The many practices of yoga bring us to a deeper, clearer awareness of body and mind. As we develop this awareness, and as we work with the body and mind in the yoga postures and in meditation, the body and mind become more fit, more balanced, and more ready to be of service to us in our daily pursuits.
And yet, none of these benefits are really the aim of yoga practice. The aim is to realize that we are awareness itself. Through practice, we become more aware of our body, we become more aware of our mind, and if we continue down this path, we eventually become more aware of our awareness. The progression is from gross to subtle: aware of body, then aware of mind, then aware of awareness. The leap from there is to realize that our true nature is that very awareness. We are not the body; we are not the mind; we are awareness itself. Some use the word “consciousness” or “soul” – the ancients called in puruṣa or ātman, in Sanskrit.
We can know this on an intellectual level. But how can we come to experience this? Consider this:
When your body is hot and sweaty after ten sun salutations, you say that you are hot. But is your awareness hot? No, your awareness is aware of the heat in your body, but it is not hot. It is just aware. It is untouched, unchanged by your ten sun salutations. It was aware before, and it is aware now.
When your mind is chattering away during yoga class or meditation or some other activity, you say that you are distracted. But is your awareness distracted? No, your awareness is aware of the distracted state of your mind, but it is not distracted. It is just aware. It is unchanged by the flow of thoughts in and out of your mind. It was aware before the flood of distracting thoughts, and it is aware now.
If I think “I am hot,” then I am identifying my “self” with my body.
If I think “I am distracted,” then I am identifying my “self” with my mind.
If I think that I am aware of all these things going on in my body and mind, then I am identifying my “self” with my awareness.
And therein lies our freedom, our peace of mind, because that aspect of Self – that pure awareness – is not touched by anything. Nothing can take it away from you. Nothing can shake it, not even the worst pain, the greatest loss. The body and mind can suffer, yes, but our awareness simply holds all of that in its patient, accepting, loving gaze. Knowing this, we can begin to shift into that place of awareness – sometimes called “the seat of the soul.”
It can be hard to find our way into that seat, especially when the body and mind are out of balance, or agitated, or dull. At those times, the silence and stillness and lightness of awareness are obscured. But it is always there. Yoga offers us many tools to reconnect with that awareness: asana practice, meditation, chanting, etc. First, we become aware (of body, of mind), and then – over time, with patience and consistent effort – we become awareness itself.
My teacher Sylvie tells me that it is nearly impossible to always rest in this state of serene awareness. Inevitably, we slip into the illusion – the māyā – that we are our bodies and thoughts and personalities and roles, and then we suffer the ups and downs of life. But we can always find our way back to even ground – and this ‘recovery’ becomes easier and quicker with practice.
I close with a verse from the Bhagavad Gita that gives me great comfort on this yogic journey:
On this path, effort never goes to waste, and there is no failure. Even a little effort toward spiritual awareness will protect you from the greatest fear.
Bhagavad Gita, 2:40, translation by Eknath Easwaran