Often, yogic teachings, and wisdom in general, comes down to stating the overlooked obvious; seeing what was in front of us all along with fresh understanding and greater appreciation..

This week, I want to share yet another lesson from the Colorado Trail, one that you will likely recognize. In a word, this is a story about rhythm, and its absence.

In my most recent trek, day one was entirely out of rhythm: the path was rocky–interrupting cadence–there were lots of people, and we managed to lose the trail for a while. In the words of my son, 

“It felt like a never ending quest to walk three miles,
unsuccessfully, again and again.”

According to the Vedas, the ultimate reality (or God) is characterized as: Satyam, Ritam, and Brihat.  The very fabric of this creation is made up of Truth, Rhythm (or Order), and is Incomprehensible Vast, Brihat.

We can align ourselves with these cosmic forces in many ways; through the truthfulness of our character; through ritualized rhythms (such as tribal dances or regular sadhana), and connecting with spaciousness (physically, mentally or emotionally).

Rhythm abounds; it is present in the face of a sunflower, your heartbeat, and the turn of seasons. And sometimes it blesses the second day of a prolonged trek; when our steps are light, our pace is in sync, the skies are remarkably spacious, and our barring is instinctually true.

I’ve been a closeted lover of story for a long time–myths and bardic tales stir the rusted chambers of my mind and kick-up dusty shafts of light and portholes of insight. The ancient myths echo with time, culture and age-old lessons about the human experience and how to tread in an uncertain world.

While these ancient tales seem utterly fantastic in their imagination – they also clarify the wild struggles and tendencies of modern life. Like the myths, life too is an unpredictable journey of chance and destiny.

More immediately, our life is shaped by the storytelling narrative of our minds; be it a drama, horror flick, or comedy. Yoga methods, and meditation in particular, help to re-write the script of our mental space and live in a more harmonious plot line. What’s more, we can be resourced when the seas start to churn and the sky thickens.

Early on in the Hatha Yoga Pradipika–a 15th century yogic text–Svātmārāma draws a comparison between the breath (prana) and the mind (chita), and likens them to two fish swimming in tandem. Where one goes the other follows. 

Our breath follows our thoughts and vice versa–they are two sides of the same coin–if you are anxious your breath is different than if you are depressed, or if you are joyous. Breath provides a mirror reflection of our inner world.

The breath-mind connection suffuses asana, pranayama & meditative methods; all of which commonly involve conscious manipulation or tending to the breath,.

You can shape your breath to shape your thoughts.

With repeated practice, the breath and mind become very, very still. The mind stands like a clear full moon, reflected in motionless water. Breath and mind suspended.  In that space of stillness, unencumbered peace emerges.

As a simple practice:

  1. Inhale a smooth full-breath through the nose and into the belly.
  2. Exhale a long, smooth breath out through your mouth or nose. Make it about twice as long as your inbreath without any strain.
  3. Repeat 3-5 times and notice the affect.

“Self Development” is a salient feature of any yoga system. However, the traditions don’t stop at refining our personality, improving self-esteem or strengthening our position in the world. 

Rather, they recognize these surface characteristics and aim to discover what lies beyond the topical narrative of one’s thoughts, sense impressions, or circumstances. 

In the words of the Kena Upanishad:

“At whose behest does the mind think? Who bids the body live? Who makes the tongue speak? Who is that effulgent Being that directs the eye to form and color and the ear to sound?

The Self (Atman) is the ear of the ear, mind of the mind, speech of speech. He is also breath of the breath, and eye of the eye.”

Understandable, this may seem like a monumental or impossible leap; from lone personality to supreme identity. Yet, it is said, we are instinctually drawn to Self-realization. All of our efforts in the world are fragmented-expressions of this primal desire to experience the joy of “The Self”–who is utterly complete within itself.

Becoming conscious of our patterned assumptions and returning to a witness perspective–again and again–is a signature feature of asana and meditative practices. Watch the breath, watch sensation, watch thought like a passing cloud.

It is a movement from finite understanding to an increasingly expansive view, all the way to the doorstep of one’s original nature. 

The Self.

Tales from the trail, and its overlaps with yoga, part three….

This is the story of two worlds..

The first world is that of the urban environment in which much of the space is regulated: traffic lights tell you when to stop and go, a hospital awaits down the street, and you can get a ticket for parking on street sweeping days.

We navigate this world with social customs, laws, etc.

The second world is that of Wilderness, in which all of those “safety-nets” drop away and there is an expeditious consequence to one’s actions. The margin for error is much thinner.

The margin for error is much thinner.

Stepping into this world–the world of the trail–asks that I optimize the few things that are within my domain of influence. Namely: the few possessions carried and more essentially, breath body and mind; to hone the vessel.

It asks that I synchronize breath with strides and pace my strides with the sound of mantra; channeling these vital-forces, rather dispersing them. Held in a continual cadence of breath, movement and focus; a different world appears, one marked by the palpable force of  immediacy.

Immediacy: time takes on a different shape as does identity–like a drum beat sounding somewhere between an instinctual animal and a floating node of consciousness.

Through hiking, as with yoga, is an exercise in getting down to the essential, the infrastructure and circumstances of the outer world take a back seat to one’s primal identity.

Hari Om Tat Sat.

In the Bhagavad Gita, Krishna offers this timeless wisdom:
“You have a right to your actions, but never to the fruits of action.” (2.47)

Krishna offers a timeless distillation of karma yoga, the yoga of action; how to apply the spirit of yoga in daily life.

The teaching invites us to act with care and clarity, but without attachment to outcomes. Whether we teach a class, do the dishes, or contend with a difficult relationship, we can do so with the spirit of seva—selfless service.

When we adopt an attitude of service, we shift from “What can I get?” to “What can I give?” It is a movement from “I” to “we.”

This shift lightens the burden of expectation of what “I get” and opens the heart to the joy of contribution. We begin to show up because it’s meaningful to act, not because we’re guaranteed a particular result.

Our energy becomes more focused, and ironically, our actions often become more impactful—because they are rooted in sincerity, not self-interest.


This week, try offering your efforts as a quiet service. Cook a meal, answer an email, or listen to a friend—not for praise, but as a conscious offering.

Act fully. Let go gracefully. And trust the rest.

I’d recently heard that….

“Most are more interested in the cure than the cause.”

Which struck me as a noteworthy bit of wisdom. This idea certainly comes up in conversations around health and medicine but also pertains to personal relationships.

Ever by-pass your role in a particular dynamic and fast forward to trying to change the “other”? Any parents out there? While this may be semi-satisfying at the moment, if the roots are not tended, the pattern will likely repeat itself again.

Personally, I notice a tendency to want to rush in with an answer, or “solution” rather than to see and hear the multiple aspects of any issue. In many ways, yoga practice aids us to be less presumptive, more patient, and to perceive with greater depth.

In practice, it looks like a movement of energy away from the alleged “cure” and recentering on the “cause.” Sometimes the “cause” of conflict has less to do with the circumstances and more to do with our conditioning.

Understanding our causative role in circumstances is a stepping stone towards greater realization and inner-freedom.

Recently, I completed another segment of the Colorado Trail. And I got a lot of positive feedback from my prior post on “Lessons from the Trail.” So, I thought to share a few lessons from the long path.

Through-hiking offers a unique set of challenges, especially if you are opting to use minimal technology and take your cues directly from the land, it heightens the connection.

I find myself in a continual state of monitoring the outer land–trying to tune into the next water source. And remain mindful of the bodily-vessle; its pace, level of energy, japa, breath regulation, etc.

There is a heightened sense of immediacy. Going without water is of consequence. Missing a turn is a considerable setback. The mind also has moments of doubt and fear.  

Immediacy…..

In a sense, one is forced into the present. The mortgate and the unresolved relationships seem to loose their relavence. 

Getting over the pass is-the-only-thing.

Of course this same teaching is reflected in the classical teachings of yoga; to wake up to the present; and to soften our sense of separation with life and its primal origin. The trail is a mirror, reflecting without and within.

This last Saturday, a mere seven of us gathered, to delight in one another’s songs, poems and stories at our monthly Bhakti Jam.

To tell you the truth, after a full day of teaching, I was reluctant to attend. 

Perhaps I should go home and catch up on a bit of World Cup action?  I mustered up a bit of faith–this world is full of surprises–and felt the words of my teacher….

Finish what you start, even if it is not optimal.

The few of us found our seats amid warm greetings. Each song carried and story carried a light hearted love, and willingness to give of oneself fully. Our small band in full swing.

What we may have lacked in numbers we made up for in heart and sincerity. And by the end of evening we could not wipe the warm grins from their faces.

I was reminded of how yoga practice is an ongoing vigil, even when doubt enters. And how our fulfillment comes less from the particulars of our circumstances, rather, how we chose to interpret those circumstances.

The seeds of resonate-love and expanded awareness lie awaiting at any moment.

Devotion.

It can be a charged notion, particularly if one has some unpleasant religious association with it. But that’s just part of the story.

In my view, it is not so much a question of “if” one has faith and devotion, but rather, faith and devotion in and towards “what?” Do we place our trust in Institutions? Science? The phone? Family? Divinity?

As a yoga practice, devotion is a way of shifting attention away from oneself–and all its finite finite and vexing assumptions–and placing it on a larger force or ideal, a greater cosmic order perhaps.

In yoga class, I often hear an invitation for everyone to “set your intention.”  

In that moment, I sometimes yearn that we may unite our devotions towards a shared higher principle such as “Intrinsic-Love,” “Peace,” or “Acceptance.”  

Maybe there is some singular and trusted-enough principle we can uplift and be in service of?

This tends to happen organically at the end of class, when there is a shared moment of silence, and is often the richest instant in class.  Why not share reveal moment of devoted-connection at the beginning as well?

Devotion, while not commonly given credence in many spaces, softens isolation and magnifies our connection to the deeper ethos of yoga.