My Daily Thread

In this special episode we are happy to have Dr. Paul Bramadat back to chat about his book Yogalands. Paul Bramadat received his BA in religious studies from the University of Winnipeg (1990), his MA in religion and culture from McGill University (1993) and his PhD in religious studies from McMaster University (1998). He taught in the Religious Studies Department at the University of Winnipeg from 1998 until 2008. In addition to directing the CSRS since 2008, Paul holds teaching appointments in the Department of History and the Religious Studies Program at the University of Victoria. Enjoy.

YS 2.36 says: satya-pratiṣṭhāyām kriyā-phala-āśrayatvam — "When one is firmly established in truthfulness, then their words become so powerful that the result of action rests upon them." We're back in the section of the Yoga Sutras that deals with pratiṣṭhā, being deeply and firmly established in a state of being. This time, the quality is satya, truthfulness. Patanjali says that when truth becomes our natural state—when we're rooted in it, consistent with it—then even our words start to carry the power of truth. It's not that we control outcomes like magic. But our speech and actions become aligned, trustworthy, resonant. People believe us. We believe in ourselves. And the world reflects that back. Let's look at the Sanskrit closely. Satya is truthfulness, not just about being honest, but being in harmony with reality—what's authentic, what's sincere. Kriyā means action. Phala means the result or the fruit. And āśrayatvam means that those results depend upon, or are supported by, the truth we live in. So when truth is your foundation, your actions bear fruit. It's not just about saying the right things. It's about living in a way where your speech, your actions, your values, and your intentions all line up. The speech of someone like that has weight. Their words matter. Their life becomes a living truth. This isn't just a yogic idea. Don Miguel Ruiz, in The Four Agreements, begins with the first agreement: "Be impeccable with your word." He writes, "Speak with integrity. Say only what you mean. Avoid using the word to speak against yourself or to gossip about others. Use the power of your word in the direction of truth and love." This is a very clear expression of satya-pratiṣṭhāyām. When we speak from a place of love and truth, we align ourselves with something more powerful than the ego. Something that uplifts, that heals, that brings clarity. But to do that, we have to slow down and pay attention. Are our words reactionary? Are they defensive? Are they driven by fear, or by truth? And not just spoken words—but what we write, what we post, what we say to ourselves. When truth becomes the ground we stand on, our words stop being tools of manipulation or noise. They become instruments of transformation. This practice takes vigilance. It's so easy to exaggerate, to flatter, to downplay, to hide. But Patanjali's teaching is that the yogi's path is one of alignment—where speech and heart match. Where truth is not a tool but a way of being. And when we get there—or even get close to that—our presence begins to shift things. Our words start to create change. People feel it. So maybe today we ask: are my words aligned with my heart? Can I be impeccable with them? Can I use them as a force for clarity, healing, and connection? This is the path of satya-pratiṣṭhāyām. Truth as a lived state. Words as action. And a life built on integrity.

Yoga Sūtra 2.35 – ahiṁsā pratiṣṭhāyām tat-sannidhau vaira-tyāgaḥ When one is firmly established in non-violence, then all hostility ceases in their presence. Today, we reflect again on ahiṁsā pratiṣṭhām—being firmly established in non-harming. Patanjali teaches that this is not a casual virtue but a transformative power: when someone has deeply integrated non-violence into their being, conflict and aggression fall away in their presence. We see examples of this principle embodied in historical figures such as Mahatma Gandhi, His Holiness the Dalai Lama, Fred Rogers, and Thich Nhat Hanh. Their gentle yet unwavering commitment to peace created fields of harmony around them. But we must also honor the matriarchs of ahiṁsā pratiṣṭhām, whose compassion and moral clarity disarmed hostility and invited collective healing. St. Teresa of Calcutta radiated a love so palpable that even a brief encounter could leave an imprint of peace. Jeff recalls feeling this light firsthand. Her words remind us: "If we have no peace, it is because we have forgotten we belong to each other." Maya Angelou, American poet, civil rights activist, and towering voice for justice and dignity, gave us this stark truth: "Hate—it has caused a lot of problems in the world, but has not yet solved one." Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg, Associate Justice of the U.S. Supreme Court and champion for gender equality, once said: "Acting in anger or annoyance will not advance one's ability to persuade." Her restraint and reason were forms of silent, disarming strength. Pema Chödrön, an American Buddhist nun and teacher, has created a body of work that encourages gentleness amid difficulty. In When Things Fall Apart, she writes: "You are the sky. Everything else—it's just the weather." This stillness in the storm is a lived ahiṁsā. These women, like their male counterparts, cultivated a presence so grounded, so free of confrontation, that aggression could not take root around them. Their lives are examples of the inner discipline Patanjali is pointing to—a practice of becoming unshakable, non-reactive, and deeply compassionate. And so, today's question for contemplation is this: "Can you become a sanctuary of peace? Can you let non-violence be your default setting and radiate that into the world?"

Today we continue our deep dive into Yoga Sūtra 2.34, staying with the powerful teaching of pratipakṣa bhāvanam—the deliberate cultivation of opposite, positive thoughts to replace those that are harmful or negative. This is no abstract philosophy; it's a daily practice for those on the yogic path. We begin by revisiting YS 2.33: "vitarkāḥ hiṃsādayaḥ kṛta-kārita-anumoditāḥ lobha-krodha-moha-pūrvakāḥ mṛdu-madhya-adhimātrāḥ duḥkha-ajñāna-ananta-phalāḥ iti pratipakṣa-bhāvanam" Negative thoughts such as violence, whether done by oneself, instigated in others, or even silently approved of, arise from greed (lobha), anger (krodha), and delusion (moha). These may be mild, moderate, or intense. And the fruit of such thoughts is always suffering (duḥkha) and ignorance (ajñāna). Therefore, the remedy is clear: pratipakṣa bhāvanam—cultivating the opposite. And now, YS 2.34 offers a continued emphasis: "vitarkāḥ hiṃsādayaḥ kṛta-kārita-anumoditāḥ lobha-krodha-moha-pūrvakāḥ mṛdu-madhya-adhimātrāḥ duḥkha-ajñāna-ananta-phalāḥ iti pratipakṣa-bhāvanam" Yes, the verse repeats, almost word for word, driving home the importance of this mental discipline. When negative thoughts arise—and they will—do not indulge, fight, or shame them. Pause. Breathe. Redirect. This is the essence of the yogic mind-training. It's ancient neuroplasticity in action. What we practice, we become. Patañjali's wording is especially nuanced: the verse starts with hiṁsā, often translated as violence or harm, but follows it with ādayaḥ, meaning "etc." He's indicating that it's not just physical harm, but any kind of negative mental manifestation—jealousy, judgment, resentment, comparison, fear. To deepen this insight, we turn to the Bhagavad Gītā, Chapter 2, Verse 62: "dhyāyato viṣayān puṁsaḥ saṅgas teṣūpajāyate | saṅgāt sañjāyate kāmaḥ kāmāt krodho 'bhijāyate ||" "When a person dwells on objects, attachment to them arises. From attachment comes desire, and from desire arises anger." Here we see a natural psychological progression: greed leads to attachment, attachment leads to desire, and desire, when unfulfilled, gives rise to anger. This anger clouds judgment and drives delusion. Sound familiar? It's the very lobha-krodha-moha that Patañjali warns against. The remedy in both texts is the same: cultivate awareness and redirect the mind. One breath at a time. One thought at a time. One action at a time. This is the everyday sādhanā—the inner practice that turns our yoga from theory into transformation. More tomorrow.

We continue our journey with Yoga Sūtra 2.33, and now deepen into the next verse — 2.34. If 2.33 gave us the prescription — pratipakṣa-bhāvanam — then 2.34 shows us the diagnosis, the depth of the problem. Let's start by recalling the previous sutra: vitarka-bādhane pratipakṣa-bhāvanam वितर्कबाधने प्रतिपक्षभावनम्॥२.३३॥ "When disturbed by negative thoughts, cultivate their opposites." Vitarka refers to thoughts that are harmful, unwholesome, or negative — especially those rooted in violence, attachment, or delusion. The antidote Patanjali gives is pratipakṣa-bhāvanam, the deliberate cultivation of opposing, positive thoughts. Now, we chant and reflect on the next verse: vitarkāḥ hiṃsādayaḥ kṛta-kārita-anumoditāḥ lobha-krodha-moha-pūrvakāḥ mṛdu-madhya-adhimātra duḥkha-ajñāna-ananta-phalāḥ iti pratipakṣa-bhāvanam वितर्का हिंसादयः कृतकारितानुमोदिताः लोभक्रोधमोहपूर्वकाः मृदुमध्याधिमात्र दुःखाज्ञानानन्तफलाः इति प्रतिपक्षभावनम्॥२.३४॥ "When negative thoughts like violence, whether done by oneself, instigated, or approved of, arise — and are caused by greed (lobha), anger (krodha), or delusion (moha), and can be mild, moderate, or intense — they lead to endless suffering and ignorance. Thus, the remedy is to cultivate their opposite — pratipakṣa-bhāvanam." Patañjali breaks it down in such a precise and timeless way. He identifies the many forms that harm — hiṁsā — can take. Violence isn't just physical. It can be: Kṛta: done by oneself. Kārita: incited or commissioned by someone else. Anumodita: passively approved of or silently endorsed. And what's underneath these harmful tendencies? He gives us the root causes: Lobha – greed, Krodha – anger, Moha – delusion or confusion. He also shows that these tendencies don't manifest in just one way. They can be: Mṛdu – mild, Madhya – moderate, Adhimātra – intense. But no matter the strength or the form, he tells us the fruit is always the same: duḥkha-ajñāna-ananta-phalāḥ — endless suffering and ignorance. This is where the teachings connect so powerfully with modern psychology and recovery traditions. In the 12 Steps and 12 Traditions, Bill Wilson talks about "character defects" — and not as moral failings, but as blind spots that bring pain when left unacknowledged. No one wants to be known as greedy — as a thief. But who among us hasn't reached for more than our fair share of credit or praise? No one wants to be labeled as violent or angry. But what about the little barbs of gossip we toss, the emotional jabs that quietly undermine others — forms of character assassination? We all fall somewhere on this spectrum. Patañjali's wisdom is not reserved for saints or sages. It's meant for us — for humans doing our best in the mess and magic of daily life. And he gives us a clear, consistent path forward: don't fight the thoughts — redirect them. Cultivate the opposite. Unchecked, these tendencies lead to duḥkha — suffering — and ajñāna — ignorance, or the forgetting of our true nature. But the great gift of these teachings is that we can begin again. We can practice pratipakṣa-bhāvanam, moment by moment. Thought by thought. Choice by choice. More tomorrow.

Let's review Yoga Sūtra 2.32, which lists the five niyamas, or personal observances — and in reviewing this sūtra, what strikes me most is the elegant simplicity of the path it offers. These teachings, though ancient, are profoundly relevant today — perhaps even more so in our overstimulated, fast-paced world. Let's revisit the niyamas through a simple lens of choice: Śauca (शौच) – Choose simplicity over excess. Santoṣa (सन्तोष) – Choose gratitude over striving. Tapaḥ (तपः) – Choose effort over escape. Svādhyāya (स्वाध्याय) – Choose inner truth over noise. Īśvara-praṇidhāna (ईश्वरप्रणिधान) – Choose surrender over control. This rendering offers not only a practical summary of the sūtras but a compass for modern living. These are choices we can actually make — in small moments, every day — and each one takes us closer to clarity, presence, and peace. Now, we move on to Sūtra 2.33, which is a favorite of mine. There's something magical about the 33s in the Yoga Sūtras — both 1.33 and 2.33 offer essential, transformational teachings. Let's unpack 2.33 here: vitarka-bādhane pratipakṣa-bhāvanam वितर्कबाधने प्रतिपक्षभावनम्॥२.३३॥ Word-by-word breakdown: Vitarka – negative or unwholesome thoughts Bādhane – when disturbed or afflicted Pratipakṣa – the opposite Bhāvanam – contemplation or cultivation So, when negative thoughts — like anger, judgment, fear — arise and disturb the mind, cultivate the opposite. This sūtra is so simple, but its impact is profound. It's the ancient version of neuroplasticity. Today, neuroscience tells us: what fires together, wires together. The pathways we repeatedly walk become our default. And here, Patanjali is offering us the same insight — millennia ago. He reminds us: You are not your thoughts. When a harmful or painful thought arises, don't fight it. Don't shame it. Don't suppress it. Redirect it. Cultivate its opposite. If you're angry, practice kindness. If you're anxious, practice steadiness. If you're envious, practice appreciation. This is mind training — the essence of yoga psychology. It teaches us to step out of reactivity and into clarity. When you consistently direct your thoughts toward their antidote, you literally reshape the pathways of the mind. More tomorrow, as we continue into this powerful section of the Yoga Sūtras.

Yesterday, we began exploring the niyamāḥ, the observances of aṣṭāṅga yoga as laid out by Patañjali in Yoga Sūtra 2.32. We looked closely at śauca, purity or clarity, and how it stands as the foundational niyama, much like ahiṁsā is the cornerstone of the yamas. Today, we turn our attention to the second niyama: santoṣa — contentment. Santoṣa means to be content with what is — to rest in the simplicity and sufficiency of the present moment. This teaching can be especially challenging for those of us with perfectionistic tendencies. It asks us to step out of the loop of striving and allow the world — and ourselves — to be exactly as we are, without resistance. The modern Vipassanā master S.N. Goenka spoke of this when he emphasized the practice of equanimity: seeing things clearly, as they are, and accepting them without craving or aversion. This is the essence of santoṣa. It's not complacency, but rather a deep and courageous willingness to meet reality with grace. True contentment brings stability and peace of mind. It allows us to see our inner world clearly and to rest within it without needing to change or escape. Whether we are practicing āsana, prāṇāyāma, or dhyāna (meditation), this capacity to accept the moment as it is lies at the very heart of yoga. Lao Tzu offers us a poetic reflection of this truth: "Do you have the patience to allow the mud to settle and the water to become clear? Do you have the patience to allow the right action to arise by itself?" This is santoṣa. This is yoga. We'll continue tomorrow with the next niyama, and then move on to a new sūtra — one that is rich and inspiring. Stay tuned. And if you're ready to go deeper into these teachings in real time, join us for our 2026 Yoga Retreats in San Pancho. Details are at www.jefflichty.com/events.

We continue our journey through the Sādhana Pāda of the Yoga Sūtras, exploring the practices that Patanjali offers to help us move toward viveka-khyāti—discriminative wisdom. In YS 2.29, we were introduced to the eight limbs of yoga, aṣṭāṅga yoga, and now in YS 2.30, Patanjali begins with the first of those limbs: the yamas. YS 2.30: अहिंसासत्यास्तेय ब्रह्मचर्यापरिग्रहाः यमाः ahiṁsā-satya-asteya-brahmacarya-aparigrahāḥ yamāḥ Non-violence, truthfulness, non-stealing, celibacy/moderation, and non-possessiveness are the restraints. These are the first ethical foundations of yoga. The yamas are not rigid commandments, but rather energetic truths—vibrational realities. When we align with them, inner peace arises; when we violate them, we disturb our own clarity and calm. They're not just about morality; they're about creating the right conditions in our minds and hearts for deep meditation and insight. Ahimsa, non-harming, is first—and that's not by accident. It is the cornerstone of all the yamas, and arguably of all yoga. Think about it: how can we find peace or cultivate meditative stillness if we are actively or passively causing harm—to others or to ourselves? And yet, ahimsa is more than just "not hurting." Sri O.P. Tiwari once said that in relationships, rather than making lofty declarations like "I will always love you," perhaps it's more powerful to say, "I will always prioritize not causing you harm." In a world where the word "love" can be overused or diluted, ahimsa reminds us that real love is action—it's care, restraint, and attentiveness in every word and deed. Even in daily life—say, while driving—we're in relationships with others. Can we bring ahimsa into those ordinary interactions? Can we let these ethical principles begin shaping the way we move through the world? Because the yamas are about just that: our relationships, our boundaries, our integrity in action. Now, in YS 2.31, Patañjali expands our understanding: YS 2.31 जातिदेशकालसमयानवच्छिन्नाः सार्वभौमा महाव्रतम् jāti-deśa-kāla-samaya-anavacchinnāḥ sārvabhaumā mahāvratam These great vows (mahāvratam) are universal, not limited by class, location, time, or circumstance. Here's where it gets big. The yamas aren't local customs or spiritual suggestions. They are what Patañjali calls mahāvratam—great vows. And they apply everywhere. Let's break this down: Jāti – Caste, social group, or identity Deśa – Place or geographic location Kāla – Time period—past, present, future Samaya – Circumstance or situation So no matter your status, your culture, the era you live in, or the challenges you face—the yamas still apply. They're as universal and reliable as gravity. Just as gravity doesn't care if you're in Tokyo or Toronto, the yamas don't shift based on mood or preference. They are timeless principles for living in alignment with truth. In a world growing more skeptical of organized religion or rigid ideologies, this is especially relevant. The yamas offer us a moral compass grounded not in dogma, but in awareness, intention, and peace. They are the first step toward true freedom from citta-vṛtti—the whirling disturbances of the mind. Let's not reduce yoga to just postures or breathing exercises. Yoga is a path of purification, clarity, and ultimately freedom. Take ahimsa into your weekend. Reflect on these great vows. Let your actions be your peace. Om. Peace out. www.jefflichty.com/events