Ancient Truth, Modern Meaning
Thomas Sheehy separates timeless yogic knowledge from antiquated language
It may be true that yoga was born in India, but today history gives reference to countless examples of how yogic knowledge has crossed the globe. From South America to Africa and even Europe, yoga has been known to many different cultures for thousands of years.
Yoga was however preserved in India, refined by greats such as Krishnamacharya, and offered back to the world as an irrefutable science – the science of right living. It is only natural then that we look to India for guidance on this ancient practice. Yet, in the realities of modern Western society, when studying some of the connotations of these early Vedas and scriptures, they seem outdated and impractical.
We are in the enviable position of having access to information that was simply not available then. Many would argue that this evolution has not necessarily served to better us, and we would all be well advised to keep in mind the brilliance of those who walked the yogic path before us.
How then do we bridge the gap of time and culture? Is it possible to take what was taught and alter it to better serve our modern needs without losing sight of its original integrity?
As modern yogis we must learn to sort the timeless truth from antiquated language. Take the theory of the body – our outermost aspect of personality. Says Sri. K. Pattabhi Jois in his book Yoga Mala: “If the mortal body is to be sustained, things like food are essential. Thus the food we eat should be sattvic (pure), nirmala (untainted) and acquired through righteousness.”
This lesson seems increasingly astute as we bear witness to the dramatic rise of conditions that plague our societies such as obesity, diabetes and cancer. The Upanishads attest that, “ahara chuddar sattva shuddih” – the mind assumes the qualities of whatever food is consumed. This thought is shared by modern health practitioners such as renowned bowel specialist Dr. Bernard Jensen who visited over 50 countries to better understand the principles of healthy living. He concluded that the long-lived led a simple existence, ate unprocessed foods, little meat and maintained good posture.
Where the yogic lesson appears to err is in the understanding of what actually constitutes sattvic food. Traditionally, Ayurveda teaches that eating too many vegetables will, in fact, “expand disease”. It is common in India to eat proportionally high levels of wheat, milk, and sugar – foods that in the West are understood to be difficult to digest.
While the above foods may serve the average Indian constitution (associated with extended life-span, strength and health due to their easy digestibility), it is certainly not the case in the West. Wheat, dairy and sugar are the worst offenders, most tamasic.
Taking into account that the quality of these foods needs to be considered too, this traditional diet differs greatly from the poor-quality, refined and processed substances that pass as food in the West. Stone-ground whole wheat is a wonderful source of energy; refined, pre-sliced loaves of bread are not. The same is true for the milk of a cow that in India has been honoured, revered and thanked for its offering. Western-style mass produced, hormone injected, sterilized cartons of long-life are an entirely inferior thing.
Food takes on less relevance though as yoga teaches us that indeed we are “not of the body”. One major hindrance in the Western mindset is our over-identification with this temporary and finite vehicle. Yet, while we are manifest in human form there is relevance in taking care of it – as it is home to our atman (unique spark of divinity) – perhaps even with a spiritual obligation to do so. Purification then is needed and we have the texts on shaucha, to guide us on appropriate methods.
For bahir shaucha (the external body), red clay is traditionally recommended to remove sweat and dirt from the skin. It would be flippant to get hung-up on the specifics of this valuable detail. Antah shaucha (internal cleansing) is viewed as seeing every thing and every being as a friend and treating them with affection. Both of these points seem fair; it is only when they are combined that the message becomes alarming. In direct translation the two-fold shaucha are said to help bring about, “a loathing of the body, which is seen as abominable, essence-less and perishable, and a disgust is felt when touching the body of another.”
To those who view the body as perfect, a divine gift and uniquely ours to cherish, this point seems ridiculous, almost offensive and in direct contradiction to ahimsa (non-violence in thought, word or deed). However, it is the translation rather than the idea that is at fault. Language can be dissected and debated – it can be difficult and confusing to find yoga’s truth when we get caught on the words instead of the meaning. The teaching is rather to protect the body by not bringing it into contact with whatever is “adverse”.
As teachers and practitioners of yoga it is important that we see the body for what it is – our lowest energetic sheath. But low does not mean “worse” or “bad” as this message could suggest. The physical body is our rooting, our connection to the earth, our densest form of light. It should be honoured as a temple but not worshipped in itself. Thus, a definition of the words can confuse this intricate point.
As we continue to study and grow in our yogic lives, many seeming abnormalities are bound to appear. These are just two examples of many that illustrate how antiquated knowledge can either be irrelevant or need redefinition. Views on time or place of practice, techniques and sequencing are all open to dispute and our best guidance is actually often inherent within.
We are different from our forefathers, and future generations will be different again, and we know that what is true for one (even a great one) is not necessarily true for another. That which may have been the life’s work of a guru and student is now taught in large groups to people who view yoga as one of many life practices.
In his book Light On Yoga, B.K.S Iyengar lists 47 separate cautions for pranayama, but today, Bhamari (humming bee breath) can be used to quell road rage. Is this disrespectful or a logical evolution? Only your own intention can answer that question.
Yoga connects us all. Humility and respect ensure that we will remember those who stepped before us. But as humanity continues through the 21st century, we owe it to our future generations to explore further by practising as uniquely and creatively as those before us did. Taking life and all our guides with a pinch of salt and a little humour helps to discern the truths that serve us best.
By Thomas Sheehy
As a yoga teacher and practitioner, Tom sees the physical body as a work of perfection and believes that complete and perfect health is available to anyone who chooses it. Tom caters within the yoga community, helps run retreats and facilitates interactive and educational dinner parties. Email Tom at tomshomemade@gmail.com













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