Over the years, in the many workshops I’ve had the privilege to attend, senior teachers have shared profound insights drawn from the teachings of B.K.S. Iyengar and from their own understanding and practice.
What follows is a collection of reflections that show how yoga philosophy can manifest through practice. Many of these insights come from the teachings of my esteemed teacher Birjoo Mehta, as I understood them.
Consciousness and Its Components
Consciousness (chitta) comprises three aspects: intelligence (Buddhi), ego (Ahamkara), and mind (Manas).
Consciousness is an inner essence that pervades the entire body, though it may lie dormant. To be aware is to awaken consciousness.
For example: when someone calls your name, Manas receives the sensory stimulus. Since a new response must be created, it passes the message to intelligence, which consults the ego—the sense of “I”—and its store of memory to recognize that the call is directed at oneself. Intelligence then decides on the appropriate response: to turn toward the speaker or to ignore the call.
True awareness arises only when all three aspects—manas, buddhi, and ahamkara—function harmoniously.
Intelligence, Habit, and Conscious Action
When we act habitually, it is the manas that operates. For instance, a secretary who has learned to use office software performs her tasks almost automatically. Habitual action involves the cerebellum, whereas responding to something new activates the cerebral cortex—the seat of intelligence.
Intelligence is what allows us to meet new challenges, learn new behaviors, evaluate, compare, and make conscious decisions. It is intelligence that can discern between right and wrong, appropriate and inappropriate.
Yoga, according to Patanjali, is the exploration of consciousness—its study and eventual quieting. This exploration requires awakening the intelligent aspect of consciousness, and that happens only when we face a fresh challenge. Therefore, yoga cannot be habitual or mechanical; it must remain alive and exploratory.
The Nature of Manas, Ego, and Intelligence
The manas can focus only on one point at a time; intelligence flows freely, like water. Just as H₂O can exist as water, ice, or vapor, consciousness can take the form of ego, manas, or intelligence—one predominating at the expense of the others.
Ice symbolizes the ego: rigid and resistant to change (“this is who I am,” “I always do it this way”).
The manas is restless and fluid, like water.
Intelligence is expansive and subtle, like vapor spreading through space.
A perhaps more accurate metaphor for intelligence is light or energy. Intelligence flows through the body as energy. When the flow of intelligence is obstructed, manas takes over—just as damming a stream creates a stagnant lake.
Errors in judgment do not arise from a lack of intelligence—we all possess intuitive discernment. The difficulty lies either in perception (input, from the senses to intelligence) or in execution (output, from intelligence to the organs of action).
Since manas is responsible for transmitting these messages, when it becomes quiet, such distortions disappear.
The ego—a bundle of memories and habits—prevents us from seeing freshly. We must be able to step outside ourselves and view the landscape from another angle, not only from the one we are accustomed to.
The Flow of Awareness in Asana
An action that arises from the manas is localized and effortful. An action that arises from intelligence radiates through the whole body, like sunlight.
In standing poses, for instance, the feet form the foundation. They must remain long and broad. When the soles are pressed firmly into the floor, an energetic current ascends through the pelvis to the chest, then spreads through the arms and head.
When a teacher tells beginners to “lift the kneecaps,” their manas goes to the knees and performs the action—but since the mind cannot stay in one place for long, the kneecaps soon drop again.
When we observe the body holistically and sense the flow of buddhi, the pose remains steady and effortless. Then the posture can be held with both stability and ease (sthira and sukha).
The sukha aspect—comfort and lightness—is essential, for feeling requires relaxation and a free flow of breath. The throat, especially, must remain soft, since tension in the throat translates immediately to tension in the brain.
When we sense a blockage in the flow—say, the tailbone protruding backward—an adjustment is needed. Drawing the tailbone in and moving the thighs back restores the flow along the legs, and the knees respond correctly.
Yoga as Inner Suspension
The practice of yoga serves as an inner suspension system, insulating us from the fluctuations of prakriti (nature).
We work on chitta, the aspect of being closest to purusha (the Self), so that the purusha remains steady even as prakriti vibrates. Like a car with good shock absorbers, the ride becomes smooth even on a rough road.
Thus, practice should cultivate tolerance and equanimity—freedom from the pull of opposites. If this is not happening, something in the practice is off course.
Vision, Strategy, and Tactics in Yoga
Using a metaphor from the business world—vision, strategy, tactics, and methods:
- Vision: to reduce the (dukkha) suffering inherent in human existence.
- Strategy: to quiet the fluctuations of consciousness (chitta vritti nirodha).
- Tactic (of Iyengar Yoga): precision and alignment—the hallmarks of the Iyengar method.
- Methods: the detailed instructions and techniques that bring about alignment and precision.
At first, technique is paramount. Later, we understand that it is merely a means to serve the greater aim of alignment, which in turn brings calmness, clarity, balance, and serenity—ultimately leading to a reduction of existential suffering.
From Effort to Ease
When santosha—contentment and ease—arises, one no longer wishes to leave the pose; everything else becomes secondary. There is no more struggle with raga (attraction) and dvesha (aversion)—they fall away naturally.
Worldly temptations lose their appeal in the face of the deep quiet and satisfaction that practice brings. Thus, the kleshas (afflictions) dissolve. Correct alignment fosters knowledge, diminishes attachment and fear, and makes striving unnecessary.
At this stage, one wants to perform the pose again and again—not out of ambition but out of curiosity and inner joy. The impulse becomes internal, not externally imposed.
Working with Awareness
Wherever there is contact (sparsha), there can be awareness. We use contact with the floor—or even a light tap on a body part—to bring attention there.
Awareness can be moved through the body by squeezing the joints, like pressing a tube of toothpaste —from one joint to the next.
In Trikoṇāsana, for instance, pressing on the metatarsals spreads awareness to the toes and ankles, then through the knee, hip joint, pelvis, sides of the spine, shoulder blades, elbows, and wrists.
From the point where awareness is concentrated, spread it like butter—not shifting it side to side like a see-saw, but distributing it evenly.
When awareness is spread evenly throughout the body, quietness arises: there is harmony, openness, and innocence—chitta vritti nirodha, the stilling of the fluctuations of consciousness. The work is on the chitta, not on the body.
Through work with awareness, one can generate all instructions and discover new ones. We need not act from memory but from feeling—with freshness and receptivity to new sensations.
When clarity fades, we need guidance and instruction. “Enlightenment” means that when light is present, the path is seen directly—no need to remember or rely on scripture. But in darkness, we must recall the way from memory to avoid obstacles.
The Meaning of Asana
Asana is a bodily posture that brings stability and ease—or joy.
If, after performing an asana, one does not feel calmer or happier, something was off. Seek the feeling of quiet and contentment as you come out of the pose.
Conversely, never hold a posture with strain, struggle, or aggression.
The Four I’s: The Journey from Ignorance to Innocence
The evolution of understanding passes through four stages:
Ignorance → Information → Intelligence → Innocence
- A child plays the piano without knowledge.
- A student learns, gathering information.
- The learner applies the information with judgment and discernment.
- A composer, having absorbed the rules, transcends them—creating anew from simplicity and openness.
The composer no longer acts from ignorance but must retain innocence.
In the information stage, knowledge must be clear and consistent. Beginners need firm, unambiguous instructions—no alternatives or interpretations.
In the stage of intelligence, one can handle contradiction and multiplicity, analyze and discern.
In innocence, unity reappears; opposites dissolve, and one perceives the underlying wholeness beyond them.
To learn, we must leave space for the unknown—allow for the possibility that something new will emerge.
It takes courage not to cling to known rules and to remain in that emptiness, for only from it can something new arise. Arjuna, in his despair, reaches the point of acknowledging his own ignorance—and that recognition allows him to learn from Krishna, which may represent the voice of wisdom within.
From Will to Surrender
Focused concentration (ekagrata) is valuable and an essential part of practice, but it is not the summit of the spiritual path. In ekagrata, the will still plays a role, which can foster pride and ego.
The deeper spiritual quality is humility. At a certain stage, one must act without willpower.
In asana, this transition can be felt clearly.
In the beginning, we use effort and muscular force. Later, we move through intelligence rather than brute strength, and eventually through the subtle power of prana.
Then a moment comes when we simply wish to remain in the pose—without any external reason. There is no need for willpower, nor do we wait for the teacher to say, “Come out.” Watch your reaction when the teacher says, “come out of the pose” to know if you absorbed. I recall Prashant Iyengar saying, “Often the teacher is a great disturbance, when you want to come out of a pose, he tells you to stay. When you want to stay, he tells you to come out.” I often feel that way.
Dharma and Equanimity
Dharma is any action that brings greater harmony and peace, both within and without. One must act according to one’s own dharma regardless of comfort, reward, or personal benefit.
How can we learn in asana the meaning of Bhagavad Gita II.48, which defines yoga as equanimity (samatvam)?
We need to develop mental stability. For instance, in Adho Mukha Svanasana (Downward-Facing Dog), begin with the weight forward and sense the pressure on the finger pads. Then move back into the pose without letting that pressure lessen—not even slightly. You will learn balance and stability.
Alternatively, start from Uttanasana, with your body’s weight on the heels, slowly shift your pelvis forward, until you sense the point of perfect balance, where your legs are absolutely vertical. Your mind will become even and neutral.
It doesn’t matter how far we “go” in the pose—the outer achievement is irrelevant. What matters is adherence to our dharma!



