Western yogis, modern ones anyway, tend to use the term “vinyasa” to describe a sequence of linked, large-scale bodily movements: tadasana, arms up, uttanasana, arms down, jump back to adho mukha svanasana, jump to trikonasana, bend the front knee to transition to parsvakonasana, and so on. “Vinyasa” has become synonymous with “flow” in this broad sense of a series of poses linked together in a fluid way without interruption.
And it is true, “vinyasa” does imply movement. But exactly what is moving, what is flowing? Is it only the gross body and its limbs, taken largely? Remember that blood flows, the breath flows, the mind flows its endless stream of thoughts, billions of electrons flow between the neurons, the emotions flow along sweeping “us” before them. And according to the old yoga texts, prana is forever flowing through its proper channels, the nadis.
Modern “flow” classes, with their focus on quick, large, external movements, blind us to most of these subtle inner workings of the body-mind, as the originators of hatha yoga already knew. The old-timers’ fascination was with stillness, not with movement. As far as we can tell from the old texts, traditionally the asanas were conceived of, and practiced, as separate, fixed postures. The practitioner would assume a posture, hold it for awhile, then release that posture and take another one, hold that one for awhile, and so on. Each pose was done independently and apart from any other pose, and there was no real attempt to link them together in the modern sense. In fact, even the order of the poses was not specified, so there was no attempt to “sequence” the poses for optimal, cumulative effect as most modern western yogis do.
The old-time yogis wanted to touch the open, clear truth in each unique situation, in whatever human configuration they could imagine or invent. This reflects their concern with the unmoving Real Self, and the unchanging nature of Reality as they saw it, rather than the vagaries and accidents of history or personality. They weren’t interested in “self-improvement” or “self-expression” as we would put it (or in “evolution” or “progress”), they wanted to get at a deeper truth that was stable and reliable. As Patanjali put it (in various translations) “Yoga is the cessation of the turnings of thought. When thought ceases, the spirit stands in its true identity as observer to the world.” Or, “Yoga is to still the patterning of consciousness. Then pure awareness can abide in its very nature.” Or, “Yoga is the control of thought-waves in the mind. Then man abides in his real nature.”
When the old yogis used the phrase vinyasa they seem to have meant something different than we moderns do. They seem to have meant learning the practices in an orderly, cumulative way over a long period of time. So you would be introduced to certain ideas and practices according to your readiness and experience, asked to work with those for awhile (maybe a very long while, maybe your whole life), then given further practices to add to your daily regimen, and so on, and so, slowly, to grow in your understanding. You were learning to hold things together for years and decades at a time.
Another more modern usage of the word vinyasa might be to link all the structures of the body together in any one pose, so that they work as a single functional whole. So, when you turn your face up in Trikonasana, do you do that from your neck, or from the little toe of your back foot? Functional integration of the body in each pose is a kind of linking or union or “yoga.” Without that, the pose is more like a sack of marbles than an organism, a collection of loosely associated parts rather than a living whole thing.
But really in its most fundamental sense the word vinyasa means to unite the body, the breath, and the mind in the present, to bring them together in this very moment and to reconnect this passing body-mind with the eternal now. Which, when you think about it, is a pretty good definition of yoga right there.
We might be better off practicing our hatha yoga again, in this age-old sense, as antidote to our glitzy, over-heated modern times, where we are constantly encouraged to never slow down, to confuse whim and impulse for considered judgement, and “facts” for information, and where any action no matter how ill-conceived is deemed good just because it is “doing something”.
Maybe, starting today, we could begin practicing again as a way to overcome our impulse to act, to become still, and to remember simply to be. As we mature and ripen in our understanding, it is natural that we should begin to withdraw our sights from the more external pursuits and profits of youth, and begin to cultivate a quieter and deeper power. As our legs, which have carried us so far over this earth, and our arms, which have hefted so many of life’s delicious burdens, begin to lose their strength and elasticity, then, freed as well from their calamities and clamor, we might begin to hear.
You don’t have to wait until you’re old. Start today.
