Take enough yoga classes, and you’re bound to hear the word tapas. Not to be confused with delicious Spanish appetizers, the tapas your teacher is referring to is an important Sanskrit concept. Let's have a look at it, and see how we can apply it.
Building heat
Nicolai Bachman defines tapas, as “a practice of causing change, heat.” This makes sense since you'll usually hear about tapas when you’re asked to do things like hold that Chair Pose for the extra breath or perform a series of controlled movements with your arms while your lower half stays in a Crescent Lunge for longer than you ever thought possible.
Tapas is more than just a generic idea of heat, though. It's got lots of layers and facets, and the more you understand what it is, the more you'll be able to integrate wisdom from it (if you choose).
It’s a Niyama
Tapas is the third of five of the niyamas on the 8-Limbed Path. (There's a lot of Sanskrit here. I made you a chart.)
The Bhagavad Gita’s description of tapas occurs toward the end of the work (17:14-17). In this section, tapas is described as self-discipline in our speech, the physical body, and the mind. (I recommend Eknath Easwaran’s translation since it is clear and contains plenty of notes to explain and contextualize the writing.)
The Yoga Sutras (2.32; Finger and Newton translation) define it:
Tapas is learning to keep the mind focused for the sake of practice and spiritual evolution. Tapas is the discipline required to focus the mind in order to surrender to an experience of universal consciousness. Discipline without surrender only leads back to struggle.
The texts clearly point to the multi-dimensional nature of self-discipline.
Intense pressure makes destruction and diamonds
None of this means anything if it stays locked between the covers of books or frozen on a computer screen. How does it apply to you in your modern life? If our sadhana (practice) makes its way from our mats into other aspects of our lives, we will start to see manifestations of tapas everywhere.
Giving birth is tapas. Ram Dass had a debilitating stroke and called it “fierce grace”, but he was talking about tapas. The pandemic has presented us with so many challenges. We have seen the dedication of first responders and essential workers and can recognize their work ethic and dedication to helping others as a form of self-discipline. At the same time, the people struggling with physical illness or the mental impacts of isolation find themselves undergoing change as they/we endure.
If we’re looking at these circumstances through the lens of yoga, then all of these circumstances are opportunities for spiritual practice and growth. The forces of these challenges can cause us to cave, but with the right support and circumstances, the pressure can forge us into something stronger.
Up on Koko Head Crater: Aspects of tapas on the ground
Back in 2017, when I lived on Oahu, some relatives and I decided to climb the Koko Head Steps (see the top photo). The trail consists of 1,050 steep, uneven stairs made of railroad ties secured into the side of a sleeping volcano.
I practice yoga, but I'm no endurance athlete. On the way to the trailhead, we were warned that people have to be helicoptered off the stairs every year because they're too difficult to climb. The first manifestation of tapas happened when I decided to climb the thing despite being served a fresh batch of self-doubt.
At the start of the hike, I was quickly confronted with how much of an Amazon I am not. Here was the physical heat of tapas.
I continued my climb in spite of this, but I didn't go quietly. I wish I could tell you that I praised the divine with every arduous step, but my vocabulary was in short supply that morning. Words of the 4-letter variety peppered all thoughts and mutterings for a solid 30-minutes. There was no self-discipline in my speech.
As soon as I got to the top, the struggle ceased. The cool breeze was a balm for my cuss-addled mind. It was quiet, peaceful, and close to heaven. The ordeal of hiking was cast away by the unmistakable sacredness that you can find in nature when you walk quietly and steady your mind.
The whiplash of grumbly discipline
Like any yogi trying to make sense of the yogic path in modern life, I took some time to reflect on the experience. What was with all this rapid transitioning from curmudgeon to awe-struck wanderer?
This is where the svadhyaya (self-study) comes in. When you experience tapas, it’s helpful to take some time to think about what happened in your mind, your body, and your words when you came up against adversity. Otherwise, you could miss lessons that might help you with whatever your goals for the practice are.
Through svadhyaya, I learned that I'd been repeating this pattern of resistance in speech, mind, and body for my entire life. I was satisfying the discipline part of tapas that the Sutras mentioned by doing hard things, but I wasn't surrendering to or accepting of anything. I placed experiences into two categories: 1. Things I liked/ comfort 2. Things I disliked/ discomfort. I think that’s a pretty common line of thought. You have to notice a pattern before you can change it, though.
Make it yours
Every person who sets foot into a Union Yoga class has an incredible biography. You have felt or will feel great joys. You have experienced or will experience fierce grace. There are insights in these manifestations of tapas that are waiting to be had, and with a little bit of self-reflection, you might learn a thing or two about how you respond to intense situations.
Now is the time to journal or ponder. Consider a challenge you’ve gone through. (Note: You do not have to choose a triggering event to practice this self-reflection.)
Name that moment of challenge. Then, notice what thoughts arise. What are the thoughts, words, and actions that stand out for you? Once you’ve got that worked out, you can dive in a little deeper. What does your response tell you about yourself?
You have agency
Here’s the tricky bit about writing this, and the marvelous thing about a holistic yoga practice. I can’t tell you what to do with your observations next. Maybe what you see informs how you show up in the world. Maybe you tuck what you’ve learned into the back of your mind to work on it later. Isn’t it wonderful? It’s all yours.
You decide what happens with what you learn.