Primary Essays
Lesson 3 • Rippling Stillness:
Unveiling the Koshas and the Swaying Path to Shiva
Unveiling the Self: A Journey through The koshas
When one gazes upon the ocean, the ripples upon its surface obscure the depth beneath. Yet, as the waters grow calm, the richness and complexity of life below emerge clearly. This mirrors the essence of yogic practices, which aim to quiet the disturbances of one level of consciousness, allowing the illumination of deeper realities. As articulated by Patanjali in the foundational teachings of the Yoga Sutras, "The main practice of yoga is to calm the thought waves. When this technique is mastered, the practitioner is able to keep a steady focus inside on his or her own true nature, the Self. If the practitioner is not identifying with the Self, the fluctuating states of the mind cloud the perception" (YS, 1.2-1.4). Through the stillness of mind, the essence of the heart is unveiled. Zooming out, this principle manifests across all levels of awareness.
The Yogic tradition describes the layers that surround our true nature as Koshas, literally translated as sheaths, that cover our true nature. These layers are often depicted like a Russian doll set, or concentric circles, that surround the experience of our True Nature. The outer most layer is that of the body, the annamaya Kosha, we work with this layer through the practice of lifestyle considerations, asana, as well as conscious movement throughout our day. Conscious work with this Kosha naturally reveals the next layer of our being, the pranayamaya Kosha. This is our breath body, the pulsating layer of awareness known as prana. As we learn to work with our breath in a surrendered and natural way, we are naturally guided towards the next layer of our being, the mind. The practices of mantra meditation quite literally allows us to work directly with Manamaya Kosha, smoothing the thought waves similar to smoothing our breath flow. When the thought waves are calm, as Patanjali’s opening verses of the Yoga Sutras teach, our true nature is revealed. This allows us to work at an even more subtle level, the wisdom body, the space of the chakras in the Vijnanamaya Kosha. And the final layer is a state of being, an immersion in the Self, described as the Bliss body, the Anandamaya Kosha.
The layers of the koshas walk us from the most physical aspects of our being to the most subtle. The classic quote of Michelangelo, that the sculpture is already complete within the block of marble, and that our efforts are merely to remove the superfluous material, is a fitting metaphor for stillness helps us reveal what lies beneath the surface of our awareness. Like a sculptor, we must start with the simpler and broader strokes, outlining the overall shapes of the deity we wish to carve. These are like the shapes of our asana practice— larger swaths of movement, physical and tactile. Many people want to skip this step in the process as they see asana practice as ‘lesser than’ the bliss they seek in meditation, but skipping this step would be like a sculptor trying to carve the eyes before the head— there will be a lot of wasted effort and frustration. Yoga and Anatomy instructor Gary Kraftsow describes health in this Kosha as “No aches and pains, a feeling of lightness, the ability to withstand change, and a sense of stability and ease”. In this way we see that our work with asana is the same as our work with the breath, mantra, and the heart— we work with the body in a surrendered way in order to still that layer and reveal what’s beneath it.
The concept of the koshas shows us that stillness and surrender at one layer of our awareness reveals what is beneath it. When we can still our body’s, we begin to work with our breath, and then our mind. This is why Patanjali taught that “When the practitioner has been strengthened through asana practice, it’s easier to bring focus to the space between the breaths” (2.49) The asana practice he is referring to is both yoga asana on the mat, but also the physical posture of meditation on the cushion. Only when we can still our body can we begin to work with our breath. And only when we can calm our breath and breathe smoothly can we begin to work with our mind, as Patanjali teaches a few Sutras later, “Pranayama gives the mind a greater capacity for concentration…When the senses are successfully turned inward, they become subdued and no longer contribute to our suffering” (2.53,2.55). At each layer the teaching is the same, stillness yields clarity. Stillness of body unveils the breath. Steadiness of breath unveils the mind. Calmness of mind unveils the heart. This teaching is also echoed in Sri Shambhavananda’s words, “Through meditation we learn to sit and be present and comfortable in our own skin. I have learned to sit totally still. My mind may be going “yada yada yada,” but I don’t hear it anymore. I know that it is making noise, but I am centered in my heart and navel and I remain functional.” Shambhavananda, SP, 59
Free Write: What has been your experience of the step by step description presented by the Koshas? Does your work with the body in asana help you with pranayama? Does pranayama help you meditate?
Skillful Stillness: A Swaying Path to Shiva
The means to this stillness can be elusive for beginning practitioners. Many individuals tend to associate stillness with either a sleep state or an act of excessive willpower, they can be still either by lying on the floor, or gripping with tension. In the yogic tradition, stillness is taught as a dynamic union of effort, Sthira, and ease, Sukha— only when both qualities are present can we truly still the physical plane and illuminate a subtler reality that lies beneath it. As Patanajli writes it, “The seat used in meditation, as well as the physical postures of hatha yoga, should be firm, steady, and pleasant. The method for this is called effortless effort, perseverance without tension, and results in the experience of the infinite. In this way, the dualities of physical existence can be transcended.” (2.46-2.48).
On an even more primordial level, the very foundation of reality is described as a dance between absolute stillness and gentle motion, depicted as a harmonious dance between Shiva's tranquility and Shakti's vibrant pulsation. Together, they form the very fabric of existence, always interconnected. However, within the practice of asana or the seat for meditation, a subtle nuance of this teaching is often overlooked—the journey to reach Shiva, the essence of stillness, unfolds through the realm of Shakti, the realm of movement. As Shiva imparts in Verses 17-20 of the ancient text, the Vijnana Bhairava, "The path we must tread lies within the realm of Shakti, not Shiva, where there is no journey... The path is Shakti, not Shiva. Energy is the true path that you must follow." This implies that although Shiva and Shakti are inseparable aspects, we must journey through Shakti, through movement, to ultimately reach Shiva. This aligns with the teachings of Swami Rudrananda, suggesting that we must harness our practice amidst the dynamic circumstances of our lives to attain a state of pervasive inner stillness—our true essence, Shiva.
Hence, we recommend taking a swaying approach to stillness as you teach students about their meditation seat. Take time to do some light yoga before sitting, or simply rolling on your sides on the floor. Take time to teach students how to ‘find their seat’— ensuring that the body feels light and buoyant along the way. Offer options, encourage people to try different props and modifications, encourage a feeling of exploration instead of stagnation. Eventually, yes— we must apply our effort over time— but even then the effort is applied slowly and gradually so that the effort can be maintained sustainably. As the Sutras teach, the path to Shiva, infinite stillness, is through Shakti, infinite manifestation. This doesn’t mean we move endlessly, but it means we might need to move slower and slower until stillness becomes us, discovering our center amid the graceful dance of body and breath. This helps to illuminate Sri Shambhavananda’s teaching on stillness, “Classically, meditation is described as stilling the thought waves of the mind. You can’t force your mind to be quiet, you can’t suppress thoughts, and you can’t ignore them, but you can surrender them.” (SP 12) Similar to surrendering thoughts of the mind, stillness of the body can’t be forced or suppressed, only derived from Surrender. This is our challenge as meditation teachers, as well as our own individual journeys.
The swaying path to stillness is elucidated in Dharana 58 of the Vijnana Bhairava very simply— to embrace stillness and connect with our authentic nature, one should engage in a rhythmic swaying—allowing oneself to glide within slowing, imperceptible circles. “Sway Rhythmically…letting oneself swing in slowing invisible circles” This underscores the truth that movement serves as the conduit to stillness. This principle is also ingrained in Sri ShambhavAnanda's teachings, where he guides his students to gently rock back and forth in their meditation seats until they find their center, akin to the balance of a pinhead. Try it now—let your weight shift in subtle, hidden circles within Tadasana, transitioning from foot to foot, until you attain stillness. It's a buoyant experience of serenity, remarkably sustainable, transcending the body's constraints, as Patanjali described it earlier. Stillness demands effort, but it's not overwhelmed by it. It lies in a harmonious middle ground, and upon reaching it, it unfolds as boundlessly sustainable, free from the burden of undue will and strain. This is the transformative journey of movement that guides us toward the stillness inherent in our True Nature.
All these insights converge to reveal that stillness isn't quite what our minds perceive it to be—it's more akin to a dance, a moment brimming with energy that demands unwavering mindfulness and suppleness to sustain. While stillness remains a vital and potent facet of the yogic tradition, it defies the static image often attributed to it by our minds. Grasping at stillness with our will is as futile as capturing a soap bubble—it must naturally alight upon us. Stillness is a choreography, a performance, a rhythmic ebb and flow—its arrival is spontaneous, feeling as light as a feather, effortlessly enduring, and perpetually nurturing. As affirmed by both ancient texts and contemporary teachers in this tradition, the journey to reach this depth of stillness is paved through the realm of Shakti, through conscious movement. To achieve this, we must relinquish our tight grasp on the concept of stillness within postures and welcome this newfound comprehension with open hearts.
Free Write: What is your relationship with yoga and/or movement and stillness/meditation? Do you often do yoga or pranayama before meditating? Do you sit better after moving?
Comfort in Stillness: Essential elements for a sustainable seat
Before we dive into any meditation practices, its important to take time to understand the posture of meditation. Because without proper posture, it can be nearly impossible to reap the benefits of any practice, no matter how well it is taught or performed. And though the posture itself is simple, there are a few checkpoints that can make your experience optimal.
Seat: The first is to sit in a way that promotes stillness of body— this means that if sitting on the floor is uncomfortable, then please sit in a chair. Whether on the floor cross legged, or in a chair, the spine should be upright, supple and self-supporting. In a chair, this often means that we will need to scoot to the front of the seat, away from the back rest, as most chairs angle us back in the seat promoting poor posture, which limits our muscles of respiration and capacity for effortless expansion.
Hands: The hands can be sealed in the Jnana Mudra, with first finger and thumb touching. This, along with crossing the legs, is a means of circulating our energy— as ancient yogis, and modern touch screens, have shown us, there’s an electrical charge emanating from our finger tips. When we connect the thumb and forefinger, that charge is circulated back within us. The same is taught about the feet, when we cross our legs underneath us, in padmasana or a variation, this charge is re-circulated within you. From a chair, it is recommended to sit with the feet flat on the floor, as this has been taught to be the most optimal position for this situation.
Deep Core Support: The final Mudra, after the legs and hands have been established, is sealing the position of our spine. Patanjali was clear that the seat used for meditation should have the qualities of effortless effort, persevearance without tension, and this is of utmost important. That being said, we must do this within an upright posture— we have to sit upright, but without tension— to accomplish this we must effortlessly harness our deep core of support— but let’s take our time with this so we don’t misinterpret it and get sucked into doership. The deep core we are speaking about only activate under the lightest circumstances. As Sri Shambhavananda often teaches about finding our seat, it can be helpful to simply rock a little forward in your seat, and then back, or even to make small circles— these small movement actually inspire the deep core to awaken, too big and you miss them. From there, you allow the movements to become smaller and smaller, until you ‘arrive’ at center. I say arrive in order to alleviate the need to ‘hold’ your self at center. This is a weightless center, ‘like balancing on the head of a pin’ as Sri Shambhavananda often describes it. Another way to experiment with this subtle activation is to simply lift your arms in front of you while seated, and notice the automatic, yet almost imperceptible, compression that occurs around your midsection. Take a few natural breaths with the hands lifted to feel the balance of effort and ease present in this posture. Then slowly lower the hands and try to maintain that balance.
Khechari Mudra: The icing on the cake of this subtle core of support is actually in the tongue. The tongue, as you learned in your asana section, is the final muscle in the deep front line team— the deep core that floats you through your life’s activities. For most of us, the tongue is just sitting in our mouth, unsure of what to do most of the day when not talking or eating. Believe it or not, the tongue has a purpose outside of these activities— to gently press upwards into the soft palette. To explore this position of the tongue, lengthen the back of your neck up so that your head floats lightly over the ribs. From this position, swallow, keeping the mouth shut and not letting the head crane forward while you do so. (Our constant head forward positioning has created weakness in our neck muscles, and we often avoid using them to swallow by moving our head forward— keeping the head still while swallowing strengthens our tongue). If done correctly, the tongue should naturally suction up to the upper palette while we swallow— from there, we just keep the tongue suctioned up, and mouth shut, as we continue to breath. The effect is that you sit taller and lighter, as well as breathe more efficiently, with less effort than ever before. And when performed regularly, this gentle upward pressure has even been shown to help open our air passage ways in the mouth, allowing for better breathing in the long run (cite study).
A Subtler form of Khechari Mudra: The yogis obviously intuited the value of this gentle upward pressure of the tongue as they literally taught it as a part of the meditative posture— called the Khechari Mudra. “Khe” means space and “Chari” means to move, so this Mudra is often translated as ‘a seal that helps us move towards the infinite space of our true nature’. Though there are extreme versions of this Mudra in ancient texts, the simple act of pressing one’s tongue gently towards the roof of the mouth is how it has been handed down in the ShambhavAnanda tradition. Benefits of this Mudra in the ancient texts are associated with immune boosting, slowing down the aging process, as well as surviving without food and water, and more. Although we may not be able to attest to these qualities manifesting in our immediate lives, the Khechari Mudra offers us a finishing touch to an effective seat, which itself becomes the doorway to our spiritual practice— and in the end, it is practice that yields all boons. Now that our posture has been established, we can move into our first pranayama practice, Puraka Rechaka.