Leaving Mysore was a confusing affair – I wasn’t sure how I felt about the practice, or my experience in the main shala. My body was sore and my practice stalled entirely – deep, comfortable backbends had become a faint memory.

In the weeks following I had slowly started practicing again, being aware that the enjoyment and wonder of practice was no longer there. I was deeply in need of some wisdom and guidance.

Work determined that I was headed to Koh Samui and the Yoga Thailand retreat centre. I hadn’t planned on spending time with the visiting teachers but the advice of a friend led to me spending two overwhelming weeks with Ron Reid.

It’s worth mentioning again that my time with Ron was serendipitous – I was tired, lost, and in search of direction. I had desire and was completely open to learning (a new thing for me). With Ron, as with any teacher, being open is the first step because:

Practicing with Ron will change your beliefs, perceptions, and physical understanding of the practice.

In short, he will blow your mind.

If you let him.

For first few days it was back to basics. I had expected this to some extent. What I didn’t expect is that a week later it was still about the basics – with insight. Ron communicated the understanding that it’s all basics.

We all know that upward dog is a backbend but how many of us are encouraged to work as hard in upward dog as we would in a backbend? How many of us work as hard in downward dog as we would in a hand stand? How often do we switch off during practice, only to work at the end, with:

The pose that we’re working on.

Ron taught me that we are always working on the pose that we’re working on. Standing, sitting, lifting, floating – the basics lead to the integrated pose. If you work on the simple poses, you work on the “advanced” poses.

But this understanding comes at a price.

Ron is clear that you have to want to work in order to practice this way, because:

If your body doesn’t have to do the work, it probably won’t.

Initially I struggled with the effort required, it took me out of my “meditation” through the practice and I found the incessant effort to be, well, hard. But then I realised the poses I was “working on” were getting easier. I had more strength through the practice and my body felt more open, more able, and ultimately more willing to put in the effort.

I began to feel great – physically and mentally. The strength of the practice began to settle my mind.

In practicing with Ron one of the shortcomings of Ashtanga became more evident to me, for in Ashtanga sometimes:

The end is more important than the means.

This can lead to a machiavellian practice whereby the practitioner makes the bind/twist/catch the focus, the drishti, of the pose. With open hips in Marichyasana D, long hamstrings in Supta Kurmasana, a hinged back in Kapotasana… the practitioner need not focus on the means, the end has won.

Ron returns the focus to the process.

Ron’s mind has a unique ability to deconstruct poses into their component parts – he turns poses upside down or 90 degrees to figure out the movement and work required. Having figured out the individual parts, he then brings the sum of all the parts into the union of the pose.

Ron may even break your stride by suggesting that you don’t need to do a particular pose every day and instead offer you an alternative opener from another series, again leading you to focus on the basics.

Then there’s his insightful quote that I think of every time I take my hands back, lift my head, and open my chest:

You are high jumping, not back bending.

Ron is an instrumental and wonderfully generous teacher. I was fortunate to spend time with him when my practice was at a difficult place and I was open to fully appreciate the wisdom of his years of practice. To study with him is to realise what it means to practice with awareness.

I copied this from FITisthenewbeautiful but had to change a few of the commandments – Ayurveda would agree with all of this:

1. LIFESTYLE, NOT DIET
This is not a short term fix; it’s a way of life.

Eat today the way you want to eat for the rest of your life. It will take you longer to reach health but the lessons your learned along the way will keep you healthy once you get there. Dieting is only useful in the case of chronic disease.

2. GET ORGANISED
Structure your life and you’ll structure your food.

The body loves regularity, no matter which type you are. Regular eating will create regular digestion – eating at the same time every day will lead the body to be ready for food at the same time every day. Try this, it works.

3. EAT WHOLESOME FOOD
You are what you eat – junk food creates a junk body.

Does this need to be explained?

4. LEARN TO LEAVE FOOD ON YOUR PLATE
This helps you take control of compulsive eating.

My culture taught me not to waste food. When you eat at home, take only what you need. When you eat somewhere else, don’t believe that the chef knows how hungry you are.

5. LEARN TO COOK
We do it every day – cook your own food, you’ll eat and feel better.

Learn simple recipes, learn what goes into each meal. Not only will you change the way you perceive food but you’ll have an appreciation for the wise adage:

Restaurants cook for taste, not for health

6. MAKE A MEAL OUT OF IT
Make a ceremony out of every meal, so that you’ll really appreciate what you’ve eating.

Prepare the table, use the good plates, eat together. Sure, you can’t do this in your lunch hour but you can come close – go somewhere quiet, digest what you’re eating, take your time.

7. EAT SLOWLY
That way, you’ll feel satisfied before you’ve eaten too much.

Give your digestion a chance to ready itself for the food you’re eating. Eat slowly and the taste will signal the right enzymes to be made available. If need be, examine why you’re eating fast.

8. ENJOY YOUR FOOD
It’s one of life’s greatest pleasures, not a punishment.

Commit to three months of healthy eating. After this your tastes will change – reduced sugar cravings, little interest in junk food, and knowing how your eating affects how you feel.

9. MOVE IT!
Exercise if a key essential to being healthy.

Find an exercise you enjoy doing and commit to doing it often. Make sure it gets your whole body moving, your lymphatic system depends on it.

10. GET ENOUGH SLEEP
Structuring your sleeping patterns will regulate your body.

Go to bed within 15 minutes of when you went to bed the night before and wake up within 15 minutes of when you woke up the morning before. Irregular sleeping is as bad as jet lag. So is under and oversleeping.

11. GO OFF PISTE
Don’t be fundamentalist about it.

Break the rules every now and again. Just don’t make a habit out of it.

A great deal of discussion in Ashtanga circles is centered around:

Should I go to Mysore?

Students spend large amounts of energy debating the merits of making the costly and time consuming trip to the “source” of Ashtanga Yoga – Mysore, India.

Some feel that coming to Mysore is a rite of passage, an unquestionable pilgrimage made if you are in any way a serious practitioner. I overheard a conversation where an authorised teacher was discussing another teacher who had not made the trip to Mysore:

He is not a teacher. He has not come to Mysore, to the source, to pay his respects. He is not an authentic teacher.

But I have experienced teachers who have chosen not to make the trip. Teachers who have finished the unthinkable fourth series and have paid their respects each morning by rolling out their mat and continuing the tradition. Are these teachers frauds?

Some might ask how it is possible to know the tradition if you have never come to Mysore? I would answer that it is possible to be Buddhist without having met the Buddha, and it is possible to be a Christian without having met Jesus Christ. You can commit, surrender, and know the tradition. A pilgrimage does not the student make.

However, the lessons that Mysore has the capacity to teach can not be overlooked.

A great number of practitioners come to Sharath in search of something. We want to be the special student, we want to make progress, we want to impress. But Sharath is being shared by an extraordinary number of students and the bottom line is that only a small measure of students develop a relationship with him. To be a part of that group you need to commit to his teaching – he needs to watch your practice, he needs to get to know you, you need to come back, more than once.

Sharath has the enviable position of being the source. We don’t question his ability as a teacher because the river begins here, without this spring of knowledge there is can be no downstream understanding. And so if we don’t surrender, or choose to go elsewhere, hundreds of students line up behind us willing to surrender in our place.

And in Mysore we learn that we are not special, or we learn that we are special. We learn that we have to stop here and be humble, or we can go on and be confident. We can spend hours at the coconut stand gathering friends for a Pose Pity Party that begins with:

I’m so frustrated, why won’t he let me go on?

It might be a succession of trips to Mysore and still we don’t move on. Sharath wants us to grab, to bind, to bend. It doesn’t seem fair, it seems impossible, how painful and defeating.

But it’s a reality. And we can only break ourselves against a reality. When we reject gravity we find ourselves scratched and bruised. When we reject reality we find ourselves frustrated and defeated.

Sharath, like most exceptional teachers, stretches our ability to be content with what is, not to long for what is not. We find ourselves raging against the unfairness of it all – how can this be? And then we accept, we find space and settle. Then, as with the onion, a new layer is peeled and we rage once again. Find contentment and peace. Rage. Contentment. With each layer we go deeper and experience a new level of discomfort, we laugh at how difficult things used to be and long for the ease of the old days, as we wrestle with the pains of a newfound depth.

And there is more to Mysore than what goes on inside the shala. A friend noted that:

There is a pecking order at the main shala but the struggle is the great equaliser. What’s missing is that we are all struggling. The superficiality of the pecking order has taken over the reality that we are all struggling together.

The collective struggle is replaced by individuality, the Ego. We see ourselves are separate – this is my struggle, I am in this pose, I am stuck here, I am going to led intermediate. A cursory glance around the KPJAYI shala during practice allows us to see the struggle as a united one – we are all suffering. The superficial flexibility and the pose we are in my differ, but we are all suffering.

And separately we come to the practice each morning to seek collective liberation from the suffering.

Sharath encourages us to think that:

We are all beginners.

Otherwise we have nothing to learn, we will mistakenly believe that we know it all. We will break ourselves against reality believing that we know better. But we don’t, we have much to learn, we are all beginners.

If we see ourselves as beginners, how is it possible to judge the approach, practice, lifestyle of another? How can we possibly know better if we ourselves are mere beginners? Suddenly our Ego falls away and we seek to learn from a perspective that is not our own, a perspective that is unfamiliar, a perspective that is even uncomfortable.

The lessons that we learn in Mysore are taught by the collective wisdom of the universe. We have chosen a path, the Ashtanga tradition. We have chosen this path from many paths leading to the identical source – liberation. To be smug or self-righteous in any part of our decision – to think we need to enforce the tradition, to chastise others for their decisions – shows that we are not learning, that our Ego has not given up the fight, that in reality we are ignorant of being a beginner.

In the end it doesn’t matter if you come to Mysore or not. If you are working to release your samskaras, if you are doing the tapasya, your liberation will continue without the Mysore pilgrimage. However, if you’re not working, if you’re not surrendering, then coming to Mysore is of little consequence.

Vata Dosha has the unfortunate characteristic of being the dosha most likely to go out of balance. As Vata is the principle of air and movement this should not come as a surprise, however, it can be frustrating when attempting to maintain balance and health.

Given the relatively unsteady nature of Vata, it’s important for Ayurveda to provide the means to bring about balance when the inevitable happens. And it does. There are two easily accessible solutions: Abhyanga and Pranayama.

Pranayama is widely discussed in both Yoga and Ayurveda circles, however, it is often the power of simple pranayama that is overlooked. Much focus is given to Kumbacha (retention) and advanced pranayama techniques as a means to clear the nadis and liberate the Kundalini energy, thus becoming an enlightened being.

Pranayama has several unique properties, one of the most important of which is the ability for us to control an autonomic (involuntary) function – breathing is an unconscious function of the body that can be made conscious with great ease.

Pranayama provides a link between the mind and the body. Yogic texts refer to the mind as the Manomaya kosha (mental sheath) and the body as the Annamaya kosha (physical sheath). The link between the two is the pranic, or vital, sheath called the Pranamaya kosha. These koshas are not simply fancy names or concepts without practical application. The texts go on to explain how we can use this pranic link to settle the mind and balance the body.

Sri O.P. Tiwari says:

Know your breath and you will know your mood.

As an Ayurvedic Physician I carefully observe my own breathing and that of my patients, knowing that shallow, irregular breathing indicates a tense, anxious, or depressed mood. While deep, expansive, even breathing is indicative of an open and relaxed mood.

Try this for yourself – next time you find yourself feeling emotionally heavy or anxious, bring your attention to your breath and without changing it, observe it. Do the same when you’re relaxed. You will find that your breath is communicating with you.

And the most wonderful aspect of the Pranamaya kosha? You can communicate with your body through the breath, it’s a two-way relay. When you find yourself troubled, go to the breath for relief – deep, diaphragmatic breathing with equal inhaling and exhaling will result in a regular and slow heartbeat, calming the thoughts and so the mind.

The practical aspects of this involve the subdoshas of Vata and can be easily understood without much training in Ayurveda. Three specific subdoshas are involved – Udana, Prana, and Apana.

Udana Vayu governs the upward movement of Vata and is responsible for exhaling in the process of breathing. Udana Vayu is also responsible for moving energy towards the brain when we need to think deeply about a particular subject. However, when Udana Vayu is too strong we experience excessive rumination and an inability to quiet the mind.

Prana Vayu governs the inward movement of energy and is responsible for inhaling in the process of breathing. Prana Vayu helps us to bring food and nourishment into the body and balances Udana Vayu.

When either Udana or Prana Vayus are too strong the energetic movement in our body is affected, impairing the natural function of the body and resulting in excessive thinking, anxiety, constipation, indigestion, etc.

Performing simple, deep, equal inhales and exhales restores the balance between these two subdoshas. As we inhale we strengthen Prana Vayu and encourage a downward movement of energy, as we exhale we strengthen Udana Vayu and encourage an upward movement of energy. And so with a knowledgeable teacher it is also possible to extend either the inhale or exhale in order to correct a chronic imbalance, bringing mental clarity and tranquility.

The third subdosha involved in pranayama is called Apana Vayu. Apana is considered the most important subdosha of Vata as it provides grounding and holding for the body and for the other Vata subdoshas. Therefore without a stable Apana Vayu, the body struggles to function appropriately.

The Charaka Samhita reads:

Apano apanagaha pakvadhanalayo apanaha
(Apana is the root of all the vayus)

This is why it is important to focus the mind on the pelvic floor and anus when performing Pranayama. By contracting the anus, Apana Vayu is strengthened and so they body becomes grounded providing a stable base for the remaining Vata subdoshas to perform their tasks.

Next time you find yourself searching for a Pranayama teacher, consider forgoing the teacher who promises liberation through intense yogic practices. Electing instead to study with the humble teacher who imparts knowledge of “basic” Pranayama will provide serenity through a balanced body and cessation of the thoughts… which some might feel is the ultimate liberation.

When I was young I would often go and visit my mom’s grave in an effort to feel more connected with her. Sadly, this never worked for me, and in the cemetery I always felt the furthest away from her.

Coming to Mysore has been like visiting my mom’s gravestone – I have seldom felt further away from my practice, both physically and spiritually.

Rising at 3:30am, queuing for sought after mat space, contorting in a room with sixty-plus students, seeking a share of a busy teacher’s time, crowding at coconut stands discussing practice… it appears unquestioningly devout.

But Richard Freeman says:

If you practice a system unwaveringly, something will remain unaddressed or unresolved and there is likely to be residue from the practice and some aspect of your life that remains unconscious.

Being in Mysore is perhaps less about the practice and more about personal growth. We come for the asana but soon realise that it’s a sideshow, the main event has far more potential for change. In Mysore, if you’re open to it, the mirrors come up and you see all sides of yourself.

Are you the yogi who is first at the gate? Do you allow others ahead of you when entering the shala? Do you shift the mats of others out of the way so you may have a “nicer” practice spot? Do you pause your practice to provide others with room for the prodigious poses? Do you define yourself by your level of “expertise” in the practice? Do you hasten towards western eateries to keep up with the social happenings? Do you live an existence of contemplative solitude?

The questions are specific because, if you listen quietly, these are the mirrors that come up. And when looking into these mirrors, as the practice fades into the background, your true self rises and the magic of Mysore becomes evident.

It’s not about what pose you’ve been given (it never is), it’s not about where you think you should be in the practice (does it even matter), it’s not about the attention you believe you got from the teacher (we are all special)… it’s far deeper than this and if you pause for long enough, the light of the authentic practice begins to shine.

India has the ability to strip away facades, to mirror the divergence between who we think we are and who we are shown to be. The gap is not the obstacle, it’s our unwillingness to accept the gap as a reality that creates our suffering. Be open to the suffering and the joy of liberation waits patiently for you.

I arrived in Mysore just over two months ago when all was quiet and the busy season had not yet started. I had just completed my Ayurveda internship with Dr Joshi at his Panchakarma clinic in Nagpur and I had unscheduled travelling ahead of me.

When I told friends of my plans, many asked why I was going so early to Mysore – Sharath wasn’t going to be back from his world tour yet. And in the first few days of my stay, many of the local people asked me if the main shala was open and, if not, when Sharath was arriving. These conversations, along with the incredibly low numbers in the shala, gave me the impression that the focus of attention has not been spread evenly across the Jois family.

All of this would have somewhat concerned me but Nancy Gilgoff‘s evident affection for Saraswathi reassured me. Having known her since the 1970′s, Nancy was the first person to encourage me to spend time with Saraswathi.

My first practice in the main shala felt strangely uneventful, helped by the quietness of so few people and the lack of elbowing for mat space. I took the total number of students up to eight, so space was not at a premium and any nervous energy could easily disperse. This stillness remained during my time with Saraswathi, and when Sharath arrived I would realise how special this time was.

Because of the personal attention, the unexpected often happened… at the end of my first week Saraswathi came over to my mat after Setu Bandhasana, the last pose of primary and asked

How many poses you knowing?

I was unsure how to answer so she followed up with

You know second series? Okay, next week second you doing.

I was very surprised by this as most people had told me that one’s first trip to Mysore is spent largely practicing the primary series. I was also pleased as I had begun to miss my regular practice and the opportunity to do it with Saraswathi made me very appreciative.

Through the weeks with Saraswathi she would adjust me in the same poses each day, however, the adjustments themselves changed over time.

In Kapotasana, Saraswathi initially let me do the pose a number of times on my own to allow my back to open sufficiently before she would take my left arm to my heel followed by a somewhat uncooperative right arm. A few weeks later she began taking my right arm into the pose first, followed by the left. It wasn’t long after this that she would show up in front of my mat just as I jumped into the pose, thereby not allowing me to “warm up”.

Through this process of intelligent and intuitive adjustment, Saraswathi showed me that the student needs to be assisted but also challenged. Adjustments are not rote, it is not the same for everyone and it is not the same adjustment repeatedly. In this way the student can be supported in a pose but still do the work necessary for growth.

Saraswathi is one of the few teachers who have been able to fully adjust me in Kapotasana and Karandavasana – her age and height in no way affecting her exceptional ability.

A month ago, it was a tremendous surprise when I found out that we would be with Saraswathi for her birthday. I arranged a cake (eggless, Indian vegan style) and we sang to her after the Saturday led class, the day before her 70th birthday. In the quiet season, with so few students, the memory of this is very special to me.

I am now practicing with Sharath with many, many other students. Saraswathi arrives in the shala around 6:30am when she has finished teaching her class at a shala a few roads up and on some days I am fortunate enough to be adjusted by her in backbends.

My experience has thus far provided me with the best of both worlds – the bustle of the full shala along with the intimacy of the quiet shala.

Newcomers to Ayurveda are often confused at the reverence the science has for milk and products derived from milk. With so many “allergies” and digestive problems associated with dairy it’s not difficult to appreciate why this confusion would exist.

More often than not, the conclusions of the inherent problems of incorporating dairy in a regular diet are based on a wrong understanding of the root cause of acquired lactose intolerance. A recent report concluded that low fat yoghurt during pregnancy can increase the risk of the baby suffering from asthma.

Ayurveda believes this report to be only half wrong.

Ayurveda, always looking to treat the source, assists us in better explaining and eliminating this intolerance and problems associated with dairy.

Ghrtena Vardhate Buddhi Ayuh Ksirena Vardhate

In translation, this sutra reads:

Ghee increases intellect, with milk life increases

Why would Ayurveda give such esteem to a food linked to so many health problems and digestive disorders? The answer lies in the definition of milk.

Milk comes from cows and the closer it is to the source – the original product from the cow – the significantly more healthy it is for us. Ayurveda believes it is only whole milk that the body can digest.

The mechanical processes that give milk unnatural characteristics – such as long life (UHT), a lower fat content (low fat, skim, etc), a different taste (flavoured), more nutrition (fortified), or a more uniform appearance (homogenisation) – denature the milk and remove our body’s ability to digest this wonderful source of health. Ayurveda does not consider the end product of these processes to be milk. These products have been mistreated in such a way as to remove our bodies ability to digest them and it is the heavy processing that results in “lactose intolerance”.

While it is beneficial to search for raw milk that is unmodified in any way, milk that has only undergone the pasteurisation process offers a suitable and healthy alternative. And Ayurveda provides guidance on how to take these minimally modified milk products so that we can be certain to fully digest them.

Most importantly is that milk is never taken cold as it will increase mucous production. Heat the milk gently on the stove and add a few warming spices (eg: cinnamon, cardamom) to antidote the mucoid properties. Taken in this way, milk provides nutrition to the body without causing indigestion or unpleasant side effects.

Whole, unmodified milk contains around 4% fat. If you want to reduce this percentage mix the milk with water. The same applies if you would prefer a lower fat yoghurt. All low fat products on the market (including non-milk products) are mechanically processed and will cause indigestion and imbalances in the body. It is better to lower the fat content naturally.

Combining dairy products with other foods is also a source of digestive complaints. Generally milk can be taken with cereals without difficulty but one should avoid taking milk with bananas, sour fruits, bread containing yeast, fish, meat, or yoghurt. Yoghurt should never be combined with fruit, cheese, eggs, meat, or milk.

As is always the case in Ayurveda there is no food which is beneficial for everyone. Milk is no exception and Kapha types should be fairly strict in limiting their intake of all dairy products. Pitta types should avoid taking too much yoghurt but milk pacifies their fiery quality. Finally, most natural dairy products are a benefit to Vata types when their digestion is in balance.

Jnana Yoga is often translated as the yoga of acquiring knowledge while Dravya Prapti Yoga as the yoga of acquiring wealth. A close friend of mine suggested that:

Ashtanga Yoga is the yoga of acquiring.

Some people may feel what she is proposing is akin to Ashtanga heresy. To imply that we practice Ashtanga merely to acquire the next pose is often perceived as an insult, an indication that the practitioner is missing the point.

But often, what lies beneath the veneer of the quintessential Ashtangi, is a desire for the next pose, the next series, the next milestone. We use the poses as a means of grading ourselves against our peers – Where are we? Where do we fit in? How long will it take me? Who am I?

As in other areas of life where we deliberately choose not to acknowledge our darker side, it is perhaps the same in our yoga practice. We choose to be consciously unaware of this facet of our spiritual failing, this desire of the human body, this quest for the next pose.

In Ashtanga, acquiring is the elephant in the room that we opt to suppress and if I’ve learned one thing about yoga it’s that we are not here to suppress. An important step in the search for our true nature is to appreciate who we are, the root of our desires, and to express all aspects of the true self. People often confuse the concept of “true self” as the “good self”. Our true self is the root of our being, where judgement is absent and we simply are.

So as we acquire poses and wear them as discrete badges that we are not supposed to talk about but do anyway. It is understood that it’s not the pose that you’re “stuck” on but the state of your spirit… but we shift to the importance of the pose because it’s tangible.

Some practitioners “get” what it’s all about in primary series while others finish Advanced B and are still at a loss. We all know this, but fall back to acquiring. This is not a mistake, but in hiding the reality we deny the reality – and we don’t practice Ashtanga to deny, we practice Ashtanga so as to accept.

So perhaps if we were more open about our inherent shorcomings then we’d all be more content with where we are. To accept that we acquire is to accept our true nature, and realising our true nature is the path to liberation.

It seems fitting, having recently arrived in Mysore – the home of Ashtanga Yoga – that I turn some attention to Patanjali’s Yoga Sutras.

As I have come to appreciate over the past few years of study, Sanskrit is a relatively concise language and translations are often open to fairly variable interpretations which can be, at times, contradictory.

In the West, perhaps due to our culture, we require that there be a clear and precise explanation with one single definition. This certainty – an absolute knowing – is what provides us in the West with a sense of security by which we may rest peacefully at night.

It was explained to me early in my Ayurveda studies that in Indian culture it is acceptable for two contrasting opinions to be correct – even in cases of utter contradiction. For in India, great emphasis is placed on your ability to adequately convey, through logic and reasoning, your point of view.

It is with this perspective that I re-present Patanjali’s second sutra of the first chapter.

yogashchittavrittinirodhah (1.2)

This is the most oft quoted sutra from Patanjali and is simple and illuminating. Directly translated, this sutra means:

Yoga mind fluctuations controlling.

By adding a little grammar we get to:

Yoga is a means to control the fluctuations of the mind.

And this is the translation you will find in most yoga teacher training manuals – with good sense too as yoga is an excellent method to yoking the mind so that we may guide it, rather than having it pull us according to its whims.

When working with Sanskrit is important to remember that English translations are at best an approximation. Much is based on context and, due to the limited grammar of Sanskrit, the result is often an interpretation rather than a strict translation.

Sir O.P. Tiwari, a teacher that I have spent time with in studying the yoga Sutras, prefers the word “disciplined” when translating “nirodhah”. He feels that discipline can be creative, an attribute that “controlling” is not able to convey.

This thought was on my mind as I was reading a book unrelated to Patanjali’s Sutras and I happened upon a alternate translation of the word “vritti”. The word “grooves” – meaning habitual patterns or reflexes – jumped off the page and applied an unusual meaning to the often quoted yoga sutra. It suddenly occurred to me that perhaps Patanjali intended that:

Yoga is a means to discipline the mind so as to avoid responding from the (habitual) grooves.

In this rendering, Patanjali intended that yoga is a means to bring us into the “now”, to react as though each situation is presenting itself to us for the first time. Yoga is an aid to stop us reacting impulsively to situations based on how they have occurred in the past, stopping us from reacting based on anticipation. The practice of yoga encourages us to live openly.

Vasant Lad touches on this when he says:

The brain cells enjoy working along a groove made by previous knowledge and memory. Recognition becomes a habitual, conditioned reflex that gives a feeling of security. Repetitive methods, techniques and systems nourish the ego and dull the mind.

Yoga is a means to bring our awareness to the present, avoiding a dulling of the mind that causes us to be neglectful in living out our existence. When we aspire to respond to the moment as it presents itself this time, we connect with life as a dynamic and stirring experience – as it is.

From an Ayurvedic perspective, when food enters our mouth the distinction between the food and our body becomes increasingly blurred. The food we eat nourishes our tissues, assembles our structure, and nurtures our mind. It literally becomes us. And our ability to absorb, process and release the energy contained in food relies on the strength and efficiency of our digestion. Our digestion, in turn, relies on a balanced diet containing appropriately cooked, unprocessed food.

A breakdown in any of the pillars supporting our body results in its inevitable breakdown. With this in mind I bring attention to the topic of calories.

We accept calories, the supposed measurement of the energy contained in food, as a product of scientific study. We accept calorific values as unadulterated evidence that a particular food will make us fat, make us thin, or simply provide us with a discrete amount of energy.

However, calories – as interest rates are to the financial industry – are largely a useless analysis of the benefit of a particular food. On their own, calories are a blind acceptance on faith as to the net effect a food will have on the human body. Much like superfoods, we are devoted in our acceptance of calories as both relevant and consequential.

But this faith in calories is not entirely our own doing. Our faith exists because calories have been given tremendous stature by the food producers and advertising media, and so it has come to be that we believe what we read on the sides of food packaging.

Where calories originated provides some insight into why calories are not all that they seem.

At the end of the 19th century, Wilbur Atwater created a method for calculating the energy component of food, a method now known as the The Atwater System. And although our food has changed significantly – by becoming more processed and refined – the formula for arriving at the calorific value of food has largely remained unchanged.

Using the Atwater System, if we wanted to measure the calorie content of, for example, a carrot we would do as follows:

Place the carrot inside a container with an appropriate amount of oxygen, surround the sealed container with water, and then ignite the oxygen/carrot combination. Heat would naturally be produced by the burning and for every degree centigrate that the temperature of one gram of water rose, the carrot would be said to contain one calorie. So, for example, if the temperature of one gram of water rose ten degrees in total then the carrot would contain ten calories (actually, it would contain 10,000 calories because what we call a calorie is in fact 1,000 calories but that’s another story altogether).

Atwater also summarised the data of 97 human digestion experiments and to arrive at “average coefficients of digestability”. This indicated how much of each food was available to the body after digestion – in the case of meat this value is 97%, cereals 85%, legumes 78%, and so on.

This all seems rather simple. And it is. And so Atwater developed a table containing the basic foods and their calorie content – 9 calories per gram of fat, 4 calories for a gram of protein, etc. Fast forward a hundred years and many food producers use these same values when labeling their food.

The Atwater System, although grounded in science, raises several questions when we begin to investigate his conclusions from an Ayurvedic perspective. Do we all digest food with the same coefficient? Are all fats/proteins/carbohydrates the same? Does refined white flour provide the same energy as wholewheat flour? How far could the human body go on a gallon of gasoline?

Let me answer these questions in reverse order.

A gallon of gasoline contains roughly 31,000 calories and as such the human body could go for roughly two weeks without requiring a topup. Of course gasoline is toxic to the human body so this is entirely a fool’s errand. But this raises another important question: we can calculate the calorific value of anything, but does that make it food?

Gasoline provides no nutrition for the human body and yet it is able to provide an extraordinary amount of (empty) calories. This is no different from a can of soda pop, refined oils, refined candy, etc – these foods contain largely empty calories and as such, are toxic to the human body. If a calorie contains no nutrition it will lead to disease.

On the other end of the spectrum we now have energy drinks which claim to provide the body with what it needs but contain zero calories. These are intended to be taken after exercise as a means of quenching thirst without adding back the calories you have just worked so hard to remove. But how can food have flavour and substance without calories?

Water is an obvious zero calorie drink – it tastes as you would expect zero calories to taste. Other zero calorie drinks are, however, achieving taste through the use of chemicals. Many reports appear in the press to highlight the effects of chemicals on the human body – Bisphenol A as an example – but we often overlook food additives when speaking of chemicals. These are no different from environmental toxins and although the short term effect may be muted, the long term effect is disastrous.

Many food additives have been banned over the years as their toxicity has become apparent. For example, boric acid was banned after over 50 years of commercial use, and more recently research shows that chemical food additives can lead to hyperactivity in children.

But my point is not to focus on the toxicity of food additives, however apparent that may be, but rather to emphasise that if something sounds too good to be true then it probably is. Especially when it comes to the human body.

Zero calories, low fat, same “great” taste? I bear bad news when I tell you that eating a diet rich in these advertisements will not come to any good.

In Ayurveda the concept of calories does not exist in any form and using this ancient science as a foundation, there are a number of reasons that this modern analysis of food does not make inherent sense:

1. Not all digestions have the same strength.

Ayurveda believes that four types of digestion exist – in simple terms these are fast, slow, variable and balanced. Someone with a fast digestion will digest quickly and easily, seemingly with little effort. Slow would be the opposite and variable would be a combination of both. Balanced digestion, on the other hand, is a content ease available only to very few people.

As none of these types digest at similar rates, their supposed calorie intake would differ greatly. Someone having a fast digestion would require more calories but yet not put on the expected weight. The opposite would be true for the slow digester. Even at the same age, height, weight and gender, these two contrasting types would have to follow vastly different diets in order to maintain comparable appearance.

2. Not all digestions have the same efficiency.

This is possibly the most overlooked aspect of the human digestion. Some people have a seemingly amazing ability assimilate everything they eat. Their digestion is highly effective and they extract close to 100% of the nutrition and energy from their diet. Other digestive tracts are not as effective, due to diet and lifestyle these people are barely able to extract 60% of the nutrition and energy from their food. Through diagnosis Ayurveda can identify these people and their digestion can be improved – but the very existence of these people is ignored by modern medicine and the calorie counters.

It can be said that the calorie numbers on packaging ignore your uniqueness entirely.

3. Not all diets are created equally.

According to Ayurveda, eating the same types of food will enable your digestion to more easily identify and digest the food in your diet. This means that it will take less energy to digest easily recognisable food and therefore provide the body with more net energy. It also means that going “off piste” in your diet will reduce your digestive efficiency and require more energy for digestion.

The fallacy of calories is no doubt becoming more clear.

4. Not all food is cooked equally.

Ayurveda maintains that cooked food is easier to digest. Any heat you add to food before it enters your digestive tract results in less work for your body to perform in order to appropriately assimilate the food. Simply put, stewed carrots are far easier to digest than raw carrots. And if you add spices to enhance the effect of the digestive enzymes then it becomes even easier to assimilate. It even depends on how the food is cooked – fried food can be congestive, baked food can be a little drying, overcooked food can be too acidic, etc. If the food is not cooked appropriately for your digestive tract it can result in increased difficulty for the stomach, small intestine, large intestine combination.

Calorie counts do not care for the cooking process.

5. Not all food is processed equally.

I’ll end on this note as it is perhaps the most relevant in the modern diet.

Does it matter in any way what the calories of refined sugar may be if the net effect on your body, after years of use, is diabetes? Is there a calorie number that indicates your likelihood of Chrohn’s disease when eating refined flour?

Whole foods digest very efficiently in the body and provide a host of additional benefits to the digestive tract that refined food simply does not. Neither the Atwater System, nor calories in general, take into account the value of eating a diet based on whole, nutritious foods.

Next time you consider the number of calories of a meal, think for a moment how your digestion is functioning and if that food will degrade or improve it. The more we eat to improve the functioning of our digestion through appropriate eating, the less “calories” will matter and the healthier our bodies will be.

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