Thoughts, On Guru Poornima

It is Guru Poornima, the day when we remember and pay respect to our Guru- the word goes far beyond the meaning of Teacher or Master.  

A Guru is one who leads you from darkness to light (gu- darkness, ru- light).  One who shows you the way, not the end.

And so, tonight, as I use my last five minutes to type, I can only feel thankful that I met and studied with my Yoga Guru and that I can still be in touch with him though I am no longer directly practicing yoga with him.  As has often been said about Gurus, my Guru's house was a place of silent refuge for me each morning.  I would leave my worldly worries at the doorstep and focus entirely on yoga for the next three hours, feeling the calm and strength that the practice gives, slowly growing within me.

I have not much time to write, so I am pasting below a few thoughts from previous blogs of mine-

"Last week, in one of our class discussions, we wondered about the reams of writings on yoga - What is necessary? What is useful? What is desirable?- according to various accomplished yogis. This is a confusing area, strewn with subjectivity, many times topics are described in the absence of context or level of difficulty. 

Finally, our yoga teacher gave his own views, repeating several times that yoga is for those who have nothing. Nothing? Not exactly - but what he meant was that people who have already attained control over their minds, their physical selves don't really need most of these practices. 

But for the average person, physical health is necessary to carry out most of what one wants to achieve, and along with this a certain peace of mind and sense of satisfaction are desirable. For this person (which includes most of us), yoga is a simple step towards staying healthy and peaceful. 

There are many different approaches to yoga based on our specific temperaments and affinities. In a more physical sense too, all one really needs to practice yoga, is a bit of land or a part of a room, where one might be undisturbed. In addition, having a yoga mat is perhaps not asking for too much! And of course, a bit of time. But that is all it takes to begin. 

Somehow, the phrase 'for those who have nothing' stayed in my mind and I began thinking of the verses composed by Adi Shankaracharya (an eighth century spiritual preceptor) in his Atma Shatakam (the song of the self). According to the story about him, when he was eight years old, he was walking through the Himalayas in search of a guru. He met a sage (the teacher he was searching for)who asked him who he was. The young boy replied with this Sanskrit poem, of which I quote a few lines: 

"Mano Buddhi Ahankara Chitta Ninaham Nacha Shrotra Jihve Na Cha Ghrana Netre Nacha Vyoma Bhoomir Na Tejo Na Vayu Chidananda Rupa Shivoham Shivoham" 

(I am not mind, nor intellect, nor ego, nor the reflections of the inner self I am not the five senses. I am beyond that. I am not the ether, nor the earth, nor the fire, nor the wind (etc. - the five elements). I am indeed, That eternal knowing and bliss, I am Shiva, I am Shiva).

" Na Punyam Na Papam Na Saukhyam Na Dukham Na Mantro Na Teertham Na Vedo Na Yajnaha Aham Bhojanam Naiva Bhojyam Na Bhokta Chidananda Rupa Shivoham Shivoham"

(I have neither merit, nor demerit. I do not commit sins or good deeds, nor have happiness or sorrow, pain or pleasure. I do not need mantras, holy places, scriptures, rituals or sacrifices. I am none of the triad of the observer or one who experiences, the process of observing or experiencing, or any object being observed or experienced. I am indeed, That eternal knowing and bliss, I am Shiva, I am Shiva)..."

"Our Yoga class is slowly winding down, the teacher is moving to Mysore where a fresh batch of students await him. After studying with him for almost ten years (the first six involving three hour classes from Monday to Saturday, beginning at 6 a.m. sharp) there is a little tug of separation. Try as we might to emulate paths laid down by the yogis, feelings intervene at times. 

The class is almost empty now, just my husband and I and the teacher. We spend the last few days asking questions of all kinds, moving as always, towards understanding the asanas (postures) and pranayama (breath control) within our limitations. It is a time of change. 

The yoga teacher discusses teaching styles and ways to correct students. Having gone down this path for so long, we have decided to finally teach, but the details are still unclear.

We stretch, lift, inhale, relax - and occasionally collapse - some things don't seem to change! The yoga teacher is trying to convey the very essence of the practice to each of us, it seems to me. My husband is shown ways to correct difficult movements and I am reminded of the key components of the practice - focussing on the joints, breath and mind.

The mind is the hardest to deal with. To disregard its tendencies to flit about and to remain focussed on the breathing and movements is a big challenge for me. To be able to do this on my own each day - the thought is daunting but exciting as well. For this is the only way to go deeper into the practice.

But no matter what we do (or don't do), some essence of the practice always remains within us, ready to express itself at any moment we choose.."

And so today, I thank my Guru, and all true Gurus in the world, for helping their students find their individual paths and for guiding and supporting them during this process.

Restarting Yoga

 It has been seven years since I left my yoga practice.  Life is busy with the lockdown and I would perhaps have delayed restarting if it were not for the frequent headaches which have been plaguing me in the last several months.  I find myself wide awake at four in the morning (the result of going to bed at eight at night with my son), lying in bed with a throbbing head and nothing to do.

So yesterday, when my husband suggested I get up and try some yoga, I staggered out of bed and said, "I don't know if I have the energy," but I did try.  And it felt like coming home all over again.  I knew immediately that it was the perfect thing for me in the mornings and I must continue.  I love waking up when it is still dark and perfectly still- to feel the stillness within and not worry about matters the world is concerned with.  It is a time when all the wisdom of ancient teachers seems to hover somewhere around you, waiting to disclose itself if you are ready.

The hardest aspect of the new schedule was convincing my little son that it is okay for me to wake up at four thirty in the morning, but not for him.  Having a sleepy and irritable seven year old wandering around, following me would be disaster.  So, for now, my husband has agreed to keep an eye on my son in case he awakes, until we all get used to the new routine.

There were other complications, as I realised this morning.  How do I know when to wake up without setting an alarm, without disturbing anyone, without endlessly getting up to check the time in the dark (as you may have guessed I am not a gadget oriented person).  I usually gauge the hour by the amount of light entering our bedroom window (we get to see clouds and trees, moonlight and fireflies outside at night, which is very exciting, so we usually have no use for curtains- waking up when the first ray of light enters our room).

Last night I was so happy that I did not dwell on the specifics of early morning awakening.  This morning I woke up, ready to step out of bed when my husband told me,"It's still three o'clock.  Go back to sleep."  Sleeping was out of the question but I did my best to relax and rest.  I got up around four thirty and began my practice soon after.

It has been so long!  I am so stiff!  I know I can barely move and sometimes my back goes into a spasm, sometimes my legs cramp up- nerves and muscles all over are protesting.  But it feels the same as it always did from inside- just perfect!  I think that I will not remember the movements, it has been much too long.  But my teacher's voice and my own years of practice take over and I am soon finding my way, one step at a time- evaluating what my body needs, what the next posture I need is, how much I can stretch and so on.  For my yoga training has been with a teacher who let me learn by myself, in my own way.  It was never a group class, I was never handed an easy solution, I had to find my way through by focussing internally, with just a little guidance from my teacher.  This helps me enormously now, as my teacher probably knew it would.

He always insisted that yoga is for everyone, no matter what their physical condition - it just has to be modified to suit each person's requirements.  And so he emphasised the principles, not achieving one particular specific goal.

By the time everyone was awake, I was done with my practice, feeling energised and ready for the day.  

I am grateful to my teacher and I know he is glad I have restarted my practice.  Being the remarkable teacher that he is, he had told me,"There is no hurry.  Enjoy the time with your son, young children need a lot of attention."  But he had also told me that if I did the complete practice, my headaches should go away.  So here I am, at the threshold of another new beginning, waiting to see how it unfolds.

Meditative Moments

In the last few months, I have been trying to work on areas that I previously neglected, in my yoga practice.  This is the part that deals with the mind- or rather the stilling of it.  How does one disregard the constant chatter of the mind, especially in the absence of a teacher to guide one?

For a while, I thought I would begin by looking for a suitable teacher.  This was hard to do- the last few steps in the classical yoga texts are very briefly defined, seldom do teachers go all the way (and even less do they talk about it).  It's a daunting task for both teacher and student for there is nothing tangible, no easy way to know if you have made any progress.  Or so I thought.

I began by trying to attend a meditation workshop (the only one I could find in Bangalore).  I read the person's book, then one Saturday afternoon, braving a heavy downpour that brought all traffic to a standstill, took a taxi and my google map and somehow found my way to the centre.  Braving further a hideous mosquito attack, an icy cold breeze and the butterflies in my stomach, I rang the bell, only to be greeted by a cacophony of growls and barks.  I looked to see two large dogs, one tied to each end of the gate post, leaving an area of two feet for people to walk through.  An unperturbed voice hailed me and asked me to come in.  Now, I am not afraid of dogs, having grown up with so many.  But the thought of walking through that clearing with two bristling beasts (who were unlikely to break free), was not very reassuring.  The mind plays tricks..

Anyway, it turned out that I had got the time wrong and had reached two hours ahead.  I thought it might be a good opportunity to talk to the teacher.  He did sit down for a few minutes with me, to ask about my background etc.  Then he said there was nothing I could learn from the class.  It was good I had come but I was just being lazy in not practicing on my own at home.

So.. I did attend the meditation session and reached home, seven hours after I had left it (leaving my son alone for that long a period for the first time).  Anyway, all was well- my son was making a dosa in the kitchen with my husband, and I accepted that I would find no teachers in Bangalore.

The next event that happened was the arrival of a book by Evald Flisar (a Slovenian writer) that I had ordered long ago and forgotten about.  Titled 'The Sorcerer's Apprentice', it described his experiences as a learner, initially with yoga and then tantra in the Himalayas.  It had some strange parts but was very useful at the time, in clarifying my thoughts on working without a teacher.  Evald, as an apprentice, found he could go only so far along certain paths.  He had to search for alternate options, meanings, interpretations, and try and work his way through to the end.  I believed that I would eventually find my way too.

I did not restart with any fixed aim in mind but I just decided to pick out and read again a relatively recently written book (instead of the classics) that had always appealed to me as it contained a lot of timeless wisdom written from a first hand perspective.  This is called 'The Power Of Now' and is written by Eckhart Tolle (I don't like the title, apt though it is, as it reminds me of one of those Readers Digest articles which attempt to tell you the solution to all your problems).  A subscript adds 'A Guide to Spiritual Enlightenment'.  So simple!!!  (Eckhart attained stillness of mind at a moment when extreme anxiety was prompting him towards suicide.  He then spent a long time in meditative states and finally decided to write this book to answer the questions various people had been asking him.  He moves away from pre-conditioned concepts and tries to explain things the way he experienced and perceived them.  I quote a sentence from this book, which is probably the bottomline of his teaching- 'Be the ever-alert guardian of your inner space').

I found the technique I needed written very simply and clearly in this book, the hard part is to make it a part of everyday life!  But for the moment, this is enough.  I have stopped searching and begun practicing, and contrary to what I thought, I can feel the difference in myself already- the increase in equilibrium, the lowering of negativity and consequently, of anxiety and pain.

This is one of the reasons why my blog was unwritten for so long- all my energy was being directed to finding my way forward.  I believe I have taken the first step, and I hope I now have more time (at least once in a while!) for my writing and the other things I like to do.  Time will tell!

Moving Inwards In Yoga

I have resumed my (much interrupted) yoga practice, and as always, it's wonderful to get back to it.  Interruptions are inevitable but if I don't resume, I always feel terrible from inside. Muscles and nerves start protesting!  So I am compelled in a sense to return to it, with much gratitude and relief each time.  It reminds me of the words of the Tai Chi master, Professor Cheng Man-Ch'ing, who said that each time he gave up Tai Chi, he became sick, and thus had to pursue it (eventually he became a great master).

When practicing away from a teacher, a student has to choose his own path.  This, of course, changes with time and one's requirements, also what one is ready for.  This time, my practice has begun with a focus on the inner energy rather than external refining of the postures.  Interestingly, although we use our limbs a lot, and spend much time using (and despairing over) them, in yoga the focus is a little different.  The ultimate aim being the stilling of the mind, the main energy centres one focusses on lie along the spine and up, to the top of the head.

Now that I have begun focussing on my inner energy, I find myself unconsciously sensing the energy given out by the environment as well - in particular nature.  Not in discrete units but in a fuzzy kind of way, feeling the difference between the energy of water and land, of grass and granite, of raindrops and wet earth.

I feel an immense gratitude towards all the traditional, wise systems which recognized this energy, and devised unusual ways to work with it - in particular the systems I have come in contact with - Yoga, Five Element Acupuncture and Tai Chi Chuan.  It's a magical feeling to be linked to everything through something so basic yet intangible, and to be able to tap it and use it wisely.

The Changing Shape Of Yoga

Some stray thoughts on the changing 'yoga scene' within and outside the country -

As with many ancient Indian systems of study, yoga was not formally put down in writing until thousands of years after it began.  Information was passed on from teacher to student and the system diversified as multiple schools arose.  This imparted a certain flexibility to the system; each school emphasized specific aspects and developed them over time.

In the last few years, however, the changes have been more drastic and driven by market forces rather than real reasons for change.  I have been thinking about this for some time now as each time I drive out to the main road, I see large hoardings proclaiming how you can lose 3 kgs. in 15 days by attending a certain yoga class.  These classes are apparently packed, mostly with younger people.  These, and other classes, now offer yoga that is practiced in tune to different kinds of music, somewhat akin to aerobic workouts.  To me, the postures demonstrated don't look perfect, but apparently that's not what people are looking for.  Stretching in silence is boring.

There have always been some teachers who have taught while continuously giving directions and verbally correcting students.  One aim of this exercise is to try and keep the students' minds "on the job".  I feel fortunate to have attended a class where the practice was carried out mostly in silence.  My yoga teacher often corrected me, initially by physical adjustments, and subsequently just by signs indicating which part I had to readjust.  The emphasis was on focussing inwards.  When one attempts this, the mind settles down and you attain a certain peace and inner equilibrium.  This internal focussing brings a kind of transformation that nothing from the outside can ever achieve.  But often I suppose people don't trust themselves (or their students) to this silence and to listening to oneself from within.

My yoga classes are long over as my teacher moved to another town, to teach.  I was glad to be able to meet him over Diwali, when he was visiting Bangalore.  Some of our conversation revolved around the numerous classes and advertisments for yoga that are flooding the cities.  He told me that his current classes were very poorly attended.  I was amazed, for I believe he is a very good teacher - compassionate and experienced with knowledge of some old, classical styles.  I asked what the reason was, as many other yoga centres seem to be doing very well.  He shrugged and said that people found the class too intense and wanted it simplified.  This sounded strange because one important aspect of his class has always been that each person goes at his or her own pace.  He claimed that people didn't want to put in the effort on a regular basis.

Of course, many other factors might also play a role.  His traditional (and fixed) hours may not be convenient for all; many yoga studios offer walk in classes through the day with different teachers and different styles of yoga.  It's hard to compete with that but all these are led-classes (where everyone in the group follows one format); very little personal attention can be given especially if the numbers are large.

There are also apparently certain times of the year when yoga classes are more frequented.  In the 'yoga hotspots' which have emerged in different parts of India, teaching yoga is often a '6 month business' that coincides with the travel and holiday season.  The rest of the time, the schools shut down or slow down and the better teachers go elsewhere to teach.  This makes it difficult to sustain a serious school in one of these areas.

Over-secularisation is another hazard to the teaching of yoga.  Several people have asked me about the religious overtones of yoga.  The answer is, of course, that there are none.  Well, not absolutely, because, as with most ancient systems of philosophy, yoga is based on certain assumptions about what comprises an individual and how a person is linked to a higher source of energy.  This is what the philosophy of yoga has in common with several other Indian systems of philosophy and spirituality.  The religion and rituals of Hinduism have also developed in this milieu and there is naturally a social and cultural overlap in the way some of the thoughts are expressed.  But that is a very tiny aspect and is not relevant when it comes to the practice of yoga.  The aim (rather definition) of yoga (as mentioned in the earliest known text, the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali) is to alleviate fluctuations in the mind, intellect and conscious self.  Nothing more (and nothing less)!

Many schools outside India have stopped reciting the prayers that are typically chanted at the beginning of the class so as to make people of various (or no) leanings comfortable.  I have no cause to complain about this all-inclusive approach.  The prayers were always in Sanskrit (for obvious reasons), a language not everyone is comfortable with and one that most people are not familiar with.  However I continue to say the prayer I have been taught; I find the sound very soothing and helpful in focussing my mind.  This is a prayer to the teachers of yoga, beginning with Patanjali, asking them to help us remember the objectives of yoga in our practice.  I always find it a good reminder and a nice way to express my gratitude to those who have helped me learn.

Certain semantic aspects of new approaches to yoga have taken me completely by surprise.  Recently a friend told me that in some Indian Universities, teaching of Surya Namaskar (the Sun Salutation) has been banned because of its religious connotation.  She attended a class where the instructor refused to teach this set of movements.  Surya Namaskar is the beginning (the warm up exercise) of yogasanas (yogic postures).  It is traditionally done facing the east.  In some schools of yoga, a prayer to the sun is chanted first.  We don't say any prayers because we follow a style where the movements are uninterrupted and repeated at least for five or ten rounds (about half an hour), leaving no extra breath for anything!  This is a particularly beautiful set of movements that warms each part of the body without causing any pulls or strains (by 'warm' I mean that in summer one is dripping with sweat at the end of this practice!) and expels mucous that may be blocking the nose or throat, clearing the respiratory passage.  These are a small subset of the regular yoga postures that have been linked together in a dynamic fashion.  Often when one has no time for a complete practice, one just does Surya Namaskar to get the circulation going.  To eliminate them without understanding anything about their purpose, just because they happen to be called Sun Salutations, seems to me a tremendous pity.

These, of course, are some of the stranger trends I have come across.  I'm sure there are successful schools which rise above populist sentiments and focus on the depth and vast range of possibilities that yoga offers.  But they are few and getting harder to find.

Yoga And Movement

Some weeks ago I read an article in a newspaper encouraging more people to do yoga.  It said that even sitting in your office, massaging your fingers was a very useful kind of yoga.  Undoubtedly the author had noble intentions but a loosely written article serves more to fuel misconceptions than to provide concrete help.

This brought to my mind many thoughts about yoga and it's connection with movement.  Yoga is believed to be derived from the Sanskrit word 'yuj' (to join).  It is the means by which the body, mind and soul can be united to form a whole individual and the individual can also unite with a greater cosmic spirit.  My yoga teacher sometimes questioned this definition.  What does it mean to be united and is this the true root of the word?  I think we will never know the answer to this and to many other aspects of yoga, which had not been written down but just passed on from teacher to student for generations.  This is one reason for the many interpretations of yoga and what it means.

My teacher proposed an alternate plausible root for the meaning of yoga - the word 'ga', which means movement.  He said, yoga is that which helps us move, in different ways, from one level to another.  When he said this, of course, he was not necessarily talking about movement in a physical sense.  However, in the minds of many people (especially as yoga continues to be marketed more aggressively both in the West and in India), yoga is equated with physical movement.  It is seen as a form of activity or exercise that increases flexibility, reduces stress and provides therapeutic benefits.

This is very far from the classical definition of yoga as found in Patanjali's yoga sutras (the earliest known treatise on yoga).   Patanjali, in fact, does not even consider the body while defining 'yoga'.  He describes yoga as "Yogah cittavrtti nirodhah" (sutra 1.2) .  Yoga is that which prevents movement in the consciousness (in practical terms, that which stops an individual's mental flow of thoughts and blocks tendencies driven by intellect and ego).  This can be achieved in a systematic manner, through an eight-fold path called 'Ashtanga yoga' (ashta - eight, anga - parts), of which only one part (asana) deals with physical movement.  The rest deal with other aspects that help one's practice - rules and norms of conduct, self discipline, physical fitness, mental steadiness and finally an attempt to move inwards and to know the truth (after mastering the mind, body and emotions).

Within the realm of physical movements in yoga, repetitive movements do have a role to play.  They are considered important when the person is weak or injured and does not have the energy or ability to adopt and hold specific postures.  But under normal circumstances, these kinds of movements or massages would not fall within the ambit of asanas (or postures).  Certainly I do not know of any classical asana which recommends that one massage one's fingers (or any other part).

Patanjali, in his yoga sutras, fleetingly refers to asanas as "Sthira sukham asanam" (sutra 2.46).  That which provides happiness and stability is an asana (or posture).  Happiness and stability for yogis implies achieving a level of equilibrium such that one is completely at ease and is unmoving in a particular position.  This requires a concerted act between the body, mind and breath.  When one is perfectly at ease in a posture one can relax, attempt to breathe slowly, deeply and uniformly, focus inward and allow the mind to passively observe oneself.  When I approach this state, I feel calm, still and alert - and it's extremely enjoyable holding oneself steady in an asana.

This feeling comes to many who practice yoga, at certain points or moments.  The hard part is to sustain these moments.  These moments of stability, stillness and peace are harder to come by in a led class, especially physically demanding classes.  People invariably tend to look outwards - at other students or at the teacher (or at the clock!).  Mastering physical movements brings an exhilaration of its own (because the mind is compelled to stop thinking and also because one achieves something concrete), but I would not always term this activity a practice of  'asana'.  There is a fine line.

Ultimately technical details are not the most important: what is important is whether the practice makes you feel healthier and more balanced.  However, when everything under the sun is labelled 'yoga' with no lucid explanations as to why it might work, my mind does object!

Do Yogis Dream Of Lycric Shorts?

This poem emerges after myriad experiences - reading the April 2012 issue of Vanity Fair (which describes new American yoga empires being set up in the name of famous Indian gurus), watching new yoga schools, styles and stores mushrooming in our neighbourhood and pondering over Patanjali's ancient Yoga Sutras.

This poem was written on the eve of the festival of lights and I wish all my blog readers a happy Deepavali (Diwali).  Interestingly, the word guru means 'one who leads you from darkness to light' (gu - darkness, ru - light).

The title of the poem is inspired by Philip K. Dick's novel "Do Androids Dream Of Electric Sheep?"

Do Yogis Dream Of Lycric Shorts?

I read a hand-me-down issue
Of Vanity Fair, two-oh-one-two
Of Yoga schools, apparel new
From Texas down to Timbuktoo
And in my mind arose these thoughts,
"Do Yogis dream of lycric shorts?"

The Brand Ambassadors look so strong
Well tanned, with their hair rather long
"Try our Yoga," they all proclaim,
"Be part of our new branded name."
As I read this, my mind retorts,
"Do Yogis dream of lycric shorts?"

Neon signboards that glow next door
Announce a brand-new Yoga store
Urge you to stop and give a thought
To Yogic gifts that must be bought.
(The things that Yogis really sought
Did they include new lycric shorts?)

I took a journey in my mind
To try and see what I might find,
Dredged up a Yogi I had met
Asked him if he would like to get
A brand new pair of lycric shorts
He smiled at me and said, "Why not?"

"Really," I asked, "What would you do?
If I got a pair for you?"
"I'd give them to a needy soul,
This world is hard and takes its toll.
Creates the haves and the have-nots
Invents Yogis and lycric shorts."

A twinkle in his eye appeared
He stroked a non-existent beard
Said, "Dreams in dreams - they matter not
We aren't Yogis - and these aren't shorts.
We can but try and still the mind
Not hurt others and just be kind.

In our dreams or our wakened state
Hope that our thoughts may soon abate.
Our actions, guided by our souls,
Do not conform to chosen roles.
And when the mind is free of thoughts
There is no I, there are no shorts."

New Yoga Class In Mysore

Masterji, as our yoga teacher, is generally called, has moved from Bangalore to Mysore and his new yoga school is up and running. Masterji (or M.S. Viswanath) comes from Mysore and studied with his uncle, the eminent yoga teacher, Sri Pattabhi Jois, for many years. He is one of the few teachers to have learnt aspects of Ashtanga yoga rigorously from Pattabhi Jois over a long period. He is quite involved in teaching students yoga for their personal practice and also to enable them to teach others.

We just returned from a short trip to Mysore, partly for work and partly to meet Masterji once more. Mysore is always a wonderful change from the raucous, rushed city that Bangalore has evolved into. Mysore has also grown and expanded, but its sleepy, friendly air still remains and R.K. Narayan's descriptions still flood my mind as I drive through market places, enter ancient streets with old family names etched on houses and eventually find my way to Lakshmipuram, where the yoga studio is located.

It's not as large as the Bangalore set up but there is an air of purpose and a nice energy that emanates from the class. For me, it's always a joy to meet the teacher who has taught me so much about the practice of yoga. The landlord, a pleasant, middle aged man, trundles up for his daily yoga class along with the other students.

The weather is warm but there's a refreshing breeze and one hears the rustle of coconut leaves and occasional strains of music or vendors' calls from the streets below. There is very little traffic in this area and it's easy to get around with a two wheeler or, of course, with the ubiquitous autos (autorickshaws). It's a nice little set up and Mysore will probably remain a gentle, unhurried town for another decade or two before it catches up with the madness of Bangalore.

The address of the class is 946/1A-CH16, 2nd Floor, Behind Lakshmipuram Post Office Road (on the bylane left to Homkara internet café, next to Sri Hebbar’s house), Lakshmipuram, Mysore. Details can be obtained from http://viswanath-masterji.blogspot.in/

The class is not easy to locate from the address alone. The simplest way is to go past the Lakshmipuram post office until one sees a sign on the right, (put up on the wall of a house) for Masterji's yoga class. This sign is placed just before Homkara café. Near the sign, to the right, there is a small lane which one has to walk down. The studio is located a few houses down the lane, on the left, at the top floor of a house and it has a sign for Masterji's class.

There are some options to rent rooms in the area. However, it is easy to move around in Mysore and one can look for accomodation in our neighbourhoods as well. The rooms don't often come with food or cooking options, one has to make independent arrangements. Good food and a comfortable room are important to sustain one's practice so it's well worth looking at the options carefully before deciding. There are also lovely weekend possibilities for overnight trips from Mysore - to forests or hills or to a Tibetan settlement, if one has the energy to travel after a week of intensive yoga!

Modern Mystics

Delhi is always full of unexpected events. Last weekend, there was a wonderful two-day celebration of the newly founded Sufi Qawwali society, by the founder-members (well known qawwal families of Delhi). They had decided it was time to come together as a group and had organized a concert to mark the beginning of this endeavour. We managed to sneak in without invitation passes and found ourselves in an auditorium filled with qawwals, diplomatic hoi polloi, expats and some regular people like us. The singers poured their hearts and souls out through their music. The final performance was by one my favourite qawwals from Hyderabad - the Warsi brothers, who are very classical in style and sing some wonderful old mystic verses.

After being saturated with Sufi songs, today I attended a film screening by the Dalai Lama Foundation, which periodically shows spiritual and other related films from different regions. Today's film was on the modern mystic, Mumtaz Ali or M (as he is called). It was an intriguing film that barely skimmed the surface of the life and experiences of Sri M. It left one with some answers and many questions. I felt that the nicest part of the experience was knowing that the film was not about someone ancient, mythical or long gone from this world. Sri M is still alive and seems to be leading a fairly full life in a small town in Andhra Pradesh.

Sri M was born into a well to do Muslim family in Kerala. He briefly met his spiritual teacher at the age of nine under a jackfruit tree in his back garden and then again, ten years later, when he left home and travelled to the Himalayas (he eventually walked from the foothills up to Badrinath, coolly contemplating suicide if he didn't find what he was searching for). He was initiated into a certain kind of spiritualism (Natha yoga and Kriya yoga) that was suitable for him. His teacher then instructed him to go back and lead a "normal" life so he could relate to and help people around him who had ordinary, everyday problems. He reluctantly obeyed.

He has a charming wife, two children and spends his time running two schools, writing, travelling and lecturing- though on occasion he "runs off" to take a short break from normal life!

The film, 'The Modern Mystic - Sri M of Madanapalle', by Raja Choudhury, was sensitively made. Sri M speaks clearly and easily on diverse subjects - Vedic scriptures, the Upanishads, Richard Dawkins, early Indian philosophy and more. The film has certainly made me curious enough to try and read his autobiography, titled 'Apprenticed To A Himalayan Master - A Yogi's Autobiography'.

The trailer to the film can be viewed on youtube at:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vbQcnryi3yc&feature=related

Last Few Days Of The Yoga Class

Our Yoga class is slowly winding down, the teacher is moving to Mysore where a fresh batch of students await him. After studying with him for almost ten years (the first six involving three hour classes from Monday to Saturday, beginning at 6 a.m. sharp) there is a little tug of separation. Try as we might to emulate paths laid down by the yogis, feelings intervene at times.

The class is almost empty now, just my husband and I and the teacher. We spend the last few days asking questions of all kinds, moving as always, towards understanding the asanas (postures) and pranayama (breath control) within our limitations. It is a time of change.

The yoga teacher discusses teaching styles and ways to correct students. Having gone down this path for so long, we have decided to finally teach, but the details are still unclear.

We stretch, lift, inhale, relax - and occasionally collapse - some things don't seem to change! The yoga teacher is trying to convey the very essence of the practice to each of us, it seems to me. My husband is shown ways to correct difficult movements and I am reminded of the key components of the practice - focussing on the joints, breath and mind.

The joints of the limbs (shoulder, elbow, wrist, hip, knee, ankle) are all to be relaxed in each posture. A Herculean task! Along with this, the breath must flow smoothly and uniformly. It doesn't - and the body feels heavy, stiff. I try and see whether the stiffness precedes the block in breathing or whether lack of proper breathing makes me feel heavy. Much of the time it is the latter. The breath seems much more sensitive to little bumps and knots inside and it seems to stop at times when we cannot perceive any block. Then, after a moment we feel the stiffening of the knee perhaps or a shift of weight in the hip joint and know that we are stuck and to unstick ourselves we need to resume breathing.

The mind is the hardest to deal with. To disregard its tendencies to flit about and to remain focussed on the breathing and movements is a big challenge for me. To be able to do this on my own each day - the thought is daunting but exciting as well. For this is the only way to go deeper into the practice.

But no matter what we do (or don't do), some essence of the practice always remains within us, ready to express itself at any moment we choose.

Balance and Back Bends in Yoga

Today, after more than a year, I resumed my back bends in Yoga. The spine protested silently and strongly! I felt mildly dizzy and clutched on to my teacher for a few moments, to recover my balance. Immediately afterwards though, there was a feeling of tremendous satisfaction. Back bends are intrinsically invigorating - perhaps it is the nature of the movement, perhaps it is because the mind is compelled to be still while directing such an unusual posture. Back bends also take up a lot of energy, hence they are usually done after the body is thoroughly warmed up and just before winding down the practice.

At this time, I think of the yoga teacher Shri B.K.S. Iyengar, who possesses an amazing level of control and balance and a very supple spine. There is an old 1938 video recording of his, which has now been uploaded on youtube (showing the style that he learnt from his teacher Shri Krishnamachary. Later Iyengar modified this style and formed his own school of 'Iyengar yoga').

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=98__jwnHp9Q&feature=related

This is an interesting film snippet as it shows the vast range of movements that can be done through back bends. It also depicts the lightness and balance that comes only to some, after long hours of practice. The role of physical strength is often overestimated in these postures. Knowing how to breathe, apply internal muscular locks (bandhas) and distribute one's weight at each step is what contributes to the equilibrium attained; this is the ultimate aim of yogasanas (yogic postures). To do this almost effortlessly, as Iyengar appears to, is rare and wonderful to watch.

Yogasanas : An Inward Transition

Moving inwards is the ultimate aim of a yoga student and, initially, many decide they are not quite ready for this : they need to wait until they are more qualified or more relaxed or ready to begin the pranayama (breathing techniques) or meditation before they move inwards. The beginning stages of the practice, especially the asanas (postures), seem so outwardly oriented, apparently focussing on the body, that many people dismiss them or overdo them for this reason.

There is an essential need to strengthen and tone the body even for those interested only in the mind. Meditation requires a stillness that cannot be achieved until the body can be quietened - those muscular spasms, nervous jerks and the drooping of the spine will hinder a long, uninterrupted session of meditation. On the other hand, those interested in relaxing the body first may spend long hours lying down in a particular position, trying to accomplish this, while their minds are churning away, wasting large amounts of energy. Asanas are an unusual technique, dynamic by nature, but providing tremendous opportunity to work internally at subtle levels.

Initially, of course, one struggles just to attain a particular posture and be comfortable in it. One should keep in mind that one is only attempting the asana at this stage (footnote 1). Mastering an asana takes time and works at different levels - the joints, nerves and muscles (which make themselves painfully felt!), the breathing, the mind, the energy flow and eventually the spirit (these also make themselves felt but in a different way) (footnote 2). The transition from an outer movement to an inner one comes when one begins to focus on inner aspects - initially the bandhas (internal muscular locks), the breath which changes as different parts are extended or squeezed and finally the mind, which must be completely free of thoughts. This is attempted by closing the eyes after attaining stability in each pose and looking not on the specific point that each pose demands, but within, to the heart instead. There is an immediate withdrawal of energy from the mind and external senses and an inward channelizing which brings a deeper level of relaxation than the physical movements themselves. You feel a sense of calm and well-being and begin to focus on messages from the heart and the breath; stray and unwanted thoughts are easily dispelled, rigid mental patterns broken (footnote 3).

This paves the way for breathing and meditation techniques which require one to focus on internal aspects while the body is kept still. Each method brings its own satisfaction but the exhilaration of gradually allowing the body to realize its potential, while remaining oblivious to the outer world (as much as possible!) is unique.

Footnotes from the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali:
1) "Sthirasukhamasanam" (Yoga sutra 2.46) - Asana is stability of the body, steadiness of the mind and a state of ease of the spirit.

2) "Prayatna saithilya ananta samapattibhyam" (Yoga sutra 2.47) - Perfection in an asana is attained when the effort to perform it becomes effortless and the infinite being within is reached.

3) "Tatah dvandvah anabhighatah" (Yoga sutra 2.48) - From then on, the practitioner is untroubled by dualities (external influences).

Yoga and the Mind

Yoga is inextricably linked to the mind - this is not a surprise; in fact Patanjali's Yoga Sutra (the earliest known treatise on Yoga) begins with this aspect. "Yogah chittavrtti nirodhah" or "Yoga is that which restrains the operation or conduct of the chitta" (chitta encompasses the mind, intellect and conscious sense of self that seems to drive us each moment). Why is it then that we are so surprised when we see this in action, especially while doing the asanas (postures)?

Perhaps it is because when one begins to learn Yoga, it is steeped in movement, and often, in discomfort and pain. One forgets about the mind though at the end of the practice, you feel better and more at ease in a general sort of way. Once the movements become easier, it is possible to dissect out the effect of various parts of the Yoga practice on one's mind and feelings. This has been my experience, as I try and focus more on my internal state while doing each movement.

I find I am affected in different but specific ways while practicing the asanas (postures) and the pranayama (breathing techniques). This sounds horribly complicated already! I will just focus on my experiences with the asanas in this article.

In the asanas, my feelings and thoughts change over time; there are two stages - when I am involved in attaining the final position and after I release the final position.

In the forward bends, I find my mind calms down a great deal while moving into the posture and as I remain in the asana, I am often aware of things stirring below the surface - feelings and emotions that I was not aware I had sometimes slowly rise to the conscious mind. I often emerge with new thoughts and ideas (though I am trying not to think too much at this time!)

While doing the back bends, all thoughts are removed from the mind because it takes so much energy just to get those movements done! But once I finish, I feel a kind of exhilaration, a wonderful sense of satisfaction.

The inverted poses just make me feel good; while doing them, I am looking at the world from a different angle and once I have finished, I feel relaxed and recharged - ready for the world!

After all this, I end with padmasana - the lotus pose, a very good posture for beginning pranayama or meditation or just for keeping the spine straight and relaxing completely. And life feels good...

Yoga After A Break

A few months away from Yoga and my body (and mind) feel rusty and slightly out of gear. Trying to return to the practice is always hard, especially after an illness or loss of internal balance. Our normal routines often make us forgetful of how stiff and rigid we keep ourselves (especially the major joints - the hips, knees, shoulders) and how irregular our breathing is.

While trying to return to asana practice, one tends too think too much. Will I be able to do this so soon? Shall I attempt this - or wait? What is that twinge I am feeling? Will I get injured? These are natural reactions and it is always better to be cautious and go slow rather than try and push the body too hard, too soon.

I find that much of the time, it is simpler not to attempt to answer these questions with the rational, thinking mind. It is not too difficult to get an idea of one's internal energy levels - if you wake up refreshed (or feeling comfortable) in the morning and feel like stretching and moving, it is time to get back to the asana practice. One has to push through the stiffness and doing unfamiliar movements is tiring, but on the whole, one should feel relaxed and well stretched, not completely drained out at the end of the practice. Focussing mentally on parts that are stiff or weak initially is helpful to loosen them, but this results in a neglect of other parts or aspects of the posture. I find it best to keep my mind blank (as much as possible) and focus on feeling the asana as a whole, the intention being to relax, breathe deeply, remove areas of tension and keep the body properly weighted, balanced and stretched. At these times, the mind and feelings work together over different parts of the body and one can loosen and relax as a whole. The other advantage of not thinking is that one does not create mental barriers due to fear of injury - the movements then are not jerky and limited but smooth and free flowing. The stiffness or weakness in the body is often less than one imagines or fears - and an uncluttered mind results in less resistance and pain. And if something is not to be done, your body will unhesitatingly tell you so - not in the form of twinges that vanish once the posture is released or the quivering of weakened muscles, but as an intense pain or feeling of extreme discomfort.

Looking Beyond The Physical

Yesterday I picked up again a few spiritual texts and thumbed through them.  Why, I really don't know.  It was probably partly because I was trying to find a way out of dealing with a visit to a dentist (!), partly as it was Good Friday and I always ponder over the message of crucifixion. As I read and thought over the core of these texts, it seemed to me that they all dealt with looking beyond the physical- something many of us are unfamiliar with or reluctant to explore.  My thoughts continued through the evening as I attended an Odissi dance performance by Ileana Citaristi (a gifted Italian dancer who has been learning and practicing dance in India since 1979) and her group.  The first piece was a very powerful depiction of Krishna's sermon to Arjuna on the eve of the great battle as described in the Bhagavad Gita.  Krishna shows Arjuna the nature of reality and urges him to fight in a battle that involves killing most of his relatives and friends.

Though seemingly unrelated, the message from all these spiritual tales seems, to me, one that urges people to question the reality of a world that is so shifting, vulnerable and full of potential threats and sorrow.  What is the alternative and can one really accept the existence of subtle elements that one cannot describe in a physical way?  This is a difficult and highly subjective issue and I attempt merely to put down a few thoughts that arose when I tried to understand some of the words that I read.

One spiritual view is that the physical world that we experience and that drives us is just an effect of a deeper cause and the cause is really our self (the soul, the unmanifested spirit or our intrinsic nature).  This does not follow physical principles and is not bound by them.  The outer manifestation is, in essence, a kind of dream made by us and we become part of other bodies' dreams in a complex web that we see as our world (this was very cleverly depicted in the film 'Inception' that was a recent hit).  But actually, we are not the dream (or the body or physical manifestations that we see), we are the dreamer.  And so our dreams can be altered (this is the basis of healing, of miracles or events that seem to transcend or shift the physical), if we begin to align ourselves with our true nature.  Obviously, as we have no idea of our true nature, this is easier said than done.  But one way to proceed is not to put energy into changing the dream (i.e. not to focus on the physical, changing aspects of our lives - or as Krishna says to Arjuna- focus only on doing the work and not on its outcome) but into understanding the driving force behind our experiences.  In other words, to dissociate the doer from the deeds and to put more effort into understanding the former rather than judging and being driven by the latter.  And when I attempt to do this, I find I am functioning in a different way - I am less torn by events and people around, I am more relaxed and am not driven by fear of the future or anger in the present.  Of course, I have not tried this for very long, but it does add an element of calm and positivity to my mind.

I wonder if I have been able to put my thoughts down as lucidly as they appear to me, but anyway, this is the message that Easter week brings for me this year!

Mahashivaratri

Today is Mahashivaratri, a celebration of the union of consciousness and creative energy as symbolized by Shiva and Shakti.  There are various rituals associated with this festival, a celebration of austerity and purity but for many yogis, it is a night of uninterrupted meditation.  The fourteenth night of the waning moon of this month is dedicated to the Adi Yogi or Prime Yogi, Shiva.  It is believed that the mind slips easily into a conducive meditative state on this day and thus everyone can attempt to overcome negative mental patterns and blocks if they choose to, on this night.

Of all the gods, I find Shiva the most elusive and fascinating - living the life of an ascetic atop Mount Kailash.  He of the matted locks adorned by a crescent moon, who holds a trident in one hand and a drum (he is also the Lord of Dance) in the other.  He rides the mythological bull Nandi and has a fiery temper.  His temples are present at the peak of every mountain especially in the north. 

Although this is how he is often worshipped (symbolized by a linga in temples), I prefer to think of him as an embodiment of all the wisdom of yoga and knowledge contained within the soul.

Two Experiments In Movement

Fools rush in where angels fear to tread.  And a little bit of knowledge is...  Be that as it may, I shall plunge headlong into aspects of movement that fill my head from time to time, drawing upon my little knowledge of Yoga (obtained while attending classes these past few years) and even more meagre knowledge of T'ai Chi (based on the books I have read and my observation of my husband's practice).

The deeper I move into understanding asanas (postures) and movement in Ashtanga Yoga, the more I am reminded of the principles I read about in T'ai Chi Ch'uan- the traditional Chinese form of exercise and martial art.  The stress on relaxation, mental focus, steadiness of breath, movement of weight and tapping into the internal energy, though described differently, are emphasized in both forms (and I'm sure they would be in other movement-related schools also).  A more compact form of practice designed a few decades ago, both for Ashtanga Yoga and T'ai Chi Ch'uan, led to their tremendous acceptance and popularity in the West.  Shri Pattabhi Jois selected and linked together sets of asanas, resulting in the primary, intermediate and advanced series that most Ashtanga aschools adhere to even today; Professor Cheng Man Ch'ing developed a shortened version of the T'ai Chi form that made it easier to incorporate it into one's daily routine.

But through all the threads of similarity that I noted regarding principles of movement, until recently I was puzzled by the apparent lack of conformity on how one feels as one's practice gets "deeper".  Teachers of Yoga say that the body feels lighter, movements are easier.  T'ai Chi texts emphasize the increase in heaviness and rootedness.  But I feel now that these are different aspects and different qualities being discussed, hence a simple comparison is not possible.  The lightness seen in Yoga is quite apparent in the movements that lift the body, making it almost hover in the air or remain balanced with very little weight on the ground.  The heaviness is never more apparent than in shavasana (corpse pose), a little understood pose, where one is almost sucked into the ground.  Similarly, the slowness of the T'ai Chi form is deceptive to a novice as anyone who has seen T'ai Chi masters dealing with opponents will confirm.  At times, the eye cannot even see the movement, just the outcome, and the T'ai Chi master is long gone from the spot when the opponent tumbles.

There are two simple experiments I tried today, in my attempt to understand some of these principles.  You could try them too (if you are so inclined), they are interesting and simple.

The first was a classic Yoga upward stretch - you stand with your feet together and stretch your arms up towards the sky, forearms close to the ears.  Most likely while doing this, you feel the stretch in your arms and shoulders.  Books say that if you are more flexible, you feel the stretch emerging from your lower back.  But now if you alter the movement a little - relax your ankles and if possible, make sure that all the parts of the foot that are in touch with the ground have a uniform distribution of weight (your arches will of course be off the ground).  Stretch your hips up and then stretch the arms towards the sky.  Do you feel a different stretch?  Somehow it seems to begin right from your feet and continue all the way up.  It probably is always like that, it's just that we aren't focussing on the complete movement in a relaxed manner much of the time.

Another nice movement from T'ai Chi is to stand straight and slowly lift your arms till they are stretched out at shoulder level, parallel to the ground and away from you.  This is a lift, not a stretch.  Not difficult is it?  But now, if you put your hands back by your sides, focus on releasing all the tension from your arms (your wrists will go limp, your arms just drop by your sides) and repeat the movement, lifting your arms as slowly as possible, feeling the air as a medium through which you are moving, you will see just how difficult it can be, just how heavy your arms can feel.

The conclusion?  There isn't any one conclusion- this is just something meant to initiate thought about how your body moves under different conditions and how your perceptions can change with varying circumstances.

Sound and Force or Silence and Stillness?

These days I am coming across several people who mention that they have got small setbacks after attending a yoga class.  This is generally because they have been pushed too hard and some muscle or nerve has given way.  This is often temporary, lasting a few days to a few weeks, but the feeling is uncomfortable especially as the students have been attending short courses.

Ashtanga yoga (modified now into Power yoga) lends itself easily to such forceful adjustments as it is a deceptively vigorous form of yoga.  The original style, as taught by Shri Krishnamacharya  (subsequently popularized and transformed by some of his students including Shri Pattabhi Jois and Shri B.K.S. Iyengar) was a dynamic and fluid one, but dynamism should not be equated to sheer muscular strength or 'adrenalin pumping'.  Like all classical yoga, the method is steeped in silence, the ultimate goal stillness.  The process requires very fine physical control and the use of precise muscular locks and breathing patterns.  This involves a lot of time, practice and understanding of one's body (and mind).

Classes which try and popularize these styles by pushing people to the edge of their physical limits (creating a temporary high) or by drawing attention away from the churning of the mind by constant conversation, yelling (yes! it is not uncommon) or music create only a temporary 'feel good' situation, if at all.  Sometimes, instructors are driven by the simple desire to achieve a certain outcome - at times to prove themselves, sometimes just driven by excessive enthusiasm to help their students learn or do something new.  In these cases, sometimes things click and sometimes they just snap.

Having learnt and practiced the same movements in the same class for years on end (yes! people find it hard to believe that I have not 'moved on'), I feel that it takes time for the student and teacher to understand and be comfortable with each other.  Repeating old movements is not a sign of stagnation and getting small injuries while exploring new movements is not a disaster.  But the process must be approached with caution and with enough time at hand.  In my experience, being pushed into postures rarely helps except when one needs to understand the origin and direction of the movement.  One must be ready for the movement, both physically and mentally, and then it comes of its own and in its own way.  It is often not a question of brute strength at all.  Similarly, the way to silence the mind is not through more noise, but through focusing inward, on the breath and internal energy, and enjoying those short moments of stillness when they come.

The inception of Inception?

The film 'Inception' has been a box office hit, straddling the worlds of science fiction, psychology and slick Hollywood production rather successfully. New York Times dismissed it as being overly simplistic, but it proved entertaining and intriguing to a large number of viewers. The film dwelt on the power, complexity and creative potential of the mind as also on its possible weaknesses - addiction, vulnerability and the negative or dark turns that it can take.

The idea behind the film is rather simple and is one that we actually come across in many spiritual texts - identify with an idea or image and it becomes real for you. Many of the images we identify with are just a result of the play of the mind and emotions, and are illusory - termed the ego in some texts, maya in others - the unreal which gets in the way of our seeing the real, the non self which prevents us from clearly understanding the self. The way to get round this is also suggested - no totem or individualized measure of reality as in the film, but a non-identification with all images that the mind dredges up.

The true essence of things cannot be described or imagined - it must be known, say the texts. This core of truth is something that cannot be threatened or altered, does not vary with our variable worlds. Furthermore, our inner core has a close connection to the true essence of things around us. Perhaps this is why different people can access it in different ways - through creative endeavour, nature or just stillness - when the mind is alert, receptive (and often creative) but not churning out constant thoughts or circling round images that have been drawn from our emotions and experiences.

And to step out of the dream, one need not be destroyed or shocked (Hollywood style!) but merely recognize and disregard the false and thus gradually align oneself with the real - of course easier said than done!

For Those Who Have Nothing

Last week, in one of our class discussions, we wondered about the reams of writings on yoga - What is necessary? What is useful? What is desirable?- according to various accomplished yogis. This is a confusing area, strewn with subjectivity, many times topics are described in the absence of context or level of difficulty.

Finally, our yoga teacher gave his own views, repeating several times that yoga is for those who have nothing. Nothing? Not exactly - but what he meant was that people who have already attained control over their minds, their physical selves don't really need most of these practices. But for the average person, physical health is necessary to carry out most of what one wants to achieve, and along with this a certain peace of mind and sense of satisfaction are desirable. For this person (which includes most of us), yoga is a simple step towards staying healthy and peaceful. There are many different approaches to yoga based on our specific temperaments and affinities.

In a more physical sense too, all one really needs to practice yoga, is a bit of land or a part of a room, where one might be undisturbed. In addition, having a yoga mat is perhaps not asking for too much! And of course, a bit of time. But that is all it takes to begin.

Somehow, the phrase 'for those who have nothing' stayed in my mind and I began thinking of the verses composed by Adi Shankaracharya (an eighth century spiritual preceptor) in his Atma Shatakam (the song of the self). According to the story about him, when he was eight years old, he was walking through the Himalayas in search of a guru. He met a sage (the teacher he was searching for)who asked him who he was. The young boy replied with this Sanskrit poem, of which I quote a few lines:

Mano Buddhi Ahankara Chitta Ninaham
Nacha Shrotra Jihve Na Cha Ghrana Netre
Nacha Vyoma Bhoomir Na Tejo Na Vayu
Chidananda Rupa Shivoham Shivoham

I am not mind, nor intellect, nor ego,
nor the reflections of the inner self
I am not the five senses.
I am beyond that.
I am not the ether, nor the earth,
nor the fire, nor the wind (etc. - the five elements).
I am indeed,
That eternal knowing and bliss,
I am Shiva, I am Shiva.

Na Punyam Na Papam Na Saukhyam Na Dukham
Na Mantro Na Teertham Na Vedo Na Yajnaha
Aham Bhojanam Naiva Bhojyam Na Bhokta
Chidananda Rupa Shivoham Shivoham

I have neither merit,
nor demerit.
I do not commit sins or good deeds,
nor have happiness or sorrow,
pain or pleasure.
I do not need mantras, holy places,
scriptures, rituals or sacrifices.
I am none of the triad of
the observer or one who experiences,
the process of observing or experiencing,
or any object being observed or experienced.
I am indeed,
That eternal knowing and bliss,
I am Shiva, I am Shiva.