Austerity

    Committing to learn complex Sanskrit words can serve as तपस् (tapas): an act of yogic discipline…

          Many modern yogis will recognize तपस् (tapas) or austerities as the third niyama from Patanjali’s Yoga Sutra. This practice has long been a central feature of many yogic traditions, and it can encompass any act of self-discipline that is challenging or otherwise uncomfortable for the practitioner. Since the Upanishadic period (roughly 500-200 BCE), yogis have demonstrated their discipline through austerities – from long fasts, vows of celibacy, and coal walks to more extreme examples of bodily mortification like hanging from hooks and amputating limbs. These tapas are a means for practitioners to control their physical impulses, sharpen their minds, and redirect their energies towards spiritual goals. Similar to the Catholic tradition of Lenten sacrifice, tapas is predicated on the idea that self-discipline draw humans closer to the divine. Indeed, South Asian religious literature is full of yogi characters who perform intense austerities, therein accumulating so much spiritual power that they attract attention from the gods and earn special boons. These characters are frequently cited as proof that yogis with austere discipline can accomplish even impossible feats.

          When training to teach yoga, many individuals must start from square one – and they must work hard to memorize lengthy lists of tongue-twisting Sanskrit terms. For burgeoning yoga teachers, especially for those who aren’t familiar with Indic languages, the act of learning an entirely new vocabulary can serve as a test of willpower and a public demonstration of one’s commitment to yoga. Therefore, learning Sanskrit can be तपस् (tapas) – a yogic practice in itself.

    BUT knowing a few Sanskrit words ≠ Sanskrit literacy…

          I think I speak for most modern yoga teachers when I say: we graduated from our YTTs without any real grasp on the Sanskrit language. We memorized a bunch of words in a foreign language – that’s all. Are we really demonstrating our self-discipline or our commitment to yoga when we can’t even string basic sentences together?

          When we push aspiring teachers to learn Sanskrit, and when we force ourselves to learn out of obligation to yogic tradition, we are deluding ourselves into believing that we understand far more about this language than we really do. Imagine if a non-native speaker of your language memorized 10-20 random words, spewed them at you randomly, and then claimed to be fluent. That’s kind of how we sound when we speak Sanskrit in our yoga classes without even knowing the most elementary grammar.

    AND those few Sanskrit words are constantly appropriated, commodified, and reduced to their aesthetic appeal in the modern yoga industry.

          Our skewed sense of confidence in our own Sanskrit skills leads to some questionable style choices in the yoga market. I’m talking about these ones, in particular:

          And these ones, more broadly:

Question #1: Do we think that Desi creators got compensated for these products?

Hint: It’s possible, but highly doubtful!

          For me, the answer to this question is critical to understanding the dynamics of cultural and linguistic appropriation at play here. Anyone can speak/ read/ write Sanskrit, but when Desi creators aren’t getting compensated for their own cultural exports, “cultural appreciation” quickly turns into cultural appropriation and even ideological colonialism.

Question #2: Why wear apparel or get permanent tattoos of words you can’t read?

          As I mentioned previously in Aurality, Sanskrit is a phonetic language; each of those letters represents a sound, and when spoken together, those sounds form words. Sanskrit is NOT a pictographic language like Mandarin or Korean; the meaning is not inherent to the shapes that are drawn, but rather, in the words that are written (and ideally, spoken and heard). When people who can’t even read Devanagari get Sanskrit tattoos, they are reducing Sanskrit to its perceived aesthetic beauty, therein promoting linguistic commodification and appropriation. They profit from the imagery of this ancient language at the expense of its spiritual profundity.

          Learning Sanskrit CAN be a meaningful yogic austerity, but only if you commit to learning the language in full – not just picking and choosing certain words that sound nice or look pretty for social media. Fortunately, there are many resources out there to help you get started – check out the Practice tab for more info.

Visit the Inspiration tab to read about my embodied experience of Austerity in modern yoga →

Would the Buddha Wear Lululemon?

If the Buddha was here,

in this modern year,

would he wear Lululemon

and seem less austere?

If he knew that sitting still

could still rack up quite a bill,

would he call up CorePower,

become a member at will?

If his old Bodhi tree

was razed by logging industry,

would a non-slip synthetic mat

substitute appropriately?

If he wandered the land,

witnessed the reign of man,

Saw the suffering of poor communities firsthand,

Would he tell us, “There’s no ethical consumption under capitalism?”

If the Buddha lived now,

and he forgave us, somehow,

I think he’d say: it’s yoga,

anyway, anyhow.

Visit the Practice tab for actionable tips, self-reflection questions, and resources to learn more about Austerity in modern yoga →

Practical Tips for Yoga Teachers:

• If you’re interested in learning elementary Sanskrit, Dr. Seth Powell and his team at Yogic Studies run an incredible online Sanskrit language program!
• If you insist on undertaking Sanskrit study as an austerity or as a mode of self-study, commit to doing more than just memorizing pose names. Learn how to write the Devanagari alphabet, or follow along with the Sanskrit transliteration in a critical edition of your favorite yoga text (mine is Norton’s Bhagavad Gita)
• Don’t buy or wear products that poke fun at other people’s languages or cultures. They may seem harmless, but it’s not worth the risk of offending others!
• Remember, if you need a Desi friend to spell-check your tattoo, you probably shouldn’t be getting it permanently etched onto your body!

Questions for Reflection:

• How do I practice तपस् (tapas), or austerity, in my own life and my own yoga?
• Did I learn Sanskrit in any of my teacher training courses or CECs?
  • How much Sanskrit did we learn?
  • Why was Sanskrit included in that YTT’s curriculum?
  • How did that Sanskrit curriculum enrich my yoga practice/ teaching?

Resources for Further Learning:

Flood, Gavin. The Ascetic Self: Subjectivity, Memory, and Tradition.  Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press, 1996.

Jain, Andrea R. Peace Love Yoga: The Politics of Global Spirituality. 1st ed. United Kingdom: Oxford University Press, 2020. doi:10.1093/oso/9780190888626.001.0001.

Jain, Andrea R. Selling Yoga: From Counterculture to Pop Culture. Oxford; OXFORD University Press, 2015.

Olivelle, Patrick. Renunciation in Hinduism: A Medieval Debate. Vienna: Institut für Indologie der Universität Wien, Sammlung De Nobili, 1986.

Olivelle, Patrick. Saṃnyāsa Upaniṣads: Hindu Scriptures on Asceticism and Renunciation. New York: Oxford University Press, 1992.

Olson, Carl. Indian Asceticism: Power, Violence, and Play. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2015.

Samuel, Geoffrey. The Origins of Yoga and Tāntra: Indic Religions to the Thirteenth Century. Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press, 2008.

White, David Gordon. Sinister Yogis. Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 2009.

Let me know what you think in the comments below!