Tangled Up

I am in a bit of a tangle, to be perfectly honest. When do you tell someone that Santa Claus does not exist? Or, do you allow one to think incorrectly about something if that something is working well for them?

For example, there are a few Sanskrit phrases and terms that are used on a daily basis, quite often incorrectly with regards to the actual meaning. Sometimes I feel obliged to spell it out  because it is truly a misconception, whereas other times, does it really matter?

I went to an Iyengar yoga class this weekend and it was great to be back in such a class, having thoroughly enjoyed my hatha lessons in India and recent vinyasa ones, thoug, at heart, perhaps I am Iyengar, or at least inspired.

Regardless, at the beginning of the class, the so-called "Invocation to Patanjali" is chanted. It is very pleasant and a nice way to begin the class, something I had not done with my Iyengar teacher in Austin.

To make a long story short, the translation is widely and internationally accepted as correct, is well, to put it bluntly, wrong. I twisted my Sanskrit brain in many contortions this weekend thinking about the invocation and it just doesn't work. There is no way to translate it the way that all sites that I found on the website translate it. Further, I am not even sure that the Sanskrit is correct as I was not able to find the source text.

Does it matter? What if I produce a "correct" translation? Similar to the Christian tradition of translating the Greek parthenon as "Virgin," when it does not necessarily mean that, but...if it doesn't mean that. Or, does it matter if the wrong translation causes a great deal of good?

So, whereas I had originally planned to publish my "correct" translation here of the invocation, I am still puzzling through this hermeneutic tangle that I am caught up in. Suggestions are welcome...

Control

Since I have been in Madurai, I am following a private Yoga course with a woman named Rajeshwara. She has two children who both practice Yoga and who have gone to Yoga clinics, festivals, and competitions throughout India, both of whom she “home schooled” in Yoga. Although I had practiced and taught Iyengar* Yoga for many years while living in Austin, unfortunately again many years have been intervened and I am for all intents and purposes, a beginner again. There is a seminal book on Zen called Beginner’s Mind, Zen Mind, which deals with the practice of Zazen, or intense meditation, hence the name, Zen. However, Zen ultimately comes (via the intermediate of Chinese as T’chan) from the Sanskrit word, dhyãna, which means “profound meditation.” No matter the level that we are at, we can always learn to be beginners again.

Dhyãna is the highly advanced seventh stage of the eight “limbs” of Astangayoga, which literally means eight-limbed yoga, and was codified by Patañjali, who also wrote definitive works on grammar and Ayurveda, the ancient Indian science of well-being. The Astangayoga of Patañjali notably begins with "atha,” which means “now,” or “at this point” or “then.” As such, one must be prepped before jumping into Yoga according to Patañjali. Before that, one needs to be able to communicate clearly and effectively in society with right speech and language, while also being of sound mind and body via the tenets of Ayurveda. In other words, yoga is not merely an exercise, but rather a fully developed philosophical and physiological system that one incorporates into all aspects of life.

Rajeshwara weaves in the philosophical aspects of Patañjali with the physiology of the Asanas, or poses, themselves. As such, we are going through the yoga sutras as a mixture of theory and praxis. Today, she was talking about the concepts of the first two limbs, Yama and Niyama, which can be translated as the private and public ethical observations necessary for the acarya, or student, to begin his or her practice of Yoga. These are what Patañjali sets down as the universal and ethical injunctions that prepare one for the practice of yoga. Before one begins along the path of Yoga, Patanjali lists the necessary Yamas to be fulfilled.

ahimsã-satya-asteyabrahmacarya-aparigrahãh yamãh

jãtideshakãlasmaya-anavacchinnãh sãrvabhaumãh mahãvratam II.30-31

Non-violence (ahimsã), authenticity (satya), non-stealing (asteya), disciple of austerity (brahmacarya) and non-attachment to material goods (aparigrahãh) are the codes of personal conduct.

Such are the august, universal vows, unconditional of nationality, Time, or birthright.

*B.K.S. Iyengar, globally recognized as one of the greatest living yogis, also has a translation and commentary on the Yoga Sutras by Patañjali, which is an excellent introduction to and explication of the Astangayoga philosophy.

Like a Ship upon the Waters

Without going into too much detail, I have a contraption installed in my apartment that allows me to hang upside down on a bar, from the waist. If you have done Iyengar Yoga, you will know what I mean. If not, just bear with me.

The other day, there I was, hanging upside down like a bat in a belfry, and my young daughter comes into the room, and as kids do, bent over, put her head down on the yoga mat and looked at me through her legs and we had a "yoga-bonding" moment. As also the case with Iyengar Yoga, we use "props" such as wooden blocks, cloth belts, etc. to help get into the asanas, or postures more correctly.

On my wooden block, I have a verse from the Bhagavad Gita written in felt marker in Devanagari, the "Indian" script, so to be course about it.

My daughter asked me, "Papa, what do all these funny squiggles mean?"

I told her it was Sanskrit,  read it and then translated it for her.

Transliterated, it is:

indriyãnãm hi caratãm

yan mano 'nuvidhiyate

tadasya harati prajñãm

vãyur nãvam ivãmbhasi (2/67)

meaning:

When the mind is lead by the wandering senses,
Then one's understanding is borne away, as a ship blown about upon the waters.

"Ahhh," she said, "Sanskrit, I see, that sounds funny," as she giggled and rolled around on the yoga mat, during a rather good version of an adhomukhashvasana.