My Daily Thread

thread sutra, (Sanskrit: “thread” or “string”) Welcome to My Daily Thread. A little slice of wisdom from the ages. From Patanjali through the present, a little riff to make your day! That's the thread, the sutra, the wise string that binds us all together.

Dr Paul Bramadat - "Yogalands." 07/26/2025

285. Liar Liar ... 06/18/2025

285. Liar Liar ... Today we’re taking another pass at satya, the second yama from Patanjali’s Yoga Sutras. The sutra we’re focusing on is YS 2.36: satya-pratiṣṭhāyāṁ kriyā-phala-āśrayatvam—when one is firmly established in truth, their actions bear fruit. This is a powerful idea. It suggests that when we are rooted in truth, what we say comes to life. Something here touches on the modern idea of manifestation but is grounded in yogic ethics—truth as a force, not just a concept. But Satya isn’t just “don’t lie.” That’s only the surface level. The deeper understanding is about alignment—about not cultivating dishonesty at all, because the energy it takes to maintain a lie, remember what we said to whom, and live split in ourselves, is exhausting. Living satya means living in full alignment. It’s about integrity. When we say what we mean and mean what we say, there's a sense of inner coherence. The word pratiṣṭhā means firmly rooted. Picture a tree, stable, deep in the earth—truth planted deep within us like that. When we’re established in truth, our words carry weight. They matter. They shape the world around us. We become trustworthy, not just to others but to ourselves. Life gets simpler. Our energy flows where it’s needed. We don’t waste time in contradiction. We become more effective. On a personal level, I often ask myself: Are there places in my life where I say one thing and do another? Because this yama is really about energetics—aligning our speech, thoughts, and actions to our deeper nature. For some people, this kind of congruence comes easily. For others, myself included, it’s a daily practice. Sometimes the truth is simply saying “I don’t know,” instead of pretending I do. Or telling someone close to me something hard—with kindness. Or admitting I’m scared instead of pretending I’m confident. Being vulnerable, honest, and grounded. It reminds me of the Jim Carrey movie Liar, Liar. It’s a comedy, yes, but it paints a surprisingly profound picture of what life might look like if we could only tell the truth. And there’s something freeing about that. We don’t need to manipulate or hustle or perform. We just speak the truth and let the universe work out the details. We say what’s true, and we let go. Because truth, when lived fully, doesn’t just help us navigate life more cleanly—it transforms the very way life shows up for us. /episode/index/show/01c702d6-9ef7-4cb1-aff4-882842fb6f16/id/37049545

284. Established in Truth! 06/16/2025

284. Established in Truth! YS 2.36 says: satya-pratiṣṭhāyām kriyā-phala-āśrayatvam — “When one is firmly established in truthfulness, then their words become so powerful that the result of action rests upon them.” We’re back in the section of the Yoga Sutras that deals with pratiṣṭhā, being deeply and firmly established in a state of being. This time, the quality is satya, truthfulness. Patanjali says that when truth becomes our natural state—when we’re rooted in it, consistent with it—then even our words start to carry the power of truth. It’s not that we control outcomes like magic. But our speech and actions become aligned, trustworthy, resonant. People believe us. We believe in ourselves. And the world reflects that back. Let’s look at the Sanskrit closely. Satya is truthfulness, not just about being honest, but being in harmony with reality—what’s authentic, what’s sincere. Kriyā means action. Phala means the result or the fruit. And āśrayatvam means that those results depend upon, or are supported by, the truth we live in. So when truth is your foundation, your actions bear fruit. It’s not just about saying the right things. It’s about living in a way where your speech, your actions, your values, and your intentions all line up. The speech of someone like that has weight. Their words matter. Their life becomes a living truth. This isn’t just a yogic idea. Don Miguel Ruiz, in The Four Agreements, begins with the first agreement: “Be impeccable with your word.” He writes, “Speak with integrity. Say only what you mean. Avoid using the word to speak against yourself or to gossip about others. Use the power of your word in the direction of truth and love.” This is a very clear expression of satya-pratiṣṭhāyām. When we speak from a place of love and truth, we align ourselves with something more powerful than the ego. Something that uplifts, that heals, that brings clarity. But to do that, we have to slow down and pay attention. Are our words reactionary? Are they defensive? Are they driven by fear, or by truth? And not just spoken words—but what we write, what we post, what we say to ourselves. When truth becomes the ground we stand on, our words stop being tools of manipulation or noise. They become instruments of transformation. This practice takes vigilance. It’s so easy to exaggerate, to flatter, to downplay, to hide. But Patanjali’s teaching is that the yogi’s path is one of alignment—where speech and heart match. Where truth is not a tool but a way of being. And when we get there—or even get close to that—our presence begins to shift things. Our words start to create change. People feel it. So maybe today we ask: are my words aligned with my heart? Can I be impeccable with them? Can I use them as a force for clarity, healing, and connection? This is the path of satya-pratiṣṭhāyām. Truth as a lived state. Words as action. And a life built on integrity. /episode/index/show/01c702d6-9ef7-4cb1-aff4-882842fb6f16/id/37033840

283. A mercy that starts inside... 06/05/2025

283. A mercy that starts inside... Yoga Sūtra 2.35 – ahiṁsā pratiṣṭhāyām tat-sannidhau vaira-tyāgaḥ When one is firmly established in non-violence, all hostility ceases in their presence. Today, we return to ahiṁsā pratiṣṭhām—being established in non-violence—as taught in Yoga Sūtra 2.35. We’ve already explored how the yamas and niyamas are not just rules, but deeply personal practices—moral and ethical disciplines that offer a framework for living. Simple? Yes. But easy? Not always. They are practices for managing our lives skillfully, for creating relationships rooted in integrity, peace, and love. They are the ground upon which we walk the yogic path. We've talked about famous individuals—Gandhi, Mother Teresa, Thich Nhat Hanh, Mr. Rogers—who embodied this principle. But let’s bring it closer to home. Maybe it’s your grandmother—who listens fully, without interrupting. Maybe it’s a friend—who stays calm, even when you’re upset. Maybe it’s a teacher—who creates a peaceful classroom without ever raising their voice. These people don’t need a stage or a spotlight. They are quietly holding themselves steady. And in doing so, they embody what Patanjali describes in Yoga Sūtra 1.3: tadā draṣṭuḥ svarūpe’vasthānam – Then the Seer abides in their Own true nature. That’s the heart of it. This isn’t about having a good day. It’s not about performance or temporary calm. It’s a state of being—an embodiment. A settledness that radiates safety. Because the truth is, all the hustle, all the striving, all the accomplishments… mean little if we don’t have peace and contentment inside. Everyday ahiṁsā is simple and profound: being the person in whose presence others feel safe. And yet, here’s something essential—you can’t give what you don’t have. Non-violence must apply to yourself first. The way you speak to yourself, how you treat yourself, the space you give yourself to be imperfect and still whole. So in closing the ahiṁsā circuit today, If you don't believe in Ahimsa as a worthy practice, believe in the karma that will be played out at a later time. I leave you with some writing by Rudy Francisco: “She asks me to kill the spider. Instead, I get the most peaceful weapons I can find. I take a cup and a napkin, I catch the spider, put it outside, and allow it to walk away. If I am ever caught in the wrong place at the wrong time, just being alive and not bothering anyone, I hope I am greeted with the same kind of mercy.” And that’s the essence of ahiṁsā pratiṣṭhām—a mercy that starts inside and ripples outward. /episode/index/show/01c702d6-9ef7-4cb1-aff4-882842fb6f16/id/36854320

282. Ahimsa and our modern Matriarchs. 06/04/2025

282. Ahimsa and our modern Matriarchs. Yoga Sūtra 2.35 – ahiṁsā pratiṣṭhāyām tat-sannidhau vaira-tyāgaḥ When one is firmly established in non-violence, then all hostility ceases in their presence. Today, we reflect again on ahiṁsā pratiṣṭhām—being firmly established in non-harming. Patanjali teaches that this is not a casual virtue but a transformative power: when someone has deeply integrated non-violence into their being, conflict and aggression fall away in their presence. We see examples of this principle embodied in historical figures such as Mahatma Gandhi, His Holiness the Dalai Lama, Fred Rogers, and Thich Nhat Hanh. Their gentle yet unwavering commitment to peace created fields of harmony around them. But we must also honor the matriarchs of ahiṁsā pratiṣṭhām, whose compassion and moral clarity disarmed hostility and invited collective healing. St. Teresa of Calcutta radiated a love so palpable that even a brief encounter could leave an imprint of peace. Jeff recalls feeling this light firsthand. Her words remind us: “If we have no peace, it is because we have forgotten we belong to each other.” Maya Angelou, American poet, civil rights activist, and towering voice for justice and dignity, gave us this stark truth: “Hate—it has caused a lot of problems in the world, but has not yet solved one.” Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg, Associate Justice of the U.S. Supreme Court and champion for gender equality, once said: “Acting in anger or annoyance will not advance one’s ability to persuade.” Her restraint and reason were forms of silent, disarming strength. Pema Chödrön, an American Buddhist nun and teacher, has created a body of work that encourages gentleness amid difficulty. In When Things Fall Apart, she writes: “You are the sky. Everything else—it’s just the weather.” This stillness in the storm is a lived ahiṁsā. These women, like their male counterparts, cultivated a presence so grounded, so free of confrontation, that aggression could not take root around them. Their lives are examples of the inner discipline Patanjali is pointing to—a practice of becoming unshakable, non-reactive, and deeply compassionate. And so, today’s question for contemplation is this: “Can you become a sanctuary of peace? Can you let non-violence be your default setting and radiate that into the world?” /episode/index/show/01c702d6-9ef7-4cb1-aff4-882842fb6f16/id/36848700

281. A Non-violent default setting ... 06/03/2025

281. A Non-violent default setting ... Today, we return to our study of aṣṭāṅga yoga, the eight-limbed path outlined by Patañjali. As a reminder, the eight limbs are: Yama – ethical restraints Niyama – personal observances Āsana – posture Prāṇāyāma – breath regulation Pratyāhāra – withdrawal of the senses Dhāraṇā – concentration Dhyāna – meditation Samādhi – absorption or union The first four limbs are external practices—disciplines that we can actively cultivate through behavior and intention. The final four, the internal limbs, arise naturally from the consistent and sincere application of the first four. It's like laying a foundation before building a temple. Let’s recall the five yamas, the ethical guidelines that form the cornerstone of the path: Ahiṃsā – non-violence Satya – truthfulness Asteya – non-stealing Brahmacarya – right use of energy Aparigraha – non-possessiveness Today, we focus on the first of these: ahiṃsā, as presented in Yoga Sūtra 2.35: "ahiṃsā-pratiṣṭhāyām tat-sannidhau vaira-tyāgaḥ" When one is firmly established in non-violence, all hostility ceases in their presence. This verse carries a profound and poetic vision—just imagine: to be so committed to non-harming that even the presence of your being dissolves conflict in others. This is the power of spiritual presence. Stories of saints like St. Francis of Assisi, who reportedly sat peacefully with wolves and birds, illustrate this reality. And in our own age, we can look to people like Mahatma Gandhi, Mother Teresa, The Dalai Lama, Fred Rogers (“I like you just the way you are”), and Thích Nhất Hạnh (“We must speak for peace, not victory”). These are living embodiments of ahiṃsā, radiating a field of calm wherever they go. But let’s be honest—it’s hard to imagine ourselves at that level. Thankfully, Patañjali is not asking for perfection. He’s asking us to practice toward perfection. To aim for non-violence as our default setting. What does that look like in daily life? It means we bring non-harming into every layer of interaction: – In thought (releasing judgments), – In word (choosing kindness over criticism), – And in action (refusing to cause harm, even subtly). It’s not passive. It’s courageous and intentional. And it makes a difference. So here is today’s inquiry: What do you stand for? Who are you becoming? Can you let ahiṃsā be your baseline—your default—and allow that energy to ripple outward? More tomorrow as we continue exploring the transformative power of the yamas. /episode/index/show/01c702d6-9ef7-4cb1-aff4-882842fb6f16/id/36823530

280. Desire to anger, huh? 06/02/2025

280. Desire to anger, huh? Today we continue our deep dive into Yoga Sūtra 2.34, staying with the powerful teaching of pratipakṣa bhāvanam—the deliberate cultivation of opposite, positive thoughts to replace those that are harmful or negative. This is no abstract philosophy; it's a daily practice for those on the yogic path. We begin by revisiting YS 2.33: "vitarkāḥ hiṃsādayaḥ kṛta-kārita-anumoditāḥ lobha-krodha-moha-pūrvakāḥ mṛdu-madhya-adhimātrāḥ duḥkha-ajñāna-ananta-phalāḥ iti pratipakṣa-bhāvanam" Negative thoughts such as violence, whether done by oneself, instigated in others, or even silently approved of, arise from greed (lobha), anger (krodha), and delusion (moha). These may be mild, moderate, or intense. And the fruit of such thoughts is always suffering (duḥkha) and ignorance (ajñāna). Therefore, the remedy is clear: pratipakṣa bhāvanam—cultivating the opposite. And now, YS 2.34 offers a continued emphasis: "vitarkāḥ hiṃsādayaḥ kṛta-kārita-anumoditāḥ lobha-krodha-moha-pūrvakāḥ mṛdu-madhya-adhimātrāḥ duḥkha-ajñāna-ananta-phalāḥ iti pratipakṣa-bhāvanam" Yes, the verse repeats, almost word for word, driving home the importance of this mental discipline. When negative thoughts arise—and they will—do not indulge, fight, or shame them. Pause. Breathe. Redirect. This is the essence of the yogic mind-training. It’s ancient neuroplasticity in action. What we practice, we become. Patañjali’s wording is especially nuanced: the verse starts with hiṁsā, often translated as violence or harm, but follows it with ādayaḥ, meaning “etc.” He’s indicating that it’s not just physical harm, but any kind of negative mental manifestation—jealousy, judgment, resentment, comparison, fear. To deepen this insight, we turn to the Bhagavad Gītā, Chapter 2, Verse 62: "dhyāyato viṣayān puṁsaḥ saṅgas teṣūpajāyate | saṅgāt sañjāyate kāmaḥ kāmāt krodho 'bhijāyate ||" "When a person dwells on objects, attachment to them arises. From attachment comes desire, and from desire arises anger." Here we see a natural psychological progression: greed leads to attachment, attachment leads to desire, and desire, when unfulfilled, gives rise to anger. This anger clouds judgment and drives delusion. Sound familiar? It’s the very lobha-krodha-moha that Patañjali warns against. The remedy in both texts is the same: cultivate awareness and redirect the mind. One breath at a time. One thought at a time. One action at a time. This is the everyday sādhanā—the inner practice that turns our yoga from theory into transformation. More tomorrow. /episode/index/show/01c702d6-9ef7-4cb1-aff4-882842fb6f16/id/36823090

279. Desire to disillusionment... 05/22/2025

279. Desire to disillusionment... Today, we continue our deep dive into Yoga Sūtra 2.34, staying with the powerful teaching of pratipakṣa bhāvanam—the deliberate cultivation of opposite, positive thoughts to replace harmful or negative ones. This is no abstract philosophy; it's a daily practice for those on the yogic path. We begin by revisiting YS 2.33: "vitarkāḥ hiṃsādayaḥ kṛta-kārita-anumoditāḥ lobha-krodha-moha-pūrvakāḥ mṛdu-madhya-adhimātrāḥ duḥkha-ajñāna-ananta-phalāḥ iti pratipakṣa-bhāvanam" Negative thoughts, such as violence, whether done by oneself, instigated in others, or even silently approved of, arise from greed (lobha), anger (krodha), and delusion (moha). These may be mild, moderate, or intense. And the fruit of such thoughts is always suffering (duḥkha) and ignorance (ajñāna). Therefore, the remedy is clear: pratipakṣa bhāvanam—cultivating the opposite. And now, YS 2.34 offers a continued emphasis: "vitarkāḥ hiṃsādayaḥ kṛta-kārita-anumoditāḥ lobha-krodha-moha-pūrvakāḥ mṛdu-madhya-adhimātrāḥ duḥkha-ajñāna-ananta-phalāḥ iti pratipakṣa-bhāvanam" Yes, the verse repeats, almost word for word, driving home the importance of this mental discipline. When negative thoughts arise—and they will—do not indulge, fight, or shame them. Pause. Breathe. Redirect. This is the essence of the yogic mind-training. It’s ancient neuroplasticity in action. What we practice, we become. Patañjali’s wording is especially nuanced: the verse starts with hiṁsā, often translated as violence or harm, but follows it with ādayaḥ, meaning “etc.” He’s indicating that it’s not just physical harm, but any kind of negative mental manifestation—jealousy, judgment, resentment, comparison, fear. To deepen this insight, we turn to the Bhagavad Gītā, Chapter 2, Verse 62: "dhyāyato viṣayān puṁsaḥ saṅgas teṣūpajāyate | saṅgāt sañjāyate kāmaḥ kāmāt krodho 'bhijāyate ||" "When a person dwells on objects, attachment to them arises. From attachment comes desire, and from desire arises anger, from anger disillusionment" Here we see a natural psychological progression: greed leads to attachment, attachment leads to desire, and desire, when unfulfilled, gives rise to anger. This anger clouds judgment and drives delusion. Sound familiar? It’s the very lobha-krodha-moha that Patañjali warns against. The remedy in both texts is the same: pratipaksa bhavanam, cultivate awareness and redirect the mind to the opposite positive. One breath at a time. One thought at a time. One action at a time. This is the everyday sādhanā—the inner practice that turns our yoga from theory into transformation. More tomorrow. /episode/index/show/01c702d6-9ef7-4cb1-aff4-882842fb6f16/id/36645095

278. Don't be a greedy thief! 05/21/2025

278. Don't be a greedy thief! We continue our journey with Yoga Sūtra 2.33, and now deepen into the next verse — 2.34. If 2.33 gave us the prescription — pratipakṣa-bhāvanam — then 2.34 shows us the diagnosis, the depth of the problem. Let’s start by recalling the previous sutra: vitarka-bādhane pratipakṣa-bhāvanam वितर्कबाधने प्रतिपक्षभावनम्॥२.३३॥ “When disturbed by negative thoughts, cultivate their opposites.” Vitarka refers to thoughts that are harmful, unwholesome, or negative — especially those rooted in violence, attachment, or delusion. The antidote Patanjali gives is pratipakṣa-bhāvanam, the deliberate cultivation of opposing, positive thoughts. Now, we chant and reflect on the next verse: vitarkāḥ hiṃsādayaḥ kṛta-kārita-anumoditāḥ lobha-krodha-moha-pūrvakāḥ mṛdu-madhya-adhimātra duḥkha-ajñāna-ananta-phalāḥ iti pratipakṣa-bhāvanam वितर्का हिंसादयः कृतकारितानुमोदिताः लोभक्रोधमोहपूर्वकाः मृदुमध्याधिमात्र दुःखाज्ञानानन्तफलाः इति प्रतिपक्षभावनम्॥२.३४॥ “When negative thoughts like violence, whether done by oneself, instigated, or approved of, arise — and are caused by greed (lobha), anger (krodha), or delusion (moha), and can be mild, moderate, or intense — they lead to endless suffering and ignorance. Thus, the remedy is to cultivate their opposite — pratipakṣa-bhāvanam.” Patañjali breaks it down in such a precise and timeless way. He identifies the many forms that harm — hiṁsā — can take. Violence isn't just physical. It can be: Kṛta: done by oneself. Kārita: incited or commissioned by someone else. Anumodita: passively approved of or silently endorsed. And what’s underneath these harmful tendencies? He gives us the root causes: Lobha – greed, Krodha – anger, Moha – delusion or confusion. He also shows that these tendencies don’t manifest in just one way. They can be: Mṛdu – mild, Madhya – moderate, Adhimātra – intense. But no matter the strength or the form, he tells us the fruit is always the same: duḥkha-ajñāna-ananta-phalāḥ — endless suffering and ignorance. This is where the teachings connect so powerfully with modern psychology and recovery traditions. In the 12 Steps and 12 Traditions, Bill Wilson talks about “character defects” — and not as moral failings, but as blind spots that bring pain when left unacknowledged. No one wants to be known as greedy — as a thief. But who among us hasn’t reached for more than our fair share of credit or praise? No one wants to be labeled as violent or angry. But what about the little barbs of gossip we toss, the emotional jabs that quietly undermine others — forms of character assassination? We all fall somewhere on this spectrum. Patañjali's wisdom is not reserved for saints or sages. It's meant for us — for humans doing our best in the mess and magic of daily life. And he gives us a clear, consistent path forward: don’t fight the thoughts — redirect them. Cultivate the opposite. Unchecked, these tendencies lead to duḥkha — suffering — and ajñāna — ignorance, or the forgetting of our true nature. But the great gift of these teachings is that we can begin again. We can practice pratipakṣa-bhāvanam, moment by moment. Thought by thought. Choice by choice. More tomorrow. /episode/index/show/01c702d6-9ef7-4cb1-aff4-882842fb6f16/id/36630730

277. "Stop it!" Bob Newhart, and thought replacement therapy. 05/20/2025

277. "Stop it!" Bob Newhart, and thought replacement therapy. We continue our exploration through the Sādhana Pāda, arriving again at Yoga Sūtra 2.33 — a powerful and practical teaching that has everything to do with the life we’re living today. vitarka-bādhane pratipakṣa-bhāvanam वितर्कबाधने प्रतिपक्षभावनम्॥२.३३॥ “When disturbed by negative thoughts, cultivate the opposite.” It’s deceptively simple yet deeply profound. This teaching lives not in theory but in everyday experience. It’s all too easy to be swept up in negative thoughts or drawn into negative conversations—especially in a world that thrives on fear, urgency, and comparison. Today’s episode is about pragmatics. It’s about how we actually apply this teaching in the real moments of life. And here’s a key insight: the heat of the moment is not the time to plan your positive reframe. If you wait until the storm hits to find your center, it’s already too late. So what’s the first step in pratipakṣa-bhāvanam? It’s to pause. And breathe. I recommend this with a little humor too — if you need a laugh and a surprisingly effective reminder, go watch the classic Bob Newhart skit “Stop it.” It’s a two-minute masterclass in not letting your thoughts take over your life. Let’s bring it back to practice. When the negative thought arises — maybe it’s “I’m not good enough” or “I always mess this up” — stop. Breathe. And replace it. Try: “I’m growing.” “I’m healing.” “I’m flexible.” “I’m strong.” And if that feels like too much of a stretch, soften it: “I’m willing to believe I can grow.” “I’m open to being strong.” “I’m willing to be willing.” This is the essence of thought replacement therapy, rooted in ancient yogic mind training. We expand our emotional vocabulary. We build resilience. We create space for inner alchemy. The opportunity is here, every day — to choose a more elevated thought, a more grounded presence, a more compassionate path. But we have to choose it. Again. And again. /episode/index/show/01c702d6-9ef7-4cb1-aff4-882842fb6f16/id/36617890

276. Don't fight it. Redirect .. 05/19/2025

276. Don't fight it. Redirect .. Let's review Yoga Sūtra 2.32, which lists the five niyamas, or personal observances — and in reviewing this sūtra, what strikes me most is the elegant simplicity of the path it offers. These teachings, though ancient, are profoundly relevant today — perhaps even more so in our overstimulated, fast-paced world. Let’s revisit the niyamas through a simple lens of choice: Śauca (शौच) – Choose simplicity over excess. Santoṣa (सन्तोष) – Choose gratitude over striving. Tapaḥ (तपः) – Choose effort over escape. Svādhyāya (स्वाध्याय) – Choose inner truth over noise. Īśvara-praṇidhāna (ईश्वरप्रणिधान) – Choose surrender over control. This rendering offers not only a practical summary of the sūtras but a compass for modern living. These are choices we can actually make — in small moments, every day — and each one takes us closer to clarity, presence, and peace. Now, we move on to Sūtra 2.33, which is a favorite of mine. There’s something magical about the 33s in the Yoga Sūtras — both 1.33 and 2.33 offer essential, transformational teachings. Let’s unpack 2.33 here: vitarka-bādhane pratipakṣa-bhāvanam वितर्कबाधने प्रतिपक्षभावनम्॥२.३३॥ Word-by-word breakdown: Vitarka – negative or unwholesome thoughts Bādhane – when disturbed or afflicted Pratipakṣa – the opposite Bhāvanam – contemplation or cultivation So, when negative thoughts — like anger, judgment, fear — arise and disturb the mind, cultivate the opposite. This sūtra is so simple, but its impact is profound. It’s the ancient version of neuroplasticity. Today, neuroscience tells us: what fires together, wires together. The pathways we repeatedly walk become our default. And here, Patanjali is offering us the same insight — millennia ago. He reminds us: You are not your thoughts. When a harmful or painful thought arises, don’t fight it. Don’t shame it. Don’t suppress it. Redirect it. Cultivate its opposite. If you're angry, practice kindness. If you're anxious, practice steadiness. If you're envious, practice appreciation. This is mind training — the essence of yoga psychology. It teaches us to step out of reactivity and into clarity. When you consistently direct your thoughts toward their antidote, you literally reshape the pathways of the mind. More tomorrow, as we continue into this powerful section of the Yoga Sūtras. /episode/index/show/01c702d6-9ef7-4cb1-aff4-882842fb6f16/id/36613995

275. Inner truth over outer noise ... 05/16/2025

275. Inner truth over outer noise ... The yamas and niyamas are more than philosophical principles — they are ethical and moral disciplines, and for me, they’re the practices I return to again and again in my journey to become a better human being. Now, let me slip in a little reminder — the San Pancho full court press is on. Our upcoming retreat in beautiful San Pancho is designed to lift your spirit, deepen your practice, and reconnect you to yourself in profound ways. If you feel called, visit to learn more. Back to the yamas and niyamas. These aren’t just for yogis on a mat — they’re inner anchors for anyone walking a path of integrity and purpose. You don’t have to twist yourself into a pretzel or chant in Sanskrit to benefit from these teachings. Whether you’re a yogi or not doesn’t matter to me — but I believe everyone needs an ethical and moral compass to guide their life. The yamas help us in our relationships with others — how we interact, how we live in community, how we treat the people around us. The niyamas, on the other hand, guide our relationship with ourselves — our inner discipline, our personal practice, our state of mind. Together, they shape a framework for living with intention. These are not simply behaviors — they are states of being we cultivate. And through these disciplines, we begin to align with our inner nature. As that inner alignment deepens, it naturally radiates outward and transforms our outer experience. In the spiritual life, or in any life devoted to reflection and growth, there are what we might call Divine Mysteries — forces or truths that can’t always be seen, but that move us nonetheless. Aligning ourselves with these unseen truths, these universal patterns, brings a deep sense of order and connection. Now let’s review the niyamas again — each one a stepping stone toward inner clarity: Śauca (शौच) – Cleanliness or purity. Choosing simplicity over excess. Santoṣa (सन्तोष) – Contentment. Choosing gratitude over striving. Tapaḥ (तपः) – Discipline or effort. Choosing effort over escape. Svādhyāya (स्वाध्याय) – Self-study or reflection on sacred texts. Choosing inner truth over outer noise. Īśvara-praṇidhāna (ईश्वरप्रणिधान) – Surrender to a higher power. Choosing surrender over control. These aren’t just lofty ideas. They are choices we can make — every day — to live with more integrity, more grace, and more peace. Let these principles be a guide, no matter where you are or what your path looks like. Tomorrow, we wrap this section up and move forward in the Sūtras. Thank you for walking this journey with me. /episode/index/show/01c702d6-9ef7-4cb1-aff4-882842fb6f16/id/36592130

274. Contentment. Allow the water to become clear. 05/15/2025

273. Choose your śauca – purity, cleanliness, or clarity!? 05/14/2025

272. Mahāvratam. The great vows! 05/13/2025

272. Mahāvratam. The great vows! We continue our journey through the Sādhana Pāda of the Yoga Sūtras, exploring the practices that Patanjali offers to help us move toward viveka-khyāti—discriminative wisdom. In YS 2.29, we were introduced to the eight limbs of yoga, aṣṭāṅga yoga, and now in YS 2.30, Patanjali begins with the first of those limbs: the yamas. YS 2.30: अहिंसासत्यास्तेय ब्रह्मचर्यापरिग्रहाः यमाः ahiṁsā-satya-asteya-brahmacarya-aparigrahāḥ yamāḥ Non-violence, truthfulness, non-stealing, celibacy/moderation, and non-possessiveness are the restraints. These are the first ethical foundations of yoga. The yamas are not rigid commandments, but rather energetic truths—vibrational realities. When we align with them, inner peace arises; when we violate them, we disturb our own clarity and calm. They’re not just about morality; they’re about creating the right conditions in our minds and hearts for deep meditation and insight. Ahimsa, non-harming, is first—and that’s not by accident. It is the cornerstone of all the yamas, and arguably of all yoga. Think about it: how can we find peace or cultivate meditative stillness if we are actively or passively causing harm—to others or to ourselves? And yet, ahimsa is more than just “not hurting.” Sri O.P. Tiwari once said that in relationships, rather than making lofty declarations like “I will always love you,” perhaps it’s more powerful to say, “I will always prioritize not causing you harm.” In a world where the word “love” can be overused or diluted, ahimsa reminds us that real love is action—it’s care, restraint, and attentiveness in every word and deed. Even in daily life—say, while driving—we’re in relationships with others. Can we bring ahimsa into those ordinary interactions? Can we let these ethical principles begin shaping the way we move through the world? Because the yamas are about just that: our relationships, our boundaries, our integrity in action. Now, in YS 2.31, Patañjali expands our understanding: YS 2.31 जातिदेशकालसमयानवच्छिन्नाः सार्वभौमा महाव्रतम् jāti-deśa-kāla-samaya-anavacchinnāḥ sārvabhaumā mahāvratam These great vows (mahāvratam) are universal, not limited by class, location, time, or circumstance. Here’s where it gets big. The yamas aren’t local customs or spiritual suggestions. They are what Patañjali calls mahāvratam—great vows. And they apply everywhere. Let’s break this down: Jāti – Caste, social group, or identity Deśa – Place or geographic location Kāla – Time period—past, present, future Samaya – Circumstance or situation So no matter your status, your culture, the era you live in, or the challenges you face—the yamas still apply. They’re as universal and reliable as gravity. Just as gravity doesn’t care if you’re in Tokyo or Toronto, the yamas don’t shift based on mood or preference. They are timeless principles for living in alignment with truth. In a world growing more skeptical of organized religion or rigid ideologies, this is especially relevant. The yamas offer us a moral compass grounded not in dogma, but in awareness, intention, and peace. They are the first step toward true freedom from citta-vṛtti—the whirling disturbances of the mind. Let’s not reduce yoga to just postures or breathing exercises. Yoga is a path of purification, clarity, and ultimately freedom. Take ahimsa into your weekend. Reflect on these great vows. Let your actions be your peace. Om. Peace out. /episode/index/show/01c702d6-9ef7-4cb1-aff4-882842fb6f16/id/36541635

271. Ahiṃsā the start of yoga? 05/12/2025

271. Ahiṃsā the start of yoga? Continuing our journey into the Yoga Sūtras and the teachings of the great meditation masters, we return to the Sādhana Pāda of Patañjali, the chapter of practice. This is where Patañjali lists the steps—the actual methods—we can apply to move toward viveka-khyāti, the unwavering discriminative wisdom that brings freedom from suffering. Previously, in Yoga Sūtra 2.29, we were introduced to the classic eight limbs of Aṣṭāṅga Yoga. Now, in Yoga Sūtra 2.30, Patañjali begins to unpack the first of these limbs: the yamas. The sūtra reads: "Ahiṃsā-satya-asteya-brahmacarya-aparigrahāḥ yamāḥ" अहिंसासत्यास्तेय ब्रह्मचर्यापरिग्रहा यमाः ॥२.३०॥ “Non-harming, truthfulness, non-stealing, celibacy (right use of energy), and non-possessiveness are the yamas.” The yamas are ethical guidelines—not rigid rules, but principles that help guide our interactions with the world. They are not commandments, but rather energetic or vibrational truths. When we violate these principles, we disturb our inner peace. For example, when we harm another, we’re often left looking over our shoulder, waiting for retaliation. It’s challenging to sit quietly in meditation with a mind filled with fear, guilt, or anxiety. The yamas, then, are the first step toward freedom from citta-vṛtti—the fluctuations of the mind. Among the five yamas, ahiṃsā (non-harming) is the cornerstone. It forms the ethical foundation of all the other limbs of yoga. Ahiṃsā means practicing kindness and compassion, refraining from causing harm in thought, word, or deed. In the teachings of Śrī O.P. Tiwari, there’s a beautiful reminder that while modern culture often emphasizes “love” in relationships, perhaps an even more powerful commitment would be to prioritize ahiṃsā. Rather than saying, “I will always love you,” we might say, “I will always do my best not to harm you.” This shift moves us from sentiment to responsibility, letting our actions become the true expression of care. In a world increasingly skeptical of organized religion, the yamas and niyamas offer a universal, practical, and profoundly human set of values. They are practices we can integrate into daily life, regardless of belief or background. As our commitment to these ethical principles deepens, so does our ability to still the mind and let the light of wisdom shine through. As you carry this teaching into your life, remember: ahiṃsā is not just the first step on the path of yoga—it may also be the deepest. Let your weekend be guided by non-harming, and may your peace ripple outward into the world. 🧘‍♂️ San Pancho 2026 — Join us for a retreat in Mexico to explore these teachings more deeply: 👉 /episode/index/show/01c702d6-9ef7-4cb1-aff4-882842fb6f16/id/36533115

270. Forget Love, jump to Ahimsa!? 05/09/2025

270. Forget Love, jump to Ahimsa!? we're continuing our journey through the Sādhana Pāda, the second chapter of Patañjali’s Yoga Sūtras. Let's remember where we’ve just been: in Sūtra 2.28, Patañjali says that through the consistent practice of yoga, particularly the eight limbs, the impurities dwindle and then—then!—“the light of discriminative wisdom arises.” YS 2.28 "Yogāṅgānuṣṭhānād aśuddhi-kṣaye jñāna-dīptiḥ āviveka-khyāteḥ" By the practice of the limbs of yoga, the impurities are destroyed and the light of wisdom arises, leading to discriminative discernment (viveka-khyāti). Then in Sūtra 2.29, Patañjali begins detailing the aṣṭāṅga yoga—the eight-limbed path. Now we move into Sūtra 2.30, where the first of the eight limbs, the yamas, are introduced. These are ethical guidelines that help us live in harmony with others. YS 2.30 "Ahiṃsā satya asteya brahmacarya aparigrahāḥ yamāḥ" Non-harming, truthfulness, non-stealing, celibacy or right use of energy, and non-possessiveness—these are the yamas. Let’s pause and take in the first one: ahiṃsā—non-harming. This is the cornerstone of the entire yogic path. Ahiṃsā means living kindly and compassionately, not causing harm through our thoughts, words, or actions. The world needs this now more than ever. Jeff remembers a teaching from his teacher, Śrī O.P. Tiwari-ji, on ahiṃsā vs. love in relationships. In our modern world, the word “love” gets used so often that it can become watered down. But what if we prioritized ahiṃsā instead? Instead of saying, “I will always love you,” we could say, “I will always strive to never harm you.” Let our actions—not just our words—be the true demonstration of love. This principle is relevant not just in our most intimate relationships, but also in the small, everyday moments—like when we’re driving around others, interacting with strangers, or engaging in difficult conversations. The yamas are the yogi's guide to right relationship with the world. So as we head into the weekend, let’s carry ahiṃsā with us—not just as a concept, but as a way of being. Om. Peace. Out. /episode/index/show/01c702d6-9ef7-4cb1-aff4-882842fb6f16/id/36512555

269. The eight limbs, moving to mediation. 05/08/2025

269. The eight limbs, moving to mediation. Jumping right in, friends—today we’re working with Yoga Sūtra 2.29, where Patañjali gives us what is often considered the classic blueprint of yoga: the eight limbs of Aṣṭāṅga Yoga. Yama-niyamāsana-prāṇāyāma-pratyāhāra-dhāraṇā-dhyāna-samādhayo’ṣṭāvaṅgāni “Yama, niyama, āsana, prāṇāyāma, pratyāhāra, dhāraṇā, dhyāna, and samādhi are the eight limbs of yoga.” These eight limbs aren’t just philosophical fluff—they’re the framework, the structure, the entire arc of yoga as a path of inner transformation. Now, in North America and much of the modern yoga world, we often hear yoga described in all kinds of ways—hot yoga, yin yoga, vinyāsa flow, hatha yoga, power yoga… But let’s get honest: almost everything we’re doing in yoga studios today falls under the umbrella of hatha yoga, and more specifically, it’s mostly āsana—the physical postures. That’s okay! But Aṣṭāṅga Yoga—literally "the eight-limbed yoga"—also known as Rāja Yoga, or “the royal path,” offers so much more. If we take it on as a holistic practice, yoga can support us in transcending so many of the mental and emotional challenges we face. And true to his style, Patañjali first names the eight limbs here in 2.29, and then goes on to define each one in the following sūtras. So over the next few episodes, we’re going to flow into these limbs one by one. Here’s a quick overview of each limb: Yama – The ethical restraints; how we relate to others. This includes non-violence (ahiṃsā), truthfulness (satya), non-stealing (asteya), moderation (brahmacarya), and non-possessiveness (aparigraha). Niyama – The personal observances; how we relate to ourselves. These are purity (śauca), contentment (santoṣa), discipline (tapaḥ), self-study (svādhyāya), and surrender to a higher power (īśvarapraṇidhāna). Āsana – Steady and comfortable posture, ultimately for meditation. But in today’s world, it also means creating strength, balance, and stamina in the body. Prāṇāyāma – Control or expansion of the breath and life force. Prāṇa means life energy; āyāma means to extend, expand, or regulate. Pratyāhāra – Withdrawal of the senses. The practice of bringing the mind inward, pulling it back from distractions. It’s about taking control of our attention. These first five are often called the external limbs—they're the ones we can do something about directly. They're our tools, our techniques. The final three are internal: Dhāraṇā – Concentration. One-pointed focus. Holding the mind steadily on a single object. Dhyāna – Meditation. A continuous flow of awareness toward that object. Samādhi – Absorption. The merging of the meditator with the object of meditation. A profound state of unity. These internal limbs aren’t something we do in the same way. They arise as natural fruits of deep, sustained practice. Yoga, in this classical sense, is so much more than what we’ve reduced it to on the mat. It’s a pathway to wholeness. It’s about freedom—kaivalya. And it all begins here, with awareness and intention. 🙏 And if you want to explore this more deeply with us in real life, we’d love to see you at one of our retreats in San Pancho, Mexico. Check out upcoming events at: /episode/index/show/01c702d6-9ef7-4cb1-aff4-882842fb6f16/id/36480090

268. Jñāna dīptiḥ. Let your light shine! 05/07/2025

268. Jñāna dīptiḥ. Let your light shine! Dear followers of this thread, now begins the light of jñāna dīptiḥ, the illumination of wisdom. Jeff first went to India seeking the fiery discipline of Aṣṭāṅga Yoga as taught by Śrī K. Pattabhi Jois. He was drawn by the strength, the sweat, and the challenge. But what he ultimately discovered was a different kind of Aṣṭāṅga Yoga—the classical eight-limbed path described by Patañjali. And that deeper path, the one we’re now exploring, is why many of us are truly here, as Aṣṭāṅgīs, in the whole meaning of the word. So today, we arrive at Yoga Sūtra 2.29: Yama-niyamāsana-prāṇāyāma-pratyāhāra-dhāraṇā-dhyāna-samādhayo’ṣṭāvaṅgāni “Yama, niyama, āsana, prāṇāyāma, pratyāhāra, dhāraṇā, dhyāna, and samādhi are the eight limbs of yoga.” That’s it. That’s the juice right there. In the verse before—Sūtra 2.28—Patañjali reminded us that by removing the mala, the impurities, through anuṣṭhāna, consistent dedicated practice, the light of wisdom begins to shine. And now, in 2.29, he gives us the practical roadmap for that process. We can’t skip the work and expect wisdom to arrive magically. We have to cultivate practice and stick with it. The aṣṭāṅga mārga—the eight-limbed path—is Patañjali’s offering to us. It is the structured, time-tested way to move from confusion to clarity, from darkness to discernment. Here are the aṣṭau aṅgāni—the eight limbs: Yama – Ethical restraints (non-violence, truthfulness, non-stealing, celibacy or moderation, non-possessiveness) Niyama – Personal observances (purity, contentment, discipline, self-study, surrender to the divine) Āsana – Steady and comfortable posture Prāṇāyāma – Regulation and expansion of life-force through control of the breath Pratyāhāra – Withdrawal of the senses from external objects Dhāraṇā – Concentration or one-pointed focus Dhyāna – Meditation, sustained awareness Samādhi – Absorption, complete union with the object of meditation Each limb builds upon the one before it, leading us gradually toward viveka-khyātiḥ—that clear, unwavering wisdom that sees truth as it is. Let the light shine forth. /episode/index/show/01c702d6-9ef7-4cb1-aff4-882842fb6f16/id/36430145

267. Cultivating clarity, a practice for freedom. 05/06/2025

266. Practice is the path... 05/05/2025

266. Practice is the path... This is the sutra that kept Jeff returning to India, year after year, to dive deeper into Aṣṭāṅga Yoga. It was Patañjali’s words here that affirmed the path and ignited the faith to continue. There was something more than just movement—it was a promise that transformation comes through practice. yogāṅgānuṣṭhānād aśuddhi-kṣaye jñāna-dīptiḥ āviveka-khyāteḥ Through the sustained practice of the limbs of yoga, the impurities are destroyed, and the light of knowledge shines, leading to discriminative discernment. This sutra, YS 2.28, is incredibly special because it offers us something so rare: assurance. That if we engage in true practice—not just intellectual study, not just occasional effort—but a committed, steady journey into the eight limbs of yoga, we will experience inner transformation. There is fruit at the end of this path. There is wisdom. Swami Satchidananda’s translation brings it home with clarity and grace: “By the practice of the limbs of Yoga, the impurities dwindle away and there dawns the light of wisdom, leading to discriminative discernment.” The Sanskrit term aṅga (अङ्ग) means “limb,” and refers to the eightfold path laid out by Patañjali: yama, niyama, āsana, prāṇāyāma, pratyāhāra, dhāraṇā, dhyāna, and samādhi. These limbs are not optional, nor are they a checklist. They are the full-bodied process of purification and awakening. So the natural question arises: what is blocking the light of wisdom? Patañjali tells us plainly—it is aśuddhi (अशुद्धि), the inner impurities. These aren’t just bad habits or moral failings—they’re the layers of unconscious conditioning, fear, identity, attachment, trauma, distraction, ego, and cultural programming that obscure our natural intelligence. We often think knowledge comes from books or intellect, but in the Yoga Sūtras, jñāna-dīptiḥ (ज्ञानदीप्तिः)—the illumination of true knowing—comes only after purification. Not before. And how do we purify? Not by thinking about it. Not by spiritual bypassing. Not by memorizing sutras. We practice. The word anuṣṭhāna (अनुष्ठान) means “repeated and devoted execution of a practice,” often with strong determination and intention. It implies discipline with heart. It’s not casual. It’s commitment. And the work we are asked to do is the eight-limbed path itself—aṣṭāṅga yoga. Not necessarily the modern, physical series popularized by Pattabhi Jois alone, but the complete yogic path described by Patañjali. By taking on the aṣṭāṅga path, we gradually remove the aśuddhi, those impurities of mind, emotion, and perception. And in that removal, wisdom doesn’t just drop from the sky—it dawns. It rises slowly, like the sun at daybreak. It reveals. It warms. It clarifies. Tomorrow, we’ll explore this even further. But for now, let’s sit with this truth: Practice is the path. Wisdom is the fruit. Keep going. /episode/index/show/01c702d6-9ef7-4cb1-aff4-882842fb6f16/id/36427745

265. Let the light of discriminative wisdom dawn .. 05/03/2025

265. Let the light of discriminative wisdom dawn .. Today’s on My Daily Thread our verse brings us to a powerful turning point in our journey through the Sādhana Pāda. The snippet of wisdom comes from Yoga Sūtra 2.28, and it holds a special place in my heart. So far, we’ve explored how the path of yoga helps us cultivate clarity and viveka-khyāti—discriminative wisdom—to see through confusion and recognize our true Self. That Self is described so beautifully in YS 1.3: tadā draṣṭuḥ svarūpe ’vasthānam Then the seer abides in their own true nature. And when we truly glimpse this reality—even for a moment—it becomes clear: it doesn’t matter what anyone else is doing. It doesn’t matter what chaos is going on in the world. The taste of svarūpa—our essential nature—is so satisfying and liberating that we stop chasing the external and instead turn inward again and again. Now, let’s look at YS 2.28, which shifts us into the practical tools of the yoga path: yogāṅgānuṣṭhānād aśuddhi-kṣaye jñāna-dīptiḥ āviveka-khyāteḥ By sustained practice of the limbs of yoga, the impurities are destroyed and the light of knowledge shines, leading to discriminative discernment. This is the first mention of the aṣṭāṅga yoga—the eight limbs of yoga that Patañjali will soon detail. For many of us, the first doorway into yoga may have been the āsana practice, as it was for me through the Ashtanga Yoga of Sri Pattabhi Jois. That āsana practice took me to India, but it was the more profound teachings of Patanjali’s eightfold path, especially as shared by M.A. Jayashree and Prof. Narasimhan, that kept me going back. This sutra offers a beautiful and hopeful promise: consistent effort in the eight limbs will purify us. It will remove the aśuddhi—the impurities, obstacles, and misconceptions that cloud our perception. And when that happens, jñāna-dīptiḥ—the light of knowledge—rises. This inner light isn’t intellectual trivia; it’s viveka-khyāti, the deep intuitive wisdom that lets us see clearly. To be clear, I don’t mind if you never do a yoga pose. This isn’t about touching your toes or acing a handstand. What I do care about—and deeply wish for you—is that the light of viveka, this discerning inner clarity, begins to shine forth in your life. This sutra reminds us: transformation is possible. And it’s not magic. It’s the fruit of committed, consistent practice. Next week, we’ll begin our exploration of Patañjali’s aṣṭāṅga yoga—the eight limbs. These are the timeless, practical tools handed down to help us walk this path. Until then, stay steady, stay soft, and may the light grow brighter in you. Oṁ. Peace out. /episode/index/show/01c702d6-9ef7-4cb1-aff4-882842fb6f16/id/36417550

264. Unshakable! 05/02/2025

264. Unshakable! We continue our journey through the Sādhana Pāda of Patañjali’s Yoga Sūtras. Last time, we studied Yoga Sūtra 2.26, which introduced us to the idea of viveka-khyāti—the unshakable discriminative wisdom that leads to freedom (kaivalya). This unwavering clarity, cultivated through dedicated practice, is the goal toward which all of yoga’s tools and disciplines are aimed. As we reflected previously, one of the powerful questions we can ask ourselves in daily life is: "Is this my true Self, my deepest intuition, or am I reacting from the chirping of my citta-vṛttis—the restless modifications of the mind—acting out of old fears, projections, and misunderstandings?" Cultivating viveka (discernment) becomes a way of life, a constant inner inquiry. Today, we introduce Yoga Sūtra 2.27: tasya saptadhā prāntabhūmiḥ prajñā Translation: "For the one whose wisdom is unbroken, the highest knowledge (prajñā) unfolds in seven stages." The word supta comes up here, which may bring to mind memories from Pattabhi Jois' led classes where he would say, "Supta, inhale, jump!" during vinyasa transitions. In this context, however, supta (from supta-prānta-bhūmiḥ) refers not to sleep, but metaphorically to reaching certain "grounds" or "stages" of progress toward full awakening. Prānta means "limit" or "edge," bhūmiḥ means "ground," and prajñā refers to "wisdom," "insight," or "discriminative knowledge." Altogether, the sutra suggests that unwavering discriminative insight (viveka-khyāti) naturally progresses through seven levels or stages, leading to complete freedom from the citta-vṛttis—the whirlpools of the mind. Interestingly, Patañjali does not specify what these seven stages are. This omission reminds us that he was compiling and distilling teachings from the oral traditions of his time rather than giving us a rigid textbook. Different later commentators, like Vyāsa and others, have offered suggestions about what these stages might be, but fundamentally the message remains: if we develop steady clarity and stay still long enough, wisdom naturally unfolds. Thus, the focus remains simple and profound: cultivate steady, uninterrupted discriminative wisdom. Let go of attachments to roles, possessions, emotions, and fears, and steadily return again and again to the deepest awareness of your true nature. Would you like me to also suggest some practical daily practices to cultivate this viveka-khyāti based on this sutra? /episode/index/show/01c702d6-9ef7-4cb1-aff4-882842fb6f16/id/36417585

263. Wisdom time! Is this true? 04/30/2025

263. Wisdom time! Is this true? As we continue our deep dive into the Sādhana Pāda of the Yoga Sūtras, we return to Yoga Sūtra 2.27: tasya saptadhā prāntabhūmiḥ prajñā “For one with unwavering discriminative insight (viveka-khyāti), the highest wisdom (prajñā) unfolds in seven stages.” For someone who has developed steady clarity—viveka, discriminative wisdom—prajñā, insight, begins to unfold. But Patañjali doesn’t just say wisdom appears fully formed. Instead, he tells us it happens gradually, in seven stages (saptadhā prānta-bhūmiḥ), moving toward the farthest limit or edge of inner understanding. What I love most about this sutra is what it implies: wisdom is a journey. It’s not a sudden download or single lightning bolt of awareness. This runs counter to some modern ideas, especially in the popular “woke” movement, where there’s this notion that one day we suddenly “wake up,” become enlightened, and see clearly forever after. For most of us, though, this process is more organic—viveka unfolds slowly, like petals of a flower opening toward the sun. Refining clarity takes time. We practice awareness day by day. We look inside, observe the citta-vṛttis—the whirlpools of thought and emotion—and try to discern what is real and what is mental noise. Insight must be trained. One powerful tool for this is Byron Katie’s Four Questions, which help us clear inner confusion with simple, direct inquiry: Is it true? Can you absolutely know that it’s true? How do you react—what happens—when you believe that thought? Who would you be without the thought? This is the kind of inner work that aligns beautifully with Patañjali’s path. He’s telling us that clarity doesn’t come all at once, but rather through progressive stages. The more we pause, examine, and reflect, the more we deepen our viveka—our capacity to see what’s truly going on beneath our habits, conditioning, and projections. And the good news? We don’t have to rush it. Wisdom grows organically. It’s not a race, and it’s not about performance. It unfolds naturally, like all things in nature—given time, intention, and nourishment. We can trust that our wisdom will deepen, and that the universe supports our growth in ways we may not even see yet. Stay with your practice. Be patient with your process. Insight is coming. /episode/index/show/01c702d6-9ef7-4cb1-aff4-882842fb6f16/id/36363505

262. The ground of wisdom... trying to be a wise guy? 04/29/2025

262. The ground of wisdom... trying to be a wise guy? We continue our journey through the Sādhana Pāda of Patañjali’s Yoga Sūtras. Last time, we studied Yoga Sūtra 2.26, which introduced us to the idea of viveka-khyāti—the unshakable discriminative wisdom that leads to freedom (kaivalya). This unwavering clarity, cultivated through dedicated practice, is the goal toward which all of yoga’s tools and disciplines are aimed. As we reflected previously, one of the powerful questions we can ask ourselves in daily life is: "Is this my true Self, my deepest intuition, or am I reacting from the chirping of my citta-vṛttis—the restless modifications of the mind—acting out of old fears, projections, and misunderstandings?" Cultivating viveka (discernment) becomes a way of life, a constant inner inquiry. Today, we introduce Yoga Sūtra 2.27: tasya saptadhā prāntabhūmiḥ prajñā Translation: "For the one whose wisdom is unbroken, the highest knowledge (prajñā) unfolds in seven stages." The word supta comes up here, which may bring to mind memories from Pattabhi Jois' led classes where he would say, "Supta, inhale, jump!" during vinyasa transitions. In this context, however, supta (from supta-prānta-bhūmiḥ) refers not to sleep, but metaphorically to reaching certain "grounds" or "stages" of progress toward full awakening. Prānta means "limit" or "edge," bhūmiḥ means "ground," and prajñā refers to "wisdom," "insight," or "discriminative knowledge." Altogether, the sutra suggests that unwavering discriminative insight (viveka-khyāti) naturally progresses through seven levels or stages, leading to complete freedom from the citta-vṛttis—the whirlpools of the mind. Interestingly, Patañjali does not specify what these seven stages are. This omission reminds us that he was compiling and distilling teachings from the oral traditions of his time rather than giving us a rigid textbook. Different later commentators, like Vyāsa and others, have offered suggestions about what these stages might be, but fundamentally the message remains: if we develop steady clarity and stay still long enough, wisdom naturally unfolds. Thus, the focus remains simple and profound: cultivate steady, uninterrupted discriminative wisdom. Let go of attachments to roles, possessions, emotions, and fears, and steadily return again and again to the deepest awareness of your true nature. /episode/index/show/01c702d6-9ef7-4cb1-aff4-882842fb6f16/id/36348370

261. Jeff chirping, A little review ... 04/28/2025

261. Jeff chirping, A little review ... Let’s do a little review to ground ourselves in the essential foundation of yoga philosophy. The entire project of yoga is based on Yoga Sūtra 1.2: yogaś citta-vṛtti-nirodhaḥ Translation: Yoga is the cessation of the fluctuations of the mind. In other words, yoga is the channeling, calming, or complete stoppage of all the citta vṛttis—the endless ripples and disturbances in the mind. These vṛttis include all the chirping thoughts, the conditioning from culture, the familial imprints we unconsciously carry, and every pattern that stands between us and clear, direct perception of reality. Our real work is to quiet these distractions, to clear the inner mirror so that it may reflect the true Self without distortion. This is why we practice—not just āsana (postures), but also and especially dhyāna (meditation). Physical practice strengthens the body and nervous system, but the deeper aim is stillness. This aligns beautifully with the definition of yoga found in the Bhagavad Gītā: samatvaṁ yoga ucyate Translation: Yoga is equanimity of mind. The most important part of our path is to cultivate inner steadiness, to remain anchored and undisturbed, so that viveka (discriminative wisdom) can arise naturally from within. Through our ongoing study of Patañjali’s sūtras, we have seen that abhyāsa (sustained practice) and vairāgya (non-attachment) are twin disciplines that support this journey. They are complemented by kriyā yoga, which Patañjali introduces early in the second pāda. Kriyā yoga is defined as: tapaḥ svādhyāya īśvara-praṇidhānāni kriyā-yogaḥ (YS 2.1) Translation: Discipline (tapas), self-study (svādhyāya), and surrender to God (īśvara-praṇidhāna) constitute kriyā yoga. Each component plays a vital role. Tapas is the inner fire and disciplined effort we bring to practice. Svādhyāya is the continual study of sacred texts and self-observation. Īśvara-praṇidhāna is the act of surrendering to a higher reality—an ultimate intelligence beyond our limited ego-mind. For īśvara-praṇidhāna, I love Byron Katie’s definition of God: "God is reality. God is omnipotent, omnipresent, and omniscient." When we resist reality, we create suffering. When we flow with it, even through difficulty, we find freedom. Ultimately, we take on all these practices—kriyā yoga, abhyāsa, vairāgya—to cultivate that beautiful state of unshakable discriminative wisdom (viveka-khyātiḥ). In that spirit, I am reminded of Viktor Frankl’s powerful words in Man’s Search for Meaning: "The last of human freedoms is to choose one's attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one's own way." This choice, this clarity, this sovereignty of inner being, is the heart of real yoga. /episode/index/show/01c702d6-9ef7-4cb1-aff4-882842fb6f16/id/36326795

260. Discriminative wisdom for the chirping fears ... 04/25/2025

260. Discriminative wisdom for the chirping fears ... We continue on My Daily Thread to search for pearls of wisdom from Patañjali and the yoga masters. Today, we arrive at Yoga Sūtra 2.26, a verse that marks a major turning point in the journey toward liberation (kaivalya). It builds directly on the foundation laid in the previous verse, YS 2.25, which states that when avidyā—ignorance or misperception—is removed, our entanglement with the seen (prakṛti) dissolves, and we begin to experience true freedom. YS 2.26 says: viveka-khyātiḥ aviplavā hānopāyaḥ Translation: Uninterrupted discriminative knowledge (viveka-khyātiḥ) is the means of liberation. Let’s break this down. The term viveka means “discrimination” or “discernment.” It refers to the clear ability to distinguish between the Puruṣa (the Seer, our true self) and prakṛti (the seen, including body, mind, emotions, and the external world). The word khyātiḥ comes from the root khyā, which means “to know” or “to perceive.” So viveka-khyātiḥ can be understood as “clear and continuous discriminative wisdom”—the deep insight that pierces through illusion and identifies what is real and what is not. This verse tells us that liberation—hāna (removal or freedom)—comes from aviplava, which means “unbroken” or “unshaken.” So it’s not enough to have moments of insight here and there. The key is consistent inner clarity, a steady fire of awareness that burns through confusion. This is the practical doorway into yoga as a lived experience. What does this mean for us in day-to-day life? It means that freedom doesn’t require us to gain anything new—it requires us to strip away the false. We are not our material possessions, our job titles, our achievements, or even our family roles and stories. Those are garments we wear, not our true skin. We find peace and freedom not by fixing ourselves, but by seeing clearly who we already are beneath the noise of citta vṛttis—the whirlpools of thought, fear, craving, and doubt. So the question becomes deeply personal: Are you acting from viveka, from discriminative wisdom? Or are you operating from fear, from the surface-level noise of your mind? When we meditate, reflect, and observe ourselves with honesty, we start cultivating viveka-khyātiḥ. With practice, it becomes steady. And as it becomes steady, our identification with the temporary begins to fade—and our connection to the eternal Puruṣa becomes our guiding light. That’s the path of freedom. That’s the heart of yoga. /episode/index/show/01c702d6-9ef7-4cb1-aff4-882842fb6f16/id/36319500

259. Kaivalya - Freedom, baby! Freedom! 04/24/2025

259. Kaivalya - Freedom, baby! Freedom! Thanks for joining My Daily Thread. Yesterday we talked about the sacred entanglement between the Seer and the seen, or Puruṣa and Prakṛti, through the lens of Yoga Sūtra 2.23 and 2.24. Today we move on to Yoga Sūtra 2.25, which marks a powerful and pivotal moment in Patañjali’s vision of liberation. The sutra reads: Tad-abhāvāt saṁyoga-abhāvaḥ hānaṁ tad dṛśeḥ kaivalyam “With the absence of ignorance (avidyā), the entanglement (saṁyoga) ceases. This is the liberation (kaivalya) of the Seer (dṛṣṭṛ).” This is one of those sutras that really lands. It’s not talking about some abstract mystical concept—it’s pointing directly to the human condition. All of our confusion, all of our clinging, our misidentification with our thoughts, emotions, roles, and even relationships—it all stems from avidyā, which is not just “not knowing,” but a deep misperception of reality. It's ignorance of our own true nature. And here’s the invitation: Freedom isn’t something we gain—it’s what remains when the layers of confusion dissolve. When we peel back the illusions, when we release the doubts, fears, and self-hiding, what’s left is the clarity of our true being. That clarity is kaivalya—absolute freedom. Patañjali makes it beautifully simple: remove avidyā, and the mistaken union (saṁyoga) between the Seer and the seen dissolves. You are no longer bound by the things you once thought defined you. The thoughts like "I'm not good enough", "I need their approval", "I'm only worthy if..."—all of these are just whirlpools of the mind (citta vṛttis), and they are not you. This is not about “fixing” yourself. It’s not about adding more or achieving more. This is about seeing clearly. It’s about removing the fog so that the light that has always been there can shine through. This clarity isn’t loud. It’s quiet. It’s not performative. It’s peaceful. Practically speaking, here’s how we begin to apply this: First, notice your entanglements. Where are you attaching to roles, outcomes, or identities that aren’t your truth? Second, watch your mind. Are you reacting out of fear? Are your thoughts aligned with who you really are, or are they simply old programs running unchecked? Third, practice discernment (viveka). The more you distinguish between what is real (unchanging) and what is not, the more avidyā begins to fade. And finally, ask the essential question: “Am I acting from ignorance, or am I acting from awareness?” This sutra reminds us that we are not here to escape life—we are here to live it from a place of inner freedom. Not to abandon the world, but to move through it without being bound by it. To walk with clarity, compassion, and deep presence. As always, let’s return to that gentle thread that runs through all our moments—the quiet awareness within. And let’s walk forward, together, not in fear, but in the clear light of freedom. /episode/index/show/01c702d6-9ef7-4cb1-aff4-882842fb6f16/id/36289810

258. Awareness begins where confusion used to be... 04/23/2025

258. Awareness begins where confusion used to be... Thanks for joining My Daily Thread again today. We’re continuing with our journey through the Yoga Sūtras, and today we’re on Sūtra 2.24: "tasya hetuḥ avidyā" “The cause of this union is ignorance.” This is a short verse, but it carries immense depth. Patanjali tells us that the reason we become entangled in the world—the reason we confuse the changing with the eternal, the Seen (prakṛti) with the Seer (puruṣa)—is avidyā, a fundamental misperception of reality. It’s not just a lack of knowledge. It’s forgetting who we truly are. Avidyā is when we believe we are our thoughts, our fears, our roles, or the way others see us. It’s when we forget that we are awareness itself. This is what causes the sacred union—or saṁyoga—to feel like suffering instead of awakening. But saṁyoga itself is not the problem. It’s sacred. It’s purposeful. It’s here to help us grow into true awareness. Every relationship, job, challenge, joy, and heartbreak becomes a teacher. Not to punish us—but to help us remember who we are beneath it all. But then come the citta vṛttis—the whirlpools of the mind. The stories we’ve picked up over time, spinning constantly: “I’m not good enough,” “I need their approval,” “Something’s wrong with me.” These are not truths. They are distortions. Mental noise. The more we believe them, the thicker the veil of avidyā becomes. So what can we do? First, recognize the voice of avidyā. That inner chatter that says you’re not enough—that’s not the real you. That’s a conditioned echo, not your essence. Just pause and remember: “I am not these thoughts. I am the one who sees.” Second, reframe the chaos. When the world feels overwhelming, when fear or comparison takes over, ask yourself: “What is this moment trying to teach me about my true nature?” Use the sacred entanglement as a mirror, not a trap. And finally, stay kind. Everyone is under the influence of avidyā to some extent. So approach your path with compassion. No need to rush. Just stay present. Stay open. Let the practice slowly, gently, strip away what you are not. Because underneath it all, you are already free. Let’s keep going. /episode/index/show/01c702d6-9ef7-4cb1-aff4-882842fb6f16/id/36256320

257. You are, simply YOU! 04/22/2025

257. You are, simply YOU! Thanks for joining My Daily Thread—a space where we weave together ancient wisdom and present-day experience. Yesterday’s reflection was a bit of a passionate dive into fear, a reminder that yogaḥ can be a true place of refuge. In the chaos of the world, it’s easy to forget that this practice offers something deeper than the surface-level stretches and shapes. It offers sanctuary. Today, we continue with our journey through the Sādhana Pāda of the Yoga Sūtras, landing on Yoga Sūtra 2.23: "sva svāmi śaktyoḥ svarūpopalabdhi hetuḥ saṁyogaḥ" “The conjunction (saṁyogaḥ) of the Owner (the Seer, puruṣa) and the Owned (Nature, prakṛti) exists for the realization of the true nature of the Seer.” This is a powerful idea. The union between prakṛti—which includes the body, the mind, emotions, the world—and puruṣa—pure consciousness, our unchanging Self—is not random. It’s not a punishment or karmic burden. It’s not a cosmic test or something to be escaped from in shame. It is purposeful. It exists so that we might remember and realize who we are. The term saṁyoga refers to this sacred entanglement. It’s a word often translated as “conjunction,” but it's not just a mechanical joining. It’s a necessary and sacred coming together that gives rise to life itself. As we move through the world—through our relationships, work, joy, heartbreak, and desire—it is this dynamic relationship that constantly invites us to wake up. Each moment, however mundane or magnificent, serves one essential purpose: to return us to our svarūpa—our own true nature. It brings to mind that beautiful line from the Gospel of Thomas: “If you bring forth what is within you, what you bring forth will save you.” This is what Yoga Sūtra 2.23 is pointing to. The world doesn’t exist to distract us, but to mirror back to us who we are beneath the noise. So today, let’s try a simple practice. In any given moment—especially the hard ones—pause and ask: “What is this moment trying to show me about my true Self?” Can you let the moment do its work? Can you be present enough to receive what it’s offering? You are not a mistake. You are not broken. You are simply you. And this moment—whatever it is—is part of your path toward that remembrance. Let’s continue tomorrow. /episode/index/show/01c702d6-9ef7-4cb1-aff4-882842fb6f16/id/36256210

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