Pranayama & Tapas

When I lecture about pranayama (yogic breathing and energy practices), I use the metaphor of collecting a glass of seawater.

If we scoop a glass of seawater up it has all the fragments (eg. sand, shell, etc.) floating, suspended. Setting the glass on a shelf, everything will settle to the bottom. Our minds are like this glass and the transformation that occurs is similar to tapas (purification process) in the practices of pranayama (and yoga).

Imagine now, taking this same glass and disturbing it — fragments are stirred up. Similar to the mind, thought patterns can be reignited in our daily interactions.

These agitations can feel personal, even when self imposed. The practice of pranayama can make you feel like you’re drowning, dying, or completely unhinged. This is not a selling point. It’s a process. A practice that purposefully disrupts to awaken.

“One sets out on the path of yoga after learning the method of [mastering] it [i.e. the breath]. He who has only bits and pieces of knowledge gets into trouble. Those yogis who out of foolishness want [to practise] yoga without having conquered the breath are like those who wish to cross the ocean in an unbaked pot.” — Roots of Yoga, James Mallinson & Mark Singleton

Continuing with the glass of water from the ocean, place it in the sink and slowly turn on the faucet. The water like the practice of pranayama will disturb the contents of the glass. The practice creates churning and currents and everything is chaotic.

Almost every yoga text has a warning about the practice of pranayama, yet in the classroom we rarely see much beyond ujjayi and commonly see one type of pranayama (nadi shodhana) over and over again with little regard to the students’ glass of water.

Pranayama is a good practice — it works! I think of these warnings as a reminder of the temperament of the individual practicing and that the varieties of kumbhaka (pranayama) have different benefits; therefore, cause unique disturbances at first.

If you keep the current running in your glass of ocean, eventually the water, with all the fragments, will run over the side of the glass. There will be two transformations: one that is visual (material of the mind) and one that is felt (salt water to drinking water).

Turning the tap on full force will lose the balance of water being transformed and possibly topple the glass. Not enough effort and nothing happens. As you you all know, yoga is prescriptive and requires practice to achieve steadiness, ease and ultimately lightness for when those fragments that we thought were spilled over magically appear, once again.