What's the point?

One-pointed focus is the holy grail of many practices. In yoga, dhārana has varyingly been described as one-pointed awareness, concentration, focus… It precedes the absorptive, blissful states that we yearn for. Modern mindfulness, with its emphasis on dealing with this moment in time, adapts the meaning of focus accordingly. It is to be non-judgemental, practiced “in a particular way.” In this era, multitasking, headaching and having one’s attention pulled in any which way is part of the parcel of being human. One-pointed focus is a luxury, is it not?

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 My question is: do we need discipline to achieve one-pointed focus? Or do we need focus to cultivate discipline? The answer is probably: a bit of this, a bit of that. How predictably opaque. No wonder we wander.

Which is where āsana comes in, my friend. Our body draws our attention effortlessly if we but listen. Slowing down for the sake of slowing down was never the point. Turning inwards for the sake of turning inwards was never the point. The point is what we slow down for, the point is where we turn in to. And that point? It contains the world. Remember Blake? The world in a grain of sand, no less. Except the grain of sand is infinitely smaller, more elusive. Like sand rushing through our fingers, like our life.

So zooming in in order to zoom out? Sure, it can leave you in a bit of a spin. But in the spin cycle, your dirty laundry gets done. Now all you have to do is fold it up neatly and put it back into the drawer.

Begin with āsana, begin with breath. Allow yourself to be drawn in to that one point, the origin of all. There is deep rest there, energetic resource that is our birthright.

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Doubting Killjoy or Sceptic Reveller?

Where are the invisible lines that we are not prepared to cross? I imagine they are unique to each of us. Some people are prepared to work with a therapist but wouldn’t go near a healer. Yoga is woo woo but pilates is great. Are comfort zones to be expanded? Stepped out of? Should we face our fears? Engage with our trauma? Where do we start?

The wounded healer is the potential charlatan, the well meaning therapist is the inexperienced traumatizer. Scepticism is useful, doubt is a hindrance. Have you ever danced around these lines?

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Discernment is key, it is said. By who? By the same people who are trying to confuse us, the same fake gurus. By the skilled practitioners and infinitely compassionate masters of the subtle realm. Ultimately the compass spins back to the north and there are you my friend. Naked. Alone. You better get used to being in your own skin. When we look outside we find great pointers pointing back in.


 So choose with care who you follow. What is their use of language? I was told to avoid anyone who told me what I “should” do. It served me for a while. To doubt anyone who claimed they were awake, yet I do have a penchant for self-proclaimed genius.

 

Perhaps, possibly, maybe, we all step our own path and make our own decisions, however unwise these may be. Perhaps our own foolishness serves us. Other teachers told me not to assume that a person would be better off without their problems. Where would you be without them? And if the noise becomes too much, see if you can find the still point without freezing. If the noise becomes too much, see if you can play with the dials, louder, quieter, now who’s in control?

 

I do hope you can have fun in life. Another teacher told me: we forget to enjoy life and think we have to be good at it. He told me: it is all a divine play. Lila. And that’s when you can’t help but wonder why the children are crying. I do love humans so.

A musing on Mind

The term mind is misleading. From my experience, as spiritual practitioners we are prone to dismiss the mind or ‘ego’ too readily. And yet there is a higher mind by which we feel guided, in which we feel safe, a mind that feels like home.

Bruce Lipton on a recent podcast talked of the conscious and the subconscious mind, which can be an interesting way of differentiating the voice that we wish would shut up from the voice that wishes it would. My understanding is in no way perfect yet my experience is that there is one eschelon of mind which is completely wild, untame, it throws up random content, continuously. How we relate to that relentless deluge of randomness is (in my mind) what can help steer us from insanity to sanity. The scary thing is that perhaps most of the time we mostly identify with the randomness. We have a thought and it carries us wherever it wants. This is perhaps why so many spiritual teachers hark on about awareness, about noticing, or noting, or observing, or witnessing. Yet personally I find it misleading and futile to consider this ‘awareness’ as something blemish-free, pure and objective. On the contrary, this awareness is stuffed full of all the qualities of divinity. Everything that we have known to be true, truly true. This awareness is not neutral, it is not empty.

Bear with me, I am still figuring this all out, and in the figuring I am noticing where I like to hang out. Perhaps you’d like to join me in noticing which parts of the random, insane, subconscious meandering mind you identify with.

Novelty Wears Off

What is it about us humans that we like things new and shiny? It applies to the obvious exhilaration around gift giving but also to experiences. Collecting experiences has become the measure by which we value our lives. In these times of global shutdown, where do we get our kicks?

 

      The pursuit of novelty is everywhere. It is the reason why ‘It’s for life, not just for Christmas’ hits home hard. A bouncy, cuddly puppy may be irresistible but in a week’s time you’ll be fed up and in a few years, the dog is an appendage, you can’t imagine life without it.

 

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      Proust reminds us in his Search for Lost Time that it is not about seeing new things, but seeing with new eyes. This is just as pertinent to our yoga practice. It is so easy nowadays to skip from one teacher to another, to shop around and consume class passes. Often the teachings are barely absorbed by those imparting them, who are themselves delighting in the novelty. It is a precarious age when the fetishization of instantaneity has us ricocheting around the inner sanctum.

 

      So stay a while. The most precious insight comes from staying. Is lockdown showing you that? Is your suffering showing you that?

 

      When I experienced the sudden loss of my father, all I could do for a few weeks was Sudoku. I was hovering on a plane of existence that had me tasting the novelty fully. I could not make any other move. Filling in the little squares with numbers was as much as I could do to function somehow, go through the motions. But I needed time to let the full feeling absorb, there was no pondering, reminiscing, searching, calculating… the brain had calibrated itself to hover. I had to allow the novelty of the loss to become me, my loved one to become me. This was also the first and only time that I followed the classic ashtanga system of practice, for those few weeks. The stacked, mechanical sequencing helped me stay the course, without searching.   

 

      Sometimes we need tools to stay. Just like I needed Sudoku. In yoga we have asanas, we have various pranayamas, some chant mantras or count mala beads. These are our tools to stay the course.

 

      Ultimately they are only that: tools to let time filter in, they are how we soak it up, the full juicy illusion of it. And by time I mean life.  

Meditating with Eyes Open


There is so much happening in the world at this time.  While there is a tendency to somehow separate oneself from the world, in our yoga practice it is important to stay focused on the subtle connectivity between the internal and the external. There are many methods of aligning to this connectivity, for example via meditation on the four qualities of the dharma. These are as I was taught: intimacy, immediacy, spontaneity and the obvious. While it is important to continue the good work of the more restorative yoga styles: slowing down, stretching with languor, ‘softening into’ postures; it is vital not to lose track of why we are in this practice ultimately.

 

It is part of our practice to continuously question why we do what we do. Of course the answer will always be different. Can our practice be one of constantly recalibrating our intention? Of re-aligning with the four qualities of the dharma?

 

We all have our different motivations for starting out on our ‘yoga journey’ in the first place. For most people it will be the desire or need to cultivate peace with the physical body. Perhaps because of a pain, descending posture, distracting states of nervousness… As yoga master B.K.S Iyengar points out, these are all very valid starting points and shows that we are practical people. However, the physical body is not the end point of practice.

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When I started my yoga practice I was focused on quite the opposite: on transcending the physical body. In the greater scheme of things, this approach is just as limited.

 

Which brings me to the matter of meditating with eyes open. It has become a more urgent concern for me since I identified that pursuing transcendence is my tendency. Sitting comfortably, closing my eyes and gradually dissolving the components of my physicality; a sort of ‘tuning in’ and ‘dropping out’. Reflecting on the world around me however, I can see that this approach does not always cut the mustard. And so I begin my practice with the eyes open, softly but surely.

 

With social upheavals becoming more substantial, environmental and political affairs more critical, it is harder to hide from the truth that our spiritual practice cannot and must not occupy its own separate compartment. We are also at a point in terms of information where the risk of overwhelm is real but so is the capacity of access. The masterpiece that is ‘Radical Dharma’ by Rev. angel Kyodo williams, Lama Rod Owens and Dr. Jasmine Syedullah for example, reminds us what it means to be truly awake in the world.

 

A spiritual practice that excludes the obvious is a questionable practice. Whereby periods of quiet contemplation are necessary and attending to ourselves as we would to others is an all-embracing act of compassion, it is possible to go too far one way. And so, to conclude a passage from the Ishavasya Upanishad:

 

‘Those who only follow the path of avidya (action in the world) enter blind darkness. Conversely, those who are only absorbed in vidya (the internal knowledge of the mind and more precisely the meditative practices) also enter blind darkness. The one who knows both vidya (the internal world) and avidya (the external world) goes through the abyss of death via avidya and attains immortality through vidya.’ (9-11 Ishavasya Upanishad)

 

In yoga, don’t leave anything out.

The significance of āsana in Hatha Yoga

 

 

Introduction

 

         Within the history of haṭha yoga (‘a somewhat fuzzy term’ (Bühnemann 2007:143)), the significance of āsana has varied. Through the close reading of ancient haṭha yoga texts we can, to some extent, garner its degree of importance, its characteristics, its goals and its implications. Of course this strictly theoretical mode of study is limited by the fact that āsana is by its very nature a practical undertaking.

 

         In this essay I seek to understand some of the roles that āsana in all its myriad and malleable forms, has fulfilled over the course of time. Primarily, I posit āsana as one of the most accessible yoga practices and haṭha yoga as a more inclusive path for the practitioner than perhaps existed until its formation. ‘Such universalism is at least implicit in most works on haṭha yoga’ (Mallinson 2014)

 

         If it is indeed the case that “haṭhayoga is a practical soteriology independent of metaphysical speculation.” (Mallinson 2014) then āsana is an invaluable tool in its pursuit.

 

         Taking a brief overview of the history of haṭha yoga, followed by a brief overview of the history of āsana, I shall then attempt to assess the significance of āsana in the history of haṭha yoga and what its growing popularity may suggest when it comes to our reading of tradition.

 

 

The history of haṭha yoga

 

         Since the emergence of haṭha yoga as a system around the 11th-14th century, many developments have occurred both in terms of the system itself and in regards to its study. The practice of haṭha yoga has ‘long been associated’ (Mallinson 2019:11) with the Nāth yogis. Its Tantric and Buddhist antecedents are also noteworthy for where they position it; ‘the earliest known references to haṭhayoga appear to be in Buddhist tantras (…) its practice was recommended when other techniques had failed.’ (Mallinson 2012:540)

 

         The early haṭha corpus consists mostly of tributaries to the Hathapradīpikā (HYP), the haṭha yoga text par excellence which I shall be studying in this essay. I try to bear in mind Mallinson’s characterization of early haṭha yoga as being a ‘darkness of many doctrines’ (Mallinson 2012 ), while also heeding Birch’s caution regarding the later haṭha corpus, where ‘many Yoga texts synthesized Haṭhayoga with other traditions’ (Birch 2011:fn 528). Both observations compound the difficulty of my task.

 

         There is plenty of disagreement between different texts’ view of haṭha yoga. While the HYP set about to deliberately promote it above all other yogas, ‘several early Haṭha texts (…) prescribe haṭhayoga for a second-rate student (…) who is unable to practice an advanced yoga.’ (Birch 2011:540) In a sense, this last prescription promotes the advancement of a practice that could otherwise be deemed inaccessible, almost everyone apart from the ascetic is ‘unable to practice an advanced yoga’.

 

         Haṭha yoga has widely been misconceived as a forceful and aggressive form of yoga. Much work is currently underway that sheds light on the true meaning of haṭha in textual tradition. For instance we discern, ‘in the Vivekamārtaṇḍa (…) Haṭhayogic techniques have a forceful effect, rather than requiring a forceful effort.’ (Birch 2011:538) This force effects such crucial developments as the raising of the bindu, the channeling of prāna into the central channel and the awakening of kuṇḍalinī, variously regarded as the liberating events on the haṭha yogi’s quest. Whilst it needn’t be denied that: ‘haṭha yoga is profoundly materialist with respect to how the body is understood and experienced, and yet there is no sense in which this materialism is mundane or commonplace.’ (Alter 2005:127) From within this vociferously physical tradition, it comes as no surprise that the practice of āsana, for the first time recognized somewhat more formally, mushroomed prolifically.

 

 

The history of āsana

 

         The tenuous attempt of scholars to make a connection between āsana and yoga before the second millennium is illustrated in their observation of depictions of figures from the beginning of the Common Era, presumably adopting padmāsana. In the ‘identification of figures seated in cross-legged poses as yogis’ (White 2009:56) we can appreciate the quasi-desperate desire to pinpoint the source of postural tradition in spiritual history. Gordon White argues that this posture is ‘ a mark of royal sovereignty (…) rather than of any meditative or yogic practice.’ (White 2009:56) This is but one example of the common tendency to read a spiritual significance into what might otherwise be described as starkly physical positions. In fact regarding the techniques of haṭha yoga, of which āsana is but one, we see how ‘the principles underlying them (…) may be skewed by sectarian interpretations and other vicissitudes.” ( Mallinson 2014a:771) This drive goes someway towards understanding the significance āsana has held in the outsiders’ imagination, sometimes to the behest of what might actually have been occurring.  

 

         Though a clear physical emphasis can be surmised from an ascetic tradition where tapas and mortification practices were and still are highly regarded, āsana as a formal constituent of practice took some time to become established. To this day in the ascetic milieu, āsana is given scarce importance (‘a firsthand account of this is given by James Mallinson (…), who observed Rāmānandī Tyāgīs performing a “few” Haṭhayogic āsanas after their practice of dhūnitap .’ (Birch 2011:fn530))

 

         In various yoga traditions seated postures had been referred to as āsanas extensively beforehand. More complex āsanas appeared for the first time in Vaiṣṇava texts. ‘They first appear in the thirteenth-century Vasiṣṭhasaṃhitā, whose yoga is not haṭhayoga but rather an attempt to accommodate Tantric kundalinī Yoga within an orthodox Vedic soteriology.’ (Mallinson 2012:258) This text is also one of the tributaries of the great HYP and ‘The Haṭhayogapradipikā is the first text on yoga to include āsana among the techniques of haṭhayoga.’ (Mallinson 2014a:772) This suggests to some extent that āsana is a characteristic of haṭha yoga proper, figuring alongside mudrā, kumbhaka and nadanusandhana as one of its four core techniques.  

 

         Although it is hard to tell to what extent the techniques described in textual statements were taking place in practice, we know that traditionally haṭha yoga predominated in an ascetic milieu. Āsana emerges in its history as one of the techniques that could nevertheless be accessible to the average householder. We shall look at how, whether liberation were the ultimate goal or not, āsana was said to offer plenty of benefits along the way.

 

 

The importance of āsana

 

         Before going any further we must highlight the relevance of karma in the context in which the practice of āsana developed; the notion that ‘any effort directed towards purifying the bodily vessel in the present life will bear fruit in a future one ’ (Burley 2000:130) is crucial when it comes to understanding the importance of physical practices. Honing and purifying the body is an act conducive to liberation, perhaps even in this life. We read for instance of the virtuous character of those practitioners who master certain āsanas: ‘padmāsana (…) is attained in this world by the talented few.’ (Digambarji 1970:23) The practitioners’ capacity to master āsanas is a sign of their progress, according to the HYP.

 

      We have seen how until the composition of the HYP, āsana was not treated as one of the official techniques of haṭha yoga. Early texts mention physical techniques that often become subsumed under the rubric of āsana later on; śavāsana for instance was a technique practiced as part of layayoga, the yoga of dissolution. This serves as an example of the merging and sometime eclipsing of different traditions “Onto the bindu-oriented hathayoga was overlaid the layayoga of a Kaula tradition.’(Mallinson 2014a:779) However, it is only ‘in texts on yoga from the seventeenth century onwards (…that…) āsana becomes a central concern.” (Mallinson 2017:91) all in all and given the current predominance of āsana in modern, globalized yoga, we can appreciate that an accelerating process was underway. That is not to say that this process was always viewed favourably. Swami Vivekananda, one of the foremost promoters of yoga to the globalized West ‘although clearly attuned to the subtle body (…) had very little to say about that which has come to define modern practice: āsana.’ (Alter 2005:124), and if he did, it was from a place of derogation. Indeed ‘Indian soteriologies that espoused methods of liberation based on gnosis or initiation (…) viewed the āsanas, prānāyāmas and mudrās of haṭhayoga as unnecessary physical exertion.’ (Birch 2011:531)

 

         The increasing popularization of āsana, even in the medieval period, most likely stems from its approximation of yoga to the more ‘average’ practitioner. This in turn may be partly to answer for its opposition from loftier realms. At a time of dynastic change when non-Sanskrit traditions started to take hold ‘the texts of the haṭhayoga corpus brought to a non-ascetic audience techniques that were developed within ascetic traditions. Among these were non-seated physical postures, for the first time called āsanas.’ (Mallinson 2017:89) We also see that not only in the environ of haṭha yoga but elsewhere ‘the use of the word āsana to describe any sort of physical posture appears to have become widespread by the early 14th CE’ (Mallinson 2014a:776). Yoga seemed to be coming closer to the people and to some extent de-mystified.

 

 

The characteristics of āsana

 

         When looking for clues regarding the significance of āsana in early haṭha yoga we come up against the difficult fact that the characteristics of āsana are not described in much detail. In fact when relying on ancient texts we discover that ‘their terse teachings are not comprehensive enough to serve as foundations for practice’ (Mallinson 2012:264) at all. In much later texts things don’t get much easier as haṭha yoga is commonly conflated with other forms of yoga; ‘many Yoga texts synthesized Haṭhayoga with other traditions such as Patañjalayoga (…) Advaitavedānta (…) Bhakti and Pūja and so on’ (Birch 2011:fn528). Eventually the physical alignment in āsana is described in great detail and is characterized as ‘comfortable and steady’ (Birch 2011:fn531). We see the ideal āsana characterized by the qualities that defined it in the Yoga Sutras. Verily, it becomes hard to analyze the characteristics of āsana in any such thing as haṭha yoga proper.

 

         Earlier in the tradition of haṭha yoga, we can attempt to garner some of the characteristics of āsana from the various names of āsanas. These are sometimes fluid (i.e: ‘This is considered to be Siddhāsana ; others call it Vajrāsana; some call it Muktāsana; others call it Guptāsana’ (Digambarji 1970:19)) Overall though, they suggest a close observation of the physical world and an intimation of ‘joining with’ the other through posture; ‘The notion of union is central to haṭhayoga’ (Birch 2011:533). By imitating an animal, or an attitude, or a sage, or an element from nature, the yogi is able to take the other’s seat. This concern with ‘union’ can also be read onto some of the statements from early haṭha yoga textual tradition such as the Gorakṣaśataka’s statement that ‘with the physical body (absorbed) into the spiritual one, the body becomes extremely pure.’ (Mallinson 2012:271)

 

         Though the exact characteristics of āsana cannot be clearly deduced through the reading of texts, we know that Vedānta was becoming the dominant paradigm at the time of its inception as a formal practice. Through āsana the non-dualistic concern with “union” is pursued, sometimes very literally; ‘it is most probable that the idea of radical trans-substantiation was a consistent feature of practice up until the late nineteenth century. (Alter 2005:122)

However, we also see a deliberate turning away from extremism toward a system that ‘specifies that a technique should be performed gradually, slowly, or gently, depending on the context.’ (Birch 2011:531) In fact regarding the approach required to master yoga, the HYP ‘includes exertion (prayāsa) as one of the six factors that ruin Haṭhayoga.’ (Birch 2011:532) Āsana seems to have been instructive in the practice of moderation.

 

The goals of āsana

 

         In the HYP the practice of āsana was very goal oriented. The results range from conquering fatigue and improving digestion to clearing the mind and achieving liberation, solving many mundane concerns along the way. From a more esoteric standpoint āsanas are part of a set of techniques that aim toward causing the bindu to rise, and in the case of later haṭha yoga, awakening kuṇḍalinī. Āsana is taken as a prerequisite to these more advanced techniques, cultivating the stability and steadiness necessary for the subtle practices. ‘Svātmārāma (…) calls haṭhayoga a flight of steps, and considers ‘āsana’ to be the first stage of progress in ‘haṭhayoga’. Performances which do not look forward to the mental training and spiritual experiences culminating in realization of the Supreme Reality are (…) fruitless effort.” (Digambarji 1970:3)

 

         The Mahāsiddhi, or greatest power, of the haṭha yogin is considered to be liberation. Samādhi continues to reign supreme as the yogic Holy Grail. Āsana can be one of the keys to its conquest, though in this respect, not all āsanas are deemed equal. Those āsanas with a longer history such as padmāsana and siddhāsana seem to be regarded as worthier of mastery. We read for instance: ‘A Yogi who for twelve years contemplates on the Ātman, takes moderate diet and continuously practices Siddhāsana attains thereby the consummation of his Yoga. Of what use are the many other Āsanas to one who has mastered Siddhāsana?’ (Digambarji 1970:20) This passage is an illustrative example of how āsana was treated at this time in haṭha yoga’s history as an ancillary practice, that alongside other factors (diet, concentration…) helped achieve ultimate liberation.

 

         Of the many “worthwhile fruits” of āsana practice, good health, enjoyment, liberation and siddhis are all mentioned in the HYP as part of the spiritual “package”.

 

The implications of āsana

 

         Although ‘the root texts of haṭhayoga and their exegesis make little room for discussions of philosophy’ (Mallinson 2014:3) we can surmise some of the implications that the gradual elevation of āsana entailed by viewing it in historical context. Bearing in mind ‘the vast Tantric current that developed in medieval India around esoteric practices which included bodily techniques.” (Bouillier 2018:11), we can appreciate the powerful influence that haṭha yogins had to contend with. We read how ‘much of haṭhayoga’s development can be seen as a reaction against the exclusivity and complexity of Tantric cults and practices.’ (Mallinson 2012:257) Āsana, though practiced from the platform of the gross, physical body, is believed to grant access to the subtle, inner body. We read references to the esoteric realm for instance in the mention of eighty-four lakh āsana (eighty-four being an auspicious figure). We read how siddhāsana ‘purifies the seventy-two thousand nadīs.’ (Digambarji 1970:20) and matsyendrāsana ‘ bestows arousal of the kuṇḍalinī.’ (Digambarji 1970:14) The significance of āsana is sacralized and counts towards the elevation of haṭha yoga as a worthy tradition in its own right.

 

         Given that ‘all traditional systems of Yoga (…) assign a preparatory and subordinate place to āsanas in pursuit of liberation from the cycle of rebirth’ (Bühnemann 2007: 21), one wonders at how it came to be that āsana is commonly the sole representative of what yoga means nowadays. We have seen how its conflation with other modes of yoga practice, its absorption of Tantric terminology and its versatility have meant that āsana has over time come to embody more than what āsana might at first glance signify. In a sense āsana is “more than āsana.” ‘Some texts offer specialized philosophical interpretations of the term, such as the (…) Aparoksānubhūti (verse 112), which defines asana as ‘that in which continuous reflection on brahman is easily possible.’’ (Bühnemann 2007:12)

 

 

Conclusion

 

      When it comes to analyzing the prominence of āsana in more modern forms of haṭha yoga, it pays to bear in mind the increasingly globalized, transnational context into which haṭha yoga has developed. Just as tiger-skins and well-built huts have given way to yoga mats and ‘clean, airy places’ (Iyengar 1965:37), the significance of āsana has shifted. As society has become more secularized and despite the fact that many modern practitioners claim authenticity via tradition, the treatment of āsana has morphed, in some cases beyond recognition, from its early definitions.

 

         For the serious practitioner, overtly aware of the health benefits of āsana practice but willing to delve into its’ deeper significance, it becomes necessary to turn one’s gaze far into the past to explore the complex labyrinth of textual tradition. ‘Most of the varieties of yoga practiced around the world today derive from haṭha yoga. The first texts to teach its techniques appeared soon after the beginning of the second millennium.’ (Mallinson 2014a:257). The abundance of texts, often compilations, can be confounding. Each of their tributaries has its own nuanced treatment of the terms and techniques within, that can also shape shift through history. “Mudrās such as mahāmudrā and viparītakaranī, which involve physical postures and were taught in the Dattātreyayogaśāstra and other early haṭhayoga texts, are taught as āsanas in some later works.” (Mallinson 2017:90). As āsana has gained more importance, other practices, perhaps more subtle, are subsumed within its fold making it hard to keep track.

 

         We can wonder in fascination at how: “ As the corpus of texts on Haṭhayoga developed, āsana went from being a simple way of sitting (…) to one of its most important, complex, diverse and well-documented practices.” (Mallinson 2017: 91) but we might also be right to question what has been lost along the way.

 

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Bibliography

 

Alter, J. 2005. ‘Modern Medical Yoga: Struggling with a History of Magic, Alchemy, and Sex’ in Asian Medicine: 1.1: 119-46.

 

Birch, J. 2011. ‘Meaning of Haṭha in Early Haṭha yoga.’ Journal of the American Oriental Society. 131.4:527-54.

 

Bouillier, V. 2018. ‘Monastic Wanderers. Nāth Yogī Ascetics in Modern South Asia.’ London & New York. Routledge

 

Bühnemann, G. 2007.’Eighty-Four Āsanas in Yoga: A Survey of Traditions, with Illustrations.’ New Delhi. DK Printworld.  

 

Burley, M. 2000. ‘Haṭha -Yoga: Its Theory, Context, and Practice. Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass.

 

Digambarji, S. 1970. ‘Hathapradīpikā of Svātmārāma.’ Lonavla. Kaivalyadhama, S.M.Y.M. Samiti.

 

Iyengar, B.K.S. 1965. ‘Light on Yoga.’ London. Allen & Unwin.

 

Mallinson, J. 2012. ‘The Original Gorakṣaśataka.’ in White 2012.

______­­­____. 2014. ‘Haṭhayoga’s Philosophy: A Fortuitous Union of  Non-Dualities.’ in Journal of Indian Philosophy 42.1: 225-47.

__________. 2014a. ‘Haṭha Yoga’ in Brill Encyclopaedia of Hinduism. 3: 770-81.

__________. 2017. ‘Roots of Yoga.’ UK. Penguin Classics.

__________. Forthcoming. ‘ The Amṛtasiddhi: Haṭhayoga’s Tantric Buddhist Source Text’ in Festschrift in Honour of Professor Alexis G. Sanderson.

 

White, D.G. 2009. ‘Sinister Yogis.’ University of Chicago Press.

 

     

 

   

 

A small meditation. A reminder

      It is widely recognized that we are a culture of death deniers. Not for us the burning of our corpses on open fires, the contemplation on the inevitable demise and dissolution of our oh-so-precious bodies. And yet everything we fret for is soothed by this very inevitability.

 

      In our yoga practice we practice for our death. We rest in śavāsana and set aside the tick-tock of the brain machine, dropping instead into the stillness. The only pulsation that still remains in the steady throb of life, not ours.

 

      How could our heart beat be ours? Do we have any say over its rhythm? Do we regulate the peristaltic chugging in our gut? Do we track our wrinkles with sage recognition or do we tremble at our own mortality?

 

      Perhaps the greatest secret is the most obvious. When we live as though we are going to die, we have learnt it. And that goes on and on.