Chapter 11 Path to Meditation  

Having explored the body, breath, and various path choices, we now need a complete framework, a comprehensive map to guide us from our present moment all the way to ultimate liberation and oneness. This map is Patanjali's exquisite and scientific Eight Steps of Yoga.

They are:

Yam – discipline, Niyam – diligence

Asan – posture; Pranayama – breathing exercises.

Pratyahar – to focus the mind; Dharana – to concentrate the spirit.

Dhyan – entering into meditation; Samadhi – samadhi.

The above, using a single seed and a single sentence, encapsulates the entire science of yoga. And within it lies a wealth of knowledge. First, let me tell you the true meaning of each step. Remember, Patanjali said they are both steps and the essence. They are steps because one step must follow another; it is a sequence of growth. However, they are not merely steps; they are the backbone of all yoga. They have an inherent unity, an organic unity, which is the essence.

These eight branches, as Patanjali said, are both progressive steps and an organic whole. For example, my hands, feet, and heart—they don't function separately. They are not separate; they are an organic whole. If the heart stops, the hand cannot move. Everything is connected. They are not like the rungs of a ladder, where each rung is separate, and if one rung breaks, the whole ladder doesn't break. So Patanjali said they are steps because they have a certain predetermined order of growth. But they are also the body's limbs; they are organic. You cannot discard any of them. You can discard a step but not the body. You can skip two steps at a time, or discard one step, but the limbs cannot be discarded; they are not mechanical structures, you cannot disassemble them. They build you. They belong to the whole; they are not separate. The whole operates through their harmonious unity.

Therefore, the eight limbs of yoga are both steps—giving you a concept of which step follows the next, and each step is deeply related to the others. The second step cannot jump to the first; the first step must be the first, and the second step must be the second. The eighth step must be the eighth step; it cannot be moved to the fourth or the first step. Thus, they are both sequential and an organic whole.

This "complete map" drawn by Patanjali outlines a path from regulating external relationships to establishing inner order, from adjusting the body to mastering the breath, from controlling the senses to focusing and meditating, ultimately achieving oneness with the cosmic essence. It is a clear, complete, scientific, and verifiable roadmap from humanity to divinity.

Now, let's begin with the first step: Yam self-restraint. The English translation of "self-restraint" is somewhat off. Not just slightly off, but truly, the entire original meaning of yam is lost, because the English "self-restraint" sounds like forcing oneself to endure or suppress. These two words, suppression and repression, have become vulgarities since Freud. Self-restraint is not suppression. When Patanjali used the word yam, its meaning was entirely different. Words constantly change. Even now in India, samyam originates from yam, meaning control or suppression. Its true meaning is lost.

Patanjali's concept of discipline does not mean self-suppression. Its primary meaning is: guiding one's life...not suppressing energy but guiding it, directing that energy in the right direction. Because you might continue to move in completely opposite directions without reaching anywhere. Like a car: the driver drives a few miles north, then changes his mind, drives a few miles west, then changes his mind again... constantly changing like this.

This person will die where he was. He will never reach anywhere, never experience any sense of accomplishment. You can keep going in many directions, but unless you have a direction, you're just wandering around aimlessly. And then nothing happens except growing more and more frustrated.

First, upholding the precepts means giving life force direction. Life force is finite, and if you constantly waste it on foolish, directionless paths, you will achieve nothing. Energy will be quickly depleted, and that emptiness is different from the Buddha's "emptiness." That is merely a negative emptiness, containing nothing but an empty vessel. It withers before you even die. But this finite energy is a gift from existence, God, nature (or whatever you like to call it...), and this finite energy can be used as a door to the vast infinity. If you move in the right direction, if you act consciously and mindfully, gathering all your energy in the same direction, if you are not blindly following the masses but becoming a unique individual—that is the meaning of yam—upholding the precepts.

Usually, you are swayed by the masses, with many voices within you. One says, "Go this way." Another says, "That won't work. Go this way." If you are not a unique individual, a unified life, you will miss the point wherever you go. You will never feel at home; you will always be going everywhere but never arriving at anywhere. You will go mad; a life without discipline will be chaotic.

The meaning of keeping the precepts, the meaning of the first step: to give life direction. To make yourself more centered. How do you become more centered? Once your life has direction, a center immediately begins to arise within you. Direction creates a sense of center, and center gives a sense of direction. The two complement each other. Unless you keep the precepts, it is impossible to reach the second step—which is why Patanjali called them steps.

Self-discipline is the bridge between you and others. Live consciously; connect with others consciously. You must change your interactions with others. There must be a transformation in this aspect of your interactions. If you continue to connect with people in the same old patterns, nothing can be changed. You must change your interaction patterns with your loved ones. Notice how you interact with your wife, friends, or children. Change it. There are a thousand and one things that can be changed in your relationships. This is self-discipline, restraint—but not repression. Self-discipline comes from understanding. An ignorant person only constantly forces and represses themselves. Make yourself act with inner understanding and realization, so that you neither harm yourself nor anyone else.

Discipline is about creating a comfortable and welcoming environment around you, allowing that atmosphere to surround you. If you are unfriendly to everyone—hostile, hateful, angry—how can you move inward? These emotions will not allow you to enter inward. You will be blocked by these things and unable to embark on your inner journey. Creating a comfortable and welcoming atmosphere around you is discipline. When you connect with others consciously and gracefully, they will not hinder your inner journey. Instead, they will become an aid, not an obstacle.

The second step is Niyam – Diligence. If Yam (observance of precepts) establishes an overall direction and principles for your life energy, providing the foundational norms for your relationships with the outside world (others, the world), then Niyam (diligence) is internalizing these principles into your daily discipline and active practice; it's about the laws governing your relationship with yourself. It signifies a positive and disciplined lifestyle, actively cultivating habits of purity, contentment, self-discipline, self-study, and reverence for divinity. It is not forced asceticism, but a path voluntarily followed out of a desire for inner growth, creating a stable, clean, and orderly environment for inner exploration.

Practice of postures and exercises is for the body's preparation. A regular lifestyle is very healthy for the body because the body is a mechanical structure. An irregular lifestyle can easily confuse the body's functions. Eating at 1 pm today; 11 am tomorrow; 10 am the day after—the body becomes confused. The body has an internal biological clock; it has its own operating pattern. If you eat at exactly the same time every day, the body knows what is about to happen and prepares for it—at that very moment, the gastric juices in the stomach are flowing. Otherwise, you can eat at any time, but the gastric juices are stagnant, the food cools down in the stomach, and digestion becomes difficult.

When you eat food, your stomach acid must be ready to receive it while it's still warm so your body can begin absorption immediately. If your stomach acid is ready, food can be absorbed within six hours. Otherwise, it can take 12 to 18 hours to digest and absorb. This can make you feel heavy and drowsy; the food provides energy but not pure energy. It feels like there's a weight pressing on your chest; you're always carrying and dragging it. A regular lifestyle is necessary for food to be transformed into pure energy.

You go to bed at 10 p.m. every day: your body knows—your biological clock kicks in exactly at 10 p.m. I'm not saying become obsessive—you still insist on going to bed at 10 p.m. even when your mother is about to pass away. That's not what I mean. People can become too obsessive… No, you don't need to be that obsessive; you must do everything with understanding and awareness.

The third step is Asana (postures). After the first two steps laid the foundation for direction and inner discipline in life, we come to the physical level. Asanas are not gymnastics or physical torture. Patanjali taught graceful bodies because he knew that only with a graceful body can there be graceful thoughts; and only with graceful thoughts can grace arise naturally. Asanas are like tuning the body, this "instrument," so that it can play deeper music. Its core definition is "stability and comfort." Finding that unique posture that allows you to forget your body and let your inner energy flow naturally is the physical basis for meditation to begin. It begins its preparation from the outermost layer—the body—because if the body is not relaxed, your mind cannot relax either. A well-regulated body radiates a beautiful atmosphere—well-trained energy is always intense and vibrant, exceeding your needs and never dull or withered. Thus, the body becomes smarter and wiser; radiating new awareness.

The fourth step is Pranayama. After the body has achieved stability and comfort through postures, we come to the breath, the bridge connecting body and mind. Pranayama is not simply "breath control"; its true meaning is "the expansion of life energy" (Prana-ayam). By observing and adjusting your breath, you directly influence your inner energy and thoughts. The rhythm of your breath parallels the fluctuations of your emotions; changing your breath changes your state of mind. Find and breathe with your whole being, becoming aware of the natural pauses in your breath (that is a direct confrontation with death), and you can expand your consciousness, transcending individual limitations. Pranayama is an inner journey, representing halfway through the entire yoga journey, and is one of the greatest discoveries of human consciousness. Next, pranayama is a bridge: deep breathing is the bridge between mind and body. Through breath, you can change your body and mind.

After addressing external behavior, internal rhythms, the body, and breath in the first four steps, energy begins to shift significantly inward. Now, we enter the heart of the meditation path.

The fifth step is Pratyahar – Focusing the Mind. Pratyahar means returning, returning to one's inner self, arriving home. Focusing the mind is only possible after entering pranayama (breath control), because pranayama makes you regular, and you already know the entire range of your breath: you know which breathing rhythm is closest to home, and which breathing rhythm is furthest away from you. When you are in a state of violence, lust, anger, jealousy, or possessiveness, you will find yourself far from yourself. But when you are in an atmosphere of love, compassion, prayer, and gratitude, you will find yourself very close to the way home. After pranayama, focusing the mind and returning home becomes possible. When you know the path and direction, you also know how to walk home.

Your senses (sight, hearing, smell, taste, and touch) have always been like tentacles reaching out to the world, constantly grasping at external images, sounds, smells, tastes, and textures. This information constitutes your entire world, leading you to mistakenly believe that it is you. Mindfulness is about gently and consciously withdrawing these outward-reaching sensory tentacles. It's not about becoming deaf or blind, but about withdrawing from identifying with and pursuing sensory objects, turning your attention to the inner source. When the noise of the senses subsides, you can hear the tranquil voice deep within your heart—that is your true home.

The sixth step is Dharana. When you begin to draw your mind back, approaching your innermost core, you are at the threshold of your true nature. Pratyahar (mindfulness of breathing) leads you to this threshold, and pranayam (breath control) is the bridge from the external to the internal. Pratyahar brings you to this threshold, and then it becomes possible to attain dharana. At this point, you have the ability to direct your attention to a single object. First, you give your body a directional indicator, giving your life energy the correct direction; now, you guide your consciousness to an indicator. Now, consciousness is not allowed to wander; it must be led to its destination. This destination is dharana: concentrating your consciousness on one point.

When consciousness is focused and concentrated on a single point, thoughts cease, because thoughts can only arise when consciousness is constantly wandering. If consciousness is always jumping around like a monkey, many thoughts will arise, and your mind will be crowded with a multitude of thoughts, like a market. However, after practicing pranayam (breath control) and pratyahar (mindfulness of breathing), you may become able to focus your attention on a single point.

Imagine that focusing your mind is like tidying up all the toys scattered around a room (sensory impressions and distracting thoughts) into one place.

The seventh step is Dhyana. If you can focus your attention on one point, you can achieve the state of Dhyana. In conscious concentration, you bring your mind to a single point. In the state of Dhyana, you simultaneously let go of that point. So you become completely centered, with nowhere to go… because wherever you want to go, you are going outward. Even the single thought of focusing on one point is outside of you. It is an object; you are not alone, there are two things there: the object of concentration and you. The object must be let go in order to achieve Dhyana.

Dhyan—entering samadhi means pure subjectivity, not gazing at an object. If you gaze at an object, it becomes concentration. Concentration means there is something holding your attention. Dhyan—entering samadhi means quiet meditation: nothing is there, everything has been let go, leaving only you in a state of profound awareness. The object has been discarded, but the subject has not yet fallen asleep. It is deeply in samadhi, without any object—returned to the center…but a sense of “I” still lingers. The object has fallen away, but the subject is still there. You still feel yourself.

This is not the self. In Sanskrit, we have two words: ahankar and asmita. Ahankar means "I am," and asmita means "to be." It is simply "to be"—the self no longer exists, only its shadow remains. You still feel yourself. This is not an idea; if this were the concept of "I am," then it would be the self. In deep meditation, the self has long since vanished completely; but a shadowy amness of "I am" remains, merely a feeling lingering around you. In the meditative stillness of deep meditation, like in the early morning before sunrise, in the mist: asmita—"to be"—still remains.

The eighth step, and the final peak, is Samadhi. When asmita—"to be"—disappears, when you no longer know who you are—needless to say, there is no longer any "I am" or "is" reflected in you—then Samadhi, the state of superconsciousness and ecstasy, arises. Samadhi is beyond everything; you will never return. The state of Samadhi is a point of no more reincarnation. No one falls from there. A person in Samadhi becomes divine: we say the Buddha is God, Mahavira is God. A person who enters Samadhi no longer belongs to this world; he becomes an outsider to this world. He may still be here, but his home is somewhere else. He may walk on this earth, but he no longer walks on this earth. It is said that a person who enters Samadhi lives in this world, but this world does not live in his heart.

When meditation deepens to its ultimate state, even the feeling of "merging" disappears, and Samadhi is attained. At this point, individual consciousness and the object of observation become completely one, and the duality of subject and object completely dissolves. The observer becomes the observed, and the knower becomes the known. This is the ultimate goal of yoga: to return from separation to oneness, to dissolve from the finite consciousness of the individual into the infinite essence of existence. At this moment, pure, objectless consciousness itself shines brightly—that is the direct experience of freedom, liberation, and divinity.