahimsa (sensitivity), Satya (honesty), Asteya (openness), Brahmacharya (focus or prudence), and Aparigraha (generosity).

Ahimsa is composed of the compound ‘a’, which is a negation, and ‘himsa’ which means to harm. Ahimsa is traditionally rendered as not harming or nonviolence. Godfrey translates it as sensitivity. The scope of its application is physical and psychological. The practice of yoga is undertaken with a nod toward avoiding violence. This means sensitivity is practiced in relation to the limitations of both body and mind. For instance, in its initial stages, posture practice magnifies our sense of physical limitation. Ahimsa invites us to relate to this experience in a on-habitual manner: when we are sensitive, we do not strain to get past a limitation we experience, nor do we succumb to frustration or self loathing. Our sense of limitation is challenged primarily by its clarification in the light of nonjudgmental awareness. According to Godfrey, “we must be willing to find our limitations and respond to them with compassion before we can recognize their true character.”

Satya is composed of the primary root ‘sat’, which means being or existence. Satya is traditionally rendered as truth. Godfrey translates it as honesty. Practice means utilizing all of the resources at our disposal, without pretending to those that are not. Without the capacity to be honest about our current capabilities, we are likely to succumb to the tyranny of ambition, or the inactivity of abandonment, both of which cut us off from an experience of what we actually are, by shifting focus to what we hope to be, or could have been, or whatever. We must be willing to recognize our limitations for what they are before we can release them.

Asteya is composed of the negative prefix ‘a’, and the root verb ‘steya’, which means to take or steal, and thus asteya is usually translated as not taking. Godfrey translates it as openness. Practice means dispensing with predetermined ideas. Surrender to the source allows us to gradually let them go as we cultivate self-inquiry. Continually wanting more – – of whatever – – from our practice is a form of what Godfrey often called ‘poverty consciousness’, and is actually a symptom of selfloathing and negative pride. Trying to get more of something that is not actually there is a form of theft. We must be open and accepting of the limitations that practice reveals if we are to one day release them.

Brahmacharya is composed of the two roots ‘Brahma’, which is the head of the masculine trinity of deities in the Hindu pantheon, and the root verb ‘acharya’, which means course, action, or conduct. Brahmacharya literally means something like the spiritualization of desires or action within Brahman. Godfrey translates it as focus, and sometimes prudence. Both yoga practice and life deal with managing energy and directing it, by way of focused action, into the areas where it is most needed. In the Yoga tradition, there is only a provisional distinction between physical and mental acts: both are real, both require energy and attention for their existence and sustenance, but either may be waste of energy at any given time. Allowing the mind to wander from what we are doing is as detrimental to yoga practice as standing on our head with a neck injury. In a word, daydreaming is the antithesis of yoga. Focus is the quality of awareness that can keep actions from being wasteful. We must focus on our limitations if we are to release them.

Aparigraha is composed of the negative prefix ‘a’, and the root ‘parigraha’, which means something like grasping, or the desire to hold onto everything. Aparigraha is normally translated as nonpossessiveness,

or non-grasping. Godfrey translates it as generosity. Depending on our history, we are likely to either resent, or become proud of the things that are revealed during practice. But, this reaction is partially based on the assumption that we are those things, and this is yet to be determined

in the course of inquiry. To assume that we do, or can, own that which we experience is a form of greed: no one is an owner in this world; we are just passing through. Our limitations, and our desire to be the owners of what is, have defined us for too long. We must be willing to be generous, to release experience into its own freedom, if we are to see the source of our dissatisfactions.

Niyama is a compound word composed of Yama, or restraint, and the prefix ‘Ni’, which means deep within, or internal. Niyama is thus often translated as internal discipline, or deep inner restraint. As a practice, Niyama internalizes the energy of discipline. It signifies both a broadening and an intensification of Yama’s scope, which not only brings to light the consequences of our actions, but also carries us closer to their origin. Niyama is thus a further refinement of our ability to experience the extent of relationship. The Niyamas are: Sauca (commitment), Santosha (contentment), Tapas (passion or spiritual intensity), Svadyaya (self study or literally ‘going into one’s self’), and Ishvarapranidhana (devotion, or surrender to God).

Sauca is derived from the root ‘suc’ which means to shine. Sauca is usually translated as purity. The history of hatha yoga is replete with practices that are said to cleanse the bodimind in preparation for the ascent of kundalini energy, and for therapeutic reasons. Some of these reasons, like nauli-kriya (stomach churning), and Neti (nasal irrigation) are actually very useful in maintaining physical health. But as a concept, purity can be pernicious if it generates an assumption that life is somehow not ready for intimacy with the divine – – – that our life, the only one we will have, simply as it presents itself apart from our assumptions and theories, does not ‘shine’. This perspective entrenches effort in the context of a problem, saddling the present moment with tacit condemnation.

To avoid this dilemma, Godfrey translates Sauca in relation to the quality of the practitioner’s actions: he renders it as commitment. Within this context, it is understood that a ‘pure’ yoga practice is fully engaged with everyday life: no hesitation, no holding back. When efforts manifests sensitive, honest, open inquiry, the innate beauty of the practitioner’s life begins to shine through the common desires and dissatisfactions that push her away from surrendering to the source. She understands that the only time is now, that she will never be anything other than what she is – – – right now. That what is happening is all that is happening, and all that can ever happen – – – right now. Purity, conceived as commitment, is surrender, or wholehearted action in the midst of this realization.

Santosha is composed of the root ‘san’, which means with, and ‘tus’ which means satisfied. Santosha is normally rendered as contentment. Resentment, anxiety, and doubt are not conducive to maintaining a long-term yoga practice. We must not be at odds with either ourselves or others if we are to tread this path intelligently. Lasting Inspiration comes from simply loving our efforts, not from a desire for what may or may not come from them: yoga is self-inquiry, not acquisition.

Tapas is derived from the root ‘tap.’ Tapas literally means to burn, or to glow. Godfrey translates it as passion, or sometimes as spiritual intensity. Without passion and intense love for what we are doing, practice often falls to the level of a sporadic affair: strong and consistent at times, weak or perhaps nonexistent at others. Without tapas it is nearly impossible to maintain a committed and contented effort as we face the many difficulties and obstacles that practice naturally reveals.

Svadyaya literally means going into oneself. Traditionally it has been equivocated with the study of sacred texts, and even the practice of mantra. Indeed these things can be platforms for the activity of yoga. But within the context of asana practice, Svadyaya is embodied in its most literal sense: physical action and intention coalesce in real time for the purposes of inquiring into the essence of what is.

Isvarapranidhana is composed of ‘vara / vr’, which means choice as in the best, and ‘Is’ which means to own or to be master of – – – Isvara is normally translated as lord or supreme master. Pranidhana is composed of ‘pra’, which means the foremost, the prefix ‘ni’, which means deep within, and ‘hana’ which means placement. Isvarapranidhana literally means something like “perfect aligning of attention in the omniscient seer within” (Houston, Yoga Sutra Workbook). Godfredev renders it as devotion, or simply surrender to God. He comments on its meaning as follows: “the practice of yoga is embodied as the spirit of devotion and gratitude (pranidhana). Devotion cannot be fabricated, and is generated by authentic practice.”

The techniques of yoga are potent: they both generate and amplify energy. Thus whatever we bring to our practice will be enhanced and expressed. To inquire into the possibility that practice neither amplifies, nor expresses, petty ambitions, fears, desires, and egoism, a genuine orientation toward

the Source is a pragmatic necessity.

Within the context of Yama and Niyama, the techniques of yoga take on their true significance, and thus their most powerful efficacy: they cultivate conscious relationship to the entirety of the present moment as it is, with all of its prickly bits, its revelations, and heartfelt joys. The techniques we employ act as lenses through which different perspectives on that whole arise, to become suffused with our passionate attention. The sense of limitation, which arises from repetitive patterns of behavior and basic conditioning, is thus revealed in the midst of an attitude that is conducive to understanding and releasing it in a gentle and effective way – – – if indeed that is at all possible. In sum we will defer to Godfrey:

“Not harming generates love; honesty leads to fulfillment; not taking elicits abundance; preservation of energy confers vitality; being generous leads to freedom from identification; purity gives independence, joy, focus, detachment and self knowledge; contentment generates peace of mind; spiritual intensity purifies the body-mind of restrictions; self reflection reveals the infinite; surrender to the infinite leads to the highest realization.”

The last three limbs of the Ashta-anga path are Dharana (concentration), Dhyana (meditation), and Samadhi (absorbtion) and are elucidated in the opening of the third chapter of the sutra. Whereas the first four limbs are considered Bahir – Anga (the outer limbs), the last three are considered to be antar-anga, or the inner limbs of the practice. So, within the territory that they map, the personal sense of self and the sense of effort attached to it have been undermined by the surrendered relationship (Yama and Niyama), presence of stability, ease, and oneness with the infinite (Asana, Pranayama), and the senses dropping their normal attachment to the objects of awareness (Pratyahara). This means that the last three limbs mark the onset of spontaneous meditative action, or the sense that the practitioner does not engage effort to maintain the acute sense of attention and feeling that is the hallmark of their presence and experience, and the aim of their technical application.

desa-banghas-cittasaya dharrana

Concentration (dhâranâ) is the binding of consciousness to a [single] spot. (III.1)

Dharana (Concentration): It is important to note that the kind of concentration to which Dharana refers is not the normal sort. It does not mean attention in general, nor does it mean the effortful blocking out of external stimuli, like for instance trying to read the newspaper on the subway amidst a mileu of external distractions that are effectively ignored. As Dr, Feuerstein points out: “it is clear from the Yoga Sutra that concentration follows upon sense with drawl, or is coterminous with it”. (96.) This means that Dharana is not a state of awareness sustained by conventional effort: the mind has already lost its incessant interest in the “world of the ten-thousand things”. The object of attention in this stage of transformation is more like an idea, an internalized representation of something, rather than a normal act of perception in which something extraneous to consciousness is seen or heard.

tatra pratyaya-ekatanatra dhyanam

The one-directionality (eka-tânatâ) of the ideas [present in consciousness] with regard to that [object of concentration] is meditation (dhyâna). (III.2)

Dhyana (Meditation): Whereas Dharana describes the single pointed directionality of awareness toward an internalized object, Dhyana, or mediation describes the qualitative content of that directionality. In other words, in meditation, the flow of attention toward the object is not only uninterrupted, that flow consists of ideas or thoughts that are relevant to the object and the event of attending to it. So within the context of Dharana, the object and the stream of attention directed toward it are both coterminous and thematically consistent. Meditation in this sense thus configures and focuses thought itself. Since thought is essentially the reaction of memory to stimulus, meditation begins to crack the fortress of what we believe ourselves to be, based on the past and our

preference for pleasure over pain. When memory and thought are congruent with the event of effortlessly attending to the object of meditation, a doorway is opened, through which the process of the mind itself comes into focus, along with the intended object – – – or we might even say as the intended object.

tad-eva-arrtha-matra-nirbhasam sva-rupa-sunya-iva samadhi

That [consciousness], shining forth as the object only as if empty of its essence, is Samâdhi. (III.3)

Samadhi (Absorption): The last of the limbs describes the merging of seer and seen, of the personal sense of self with the object of attention. It is important to note that there are several depths of absorption, ranging from those that have a degree of cognitive content, to those that entertain no content whatsoever. This is not the place to outline all of them in detail. There is, however, one thing each shares that is of note for our purposes:

“when meditative absorption shines forth as the intended object only, in other words, when it (attention/the mind) is fused with it (the object of attention), it (the mind) has lost its own characteristic mode of functioning, which is the splitting up of subject and object [the italics are

mine]”. (Feuerstein, pg. 97)

So, when seer and seen begin to merge, when memory is settled and produces content relevant to the intended object and the process of attending to it, when the process of thought – – the actual workings of the mind itself – – become apparent to the seer as being coterminous with the object, then the everyday mode of the mind’s functioning has ceased. There is no impulse, conscious or otherwise, to engage in conceptualization, whether it be positive (Samkalapa) – – fantasy and imagination, or negative (Vikalapa) – – dividing mental content into parts for the purpose of discursive analysis. Because the normal sense of self, and its chronic sense of separateness has been undermined, the practitioner no longer encounters reality as opposed to the self.

It can seem that the last three of the limbs describe separate processes, but this is not the case, and Patanjali knows it. So Dharana, Dhyana, Samadhi, are not actually separate events that fall sequentially in time; it is just useful to describe them that way for the purposes of contemplation and practice. When they are considered together, they are known as Samyama. The word Samyama is composed of two parts: the prefix sam, which means the same, or together, or even perfect, and yama, to bind or restrain, or discipline. It is thus translated as “constraint”, or sometimes as “perfect discipline”.