Return to Stillness

In a world of information overload, the yoga practice of pratyahara offers us a haven of silence.

By Judith Lasater

During my first few months of yoga classes, the teacher taught us to backbend deeply during the first step of Sun Salutation. Not only were we encouraged to bend backward deeply, we were also taught to drop our heads back as far as we could. Occasionally a student would pass out in the middle of the movement. Luckily, no one ever hurt themselves in their fall to the floor. I was intrigued to discover that other students in the class perceived the fainting not as a physical problem, but as some form of spiritual event.

For many years I've suspected that this sudden fainting—this withdrawal from the world—was not a spiritual event at all, but simply a physiological one. People probably fainted because taking the head back can momentarily block the vertebral arteries in the neck, reducing the supply of blood and oxygen to the brain. As I look back, however, I think my fellow students' confusion mirrors the confusion we all have about the yoga practice of pratyahara—about what it means to withdraw from the senses and the world.

In the Yoga Sutra of Patanjali—the most ancient and revered sourcebook for yoga practice—the second chapter is filled with teachings about the ashtanga (eight-limbed) yoga system. The system is presented as a series of practices which begin with "external limbs" like ethical precepts and move toward more "internal limbs" like meditation. The fifth step or limb is called "pratyahara" and is defined as "the conscious withdrawal of energy from the senses." Almost without exception yoga students are puzzled by this limb. We seem to inherently understand the basic ethical teachings like satya (the practice of truthfulness), and the basic physical teachings like asana (the practice of posture), and pranayama (the use of breath to affect the mind). But for most of us the practice of pratyahara remains elusive.

One way to begin to understand pratyahara on an experiential level is to focus on a familiar yoga posture, Savasana (Corpse Pose). This pose is done lying supine on the floor and is the practice of relaxing deeply. The first stage of Savasana involves physiological relaxation. In this stage, as you become comfortable, there is first an awareness of the muscles gradually relaxing, then of the breath slowing, and finally of the body completely letting go. While delicious, this first stage is only the beginning of the practice.

The next stage of Savasana involves the mental "sheath." According to yoga philosophy, each person has five levels or sheaths: the food sheath (the physical body); the vital, or prana, sheath (the level of subtle energy channels); the mental sheath (the level of most emotional reactions); the consciousness sheath (home of the ego); and the bliss, or causal, sheath (the karmic record of the soul's experiences). These sheaths can be thought of as increasingly subtle layers of consciousness. In the second stage of Savasana you are withdrawing from the external world without completely losing contact with it. This withdrawal is the experience of pratyahara. Most of us know this state; when you're in it, you feel like you're at the bottom of a well. You register the sounds that occur around you, for example, but these sounds do not create disturbance in your body or mind. It is this state of nonreaction that I am calling pratyahara. You still register input from your sense organs, but you don't react to that input. There seems to be a space between the sensory stimulus and your response. Or, in everyday language, you are in the world but not of it.

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