In the classical context, yoga has very little to do with physical fitness in the way we pursue it in the West. Rather, yoga is a system designed to unite body and mind with the divine (in Sanskrit, the word yoga means “union”), which is our true nature. Yoga cultivates awareness, which begins by being mindful of bodily sensations and breath. As we become more aware of our sensations, we also notice the reactive tendencies of the mind (another meaning of the word yoga is “yoking,” which refers to reigning in our distractive tendencies). By working with and observing patterns of thought and movement, we come to understand them better, we see through them, and can therefore allow them to fall away more easily. In doing so, clarity of thought and ease of movement arise, and we come closer to our genuine expression — who we are when our habitual patterns and stories have fallen away.
Patanjali, whose Yoga Sutras, aphorisms on the practice of yoga, were written more than 2,000 years ago, calls yoga sarvabhauma — bhauma meaning “the world,” and sarva meaning “all.” Yoga works on the individual as a whole, and by so doing, affects the whole of the world around them. B.K.S. Iyengar, considered one of the leading figures in yoga today, states in his book, The Tree of Yoga, “When your body, mind, and soul are healthy and harmonious, you will bring health and harmony to those around you and health and harmony to the world — not by withdrawing from the world, but by being a healthy living organ of the body of humanity.”
According to Patanjali, mastery of yoga occurs when practice becomes effortless. In the West, such a concept is difficult to understand, as we often push harder and faster in order to achieve more. How often have we heard the phrase, or perhaps uttered it ourselves, “I’m trying to relax!” Effortlessness, gentleness, compassion — this is the true practice: gently easing into one experience and out of another, being in the moment without desire to cling to it, or aversion of the emotions and sensations that rise up as we enter into sensation.
“To pay attention means we care, which means we really love,” philosopher Jiddu Krishnamurti says. Awareness, in fact, is about opening in this careful way, as Buddhist teacher Thich Nhat Hanh: being "care-full"— full of care— compassionately noticing and dropping old patterns, softening, trusting, and relaxing into the present moment. Effortlessness. As we let go, we make space. Then, we remember: There is no search, no “trying” to understand, no “trying” to relax, nothing to achieve — just an opening, where we reconnect and touch once again the core of who we all are.
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