Why do we say the invocation at the beginning of class?
Typically students don’t ask, but given the opportunity they do: “What is this thing that we are saying at the beginning of class?” “Is this some sort of prayer?” Usually when I get these questions I go into all the details about what we typically call the “Invocation to Patanjali.” That’s not my intent here, but a little background seems in order, and perhaps it will wet your appetite to learn more. Patanjali was a Sage who is credited with, among other things, codifying the philosophy of yoga. He is not the father of yoga and yoga existed long before Patanjali, but what Sage Patanjali did was organize the concepts of yoga into 196 very short statements referred to as the Sutras of Patanjali. These aphorisms, recited or chanted in Sanskrit thousands of years ago, are an amazing guide and inspiration for the aspiring student.
Okay, so are we thanking someone who lived thousands of years ago? Why is he commonly represented as half a snake with cobras over his head? If you want more answers to those questions you can check out more HERE. The more relevant question I believe is “why are we practicing yoga in the first place?” And “what does this thing we say at the beginning of class have to do with that?” We all have our own motives and priorities for getting on the mat, but at the heart of yoga is the idea of getting to know who you truly are. Perhaps this body we walk around in is merely the host for something more.
Let’s dive, just a little, into yoga philosophy. Yoga prescribes to a dual system of existence. There is nature (prakrti) and spirit (purusa). These attributes can be correlated to our bodies and mind and to the spark inside that drives them. The spark inside is the purusa— that something more deep inside of us that we discussed earlier… the Self with a capital “s” that we are seeking to know. All the while nature, prakrti, the natural world, the earth and sky, this body, this mind, exists to either show us the experiences of the world with all its pains and pleasures, or to guide us to knowing our purusa. There are two terms to describe these two uses of nature. Experience of the world is “bhoga” and the path to discover the true you is “yoga.”
We have no choice but to function/exist in the natural world. We have to feed ourselves, protect ourselves from danger, coexist with those around us, etc., etc. However, I truly believe that practicing yoga or any spiritual path means taking time to humble ourself and appreciate the search for something more. Most of us, most of the time, are preoccupied with attending to “real world” needs. But once in a while we get on our yoga mat and look inside. We can begin that exploration with a prayer, an invocation—a recognition that what we are about to do is not bhoga. For a brief interlude, we shed the outside world. The invocation, in this way, is a demarcation—a boundary between chasing our tails and seeking true knowledge.
At the end of every day, when I prepare to leave the studio, I walk up to the statue of Patanjali, bow my head, and lightly touch the wood at the bottom of the altar. I do not say a prayer. I do not ask for anything. I do not believe there is some half-man half-snake entity that is wandering around somewhere. I do, however, believe that this body and this mind are only a small cog in the workings of a huge universe. So when your teachers ask you to chant the invocation with them, please don’t regard it as some weird ritual. It is an opportunity to release the mundanities of daily life and practice with sincerity. And to complete this circle, try to practice asana with this sincerity in mind, this humbleness, this devotion that keeps you safe, keeps you on the path, and leads you to the higher goals of yoga.
