The Eight Limbs of Yoga Are Worth Your Attention

On a road trip, some people revel in the changing scenery and don’t want to look away from the window. Other people delight in the map and love to chart their progress. This post is for the map-lovers among us. It is a little theoretical, but I’ve been thinking about the structure of yoga, its elegance and pragmatism. The Yoga Sutras, written by Patanjali about 2,500 years ago, lay out a course of eight sequential steps, known as the eight limbs of yoga. By practicing them, we don’t merely learn ideas, we realize their import and subtleties through experience. The structure gives the opportunity to clearly experience the difficulties, creating fertile ground for the next limb. The process is clear and straightforward. The results are sublime.

You should not believe that. You should try it yourself.

The eight limbs of yoga are designed to help an individual know and understand themself. The practice begins with outer, tangible observations and works inward. Just as astronomers can posit the presence of unseen planets by watching the movement of other bodies near them, we learn about the subtle aspects of ourselves by observing ourselves in relationships. Yoga means union, but we begin by creating dichotomies. Over and over, yogis use external references. The eight limbs proceed as follows.

1. Who am I in relationship with others: As I practice yama, I learn about the ideals for living in peace with others. I begin to realize their value, but I notice that sometimes I don’t live up to them. Why not? I realize I myself am still rather unknown and unpredictable. So I look at:
2. Who am I in relationship with myself: As before, Patanjali presents certain ideals through niyama. As I practice these ideals, my behavior sometimes falls short of my intentions. I notice my shortcomings often involve animal needs: fear, hunger, fatigue, and the need for love. So I look at:
3. Who am I in relationship with my body: Here, the practice gives ideals in the form of postures (asana). But even after years of practice, behavior often falls short of ideals. As I observe that, I perceive that muscles and joints are often inhibited by energetic patterns. So I look at:
4. Who am I in relationship with my nervous system: We learn about the nervous system primarily through breath-work or pranayama. Even as I am successful in resolving many problems, I notice that my nervous system is still very sensitive to instinctive demands – startling at loud noises, cringing at perceived threats, moving toward love. So I look at:
5. Who am I in relationship with my senses: In a safe place, I observe instinctive responses and practice putting space between perception and action (pratyahara). Even so, I sometimes act out of fear or desire. So I look at:
6. Who am I in relationship with my mind: External references begin to lose their usefulness here. At first, I meditate “with seed”, that is, focusing on something relatively external, like breath, an idea, or an image. But eventually, the “seed” must be left behind so the dichotomy can be resolved. These final three steps are known collectively as samyama: dharana, dhyana, and samadhi.

And so, map-loving students, I recommend you memorize the eight limbs of yoga and keep them as a road map.

Yama, Niyama, Asana, Pranayama, Pratyahara, Dharana, Dhyana, Samadhi