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.

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

256. Fear. Tariffs and the Mind Stuff. 04/21/2025

256. Fear. Tariffs and the Mind Stuff. Welcome to the week—and welcome back to My Daily Thread, where we look for snippets of wisdom in the Yoga Sūtras and anchor them into the real moments of our lives. We’re especially grateful you’re here today. In the light of current events—and for those listening in the future, we hope you still find relevance—this moment in time has been marked by global tension. The sitting American president has just imposed tariffs on key trading partners, shaking the stock markets and sparking anxiety worldwide. And while the headlines shout “crisis,” we pause to say, “Shake it up!” Because in yoga, this is our practice—not the perfect pose, but learning to navigate life with grace and presence when fear arises. In moments like this, we return to what matters. If we get nothing else from our yoga journey, let it be this: yoga is not Instagram-worthy poses or boutique activewear. Yoga is the steady cultivation of clarity and inner freedom. Fear is primal. Our amygdala is wired to scan for threats—it’s what helped our ancestors survive. But now, many of us live in a loop of chronic stress, reacting to perceived threats with anxiety and contraction. Yoga, at its core, teaches us how to work with that. As Patañjali wrote in Yoga Sūtra 1.2: yogaś citta-vṛtti-nirodhaḥ Yoga is the stilling of the fluctuations of the mind. And this week, we continue our exploration of the Sādhana Pāda, turning our attention to Yoga Sūtra 2.22: kṛtārthaṁ prati naṣṭam apy anaṣṭaṁ tad anya-sādhāraṇatvāt Although for the one who has fulfilled the purpose of life, the world has ceased to exist, it still remains for others because it is common to all. This verse reminds us that the world, prakṛti, exists for the sake of the Seer—puruṣa. Once the Seer has realized the Self and obtained liberation, the world no longer binds or distracts them. But the world doesn’t disappear—it continues to exist because it still serves the journey of others. When we talk about applying this sutra practically, the work becomes very real and very immediate. We can begin by practicing letting go. Letting go without bitterness or resentment. Letting go of the idea that we always need to understand everything or control every outcome. Whether it’s a relationship, a job, a belief, or an old pattern of behavior—if it has served its purpose, it’s okay to let it go. We don’t need to drag the weight of the past behind us. Blaming and complaining don’t help. Everyone is on their own journey. Can we let go with a grateful heart? Can we also let go of our impatience—our need for things to change on our timeline? The next layer of this practice is to avoid spiritual arrogance. Just because we’ve had a breakthrough doesn’t make us superior. True wisdom is always humble. Some of the most evolved beings, like Mother Teresa, had no interest in labeling themselves enlightened. Instead, they quietly lived out their practice through compassion and service. Then, there’s the importance of not rushing to the end goal. Obstacles are not in the way; they are the way. They have something to teach us. Our inner evolution cannot be forced. It’s organic. Allow it to unfold. Allow yourself to be in the messy middle. And finally, we stay lovingly engaged in the world. We’re not ascetics hiding in caves—we’re householders. We live in this world. We participate in it. But we do so with awareness, compassion, and care. That means watching not just the thoughts in our mind, but the words that leave our lips. Charles Fillmore, in his book Prosperity, wrote that our words have power. They can create fear—or they can en-courage. They can move us toward courageous action. We get to choose which ones we speak. So, in a time of uncertainty, may we ground ourselves in clarity. May we meet fear with understanding. And may we remember that everything in our lives—yes, even a stock market crash—can become part of our path, if we choose to see it that way. /episode/index/show/01c702d6-9ef7-4cb1-aff4-882842fb6f16/id/36253285

255. Let go and carry on! 04/18/2025

255. Let go and carry on! We continue with My Daily Thread as we explore the Yoga Sūtras for snippets of wisdom we can apply in our everyday lives. Yesterday, we reflected on Yoga Sūtra 2.22, which speaks of the diminishing role of the external world—prakṛti—for the one who has attained complete liberation. The sutra, kṛtārthaṁ prati naṣṭam apy anaṣṭaṁ tad anya sādhāraṇatvāt, suggests that for the liberated being, the seen world—though still existing—no longer holds relevance. Just as a person who has fully understood a movie no longer needs to rewatch it, or like a product that, once complete, no longer returns to the factory (as Swami Satchidananda illustrates), the realized being is free from the pull of prakṛti, having seen its purpose fulfilled. But this teaching isn’t merely conceptual—it points to real, grounded practices for those of us still on the path. So what are the practical takeaways from this verse? What can we reflect on today? 1. Practice Letting Go Whether it’s a job, a relationship, or a belief, once something has fulfilled its purpose in your life, let it go—without bitterness, without resentment, and without clinging. Let go with a grateful heart. The work of yoga is not in blaming or complaining, but in realizing that everyone is on their own path. Cultivate karuṇā—compassion—and let go of your impatience. Release the need to control outcomes or speed up your evolution. Let it come. 2. Avoid Spiritual Arrogance Jeff reflects on qualities he witnessed in figures like Mother Teresa—humility, deep service, and love without self-importance. The more advanced the practice, the less it announces itself. Liberation doesn't come with a certificate or a spotlight—it arrives in silence and humility. 3. Minimize the Rush to the End Goal Obstacles drop away when they drop away. Each one plays a role in our transformation. There's no need to push, force, or grasp. The sutras ask us to move with faith (śraddhā) and patience (vīrya), trusting that the process is working even when we can’t see it clearly. 4. Stay Lovingly Engaged Live with awareness. Let dṛṣṭi—clear seeing—guide how you show up in the world. Cultivate compassion. Stay connected to your people. Keep engaging in your relationships. Even if you’re evolving inwardly, the outer world remains your field of practice. This is not about escaping life—it’s about loving more fully. Have a beautiful weekend, and don’t let the yoga get you down. Keep threading the moments together—breath by breath, with clarity, compassion, and care. /episode/index/show/01c702d6-9ef7-4cb1-aff4-882842fb6f16/id/36088315

254. Once the products finished it doesn't go back to the factory. 04/17/2025

254. Once the products finished it doesn't go back to the factory. We continue today with our exploration of the Sādhana Pāda, diving into Yoga Sūtra 2.22: kṛtārthaṁ prati naṣṭam api anāṣṭam tad anya sādhāraṇatvāt Translation: Though the seen (dṛśya) has ceased to exist for one who has attained liberation (kṛtārtham), it still exists for others, because it is common to all. We begin with Swami Satchidananda’s commentary on this sūtra. He essentially reminds us that once someone has attained liberation—freedom from the fluctuations of the mind (citta vṛttis)—then the veil of illusion (māyā) dissolves. For that person, the world no longer holds the same binding power. There’s nothing more to seek. The transformation is complete. And yet... the rest of us? We're still living inside the illusion, still inside the swirl of likes and dislikes, pleasure and pain, grasping and avoiding—what the Yoga Sūtras name as the kleśas. So for us, the journey continues. Satchidananda offers a beautiful analogy: think of the world as a vast factory. Raw materials come in, get shaped, processed, refined—and out comes the finished product. But once the product is done, it doesn’t go back into the factory. Likewise, we move through experiences, challenges, relationships, and transformations—and when we've truly learned what we need, when we’ve integrated the wisdom of YS 1.3— tadā draṣṭuḥ svarūpe 'vasthānam Then the Seer abides in its own true nature— We no longer need to repeat those experiences. We live in the world, yes, but we’re not of it. We’ve stepped beyond the need to “return to the workshop.” But here’s the humility of it all: even after such deep inner awakening, life on the outside doesn’t necessarily look very different. The saying still holds—Before enlightenment, chop wood. After enlightenment, chop wood. We still live, breathe, pay bills, care for others. But something inside has shifted—radically and permanently. This is the heart of YS 2.22. The person who has achieved liberation still exists in the world. The dṛśya, the seen, is still present—but it holds no sway. And interestingly, the most awakened souls—the truly liberated beings—are usually the most humble. They won’t talk about their experiences. They don’t need to. There’s no ego left to announce. So we stay grounded, remembering always that everyone has their blind spots. Yes, even the seasoned seekers. That’s why the work of inner reflection never stops. The kleśas—those hidden patterns of attachment (rāga), fear (dveṣa), and ego identity (asmitā)—are always lurking. Any movement we can make in the direction of clarity and freedom, no matter how small, is a powerful shift. The real transformations happen not on the surface, but deep within. And the beauty of the Yoga Sūtras is that they don’t ask us to escape life—but to engage with it in a more conscious, liberated way. So today, maybe we pause and ask: What illusion am I still believing? What attachment can I soften just a little? That movement, that awareness—that's the practice. /episode/index/show/01c702d6-9ef7-4cb1-aff4-882842fb6f16/id/36078225

253. Life!? Helping us see more clearly? 04/16/2025

253. Life!? Helping us see more clearly? We’ve been working with the Sādhana Pāda of the Yoga Sūtras, and this week our focus has been on a powerful verse—Yoga Sūtra 2.21: tad-arthaḥ eva dṛśyasya ātmā Translation: The very existence of the seen (dṛśya) is solely for the sake of the Seer (dṛṣṭṛ). This teaching reminds us that everything in the external world exists to serve the evolution of our inner awareness. But that doesn’t mean we’re encouraged to become self-absorbed or narcissistic—this isn’t a green light for an “I, Me, Mine” mindset. That approach would just lead us right back into the grip of the kleśas, especially rāga (attachment to pleasure) and dveṣa (aversion to pain). The word ātmā used in this sūtra speaks to the essence, the innermost self. It points toward the Vedāntic ideas of Ātman (individual soul or Self) and Brahman (universal reality), which echo the Sāṅkhya concepts of Puruṣa (pure consciousness) and Prakṛti (nature/matter). So, the real takeaway here is this: the entire dance of existence around us is not random. It’s actually unfolding for the sake of our awakening—for our liberation (kaivalya). To live this out practically, it starts with mindful engagement with the world. Every experience—especially the uncomfortable ones—is an invitation to ask, “How can this moment help me see more clearly?” Instead of defaulting to grumbling, complaining, or negative mind loops, we can use life as a mirror for self-discovery. Yesterday, we added the second insight: non-attachment to outcomes. So many of us are caught in the chase—after success, pleasure, validation. This is rāga in action. And when things don’t go as hoped, what follows? Frustration. Resentment. Disconnection. By softening our grip on results, we make space for a deeper, steadier peace. That brings us to the third pillar: dharma—our purpose. Not just a job title or achievement, but a question of becoming. “Are my choices shaping me into the person I need to be?” This line of inquiry led us into our full week focused on relationships, and that essential question we keep returning to: “How am I showing up?” All of this—the mindful engagement, the letting go, the purpose-driven living—cultivates our connection to the inner Seer, the draṣṭā. That still, wise witness within us. And yes, we can nourish that connection through seated meditation. But it might also come through movement—your swimming, your dancing, your running—those moments where the mind quiets and the deeper awareness emerges. And to integrate even further, don’t forget the power of journaling. Giving yourself space to reflect, to pause in stillness, to notice what life is revealing to you. Because, always, life is bringing us something. Some teaching. Some mirror. Some gift. The invitation is to pay attention—to see. /episode/index/show/01c702d6-9ef7-4cb1-aff4-882842fb6f16/id/36074980

252. All for me. I, Me, Mine? 04/15/2025

252. All for me. I, Me, Mine? Today we move into Yoga Sūtra 2.21, a verse that expands our understanding of the relationship between the Seer (puruṣa) and the Seen (dṛśya). The sūtra states: tad-artha eva dṛśyasya ātmā Translation: The nature of the seen exists solely for the sake of the Seer. This is a profound teaching. At first glance, it might seem to suggest a kind of self-centered worldview—that everything exists purely for “me.” But that’s not what Patañjali is pointing toward. This isn’t a justification for narcissism or spiritual selfishness. In fact, when we interpret this sutra through the lens of the kleśas—particularly rāga (attachment to pleasure) and dveṣa (aversion to pain)—we begin to see how easily the ego hijacks this teaching. When the mind moves into “I, Me, Mine!” mode, we fall back into the trap of conditioned responses, reinforcing patterns of grasping and avoiding. Instead, the invitation here is subtler and more sacred. This sūtra introduces the word ātmā, which links us directly to the Vedāntic understanding of Ātman—the innermost Self—and Brahman, the universal reality. In Vedānta, Ātman is the individual soul, and Brahman is the unchanging, infinite reality. These are ultimately not separate. This mirrors Sāṅkhya’s model of puruṣa and prakṛti, where puruṣa is pure consciousness, and prakṛti is the material world that arises for the experience of the Seer. So what is the real message of this sutra? It is not that the world should serve our ego’s desires, but that everything in life—every experience, every relationship, every moment of joy and sorrow—is designed to lead us back to our capital-S Self. There is, in essence, a secret sacred place within each of us that the world is helping us uncover. The Seen exists for the Seer not to indulge the ego, but to awaken the spirit. Importantly, Patañjali never intended this to be a purely theoretical insight. The teachings must be lived. Without practical application, all of this philosophy remains just more citta vṛttis—more whirlpools of thought that distract us from direct experience. As we move forward in this exploration, the question becomes: how do we bring this sutra to life? Tomorrow, we’ll dive into five key reflections drawn from this sūtra that support practical, conscious living: Mindful engagement with the world Letting go of attachment to outcomes Living with a sense of purpose Improving the quality of our relationships Using all of this to move toward inner freedom All of these ideas are rooted in the clarity that comes from seeing the world not as something to conquer or control, but as a sacred mirror for awakening. That’s the deeper gift of Yoga Sūtra 2.21—and we’ll unpack more of it tomorrow. /episode/index/show/01c702d6-9ef7-4cb1-aff4-882842fb6f16/id/36074390

251. More Patanjali, less Pattabhi ... 04/14/2025

251. More Patanjali, less Pattabhi ... Welcome back to the show, and welcome to a brand-new week of reflection, presence, and practice. Today, Jeff takes a moment to revisit how My Daily Thread came to be—a project born not just from an idea, but from lived experience, spiritual curiosity, and a deep yearning for integration. The story begins in 2003, on Jeff’s second trip to India. He travelled to Mysore, a city known worldwide as a hub for the physical practice of yoga, to study the Āṣṭāṅga Yoga posture system as taught by the late Sri K. Pattabhi Jois. At the time, Jeff was working as a critical care paramedic—a role that demanded everything: mind, body, and spirit. The stress of that job carved out a need, a yearning for healing, and the physical āsana practice became a sanctuary. It offered the complete package—a sense of union across all levels of being. But while in India, Jeff noticed something striking. The locals didn’t equate yoga with elaborate posture sequences. Instead, they associated yoga more with dhyāna—meditation. This gap between Western and traditional Indian understandings of yoga sparked a deeper inquiry. Jeff was led to study with Dr. M.A. Jayashree, a scholar matriarch, and her cousin Narasimhan, a direct disciple of Maharishi Mahesh Yogi. Under their guidance, he began chanting the Yoga Sūtras of Patañjali and diving into the philosophical richness that underpins the practice. The journey moved from the mat into the mind and heart, into the subtle realm of inner knowing. This was the real beginning of the daily thread: the recognition that the teachings must be anchored into now. That yoga is not just something we do, but a way of being, moment by moment. As the Gnostic Gospel of St. Thomas reminds us, “If you bring forth what is within you, what you bring forth will save you.” The heart of this teaching is yogic—it points us inward, urging us to live from the quiet depths of our own puruṣa, our inner Seer. So here we are today, trying to live more fully and expansively in each moment. Bringing our awareness into the ratnamālā—the garland of moments strung together into a beautiful tapestry we call life. This is My Daily Thread: the practice of showing up with attention, presence, and intention. When we do this—when we draw the light of awareness inward—we also begin to radiate that light outward. We find clarity, peace, and a sense of connectedness. And from that grounded place, we become a source of peace for others. We hope this resonates with you, and that this week you too can pull your awareness inward, anchor yourself in the present, and begin threading your own daily moments into something beautiful. /episode/index/show/01c702d6-9ef7-4cb1-aff4-882842fb6f16/id/36073500

250. Not perfect. Relationship superpowers ... 04/11/2025

250. Not perfect. Relationship superpowers ... This week we’ve been in deep reflection on relationships, exploring how the teachings of the Yoga Sūtras—particularly Yoga Sūtra 2.20—can guide us toward more conscious, connected, and compassionate ways of relating. Each day has brought a new lens through which to understand ourselves and those closest to us, always returning to the question: how can we see more clearly? On day one, we began with the inquiry: “How are you showing up in your relationships?” This question, though simple, invites a profound pause. Am I reactive, distracted, or performative—or am I showing up from a space of presence and authenticity? On day two, we asked: “Are you moving from clarity or conditioning?” Are your actions rooted in your cultural or familial conditioning, or your personal trauma? Am I responding from my capital-S Self, or am I lost in the moment, tangled in kleśas like fear and attachment? On day three, things got personal. We turned the light inward and asked: “Is this really, really, really about them?” OR, is this me projecting my fears, or anxieties? Often, when we complain or fight, the root of our emotion has less to do with the person in front of us and more with old, recycled narratives from the mind—what the Yoga Sūtras call citta vṛttis (mental fluctuations). We remembered Yoga Sūtra 1.2: yogaś citta-vṛtti-nirodhaḥ “Yoga is the stilling of the fluctuations of the mind.” On day four, we entered the sacred territory of listening. We joked about the classic “Zip it!” line, but the message was real: pause, be quiet, listen deeply. In a world where everyone is talking, listening becomes an act of love. We were reminded that we don’t always have to fix, speak, or offer advice. Just being fully present is sometimes the most potent offering we can give. All of these reflections are anchored in Yoga Sūtra 2.20: dṛṣṭā dṛśi-mātraḥ śuddho 'pi pratyayānupaśyaḥ “The Seer is pure seeing, yet though pure, appears to see through the mental impressions.” This sutra reminds us of the dṛṣṭā, the Seer, our inner witness. It is not the mind, not our material things, not our emotions—it is the unchanging, pure awareness that observes all of it. However, because it sees through the lens of the mind, it often gets entangled in the drama of thought, feeling, and story. Here’s the real work: we are not our stories. We are not our perfectionism, our wounds, or our reactions. There is a vast stillness within us that exists even in our most chaotic moments. We must cultivate this awareness. We asked: how do we create emotional clarity? How do we reduce the amount of projecting we do, especially in our closest relationships? How do we stop placing our unresolved fears and insecurities onto the people we love most? We also took a look at perfectionism. We affirmed that working toward excellence is healthy—even vital. But the insistence on being perfect is misery. It will exhaust you. It will destroy the beauty of your growth. So let’s hold our aspirations lightly—with care, not pressure. And as we reflect on the week, we return to this anchoring thought: “I am not my mind. I am the one who sees.” This realization, if held and integrated into our daily practice within our relationships can becomes a superpower. It frees us from knee-jerk reactions. It lets us love more openly. It reminds us of who we truly are: not the mind, but the awareness behind it. This is yoga—not just on the mat, but in the living, breathing, messy reality of relationship. /episode/index/show/01c702d6-9ef7-4cb1-aff4-882842fb6f16/id/36073195

249. Zip it up! Don't interrupt! 04/10/2025

249. Zip it up! Don't interrupt! This week on My Daily Thread, we’ve been deep in the world of relationships, inspired by the wisdom of Yoga Sūtra 2.20. This pivotal sutra introduces the idea that the Seer—the dṛṣṭā, or pure consciousness—can only see the world through the lens of the mind, shaped by impressions, thoughts, and conditioning. dṛṣṭā dṛśi-mātraḥ śuddho 'pi pratyayānupaśyaḥ “The Seer is pure seeing; although pure, it appears to see through the lens of the mental impressions.” On day one, we asked the foundational question, “How are you showing up in your relationships?” We linked this to the need for the Observer Pause—to take a breath, soften the body, and resist the urge to react automatically. This is the first step in Viveka, or discernment, which yoga trains us to cultivate. On day two, we followed with: “Is this coming from clarity or conditioning?” Here, we brought attention to the kleśas, the mental afflictions that often dictate our actions: fear, attachment, aversion. Pausing to observe whether our words or behaviors arise from the quiet clarity of the Self, or from the turbulence of mental patterns, is the heart of yoga in action. On day three, we went even deeper: “Is this really, really, really about them?” Or is this another story—one of the citta vṛttis, the fluctuations of the mind—that chirping mind of ours? This ties directly to Yoga Sūtra 1.2: yogaś citta-vṛtti-nirodhaḥ “Yoga is the stilling of the fluctuations of the mind.” These vṛttis—mental whirlpools of past conditioning, trauma, beliefs—are the stories we live inside until we pause and recognize them for what they are. Today, we add a fourth insight to our relationship week: finding the stillness and listening. Yes, listening. Not just with our ears but with our whole presence. Like the Austin Powers movie line—when Dr. Evil tells his son, “Zip it. www.zip it... Zip it!”—sometimes we need to say precisely that to ourselves. Zip it. Don’t interrupt. Don’t finish their sentence. Don’t rush to fix or solve, or jump in. Authentic listening begins in stillness. It is born of pure awareness—not the noisy mind, agenda-driven ego, or the silent capital S-Self waiting patiently in the background. As Viktor Frankl so powerfully said, “Between stimulus and response there is a space. In that space is our power to choose our response.” That space is cultivated through presence, through abhyāsa (practice), and through vairāgya (non-attachment). We have one mouth and two ears—so perhaps we’re meant to listen twice as much as we speak. And when we listen from that deeper place, we connect with others not just with our words, but with our presence. That’s what builds secure connection, which, as we’ve seen, is vital to our overall health and well-being. So today’s invitation is simple and profound: Find that deep magical place of stillness within. Practice śravaṇa—deep listening. Don’t prepare your reply. Don’t mentally rehearse your next point. Just be there. Be fully present with your loved ones. Listen with your whole awareness. And let your Seer, your dṛṣṭā, lead the way. /episode/index/show/01c702d6-9ef7-4cb1-aff4-882842fb6f16/id/36059515

248. Is this really, really, really about them? 04/09/2025

248. Is this really, really, really about them? As we continue our exploration of Yoga Sūtra 2.20, we return to the central insight it offers: that there is a part of us—the dṛṣṭā, the Seer—that is capable of seeing clearly, as it is, without distortion. The sutra states: dṛṣṭā dṛśi-mātraḥ śuddho 'pi pratyayānupaśyaḥ Translation: The Seer is pure seeing; although pure, it appears to see through the lens of the mental impressions. This dṛṣṭā, or Seer, is the deeper part of our being, beyond the fluctuations of the mind, beyond the emotional storms, beyond even the core patterns that define our sense of “me.” It sees what is, uncolored by projection or fear. This awareness exists above the kleśas, the mental afflictions that shape our suffering. The kleśas—avidyā (ignorance), asmitā (egoism), rāga (attachment), dveṣa (aversion), and abhiniveśa (fear)—can be understood as the sum of our attachments and fears, often playing out most intensely in our relationships. This week on My Daily Thread, our theme is relationships. We began with the essential question: “How are we showing up for our primary relationships?” These are the people closest to us—partners, family, friends—who reflect not just our love, but also our fears, our insecurities, and our deeply held patterns. We introduced the practice of the Observer’s Pause, a moment to stop, take a breath, and witness what is actually arising in the mind. This pause offers a sacred space between stimulus and response—a space where clarity can enter. In this space, we can ask ourselves the powerful question: “Is this coming from my clarity or my conditioning?” One of the primary ways the kleśas manifest in relationships is through projection. We project our fears, unmet needs, and unresolved wounds onto others. As Śrī O.P. Tiwari used to say, “When you point one finger at someone else, there are three fingers pointing back at you.” This timeless wisdom invites self-inquiry. Jeff shared a personal story from his divorce—how, in moments of conflict, he pointed the finger at his ex-wife, accusing her of disrespect. But in pausing and reflecting, he began to see how he had disrespected her, and perhaps even more deeply, disrespected himself. It’s these layers of self-honesty that start to peel back the projections and bring us closer to truth. We often carry unexpressed fears, things we haven’t taken the time to analyze or understand, and they quietly dictate our behavior. This is avidyā, or spiritual ignorance, which Yoga Sūtra 2.5 defines as: “taking the impermanent to be permanent, the impure to be pure, suffering to be pleasure, and the non-Self to be the Self.” This confusion seeps into our relationships when we expect another person to validate our worth, or soothe our anxiety, or fulfill a role they cannot. But there is another way. We all have access to the Seer, that inner stillness and deep awareness. It’s always available—if we only pause, listen, and look within. So today, take this question with you: “Is this really, really, really about them—or is it about me?” Is it about my fear? My unmet expectations? My conditioned response? Always pause. Always breathe. Allow the dṛṣṭā to show you the way home. /episode/index/show/01c702d6-9ef7-4cb1-aff4-882842fb6f16/id/36058590

247. Are you acting from Clarity or Conditioning? 04/08/2025

247. Are you acting from Clarity or Conditioning? Welcome back to My Daily Thread, where we continue to explore the richness of the Yoga Sūtras and how they offer deep, practical insight into our everyday lives—especially our relationships. Today, we reflect on how our connections with others can be powerful mirrors and teachers, ultimately strengthening all aspects of our health and well-being. Yoga isn’t just about what happens on the mat—it’s about how we live, love, and show up for ourselves and each other. Lately, I’ve been realizing that I need to bring more of this yogic wisdom—particularly from the Yoga Sūtras—into my relationships. There’s a sincere longing to move beyond reactivity, to soften the ways I project fear, discomfort, and old patterns into my interactions, and to cultivate a way of listening that comes from steadiness and presence. Yesterday, we posed the question: “How are you showing up in your relationships?” That reflection opened the door to something important. Today, we take one small step further. We explore the idea of adding one simple shift—a shift that comes from our practice. Through yoga, we learn to create space in the body, which in turn creates space in the mind. This inner spaciousness gives us the clarity to see what’s really there, rather than reacting or projecting from our conditioned mind. This theme arises directly from Yoga Sūtra 2.20, which states: dṛṣṭā dṛśimātraḥ śuddho ‘pi pratyayānupaśyaḥ Translation: The Seer (dṛṣṭā) is nothing but pure seeing (dṛśi-mātraḥ); although pure (śuddhaḥ), it appears to take on the forms of the mind (pratyaya) that it observes. This verse is central to our exploration. It tells us that the essence of who we are—the Seer, or Puruṣa—is untouched, pure awareness. But because this awareness looks through the lens of the mind, we start to believe that we are the thoughts, feelings, or emotional patterns that arise. This misidentification is the heart of our suffering, especially in relationships, where emotional triggers often hit the deepest nerves. Relationships can be triggering for me. And when I get triggered, the reaction is often immediate, powerful, and deeply familiar. From a yogic perspective, these are the kleśas—the mental afflictions outlined in Sūtra 2.3: avidyā (ignorance), asmitā (egoism), rāga (attachment), dveṣa (aversion), and abhiniveśa (fear of death or loss). In relationship conflict, it’s often rāga and dveṣa—attachment to being seen a certain way, or aversion to feeling uncomfortable—that steer our reactions. These kleśas are the deep emotional patterns and conditionings that drive our actions when we are not conscious. But Sūtra 2.20 reminds us—we are not the patterns. We are not the thoughts. We are the Seer. When we remember this, we gain the capacity to witness without becoming entangled. So today, consider this one simple reflection: “Is this action coming from clarity, or from my conditioning?” This question, simple as it may seem, can open a profound doorway. It brings us back to the dṛṣṭā—the witness within. It asks us to pause, breathe, and connect to the purity of awareness that lives underneath our habits, stories, and knee-jerk responses. So as you move through your day, and as you move through your relationships, stay curious. Stay gentle. Practice creating space in your body and mind, and see what begins to shift when you act from clarity rather than conditioning. /episode/index/show/01c702d6-9ef7-4cb1-aff4-882842fb6f16/id/36046670

246. Seeing clearly—yogic wisdom for better relationships. 04/07/2025

246. Seeing clearly—yogic wisdom for better relationships. Welcome to the week. While we’re taking a short pause from our usual sessions, we’re still holding space for reflection and gentle integration. Last week, we focused on Yoga Sūtra 2.20, which points us to the Seer—dṛṣṭā—and its relationship with the mind. The sutra reminds us that even though the Seer, or Puruṣa, is ever-present, we often confuse it with the mind and its movements. This confusion spills over into our daily lives, particularly into our relationships. This week’s theme is “seeing clearly—yogic wisdom for better relationships.” If we’ve been following the thread, we may now start to see how the teachings of yoga aren’t just abstract philosophy, but deeply applicable to our personal lives. From the very first word of the Yoga Sūtras—atha—we were reminded: “Now begins the practice of yoga.” Atha yogānuśāsanam (YS 1.1) is an invitation to turn inward and begin the study of yoga from the inside out. We also reflected last week on the Gnostic Gospel of St. Thomas, which says, “If you bring forth what is within you, what you bring forth will save you. If you do not bring forth what is within you, what you do not bring forth will destroy you.” This dovetails with Yoga Sūtra 1.3, tadā draṣṭuḥ svarūpe 'vasthānam—“Then the Seer abides in its own true nature.” These two teachings echo the same essential truth: our deepest healing and clarity come from within. And so we ask, especially in the context of relationships: Are you bringing your whole self? Are you showing up authentically, not as a projection or a mask, but as your capital-S Self? The real question becomes: “How are you showing up in your relationships?”—not just romantic ones, but with friends, family, coworkers, and even strangers. Can we move beyond knee-jerk reactivity? Can we soften the projections we place on others? Can we truly listen—not just to respond, but to understand—from a grounded, aware place? These are the real-life applications of yoga that go far beyond the postures, the personal peace, or the sound of om śāntiḥ śāntiḥ śāntiḥ. Dr. Rangan Chatterjee wisely said, “Strong relationships are the cornerstone of good health. It's the quality of our relationships that determines the quality of our lives.” Let’s use some of this yogic wisdom to enrich our relationships. Let’s integrate the teachings—not just on the mat or in meditation—but in the space between people, where so much of life unfolds. /episode/index/show/01c702d6-9ef7-4cb1-aff4-882842fb6f16/id/36031685

245. Pause. Exhale and bring forth the Seer solution from within. 04/04/2025

245. Pause. Exhale and bring forth the Seer solution from within. Yoga Sutra 2.20 teaches that the Seer (dṛṣṭā) is nothing but pure seeing. Although inherently pure, it appears to perceive the world through the modifications of the mind. This fundamental misperception causes suffering, as we confuse our thoughts, emotions, and experiences with our true nature. In Sāṅkhya philosophy, this Seer is Puruṣa—unchanging, pure consciousness—while everything it observes, including the mind and senses, belongs to Prakṛti, the material world. The process of yoga is to disentangle this confusion and recognize our true identity as the Seer rather than the seen. This idea aligns with a powerful passage from the Gnostic Gospel of St. Thomas: "If you bring forth what is within you, what you bring forth will save you. If you do not bring forth what is within you, what you do not bring forth will destroy you." When we acknowledge and embody the presence of the Seer within us, we find clarity and liberation. However, if we remain unaware of this deeper aspect of ourselves, we become entangled in mental fluctuations and external circumstances, leading to unnecessary suffering. A simple yet effective way to reconnect with this awareness is through the Observer Pause. When faced with stress or emotional turbulence, taking a deep breath, exhaling audibly, and consciously releasing tension in the jaw, shoulders, and mind creates space between the experience and the one who is experiencing it. This practice helps us detach from reactive mental patterns and access a state of pure witnessing. As we bring this understanding into our relationships, we see how easily interactions with others trigger conditioned responses. Yoga Sutra 2.20 offers a shift in perspective, encouraging us to pause and respond from the depth of Puruṣa rather than reacting impulsively from past conditioning. By applying this wisdom, we cultivate a presence that is grounded in clarity, self-awareness, and authenticity. With consistent practice, we begin to recognize that we are not our fleeting emotions, thoughts, or circumstances. Instead, we are the silent, observing awareness that remains unchanged beneath it all. By bringing forth this Seer’s wisdom in our daily lives, we move with greater ease, inner peace, and a deeper sense of truth. /episode/index/show/01c702d6-9ef7-4cb1-aff4-882842fb6f16/id/36004170

244. Red lenses? Prakriti coloured glasses? 04/03/2025

244. Red lenses? Prakriti coloured glasses? Patanjali’s Yoga Sutra 2.20 brings us deeper into the discussion of the Seer and the way we experience the world. The sutra states: dṛṣṭā dṛśimātraḥ śuddho 'pi pratyayānupaśyaḥ dṛṣṭā – the Seer, the witness, the one who sees dṛśi-mātraḥ – pure seeing, awareness itself śuddhaḥ api – even though it is pure pratyaya-anupaśyaḥ – appears to see through the mental modifications (pratyaya) This verse is an essential reminder that while the Seer (Purusha, the capital S-Self) is ever-present and unchanging, its perception of reality is always filtered through the modifications of the mind (citta-vṛttis). Just as a clear lake reflects the sky above it, the mind reflects the world around us—but if the lake is disturbed, the reflection becomes distorted. In the same way, when the mind is clouded by thoughts, emotions, and conditioning, we mistake its ever-changing reflections for reality itself. Swami Satchidananda provides an illuminating analogy in his commentary on this sutra. He describes how pure white light, when passing through a red crystal, appears red—even though the light itself remains unchanged. This is precisely how our true Self—Purusha—is colored by the ever-shifting nature of Prakṛti (the material world). We do not see things as they are; we see them as our mind conditions them to be. This creates layers of misidentification, entangling us further in illusion (Māyā). A modern example of this distortion is communication through texting. When we receive a message, it is stripped of tone, facial expressions, and body language. The mind instinctively fills in the gaps, often influenced by our current emotions, past experiences, or insecurities. A simple message like “okay” can be read as neutral, irritated, or dismissive, depending on our mental state. This is the citta-vṛttis at work, shaping our perception not according to reality, but according to our conditioning. This is precisely how we experience the world every day—our mind constantly interpreting, assuming, and coloring reality with its own narrative. The core teaching here is that we are not our stories. The voice in our heads, the emotions that arise, the mental commentary we create—these are all passing phenomena. They are part of Prakṛti, not Purusha. The goal of yoga is to recognize this distinction and cultivate the ability to observe without immediately identifying with or reacting to what arises in the mind. So what can we do? Cultivate mindfulness. But here’s the trick: mindfulness is not just about noticing what’s happening—it’s about noticing without reacting. It’s about stepping back and watching thoughts as they arise and pass, rather than getting caught in them. This is why meditation is such a central practice in yoga—it trains us to observe without entanglement. For those who journal, writing down difficult thoughts and emotions can be a helpful practice. Journaling creates space between the thinker and the thought, allowing us to step back and recognize patterns rather than becoming lost in them. Another powerful practice is taking mindful walks—leaving behind distractions like music or podcasts and simply being present with each step, each breath, each moment. And most importantly, remember: "Don’t let the yoga get you down." The journey to self-awareness is not about perfection; it’s about practice. There will be days when the mind feels turbulent and days when it feels clear, but the work you are doing is valuable. The answers you seek will come in time. Trust the process, and keep going. /episode/index/show/01c702d6-9ef7-4cb1-aff4-882842fb6f16/id/35981450

243. Capital S-Self... See what?! 04/02/2025

243. Capital S-Self... See what?! In our search for wisdom, the My Daily Thread Podcast encourages us to find pearls of insight from within ourselves—those moments of inner awareness that we can integrate into our daily lives. Today, we turn to Yoga Sūtra 2.20 for guidance. Yoga Sūtra 2.20: draṣṭā dṛśyamāṇaśuddho'pi pratyayānupaśyah Translation: "The Seer is but pure consciousness; though pure, it perceives through the mind." This sūtra directs us back to the essence of Puruṣa, the Seer, the capital-S Self. Even though the Seer is always witnessing, its perception is filtered through the mind (citta), which is where the confusion begins. Instead of seeing reality as it truly is, we see it through the lens of Prakṛti—the ever-changing material world coloured by thoughts, emotions, attachments, and experiences. For those interested in deepening their understanding, start planning for our San Pancho Retreat with Ziggy Moves: February 2026: The Sanskrit term draṣṭa means "the Seer," that which eternally witnesses experience without being affected by it. This Seer is distinct from our thoughts, emotions, material wealth, and relationships. Yet, because our understanding of the world is mediated through Prakṛti, we often misidentify with these external aspects instead of recognizing our true nature. This ties directly to the goal of yoga as stated in Yoga Sūtra 1.2: "Yogaṇ citta-vṛtti-nirodhaṇ," meaning "Yoga is the stilling of the fluctuations of the mind." The mind is constantly engaged in vṛttis—the ceaseless activity of thoughts, emotions, and perceptions. But beneath all of this, there is the silent observer, the pure awareness that remains unchanged. Practicing stillness and self-reflection helps us recognize this misidentification and move toward clearer perception. Meditation, self-inquiry, and mindfulness serve as tools to quiet the mental noise and reconnect with the silent witness within. If you're struggling with your practice or feeling unmotivated, now is the perfect time to seek personalized guidance, and let's get you back on track: /episode/index/show/01c702d6-9ef7-4cb1-aff4-882842fb6f16/id/35966910

242. Just smell the flowers ... 04/01/2025

242. Just smell the flowers ... Yoga Sūtra 2.19 begins to delve into the finer points of Sāṅkhya philosophy, which, as Jeff admits, isn't his favorite topic. Sāṅkhya, meaning "enumeration" or "counting," can feel highly analytical, almost as if it was designed for those with an engineering mindset who enjoy the intricate details of how reality is categorized. The next few sutras go deep into this theoretical framework, and while we might not explore every nuance, we'll aim to simplify the key concepts. viśeṣāviśeṣa-liṅga-mātrāliṅgāni guṇa-parvāṇi "The stages of transformation of the guṇas are: the specific (gross elements), the non-specific (subtle elements), the indicator-only (buddhi), and the unmanifest (prakṛti)." Patañjali describes four stages of prakṛti (nature) that unfold in increasing levels of subtlety. First is viśeṣa, the gross, tangible objects we interact with in daily life—earth, water, fire, air, and space. Then there is aviśeṣa, the subtler elements that give rise to perception—the tanmātras, or the essence of sight, sound, taste, touch, and smell. Moving deeper, we arrive at liṅga-mātra, which refers to buddhi, the faculty of intelligence and discernment. Finally, there is aliṅga, prakṛti in its purest, unmanifested state, before differentiation occurs. The three guṇas—sattva (clarity, wisdom), rajas (activity, movement), and tamas (inertia, darkness)—are constantly in motion, shaping everything we perceive. They drive prakṛti’s transformation from the most subtle to the most tangible. Sattva governs clarity and wisdom, making it most present in buddhi. Rajas fuels movement and change, dominating the transformation of subtle and gross elements. Tamas brings inertia, showing up in our attachment to form and the material world. Swami Satchidananda provides a useful commentary on this, explaining that Patañjali analyzes these four stages, ultimately culminating in the gross object stage. He gives the example of perceiving a flower. While we can see the flower, we can only sense its fragrance rather than "see" it directly. This illustrates the increasingly subtle levels of perception, moving from the gross to the intangible. Recognizing these levels helps refine our awareness. By cultivating mindfulness, meditation, yoga, and prāṇāyāma, we develop a more subtle perception of our own true nature—tadā draṣṭuḥ svarūpe avasthānam (Yoga Sūtra 1.3). We begin to see that we are not just the body, the mind, or even our emotions. There is something deeper, beyond the constant flux of the guṇas. This weekend, take a moment to notice where you are identifying. Are you caught in the material world of viśeṣa? Are you aware of the subtler forces influencing your perception? Can you access your buddhi, the discerning intelligence that brings clarity? As you go about your weekend, use your energy wisely, whether that means bringing light and awareness into your actions, harnessing movement and activity in a balanced way, or allowing yourself deep rest when needed. And finally, be the light. Peace out. /episode/index/show/01c702d6-9ef7-4cb1-aff4-882842fb6f16/id/35948215

241. Pleasure, freedom, and energetic anchors... 03/31/2025

241. Pleasure, freedom, and energetic anchors... We continue seeking a small but powerful snippet of wisdom from the Yoga Sūtras. Yoga Sūtra 2.18: prakāśa-kriyā-sthiti-śīlaṁ bhūtendriyātmakaṁ bhogāpavargārthaṁ dṛśyam English Translation: "The seen is of the nature of illumination, activity, and inertia. It is composed of the elements and the senses, and it exists for the purpose of experience and liberation." Patañjali reminds us that we are something greater than our thoughts, emotions, experiences—even greater than the guṇas themselves. The guṇas—sattva (clarity), rajas (activity), and tamas (inertia)—are the building blocks of the material world, constantly shifting and shaping our experiences. Each of these qualities plays a role in our lives: Prakāśa (illumination) relates to sattva, bringing clarity and wisdom. Kriyā (activity) aligns with rajas, driving action and movement. Sthiti (stability) connects to tamas, providing stillness and grounding. As Edwin Bryant explains, “Patañjali is describing the ultimate metaphysical ingredients of the Seen.” These forces are always in motion, never static. The guṇas serve two functions: Bhoga – They create experiences (pleasure, learning, challenges). Apavarga – They lead us toward liberation, inner freedom, and transcendence. Whether you approach this from a spiritual perspective or not, these ideas offer a practical framework for understanding life. For instance, if you are feeling restless, anxious, or overwhelmed, that’s rajas in excess—too much action, too much stimulation. If you are feeling stuck, unmotivated, or lethargic, that’s tamas dominating—heaviness and inertia. In this case, a small shift toward rajas (movement, action, motivation) will help break the stagnation. If we step outside the spiritual lens, we can still use these ideas to navigate life effectively. Bhoga: What do we learn from our pleasurable experiences? Do they deepen our understanding or just keep us distracted? Apavarga: Where do we need to find freedom? Are the choices we’re making leading toward growth or keeping us stuck? At any moment, we have the opportunity to ask: “What is this experience, and who am I that is experiencing it?” Try this as your own personal mental experiment—pay attention to your inner state, observe your energetic tendencies, and become mindful of what your energetic anchors are. Be curious. Be aware. And most importantly, make these insights your own. /episode/index/show/01c702d6-9ef7-4cb1-aff4-882842fb6f16/id/35926985

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