He looks upon his body as the rest house of his spirit.
B.K.S. Iyengar
It has been said that we are like individual waves, and together we make up the whole ocean. If so, how do we filter out the debris? How do we ebb and flow, rise and fall, and cycle like the waves moved by the phases of the moon?
The eight limbs
Patanjali’s Yoga Sutras answer this age-old question with the eightfold path of yoga. What does that even mean? Where does one begin?
Yoga is an art and a science. As yogis, we are encouraged to connect breath to body. With consistent effort, something magical happens: self-awareness is cultivated. We draw on the breath, which moves prana, our vital life force, and feel connected to the countless others who have exhaled. We become aware of the environment inside and outside us. We come to experience our individual self, atman, in relation to the whole.
According to Patanjali, the eight limbs are:
- Yama: moral and spiritual principles, or how we treat others. The five yamas are ahimsa (nonviolence), satya (truthfulness), asteya (non-stealing), brahmacharya (conservation of energy) and aparigraha (non-possessiveness).
- Niyama: self-purification through discipline, or how we treat ourselves. The five niyamas are saucha (purity), santosha (contentment), tapas (discipline), svadhyaya (self-study and study of sacred texts) and ishvara pranidhana (surrender to the divine, the universe or God, depending on your beliefs).
- Asana: posture
- Pranayama: mastery of the breath and prana
- Pratyahara: freeing the mind from domination by the senses and external objects
- Dharana: concentration and inner awareness
- Dhyana: meditation
- Samadhi: super-consciousness, enlightenment, union with the divine. Blissed out!
The ancient yogis discovered that impurities in our internal and external climate dull the mind, cloud our wisdom and distract us from the spiritual path. It is my sacred belief that God has no hands other than ours. We are here to serve one another. To be of service, to rise and fall like the tides, we must first filter out our own debris.
Before I found the path
They say, “The truth is one; the paths are many.” My path toward filtering out the debris began before I knew about the eightfold path, before I understood service, before I felt connected to the rhythms of the earth. In fact, my journey began on a spring day in 2009, in a downpour of biblical proportions, as the earth woke from its slumber. My body was withdrawing from a cocktail of drugs, and my spiritual condition mirrored the stormy skies. I was the debris Mother Earth needed to purge. My body was heavy and achy. My relationship with God was nonexistent, and the only human contact I had came within the walls of mental health facilities.
I was a late bloomer. I had delayed speech, my reading was well below average, I didn’t do arithmetic well and I wasn’t a standout athlete. I did daydream like the best of them, though! At some point a professional decided my daydreaming needed to be addressed, and I was labeled with an emotional and learning disorder, which came with a whole host of medications. By middle school I had been exposed to all kinds of pharmaceuticals and to the awkwardness of a special education system that didn’t know what to do with me. By high school I had bypassed the miracle of connecting to my breath and gone straight to drugs. Somewhere in the madness, I grew very sad, lonely and anxious. There was a huge void in my life.
Just being accepted to college was a miracle, and I tried to embrace it. But I went away with an impure vehicle, a huge void in my heart, zero coping skills, zero social skills, zero God (or so I thought), and a familiar relationship with unhealthy choices. Wherever you go, there you are! Eventually those choices derailed my studies, and I ended up living in my parents’ basement with a closet full of shame and guilt. I sank deeper into depression and deeper in love with mind- and mood-altering substances.
Lessons from the tide
Looking back, God had been nudging me toward yoga all along. Many of the professionals I worked with included guided meditation in my care. Somewhere along the way I learned to surf, and I found respite in our wild ocean. I found my body and my breath in the water, and at the yoga studio.
Surfing taught me that twice a day the tide rolls in, rises and recedes. At high tide, when the water stirs and grows tumultuous, all the debris, pollutants and toxins are dredged up. At low tide, the debris is left behind on the shore, and the ocean is free again. The ocean teaches an important lesson: sometimes the water has to get rough, and the stakes have to get high, so our debris can rise to the top. Only then can we decide what we need, and leave the rest behind.
The basement that saved me
At 24, I found myself in Las Vegas with a master plan: to go into the desert, take massive amounts of psychedelics, finally contact God and discover the meaning of life. What actually happened: I went with a boyfriend I loved, abandoned him for someone with the same toxic plan, spent the weekend drinking and using, and lost the relationship, my luggage and my dignity.
I was utterly disgusted with myself, and I didn’t have much will to live. I called an old friend looking to get high, and he invited me over. He explained that he was living a life free of mind- and mood-altering substances, saucha, and that he was on his way to celebrate an anniversary of his clean time.
I don’t remember the day of the week, the hour or the month, but I remember there was snow on the ground. We were in a cold basement and my pant legs were soaked. The people there talked about finding a new way to live, about lost dreams awakening and new possibilities arising. I went home that night in hysterics. I cried the most satisfying cry of relief that I was not alone. I cried out all the fears I had been holding and all the emotions lying stagnant in my body.
Eventually the people in that basement helped me detox and discover a new way to live. They taught me the therapeutic value of one person helping another, and the principles of honesty (satya), open-mindedness and willingness (ishvara pranidhana).
Returning to the mat
With some time and distance from the drugs, I knew I needed to do something healthy with my body. A soul sister took me to a local yoga studio: Revolution. I had returned to the mat, this time with a swollen heart. On my mat I learned that asana, pranayama and meditation conspire to purify the body, mind and spirit. I learned that yoga’s limbs intertwine like the branches of trees in a forest.
At the time of writing, I had been clean from mind- and mood-altering substances, including alcohol, for three and a half years. Saucha is a most valuable and profound spiritual principle.
Saucha every day
I practice saucha in the company I keep. My friends who helped me get clean caution me to stay away from toxic people, places and things. The organic food I eat, the language I use, the dishes I clean and the clothes I fold are all expressions of gratitude and surrender to the divine.
I fall short often. I sneak chocolate into my nightly ritual, I still curse in traffic (hey, I live in New York; it’s a rite of passage), and I find no joy whatsoever in cleaning a toilet. But all we can do is our best on the path.
Saucha is the practice of taking what we need and leaving the rest behind. We weave it into daily life by choosing clean, loving, caring actions: the people we spend time with, the language we use, the twists we take in asana class, the food we offer our bone temples. Like the rhythm of the ocean, to maintain our spiritual condition we need to slow down and purify. When was the last time you receded to low tide and felt free after a good purge?
I am of the ocean
The people in that basement saved a wretch like me. I still spend time with them, and we move like the most divine body of water. Like yogis on the path, we ebb and flow, meditate, pray, bicker, argue, laugh and cry.
Purity is my service to God. My body is my temple, and God is everywhere: in the breath we take, the food we eat, the eye contact we make, the ocean we swim in, and this vehicle, my body. My spirit is wide awake today, and the void that once plagued me is filled with service to others. I am honored, privileged and a little frightened to share my truth. I write this in service, because I know I can’t keep it unless I give it away.
I am no longer a lost wave out at sea. I am of the ocean, and so are you. I honor the place in you where the entire universe dwells. It is my deepest prayer that my experience with saucha moves you to practice purity. Hope to see you on the mat!
If you or someone you love is struggling with substance use, help is available. In the United States, the SAMHSA National Helpline is free, confidential and open 24 hours a day at 1-800-662-4357. In a crisis, call or text 988.
