~ Translation by Manorama
 

By chanting Om namo bhagavate vāsudevāya, we use the vibrational energy to bow to the divine within, not necessarily to a particular form of God, but to a higher Self. Vāsudeva is a symbol for the indwelling consciousness present in every form of life. It suggests that the divine is not outside of us, but always present in everyone and everything. Vāsudeva is another name for Kṛṣṇa, represented as the Supreme Being, as God. In the scriptures, Kṛṣṇa is often described as saccidānanda: truth (sat), consciousness (cit), bliss (ānanda). Consciousness or knowledge here means remembering who we really are at the core of our being, understanding that we are part of a shared cosmic mind, not separate from the Other. As Sharon Gannon writes: “The purpose of our lives is to remember who we really are – to remember our eternal connection to the supreme source – to God. This remembrance is called Self-realization, awakening, enlightenment, or Yoga.” (Essay: “The meaning of Life” in Eternity is Happening now Volume 1, p.14).

Very often, the search for a purpose in our lives comes in a moment when something happens to us, when our lives are shaken and we want to understand why we are suffering or why things happen to us. Ultimately, this is the content of all the yogic scriptures. The Bhagavad Gita, for example, starts with an epic scene where Arjuna (the lower Self) is in despair, we could also say in a mental crisis, and asks Kṛṣṇa (the Higher Self ) for guidance. This inner dialogue about who we are, what we should do, and why we are here, constantly runs through us. It is often the fear of losing that causes us suffering. The answers ultimately come when we remember that there is something unchanging in us, something beyond our body and mind, something described as unconditional love – love that is purified from all egoic needs and from the need to be needed. It is the central radiance of our being, what shines through from our core, our ātman (the eternal Self within). The benefit, or consequence, of bringing unconditional love fully to the surface is that compassion becomes our natural state, and harming anyone or anything becomes impossible. We would be able to see ourselves in all beings, and the illusion of separateness would dissolve. We would be able to cultivate śraddhā, a deep faith in life, a trust in the process of life.

How can we move closer to that state, and how can we embody and cultivate it in our everyday lives?

The Bhagavad Gita suggests that we practice on mainly three different levels: purifying our actions through Karma Yoga, purifying our intellect through Jñāna Yoga and purifying our emotions through Bhakti Yoga.

One practice of Karma Yoga that Kṛṣṇa suggests to Arjuna is offering every action as a service to the divine: “Remember Me in everything you do. Call My name. Before you eat or drink anything, offer it to Me first. Make every action an offering to Me, then I will be present in your life.” (BG 9.27 – commentary Sharon Gannon) When we dedicate every action to a higher consciousness, the seemingly mundane acts of daily life, cooking, eating, walking, are transformed into an opportunity to transform our mind.

Through Jñāna Yoga (the Yoga of knowledge) we have the ability to find our own personal path, aligned with our innate nature, talents and station in life, our svadharma. The continuous practice of Self inquiry brings us closer to an understanding of our place in the cosmos, an understanding that Gregor Maehle describes as follows in his book about Bhakti: The Yoga of Love: “all of us are permutations of the one Divine, through which it embodies Its unlimited creativity.” (p. 6) It means that on one hand God is the creator of everything and on the other it needs the living beings to express itself in some ways through them. One task in our life, then, is to discover how the divine might express itself through us. This not only through our svadharma, but through our attitude behind every action we take.

One big part of Bhakti Yoga is Nāda, sound, vibration. Japa mantra (mantra repetition) is one direct way of practicing this: repeating divine names in moments of distraction, anger or sadness, gently turning them toward love. This vibrational energy can lead to transformation and healing. A few years ago, Alexandra and I went on a pilgrimage to Vrindavan, the sacred birthplace of Kṛṣṇa, with our dear friends Petros Haffenrichter and Visvambhar Sheth. We were completely immersed in the vibrational energy by chanting mantras every day, whilst visiting the holy temples and sacred places. When we returned to Luxembourg, friends and family asked if we had been on a wellness retreat, based on how we looked. We had simply been chanting, the vibrational energy flowing through us. The transformation was visible, a radiance or deep nourishment from the inside that is difficult to describe, yet somehow entirely visible from the outside.

We can search for many definitions of the divine, but we always encounter the same challenge: it cannot be fully grasped by the mind as it is difficult to imagine a formless, all-pervading consciousness. That’s why Patañjali advises in sutra 1.23. Īśvara-praṇidhānād vā (ईश्वरप्रणिधानाद्वा – By giving your life and identity to God you attain the identity of God) that we chose our own form of the divine, one we can speak with, surrender to, walk beside. In that way, the divine is not seen as a distant perfection to be reached, but as a companion walking with us through our limitations and joys alike. As Sharon Gannon reminds us: We have two jobs in life – to remember God and to be kind to others – and they go hand in hand.

I would like to conclude with a beautiful saying: the bird sitting on the branch is never afraid of it breaking, its trust is not in the branch, but in its own wings. This is the heart of Bhakti: not blind belief, but a living faith in one’s own deepest nature. It is exactly what the mantra Oṁ namo bhagavate vāsudevāya expresses. Vāsudeva, the divine who removes suffering and delights all, does not do so by making life easier or safer. He does it by reminding us what we are made of. The suffering is released not when the danger disappears, but when we remember the divine within ourselves. To chant this mantra is to practice that remembrance: to bow, again and again, to the wings we already have.

TEACHING TIPS

Karma Yoga:

• Discuss the benefits of cultivating an attitude of giving rather than one of receiving, even though an outcome orientated mindset is often regarded as a sign of strength in our society. How can we transform every action we take into an expression of selfless service?
• Reflect with the students on how we can respond to challenges not with anger or frustration, but with the intention of transforming negative thoughts into compassion and love. How can we become, as Gregor Maehle says, “agents of change, not from a position of frustration, anger and fear at the fact that things are the way they are, but from a position of love.” (Bhakti The Yoga of Love, p. 14)
• Encourage the students to internalise the chant: “Make me an instrument for Thy will; not mine but Thine be done; free me from anger, jealousy and fear; fill my heart with joy and compassion; Śāntiḥ, śāntiḥ, śāntiḥ” (Sharon Gannon), allowing it to guide every action they do.

Jnana Yoga:

• tat tvam asi: You are that (Chandogya Upanishad), you are one with all that is. Remember this great saying (mahāvākya) from the Vedas, as a sum up of the entire philosophical teachings of Vedanta.
• Chant so ham: I am That (That which is immortal and everlasting), identifying the individual self with the universal consciousness.
• A technique to reframe thoughts and consciously change a habit pattern of the mind: PYS 2.33 vitarka-bādhane pratipakṣa-bhāvanam (वितर्कबाधने प्रतिपक्षभावनम्): When the mind is disturbed, contemplate on the opposite.

Bhakti Yoga:

• Play mantras during class integrating depth and moments of silence to help guide the transformation from the mundane into the sacred.
• Describe āsana practice as an expression of Bhakti Yoga: by dedicating your breath, movement, and the benefits of your practice to a Higher Self, you cultivate humility and reduce ego-driven patterns that may arise.
• Meditate on a divine image: choose a deity that resonates most with you and place an image before you as a visual aid, helping you to open yourself to that deity’s qualities during meditation.
• Organise Kirtans: “Through repetition of God’s name, gradually but inevitably what is within will be uncovered and revealed to us directly and personally” (Krishna Das)– chanting divine names is not only a practice to invoke the presence of the divine but has a healing effect not only on the one who is chanting but also on the energy created around.

Āsana practice:

• Teach balancing compass as a symbol of finding our inner direction, our purpose. A compass is a device used to determine geographic direction and the word compass is similar to the word compassion. To encompass means to surround or encircle. When we remember our inner direction, our inner purpose rooted in compassion and unconditional love, we can embody that purpose and radiate it outward in all directions.

Magali Lehners

The post WALKING WITH THE DIVINE appeared first on Jivamukti Yoga Lisbon.

~ Translation by Sharon Gannon

Being born and raised in a country where Catholicism is the main religion, it is no surprise that that was the environment in which I grew in. It was by attending the traditional Sunday ceremony with my family that a sense of “faith” was cultivated within, as well as a connection to some source of divinity. However, at some moment in my adult life, questions and doubts led me to step aside from its own rituals and traditions. Curiously, over the past months, my 3,5yo child has been fiercely asking me to take her to church. Despite not knowing the root cause of her willingness, as a mother I could not ignore her call, so I committed to finding the most suitable ceremony for families and kids and attending it by myself first — to decide whether it would be appropriate for my child.

There I was taking an opened bittersweet seat, balancing between discomfort and a sense of familiarity. The spiritual scripture presented, though, conveyed a very well-known valuable teaching. It described a moment when Jesus and some of his apostles climb up a high mountain. Reaching up to its peak, they experience feelings of true happiness, unconditional love and joy. To soak into that blissful state of being, naturally they do want to remain there, at the mountain pinnacle, but to their disappointment Jesus requests something different. He is clear about what to do next: without loosing touch of that happiness, love and joy, they would have to climb down the mountain, taking all that goodness to others. Moreover, to remember that innate beauty within the ordinary of daily life and in moments of hardship.

Astonishingly, this was the exact same metaphor I had recently read in one of Pema Chödrön’s books in which she reflects upon the meaning of true spirituality and its potential misconception. The Tibetan Buddhist challenges the spiritual practitioner (sādhaka) on his perception about the journey towards enlightenment. One may be fully committed in his own spiritual practice – spending daily hours on it and even experiencing higher states of being -, but if that translates into being secluded and withdrawn from the world, no amount of effort matters. The effectiveness of our practice is measured by as many hands as we can hold onto, as we take that courageous journey of climbing down the mountain. This is the meaning of being truly spiritual.

There are many ways to talk about the problems of our world, but one way or another, all of them have to do with polarization. We have a tendency to create narratives that divide, carrying within concepts of “us” and “them”; “good” and bad”; “right” and “wrong”; “worthy” and unworthy”. And within this set up there is not much space for tolerance, inclusion, for “holding hands”. Some of these narratives are hugely magnified into collective ones against nations and/or certain political, racial, religious, ethnic groups all having the same ending: violence (hiṃsā). The teachings of Yoga assure us on the following matter: wether individually or collectively, dividedness with others can only exist if we are divided from our own being. Only when there is a sense of disconnection from our own wholeness, there is separateness. Remember we are given the definition of Yoga in chapter one of the Yoga Sutras of Patañjali (Samādhi-pāda): “yogaś citta-vṛtti- nirodhaḥ”, PYS I:2 / “When you stop identifying with your thoughts, fluctuations of the mind, then there is Yoga, identity with Self, which is Samadhi, happiness, bliss, and ecstasy (commentary by Sharon Gannon).

How can we heal the division in our world without working on the inherent division we are cultivating in our lives? how to address and heal this inner separateness? Sri Nisargadatta Maharaj has put it in a beautiful way: “The mind creates the abyss, the heart crosses it”. One must move from thoughts to feelings, from the mind to the heart, creating a larger internal space for loving, caring and connection.

Gopala, is the child form of Krishna – “go” means “cow” and “pala” means “protector”. He is the son of Devaki, friend of the cows. Krishna means the all attractive one, he is unconditional love and in the words of Sharon Gannon, “when we recite or sing the name of God as Gopal, our hearts open and we are led by a charming young boy into the realms of heavenly delight.”. The children of this world may effectively inspire us on reconnecting to our own wise hearts, as well as our spiritual practice.
Our world is asking us to wake up to collective belonging and luckily Yoga is a pathway that can help us transforming suffering, surpassing differences and crossing the abyss.

TEACHING TIPS

Dharma and beyond:

• Chant mantras where the name of God appears as Gopala
• Chant PYS I.2 and explore the meaning of each Sanskrit word
• Explore the Buddhist teachings, particularly the ones conveyed by Pema Chödrön, as well as the ones by Sri Nisargadatta Maharaj on non-dualism. Challenge yourself by identifying similar teachings within different spiritual contexts and present them in class
• Offer your loving peaceful presence to the communities you integrate, starting with your own family

Asana practice:

• Emphasize sequences targeting Anāhata Chakra (heart chakra), as it karmically addresses and has a power healing effect on the following relationship: the ones who have hurt us
• Try not to change dramatically the sequence throughout the month, prioritizing a sense of repetition
• Music that instigates both depth and silence, where breath is the primordial sound uplifting the
• movement. E.g. drums, piano, etc.

Meditation and pranayama:

• Save more time for meditation practice, slowly increasing its time throughout the month
• Practice a simple breathing exercise named “Anchor” to promote a sense of safety within one’s being. Seating in an upright position, hug yourself (right hand above left elbow and left arms crosses over with left hand resting above right elbow). Working with 4:7:8 ratio. Practice consists of inhaling through the nose at a count of 4, holding the breath in at a count of 7, followed by exhaling slowly through the mouth at a count of 8. Whilst breathing, say silently to yourself “I am safe”.
• Teach Nadi Shodhana Pranayama (Alternate Nostril Breathing), as a means to balance both hemispheres of the brain (cognition and creativity/presence)

Maria Sousa Macedo

The post CROSSING THE ABYSS appeared first on Jivamukti Yoga Lisbon.

~ Translation by Sharon Gannon

This mantra does not ask Tara to remove our suffering. Rather, it asks her to teach us how to release what binds us. That distinction makes all the difference.

In the Tibetan Buddhist tradition, Tara embodies absolute compassion. She extends her hand when our pain feels overwhelming. As the Green Goddess, she represents hope; her green radiance guides us back to the path when everything appears shadowed. She symbolises compassion in action, protection, fearlessness, and the feminine principle of awakened wisdom.

Yet Tara is not merely a comforting maternal figure. Her deeper message is clear: awakening requires courage — the willingness to move through fear rather than remain imprisoned by it.

In Buddhist understanding, suffering (dukkha) does not arise primarily from outer circumstances but from ignorance (avidyā), false identification (asmitā), attachment (rāga), aversion (dveṣa), and the deep-seated fear of loss and death (abhiniveśa).

These inner causes operate on the level of thought and perception. They shape the mental patterns from which our experience of reality arises. The Buddha taught: “All that we are is the result of what we have thought.” Ralph Waldo Emerson echoed this insight: “The ancestor of every action is a thought.” Our thoughts shape our choices; our choices shape our lives. What we perceive is filtered through the mind — and through practice, the mind can be clarified.

Yoga philosophy reminds us that we often confuse absolute reality (Purusha) with the changing field of experience (Prakriti). Practice gradually removes what obscures this distinction. Whatever arises, do not cling to it. The turning point lies in letting go. The mantra does not ask for life to be fixed; it asks for instruction. Implicit in this request is a radical premise: the root of our unfreedom lies in our grasping.

What do we cling to? Stories about ourselves. Fear of loss. Control. Identity. Resentment. Expectations. Attachments to roles, relationships, and outcomes. The subtle reversal within the Tara mantra is this: nothing holds us captive — we are the ones holding on. Tara symbolises the courage to recognise our grasping and to release it. Likewise, when Krishna advises Arjuna in the Bhagavad Gītā (2.47) not to cling to the fruits of action, he points toward disciplined non-attachment as a path to freedom.

This mantra therefore speaks of responsibility and vairāgya — non-attachment. It invites clarity and courage to release patterns that prevent us from inhabiting the present moment. What falls away is illusion; what remains is freedom.

The invitation extends beyond the individual. Inner transformation and collective transformation are inseparable. When we release what no longer serves growth — personally or collectively — we create the conditions for renewal. A society evolves when its individuals cultivate awareness. Inner clarity becomes outer responsibility.

“Om tare tutare ture soha” asks neither for rescue nor escape. It asks to awaken, and to embody fearless compassion in a world that urgently needs both hope and clarity.

TEACHING TIPS

• Help students understand the subtle but powerful shift from: “Remove my suffering” to “Teach me how to release what binds me.”
• During challenging sequences, invite reflection while teaching: Where do you grip unnecessarily?
  Where is effort turning into struggle?
  Can you soften without collapsing?
• In the context of suffering and how to let go, refer to the 5 kleshas: avidyā, asmitā, rāga, dveṣa, abhiniveśa
• Teach backbends to open the heart beyond fear.
• Talk also about purusartha-sunyanamgunanampratiprasavah kaivalyamsvarupa-pratishtha va citi-saktir iti (PYS 4.34)
• You can also talk about The Bhagavad Gītā (13.7–11). Verses 7 to 11 describe the person who is clear about their true nature. They offer a compelling portrait of the humble, genuinely wise individual who has mastery over their life. These verses imply that it is a considerable achievement to discern the difference between the field and the Self, the known and the knower. Most people confuse the two by identifying themselves with the body and the mind, taking these to be who they truly are.
• Also reflect on abhyāsa (steady practice) and vairāgya (non-attachment), as described in Patañjali’s Yoga Sūtras (1.12–1.16).
• “Directing the way” like Padma says in her pranayama techniques with Samavritti Pranayama pp. 48 – 52 (The magic ten and beyond)
• Use the classical Jivamukti Yoga meditation method in three steps:
  1. choose your seat 2. be still 3. focus (and discuss during the month the meaning of let go).
• Chant the following Mantra

Janka O. and Marie

The post HELD BY WHAT WE HOLD: THE WISDOM OF TARA appeared first on Jivamukti Yoga Lisbon.

~ Translation by Manorama

Śatākṣī, ‘the hundred-eyed’ form of Durga appeared to earth during a desolate era – she cried from every one of her eyes, her tears filled the rivers and oceans. Grass, grains, vegetation grew and with that the fish, birds, insects, and animals flourished.  She is spring emerging and abundance returning to the earth. Diversity in nature is its strength, eco-systems co-evolve together. Despite what we previously assumed about evolution, cooperation, reciprocity, multiplicity, interconnection, and adaptability (creativity) are predictors of success over individualistic strength. Her gift of life restored, the earth would again one day require her to defend it – just as a mother embodies both the energy of nourishment and protection.

Emerging from the sting and lash of the burning flames of a funeral pyre, the demon Mahiṣāsura emerges full of rage and on a mission of vengeance. The stench of smoke and death trails him as he amasses strength and power, raises an army. Having conquered all the world, his desire for domination turns to the heavenly realms, terrifying the gods. Forged in the fires of pure ambition, no single god can defeat him. The gods anxiously conference and gather their weapons. Assembling Indra’s thunderbolt of determination, courage, and power; Agni’s spear; śiva’s trident that pierces through the veil of delusion; Viṣṇu’s cakra of righteous intent; the mace, also known as ‘ego-crusher’; Viśvakarmā’s ax, containing the power of creation and destruction simultaneously, Brahma’s lotus, a reminder of detachment and wisdom; Vayu dev, the wind, gifts a bow and arrow – energy and movement; Gaṇeśa’s sword, representing discernment (viveka). And finally, the conch, the sound of creation, OṀ. Durga is imbued all aspects of the gods including the cycle of creation, preservation, and destruction.

Durga arrives to battle wearing red, the color of action, riding the lion of courage. Mahiṣāsura, blind with ambition, underestimates the goddess’ power. He is transfixed by her outward appearance, her beauty. His arrogance and assumptions about power, strength, cultural roles, and hierarchy will ultimately cause his demise. Durga’s multifaceted and dynamic collective strengths outshine the demon’s arrogance, ambition, egoic power. This epic battle and the demon’s defeat restore order and balance to the universe. “Durga portrays the divinity that stands outside the so-called civilized order of established dharma, and can by found only by one who has the courage to step out of the orderly world as we know it.” – Vanamali, Shakti

As adrienne maree brown writes in Emergent Strategy, “It is so important that we fight for our future, get into the game, get dirty, get experimental. How do we create and proliferate a compelling vision of economies and ecologies that center humans and the natural world over the accumulation of material?” Durga invites us to look for and assemble our various collective strengths, this moment requires reimagining and responding collectively and creatively to the multiple ongoinng threats – a climate crisis, multiple human rights crises, etc. Like Durga (and nature herself), our power exists collectively and has many forms, what are my strengths – and what strengths have I yet to recognize in my myself as well as my neighbors and friends. Change never comes as one instance, one flashpoint, one action. Change comes through working multiple ongoing actions, communities working together and in parallel to all serve the common aim. When we speak of individual activists, like Rosa Parks, or Angela Davis, Julia Butterfly Hill, or Greta Thungberg, we may unintentionally forget the fact that each hero we name had a multitude of organizations, support, tools, and networks working with and around them. “Where there is profound injustice, there is also creative struggle.” – Mariame Kaba

The navadurga, the nine aspects of the goddess represent the path of the spiritual seeker towards liberation itself; she is the goddess of inspiration, Śailaputrī;  of patience, Brahmacāriṇī; dedicated practice Candraghaṇṭā; expansion/creative energy, Kuṣmāṇḍā; purification Skandamātā; courage and energy Kātyāyanī, discernment Kālarātri, contentment, Mahāgaurī; liberation and ultimate realization, Siddhidātrī. Transformation is not instantaneous. The practice unfolds through stages, requiring different skills, energies, and qualities over time. We might even reveal or discover attributes/strengths in ourselves through, and in service of, our spiritual practice or in our community work. As practitioners and activists we may, at different times need energy, rest, persistence, discernment, simplicity, or creativity to propel us forward on the path.

TEACHING TIPS

CHANT

सर्वमङ्गलमाङ्गल्ये शिवे सर्वार्थसाधिके ।
शरण्ये त्र्यम्बके गौरि नारायणि नमोऽस्तु ते ॥
sarvamaṅgalamāṅgalye śive sarvārthasādhike
śaraṇye tryambake gauri nārāyaṇi namo’stu te

The goddess is the world itself, the cycle of the seasons, the birth and death of worlds. I have noticed that we often pay far more attention to detail coming IN to an āsana, as teachers we even put more attention and energy into bringing students into the āsana. Let’s challenge ourselves to stay present – tuned deeply in to the experience as we were coming OUT of an āsana, the dissolution. What is it like to experience each āsana as an OM cycle, staying fully present coming in, maintaining, and then resolving the shape.

ASANA & VINYASA

• Teach warrior themed āsanas, vīrabhadrāsana, vīrāsana, as well as siṁhāsana (for Durga’s courage). Include some strengthening work, perhaps something unusual or suprising that reveals a new area of strength, or work on preparation from a different/new approach
• Explore partner work, or group supported asana. Partner work can build connection, trust, and communication and when done well it can enhance the experience of the āsana beyond what one might experience on one’s own.
• Teach vinyasa. Teaching and practicing strict vinyasa gives us the direct experience of staying present through the unfolding sequence of time. Can you teach the students to guide themselves in vinyasa, meaning – they are competent in linking breath and movement and counting, or keeping time in some way (could use music for this) in their own minds as they move and breath. Explore teaching and practicing other parts of the class as a strict vinyasa; not limiting the practice to surya namaskar!

क्षणप्रतियोगी परिणामापरान्त निर्ग्राह्यः क्रमः ॥३३॥
kṣaṇa–pratiyogī pariṇāmāparānta–nirgrāhyaḥ kramaḥ

NADA & TEACHING

• Nāda yoga is integral to goddess/shakti devotion – since shakti is the emergence of primordial vibration itself. Medating on sound or other nāda yoga practices are encouraged.
• One component of nāda that is integral to how we teach is the instruction itself – how we give and receive instruction matters! We live in a time of information overload, misleading headlines, outright disinformation, and propaganda – which the emergence of ai threatens to make much worse. How do we stay in touch with what is actually real? One way we can practice both a) discernment and b) activation is through how we work with instruction. When we hear the teacher’s cue, we can check in and see if what’s being said is actually occurring and true. Is my foot actually pointing the way it was said, or do I just assume its happening? Is my leg actually straight, or did I tune out the instruction or decide it wasn’t worth grabbing my blocks to make it happen? To listen, hear, observe, and then take action is yoga, defined by the Bhagavad Gita as ‘skill in action.’ It reinforces a sense of agency, actions create results. Inaction creates no result or even a bad result. For this reason, vague language can be confusing – “find your hands on the floor” is misleading! How did they get there? They were not found there, you placed them. Strive for direct instruction, and direct clear action.

Jessica Stickler

The post STRENGTH IN MULTIPLICITY appeared first on Jivamukti Yoga Lisbon.

~ Translation by Manorama

Growing up in Lebanon, the abundance of the Levantine land and sea was overshadowed by the constant paradoxical threat of everything being taken away from us at any time. This environment made it easy to confuse abundance with accumulation, layering up as a form of protection.

Ali, a Syrian refugee, was fifteen when he started showing up on our local beach south of Beirut, watching surfers glide across the water. One day, he found a random piece of polyester, and with a knife he transformed it to what barely resembled a surf board. He paddled out with it on a stormy day, wobbling but determined. Of course, seeing his dedication and courage, someone couldn’t help but hand him a real board and teach him how to stand. Today, Ali is one of the best surfers out there and plans on opening a surf school in Syria.

Lakshmi is the goddess of abundance, the ever-giving generous mother. She invites us to look for it in a more subtle place. She sits on a lotus growing out of mud, and into space. Space is not absence, it is the fertile ground of all manifestation; the womb, Garbha. When we start to notice the spaciousness, the emptiness in everything, we tap into the abundant nature of reality.

The piece of polyester was garbage to the one who threw it away, a toy to the beach dog, a shelter to the insects. But for Ali, it was a doorway to a passionate union with the ocean. “vastu-sāmye citta-bhedāt tayor vibhaktaḥ panthāḥ” Things are empty of fixed identity and full of essence. They become what we allow them to become. When we stop deciding what something or someone “is,” we finally see them for what they are, which is infinite and fluid by nature. In this sense, emptiness abounds in fullness.

Recent neuroscience findings show that when the brain relaxes its conditioned, automatic labeling processes – through meditation for example – it gains greater access to the field of raw and present sensation, and in doing so enhances the richness of the experience. The boundless nature of everything is also expressed in quantum physics, with the demonstration that particles maintained in superposition exist as pure potential, until conscious measurement collapses them into “classical” form, shaped by the measurement itself. By ceasing to label things, we prevent their “collapse” into rigid definitions. We allow them to remain open, abundant, and infinite. When we recognize that everything is already contained within one thing, we no longer feel a need for more of it.

“The day you teach the child the name of the bird, the child will never see that bird again” Krishnamurti

Look at the sky. Can you paint its color without using any words? Do you feel closer to it when you take the words away? When observing an object of devotion, the phrase “I have no words” suggests that any attempt at description would inevitably diminish the subject’s immensity. Look at a tree. Try to describe it without any labels. Do you see the vastness of the universe that it contains? The infinite abundance it holds? Practice this with anything around you, and observe yourself merge with the “is-ness”, the fullness of it all. This is Yoga, Union. “Yoga is the state of missing nothing” Sharon Gannon.

When we feel this sense of wholeness present even in the smallest things, Aparigraha: non-grasping, becomes a more natural expression. We don’t cling as tightly because letting go is not experienced as a loss. Fullness flows from fullness. The reverse is also true. The act of giving, of creating space, of releasing something held tightly, knowing that nothing is ever truly lost, is what reconnects us to the generous nature of reality. Instead of seeing abundance as layering up, we observe the state of completeness & union that arises when layering down. The more that we shed layers of projection on our world, including the one of separation, the more freely the river of abundance can flow.

Neem Karoli Baba would tell his devotees “If you seek samadhi, help others. If you want kundalini to rise, feed others.” Generosity pours from fullness and is a direct path back to it. The more I meditate on tathagata garbha, the Buddha Nature of everything, the more compassionate I am towards all beings whom I thought I was separate from.

Fear of lacking is the opposite of abundance. We don’t attract abundance like a magnet; we allow it to flow like a river through space as we become aware of it. Emptiness is not lack, or negation. It is the womb of everything.

TEACHING TIPS

• Dharma: 
  • Garbha: Meaning womb, the sacred space from which form arises.
  • Pūrṇam adaḥ, pūrṇam idam, pūrṇāt pūrṇam udacyate, pūrṇasya pūrṇam ādāya pūrṇam evāvaśiṣyate
    Īśa Upaniṣad Invocation
  • “Vastu-samye citta-bhedāt tayor vibhaktāḥ panthāḥ.”  Yoga Sūtra 4.15
  • During pranayama you can emphasize the exhale as a way of release, of creating space, of offering the breath
• Meditation options 
  • Layer-by-layer identity release: Guide students to drop: name, roles, stories, preferences, responsibilities, past and future, body identity, etc. A gentle peeling away until they rest in spaciousness, pure presence the field of abundance.
  • Gratitude meditation: Invite students to feel the fullness inside the smallest things: an object, a friend, an act of kindness. Inhale “I am grateful for “exhale – think of anything you are grateful for.  
  • Let-go meditation: Starting the class with the classical Jivamukti let go meditation
• Asana 
  • Practice simple asanas as if for the first time: Encourage students to approach Tāḍāsana, Adho Mukha Śvānāsana, or other frequently practiced asanas with beginner’s eyes. Each practice is a new practice. When we drop the projections, we allow the asana its full present expression.
  • Equanimity: Help students drop hierarchy between asanas and practicing all poses with equanimity. This supports Aparigraha & letting go of the idea that abundance comes with the attainment of a certain goal.
  • Focus on space: Throughout the sequence, guide attention to: the space around the body, the space inside the body, the space underneath effort, the space between breaths, the space within the mind, etc.
    Offer moments of simplicity in sequencing & silence so students can genuinely connect to abundance.
  • Śavāsana: Allow enough time to guide students in releasing each body part, slowly, one by one. Then invite them to sense the body dissolving into the space around it, merging with fullness
•  Invitations for Practice Beyond the Mat
  • Gratitude list: A daily practice of naming 3 to 5 things they are grateful for shifts the nervous system into receptivity and trains the mind to notice abundance everywhere 
  • Decluttering to make space: Invite students to slowly, lovingly declutter their environment. Often, we accumulate so much we no longer see what we have.
  • Meditation to make space: Encourage daily sitting, even five minutes, to soften cognitive clutter.
  • Contemplation in nature: A quiet walk in nature, looking at subjects without naming them. Notice how closeness, intimacy, even perhaps devotion arise when labels fall away. This trains the nervous system to rest in direct experience, the place where abundance is obvious.

Sonia-Lynn Gabriel

The post EMPTINESS IS ABOUNDING appeared first on Jivamukti Yoga Lisbon.

~ Translation by Manorama

When we chant this mantra, we call upon Sarasvatī, the Goddess of wisdom, creativity, and speech. She is a deity, seated on a white lotus, blessing us with clarity of thought and purity of expression. She is also a symbol, a mythic personification of the river of inspiration that flows through us when we create, learn, or speak truth (satya).

If we believe that only what is rational and measurable is real, then the sacred will always seem unreal, for by its very nature it is beyond logic. Sarasvatī is the Goddess of Vāc – of speech, learning, sound and vibration. Her gift is not confined to reason: it is speech that fades into silence, language that leads us beyond itself, into mystery.[1] Words and mantras guide us into the space where truth is experienced, not defined. Like chanting the sound of OM (praṇava) and the silence that follows. Its vibration continues in that silence, guiding us back to what lies beyond words and language. Language and mantra are doorways. Their ultimate purpose is to return us to the source of all sound, śabda brahman, that which vibrates within and around us. Sarasvatī plays the vīṇā (a South Indian instrument) – a kind reminder for us to tune in to the songs of the universe, to practice listening (śravaṇa) to the anāhata nādam, the unstruck sound.

It is important to remember that when we invoke Sarasvatī (or any other deity), we ultimately invoke nothing that is outside ourselves. We ask for guidance – to help us find access again to that source that dwells within us, always. Liberation is not apart from life but shines within it, in everyone and everything.

Working as a behavioral scientist, I highly appreciate the benefits of science. But to not acknowledge its limits in relation to the mystic, to the spiritual, would be foolish. Sarasvatī offers us a world into both. No scientist can ever prove that a river (like the Sarasvatī or the Gaṅgā) is holy. No scientist can ever prove why a river is holy. We cannot measure the value of a chant. The mystical is not about explanation but about experience. Our faith (śraddhā) should be grounded in direct experience, otherwise it is just blind faith.

Sarasvatī is one of the many forms of the Devī, the Divine Mother. Through her, everything arises and takes form. She is the Mother of the Earth. Mythology reminds us to live in harmony with the wisdom of nature, to recognize our kinship with animals, plants, rivers, and seas; to nurture relationships that are mutually beneficial; to learn from one another, and to grow together; to practice compassion and kindness towards ALL beings.

The swan (haṃsa) is often seen as Sarasvatī’s vehicle (vahana). Myth tells that the swan has the rare ability to take in what is pure (viśuddha) and leave behind what is not. This image expresses the yogic quality of discrimination (viveka), the ability to discern the real (sat) from the unreal (asat), the eternal from the transient. Like the swan that takes only the essence, through practice (sādhana) we can learn to discern what truly nourishes and what merely distracts the mind. Sarasvatī, as the Goddess of wisdom, offers us this inner clarity – revealing our interconnectedness with all life.

She reminds us that the power of reasoned speech, of clear thought, of true knowledge, belongs to all. This is the very foundation of democracy: every human mind (buddhi) is capable of reason, and therefore of truth. No one needs a special authority to dictate how things should be, because wisdom flows within all of us. To speak truth does not require privilege, but clarity – clearing away self-interest, hate, fear, and ignorance so that pure wisdom can shine through. If we wish to come together as society, our words must not serve division or domination but the common well-being of all. Sarasvatī calls us to use our reason and our creativity in service of truth and the collective good. This takes courage, but to forget this, is to betray both her gift and the very principle of freedom in our society. This also means taking action: participating in shaping the world we live in, whether by voting, raising our voices for those who can’t, or taking part in the democratic process. Democracy is not sustained by ideals alone but requires the active choices of its citizens. “What you do makes a difference, and you have to decide what kind of difference you want to make.” (Dr. Jane Goodall)

Ādi Śaṅkarācārya tells us in his poem Bhaja Govindam that even perfect knowledge of Sanskrit grammar will not bring liberation (mokṣa). When he met an aged scholar still absorbed in the rules of the Sanskrit language, he reminded him: at the moment of death, it is not grammar that will save you, but devotion (bhakti). Bhaja Govindam – praise Govinda, praise the divine. In this way, we are reminded that all our scripture study (śāstra), all our refinement of speech and thought under Sarasvatī’s guidance, should ultimately direct us towards devotion. Knowledge reaches its full potential when it develops into love of the divine.

[1] This is what Ludwig Wittgenstein highlights in Tractatus logico-philosophicus: “The limits of my language mean the limits of my world.” (5.7) “Whereof one cannot speak, thereof one must be silent.” (7) – Credits to my daughter Luella for pointing this out.

TEACHING TIPS

• James Joyce reminds us: Art ultimately should reveal “claritas”, the inner radiance of reality, the divine.
  • Read poetry or other literature in class that has deeply touched you and might have connected you to the radiance/divine.
  • Read or tell (mythological) stories that describe our interconnectedness with nature.
    • a favorite of mine is the story of Skywomen from the Haudenosaunee (Iroquois) Confederacy traditions – beautifully retold in “Braiding Sweetgrass” by Robin Wall Kimmerer. You can find the story here.
  • We live in times where free speech is under threat and language is compromised. But Sharon Gannon, Padmaji, reminds us of its importance:

 “When you can say what you mean and mean what you say, with your whole being, then you know you are moving closer to your highest potential, which includes the ability to truly serve others.”

• Teach āsana that focus on the viśuddha chakra – Highlighting the importance of the words we choose, of communication.
• Talk about the importance of satya, as one of the five yamas, and how it guides our speech and actions.
• Sarasvatī is celebrated as the origin of Vāc, from which Sanskrit and Devanāgarī are said to arise.
  • Focus on using Sanskrit names for the āsanas you choose in your classes and refine your pronunciation.
  • Choose your words carefully in class — speak only what is necessary, and let silence carry the rest.
• Teach deep listening exercises: in relation to anāhata nādam (for example via HYP, IV.67,68); focus on the sound of ujjāyī; chant: HYP IV.100; Chant Om for pro-longed periods of time then sit in the silence of the vibration.
• Explore the power of repeating/chanting the holy names (nāma-japa/nāma-sankīrtana), how they serve as doorways to experience the divine.
• While teaching, practice seeing each student’s full potential and inner wisdom — seeing them as holy beings; notice any judgments that keep you from truly seeing their potential.

Reading Tips for you or to read out in class:

• “Yoga and Music” in Eternity is Happening Now Vol.2 (pp.196-214). Sharon Gannon. Blurb.
• “The Power of Myth” Joseph Campbell & Bill Moyers. Doubleday – in particular if you struggle using the words God or Goddess in your class (or you know your students do), I recommend a mythological perspective approach.
• Devi: The Devi Bhagavatam Retold, Ramesh Menon. Rupa; or for a shorter read:
• Devi Mahatmyam, Swami Jagadiswarananda, Advaita Ashrama

Christine Lauritzen

The post THE POTENTIAL OF KNOWLEDGE appeared first on Jivamukti Yoga Lisbon.

~ Translation by Manorama

 
 
When we chant this mantra to Gaṇapati also known as Gaṇeśa the elephant headed God, it is believed that obstacles will be removed from our path, wisdom and success will be granted.
That is why Gaṇeśa is the God of prosperity and new beginnings. He spent his early life on Mount Kailash, a sacred peak in the Himalayas, alongside his parents, Śiva and Pārvatī. As a part of this divine family his role is to unify and balance.

In contrast, I spent my childhood far from a high mountain in the Himalayas. I grew up in a valley in the northern part of Mexico with my parents, dreaming of leaving the valley so I can explore higher places and experience new things. But little did I know that in order to move in life to reach the highest peaks, I must first go through the valleys.

If a peak is there, a valley is bound to be there. They exist in continuous harmony, not as opposites, but as parts of a complete totality.

In nature valleys are fertile ground where we grow our food and where rivers flow. They are places of tremendous growth, and can also represent periods of struggle or setbacks that require a resilient mind.
Transformation takes place in our inner valley, if we are open to the experience. We can emerge stronger and wiser ready for whatever may come up next, into a new beginning.

Remember, the higher the peak, the deeper the valley. You should never feel discouraged when valleys enter your life or you can’t seem to get out of them.
As our teacher Sharon Gannon teaches us, we can make magic by shifting our perception. Can you imagine if you can behave equally to both? Whenever a setback happens, you just accept it; and whenever something blissful happens, you just accept it. Not liking one over the other, with a detached mind, that’s pure magic.

By accepting life’s highs and lows, we find our greatest freedom. By giving ourselves permission to descend into our own depths, we allow ourselves to connect to what we are really feeling. We get in touch with love, pain, sadness, silence, we dance to a different rhythm which has its own beauty.
Through this acceptance we transform arid soil into fertile soil for growth. We unleash our cosmic power, our cosmic vision and we can feel the limitless existence of the ocean of awareness within us. We transform ourselves.

Reflect for a moment on the sensation of being at a peak. Imagine yourself finishing something that took a lot of time and effort from your part, notice how naturally the impulse to celebrate and savor that achievement arises. However, this is just a part of a continuous journey, pause here and observe the whole landscape, the challenges you overcome, the knowledge gained, then celebrate! Take a moment and consciously, perhaps in time, you’ll also enjoy descending to the valley as a new adventure awaits.

The cyclical nature of life brings challenges all the time, in those moments we can take the opportunity to practice what Master Patañjali teaches us in P.Y.S.1.29 “From that (chanting and meditating to God), you refine consciousness, turn inward, dissolve blocks and become aware of the divine within you.”
By chanting mantras and meditating on the Divine, the mind begins to see its predispositions and find the courage to face the challenges. Do not be afraid of anything, become an explorer; you don’t need to leave your house to start, just close your eyes, and dive deeper into the vast unknown.

In my early adulthood I ended up moving out of the valley to the mountains, modest in height compared to the celestial abode of Gaṇeśa. With time, I’ve found that dwelling between the heights and the depths has woven a tapestry of experience that is both complex and beautiful. I’m thankful to Gaṇeśa not only for removing obstacles in my life but also for placing them before me, so I can continuously grow and transform into my Real Self.

TEACHING TIPS

DWELL DEEPER INTO…

• Y.S.1.29 Healing Practices
• Y.S.1.30 The Obstacles
• Y.S.2.3 Kleśa, underlying source of the obstacles

ĀSANA

• Choose a peak āsana and teach it throughout the month. Gradually guide students through the peaks and valleys to the mountaintop, bringing balance.
• You can draw some ideas related to Gaṇeśa’s divine family. For example, elephant trunk āsana, skandāsana or mayurāsana, among others.
• Revisit tadāsana the mountain seat, convey the feeling of tadāsana throughout the class. Read the tadāsana excerpt on page 128 of the Jivamukti Yoga Book.
• Explore a different meditation seat during class, maybe with props or a completely different one from what you normally teach. Make sure students are well supported, so they can feel themselves at the top of the mountain meditating like Śiva.

CHANTING & MEDITATION
By chanting we talk to the Divine, and by meditating we listen to the Divine. Practice chanting and meditation in order to create a continuous stream of consciousness, an unbreakable connection between yourself and the Divine.

Chanting:

• Chant our monthly mantra Oṃ Gaṃ Gaṇapataye Namaḥ
• Ask students if they see a resemblance between Gaṇeśa’s trunk, the symbol of Oṃ and the peaks and valleys.
• When chanting Oṃ with the students go from a lower pitch to a higher pitch. Follow along to create a vibrational landscape with a mixture of highs and lows.

Meditation:

• Witness the movements of life, neither accepting, nor rejecting whatever you encounter.
• Practice Japa meditation as instructed by our teacher Sharon Gannon in her book “Magic Ten and beyond¨ on Week 9.

OFF THE MAT PRACTICES
Practice the art of witnessing in daily life, observe with perfect attention and interest.

Mayela Gonzalez

The post DWELLING BETWEEN PEAKS AND VALLEYS appeared first on Jivamukti Yoga Lisbon.

Pratyāhāra, the fifth limb of Patanjali’s eight limbs, is commonly described as ‘withdrawal’—to be able to withdraw your mind and senses from the external world. For many this has been interpreted as avoiding, ignoring or denying the senses. This interpretation has contributed to viewing the world in a negative way, as if it was the enemy of spirituality. I think this perspective has limited our consciousness, isolated us from nature, inhibiting spiritual evolution by reinforcing the schism that divides the world into good and bad and separates us from nature. Pratyāhāra, at least from a bhakti yoga perspective, is more inclusive than exclusive. “Bhakti loves senses,” as Shyamdas would say. So, what is pratyāhāra, and how do we practice it and what does it have to do with Yoga—with God realization, and healing our disconnection from nature?

God and the creation are not separate. It is us who have disconnected ourselves from God and from the world. If we can work on changing our perception of what we think of and see as mundane and what we think of and see as spiritual, we may have a chance at yoga. When we can offer all our activities to God, the higher Self, that which is beyond our own ego, when we bring bhakti, love for God, into our daily life then our life becomes sparkly and magical—certainly not mundane.

Patanjali speaks of this in several ways: For example, in the first chapter, when he talks about Īśvara —offering your prāṇa —your life (PYS I.23), to God as the most direct means to yoga.  Another place in the sutra is in the second chapter when he speaks about pratyāhāra as one of the practices that can bring you closer to yoga. PYS II.54, and – PYS II.55. When the senses reflect the mind and the mind is filled with love for God, then your senses will perceive God internally as well as externally.

In the fourth chapter, Patanjali reminds us that everything we see is coming from inside of us, it is a projection of our minds (PYS IV.15). This sutra tells us that there really is no ‘out there,’ out there. The source of all we see is within us. The bhakti master, Shyamdas would speak a lot about nirodhaḥ as being a form of renunciation. Pratyahara is akin to nirodhaḥ. Nirodhaḥ happens naturally when one develops bhakti. Bhakti transforms the person so that they cease to identify with the citta vṛttis of the mind and begin to see, to realize, God’s presence in the world as well as in their hearts. They begin to understand what yoga means, what Patanjali was talking about when he described yoga in PYS I.2. Yoga, the remembrance of your connection to the eternal, happens when you go beyond thoughts because your true nature is beyond thoughts, beyond the body and mind. Pratyāhāra means seeing God everywhere—Sarvātmabhāv.

When I asked my teacher, Pattabhi Jois, to explain to me what pratyāhāra was, he pointed to a wall and asked:

• “What is this? What do you see?”
• “A wall?”
• “Then you must practice  pratyāhāra until you can see not just a wall, but God.”

Yeah, but how do you practice it? Chanting God’s name, chanting a mantra like śrī kṛṣṇaḥ śaraṇaṁ mama is a good way to practice pratyahara and transcend the mundane thoughts and attitudes that the chitta vṛttis exemplify. Mantras have the power to cut through the discursive mind stuff, allowing the light of reality to shine through. Pratyāhāra purifies your perception of reality and helps you to experience the presence of God everywhere and in everyone. The true crisis in our world today is not social, political or economic. Our human crisis is a crisis of consciousness, an inability to directly experience our true eternal divine blissful nature within us, and an inability to recognize this nature in everyone, including other animals, trees, rivers—as well as in all things.  The practice of pratyāhāra provides a practical means to remove avidyā , the ignorance within us that deceives us into thinking that we are a supreme species and the world, and all Earthlings must either be conquered, enslaved or made to bend to our will or whim, or it is a place to be avoided all together if we want to awaken spiritually.

Pratyāhāra ultimately awakens us to the direct experience of reality by refining our perception of it. It is a daily practice that can be done while you are awake, dreaming or sleeping. It is a powerful transformational practice of giving and remembering. Awakening to the remembrance of the divine through mantra is a pratyahara practice. Krishna in the Bhagavad Gīta gives us a few more practical suggestions that involve seva, lovingly offering all our actions to God first before we partake. The yogi doesn’t go anywhere without God, doesn’t enjoy anything without God. The yogi invites God to come with them everywhere they go, whether it’s to dinner or to a show. They walk with God, they talk with God, they cook for God, they eat and drink with God, they sing and dance for and with God, they enjoy life with God. Because every smell, taste, sight, touch and sound they experience is shared with God, those senses become elevated.

To engage in seva, in this way, offering your sense organs to the Lord’s service will help you to feel God’s presence in your mind, your heart, and your life—then Māyā’s veil of mundanity is lifted to reveal the truth—that this is all God’s Leela. This is what pratyāhāra is about. When you redirect your senses, shifting your attention to the divine and are filled with His presence—that is true renunciation. When your senses withdraw away from the mundane and are given, as an offering, to the divine, then to the bhakta, what was mundane before becomes divine now!
 
 

TEACHING TIPS

• Chanting & Opening
  • Begin class by chanting śrī kṛṣṇaḥ śaraṇaṁ mama (“Kṛṣṇa is my refuge”).
  • Frame pratyāhāra as not withdrawal from the senses, but offering them back to God.
• Meditation Practice
  • Guide students into a short seated meditation.
  • Cue them to notice the senses—sound, touch, smell, sight, taste—without clinging, then silently repeat “God is here” with each perception.
  • Emphasize inclusion rather than avoidance.
• Surya Namaskāra (Sun Salutations)
  • Lead with mindful attention to sensory detail: the sound of breath, the touch of palms, the gaze (dṛṣṭi).
  • Remind students that every sensory experience can be infused with devotion.
• Āsana Themes
  • Hip openers (Gomukhāsana, Ankle-to-Knee, Eka Pāda Rāja Kapotāsana prep): Use discomfort as training to redirect attention toward God.
  • Forward bends (Paścimottānāsana, Prasārita Pādottānāsana): Invite students to “fold inward” not to escape, but to discover God within.
  • Backbends (Uṣṭrāsana, Urdhva Dhanurāsana): Teach opening the senses to awe and wonder, offering the heart outward in seva.
  • Inversions (Śīrṣāsana, Sarvāṅgāsana): Highlight how perspective shifts help us see the divine everywhere.
• Mantra Integration
  • During holds, encourage silent repetition of śrī kṛṣṇaḥ śaraṇaṁ mama.
  • Frame mantra as a practical way to cut through mental distraction and purify perception.
• Closing Reflection
  • Guide journaling or contemplation: “Where do I label things as mundane? How can I practice seeing them as divine?”
  • Re-chant śrī kṛṣṇaḥ śaraṇaṁ mama to close.
• Off-the-Mat Practice
  • Invite students to dedicate ordinary acts (cooking, walking, eating, listening) as offerings to God.
  • Suggest a daily practice of chanting mantra before meals to elevate sense-experience into devotion.

Sharon Gannon

The post PRATYAHARA – HEALING THE DISEASE OF DISCONNECTION appeared first on Jivamukti Yoga Lisbon.

When a seed germinates, the first thing it does is not send up shoots but send down roots. This movement toward the center of the Earth reminds us that, in nature, stability precedes expansion. The young sprout seeks the Earth’s core, anchoring itself before it ever reaches for light. In a similar way Patañjali tells us that spiritual progress depends on practice that is firmly grounded, dṛḍha-bhūmi, practice that, like a tree, roots deeply before it reaches toward the blue sky.

Spiritual practice follows a similar principle as a germinating seed sending out roots. Our asana, meditation, and mantra may one day blossom into clarity or insight, but without roots; discipline, consistency, and devotion, not much will grow. The stronger the roots, the more resilient the tree; the deeper our foundation, the more adaptable and steadfast our practice becomes. A shallow system may survive for a season, but one storm can uproot it. A rooted practice, however, bends with the wind, nourishes itself from deep within the soil of experience, and continues to grow even in hardship.

Roots, though unseen, hold the Earth together. Humanity has learned this through painful experience; by cutting down forests and removing root systems, we invite erosion, landslides, and the collapse of entire landscapes. What we cannot see often supports everything we can. In the same way, our unseen spiritual work, daily meditation, quiet moments of study, compassion offered without witness, keeps our inner world intact. Without those invisible anchors, the mind begins to erode, shaped by the constant tides of opinion, distraction, and desire.

To “put down roots” also means to commit, to a place, to a community, to a way of life. In yoga, this commitment takes the form of satsang, good company, the shared field of practitioners who encourage and support one another. Science mirrors this truth in the study of what biologists call the mycorrhizal network, sometimes known as the “wood wide web.” This underground fungal web connects the roots of trees and plants across great distances. Through it, forests share both warning and nourishment: when a tree is attacked by pests, nearby trees increase their defensive chemicals; when a neighboring sapling grows in poor soil, mature trees send it extra nutrients through the fungal filaments. Even dying trees have been shown to release their remaining carbon and minerals into the network to feed others.

This mycorrhizal web offers a striking metaphor for satsang. Through our shared practice we, too, exchange nourishment, wisdom, compassion, and care. When one practitioner suffers, others can help sustain them; when one thrives, that growth enriches the whole. The stronger and deeper our roots, both individual and collective, the greater our resilience as a community.

There are times, however, when we feel uprooted: disconnected from our practice, our teachers, or our sense of belonging. Loss, grief, or doubt can leave us feeling adrift, as if the soil has been stripped away. Yet the instinct to return home, to root again, is powerful. Sometimes it takes years of effort to re-establish that grounding; other times it happens the moment we step onto the mat, sit on the meditation cushion, or remember to breathe with awareness. Meditation, like the steady deepening of a root system, draws us downward into stillness. It anchors the restless mind and allows us to be nourished by the practices we’ve cultivated. It allows us to “return to our roots.”

Our spiritual life is a living ecosystem. Each mantra recited, each act of service, each moment of silence strengthens the network beneath us and between us. To nurture our roots is to care for the unseen ground of practice, returning to it again and again until stability becomes our nature. From that rootedness, growth, strength and expansion arise

TEACHING TIPS

• Introduce the Sanskrit term dṛḍha-bhūmiḥ (firm ground) and Yoga Sūtra I.14: sa tu dīrgha-kāla-nairantarya-satkārāsevito dṛḍha-bhūmiḥ
• Begin with a short grounding meditation to feel the weight of the body supported by the Earth.
• Emphasize that Rooted Strength is built around the metaphor of roots—the unseen foundation of practice.
• Any chant that emphasizes community, healing and peace.
• On Metaphors as Teaching Tools
  • A metaphor is a comparison that reveals meaning through imagery rather than direct statement.
  • In yoga teaching, metaphors bridge the physical and the philosophical, they make subtle concepts tangible.
  • Encourage students to use metaphors to deepen understanding (e.g., “Your breath is the sap of the practice,” or “Your mat is fertile soil for awareness”).
  • The metaphor of the roots as a source of nourishment. You do not need to water each branch or leaf. Simple water the roots and the whole tree is sustained.
• Asana Focus
  • Standing Poses (Tāḍāsana, Vīrabhadrāsana I & II, Trikoṇāsana): Emphasize grounding through the feet; pressing down to rise up.
  • Balancing Poses (Vṛkṣāsana – Adho Mukha Vṛkṣāsana): Explore how stability below allows freedom above.
  • Forward Folds & Seated Poses Encourage introspection (roots reaching inward).
• Pratyāhāra & Visualization
  • Guide students to imagine their awareness traveling down into the Earth like roots.
  • Encourage them to “draw up nourishment” from their accumulated practice, past experiences, insights, devotion.
  • Frame pratyāhāra as a time of rest and restoration, the silent nourishment beneath visible growth.
• Meditation
  • Reinforce meditation as a practice of becoming firmly established, each sit a return to stillness and stability.
  • Suggest visualizing the breath as water flowing through roots, feeding the entire tree of the self.
• Community & Reflection
  • Read about and discuss the mycorrhizal network as a living image of satsang: shared nourishment, mutual support, and communication.
  • Invite students to reflect: Where do I feel rooted in practice or community? Where might I need to deepen?

Jules Febre

The post ROOTED STRENGTH appeared first on Jivamukti Yoga Lisbon.

~ Translation by Manorama

The fluctuating mind also becomes calm by practicing the expulsion and retention of breath. The news came utterly unexpected: someone close to me had died very suddenly. I couldn’t breathe as the tears flowed and emotions of shock, grief, and disbelief overcame me. A good friend and yogi, without saying a word, embraced me. Holding me tight he began to breathe in a slow, steady and deep rhythmic pattern. I began to follow along and before long my mind had calmed.

We have probably all been in situations where our breath reflected clearly our state of mind, for example reflecting anger with short puffs of breath, sadness with sobs of breath, nervousness with short, quick shallow breaths, or any other myriad emotions. Patanjali is reminding us in this sutra that one of many techniques we can use to calm the ups and downs of our thoughts and feelings is by practicing conscious breathing. In other words by changing your pattern of breathing you can influence neural activity in the brain and nervous system. When our thoughts have calmed we can embody receptivity and access clarity.

In Jivamukti Yoga vinyasa classes we are reminded to use ujjayi breathing continuously (generally a 4 count inhale followed by a 4 count exhale, through the nose, with a slight whispering sound generated near the vocal cords, repeated consistently throughout the class.) No matter what asanas we are practicing, whether it’s the easiest or the hardest we have ever attempted, the breath remains a calm pattern of inhale and exhale. This is training and practice for the outside world where we may need to activate this type of breathing in times of stress to remain calm, and thus remove habits of dysfunctional breathing that may ultimately contribute to fatigue, lack of clarity or disorder.

Breathing is part of the autonomic nervous system, that is, we just do it without having to think about it. But breathing can also be taken into the realm of conscious action. Conscious breathing is a bridge between the physical body and the subtle body. Pranayama, referred to in YS 1.34 and further explained as one of the 8 limbs of Patanjali Yoga (see YS 2.29), is an ancient Indic discipline developed by early Yoga practitioners and involves refining aspects of conscious breathing to access desired mental or emotional states. Pranayama techniques enhance our prana (life-force), fine tuning our nervous system by, at various practices, holding the breath either internally or externally. Pranayama is sometimes defined as the lengthening, expanding, enhancing or directing of prana. There are pranayama practices outlined in the Hatha Yoga Pradipika, Gheranda Samhita and Shiva Samhit among others and there are many, many ways that these practices are taught, depending on teachers and lineage. Start with simple straightforward techniques and give yourself time with them to see how they progress. One key element when practicing pranayama is to be in a state that is sthira (steady) and sukham (pleasant). If there is ever pushing, strain or anxiety coming you have gone further than is needed. Take a break and come back to it another day.

Yoga practices offer us a chance to become balanced humans, to bring to our consciousness aspects of ourselves that were shrouded in our unconscious, to let go of the striving and stress associated with modern times and chaotic thinking. Consciously breathing offers one way to calm the craziness within. “Where the mind is stilled, there the breath is suspended. Where the breath is suspended, there the mind is stilled.” Hatha Yoga Pradipika 4.23

TEACHING TIPS

1. Review Chapter 6 in the Jivamukti Yoga Book, pp. 99-123 on “Prana: Freeing the Life Force.”
2. In a class setting teach/review with the students:
   • Ujjayi breathing: practice ujjayi breathing in a seated posture the same way you would for the asana portion of the class as a way to refine/remember/and refresh how to practice it while moving. Perhaps use a metronome or other device for practicing 4 counts inhale and 4 counts exhale. Do that for some minutes and then reinforce the practice throughout the class at various times by reminding students and counting out loud for students to follow along. Invite students to internalize the practice by counting out their breathing silently as they move through portions of the class.
   • Kapalabhati kriya (cleansing breath): start each class with a few rounds of kapalabhati breathing. Kapalabhati has been called “jumping jacks” for the diaphragm. It is because we have a diaphragm that we can breathe. Strong diaphragm = strong breathing. Be sensitive to the level of experience of the students and don’t overdo it. Start small (short rounds of around 36 pumps for about 3 rounds is a good starting place) and build up over the course of the month. Let students have a moment after the practice to feel if there is any change or shift internally as a result of the practice. If there are students in the class that have more experience let them take a longer round (50-100 pumps) while you count or practice with students that are more beginners. Take several calming breaths in between each round. Some effects of kapalabhati breathing: cleanses nasal passages, strengthens diaphragm, heating/upregulating practice, increases mental alertness, improves time on task. (Pregnant women, people with high blood pressure, recent abdominal surgery or back pain should not practice kapalabhati.)
   • Elements of the 3 bodies/ 5 koshas, especially the astral/subtle body where prana, emotions and intellect are “housed.” Refer to the Jivamukti Yoga Book, pp. 31-32.
3. Practices to try that are good/safe for all level practitioners:
   • Resonance breathing: breathe in for a count of 4-5 seconds (don’t use ujjayi) and exhale for a count of 6-7 seconds. Breathing should be very quiet and calm, as though barely breathing. Internal focus at the third eye center. Use in a seated position, lying down, beginning of savasanna or for 2-3 minutes during viparita karani. Benefits: balances parasympathetic and sympathetic nervous system, calming/down-regulating, helps with anxiety and stress, improves vagal tone.
   • Full body breathing: in a lying down or seated position place the hands (fingers spread, tips of middle fingers touching just near the navel) over the navel and inhale down into the navel area feeling the hands rise on the inhale, then exhale and relax. Repeat a few times. No need to exaggerate. Then place the hands on the lower ribs or encircle the index finger and thumb around the sides of the ribs and inhale feeling the ribs move out to the sides and exhale the ribs relax in. Repeat a few times. Next place the hands over the sternum with the palms slightly crossing and the fingertips touching the collar bones. Inhale into the place where the hands are touching and feel a slight rising of the sternum and perhaps the back ribs moving slightly. Repeat a few times. Relax the hands. Then combine all 3 parts in one inhale: Inhale into the lower abdomen, into the lower ribs, and into the upper chest, and then exhale in reverse (upper chest, lower ribs, lower abdomen.) Repeat a few times. This action reminds me of filling up a glass with liquid: first the lower part fills, then the middle part, and up to the top. As the liquid leaves the glass the top is empty first, then the middle, then the bottom.

Julie Kirkpatrick

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