“Sukham Sthiram Asanam”
Asana is ‘to be’ in your most natural state—a state of Sukha and Sthira.
Sukha is not merely ease or comfort; it is a difficult state to sustain. It is when a being is delightfully present, creatively engaged, and pleasingly immersed in life. And when this immersion becomes stable, focused, undisturbed—Sthira arises. Sthira is not rigidity, but a quiet strength, a steady alignment of the self. When both these qualities—pleasurable immersion and unwavering steadiness—coexist effortlessly, we arrive at Asana. It is not a posture, but a way of being.

The Modern Lens vs Patanjali’s Vision
Yet, in most conversations today, asana is equated almost entirely with physical postures. We see it as something to “achieve”—bending deeper, holding longer, flowing faster.
But Patanjali’s words in Sutra 2.47—
“Prayatna shaithilya ananta samapattibhyam“
-(“When all efforts are eased, the infinite is experienced”)—offer a powerful perspective.
Asana is not about struggle. It is about easing the effort. Patanjali isn’t talking only about flexibility of the body. He is guiding us to a certain ease in living life.
How Do We Practice This on the Mat?
Take Vrikshasana, the tree pose-
At first, there’s struggle—the foot wobbles, breath stutters, thoughts scatter. But with quiet awareness and regularity, effort begins to soften. The body stabilizes. The breath becomes smooth, even.
You’re no longer doing the pose—you are the pose.
You’re not holding; you’re being held.
This shift—from effort to effortlessness—is where asana begins to unfold.
Effortless, Not Idle
This is not a dead stillness—it is a vibrant alignment of body, breath, and mind.
Regular, conscious holding of postures conditions not just the muscles, but also the nervous system. What first activates your sympathetic drive begins to invite the parasympathetic response.
Muscles engage and release with intelligence. The mind settles.
Over time, the brain creates new pathways—through synaptic plasticity, which reflects the brain’s ability to adapt and reorganize within its existing structure. Eventually allowing us to return to this calm with increasing ease.
This is how nirantara abhyasa—constant practice—transforms.
Practice, Rooted in Devotion
Patanjali reminds us again in Chapter 1, Sutra 14:
Sa tu dirgha kala nairantarya satkara asevitah drdhabhumih II
(That which is practiced consistently over a long time, with sincerity and devotion, becomes firmly established.)
Ease doesn’t mean giving up. It doesn’t mean sitting idle or escaping responsibility.
It means not straining.
It means doing what you must, but with inner lightness.
You stress less.
You live more.
That is when you begin to experience ananta samapattibhyam—the infinite merging .
Off the Mat, Into Life
Flex, extend, balance—not just your body on the mat, but your responses in life.
When this attitude begins to reflect in your everyday choices, that’s when you’ve begun to master asana.
And that’s the true test—
Not whether you can do a backbend,
But whether you can stay composed when life bends you backwards.
Not how long you hold a pose,
But how gracefully you hold your ground in a storm.
That’s mastery.
Asana as a Mirror
Until then—practice.
On the mat, and in every moment life offers.
Asana becomes a mirror. It shows us our internal restlessness, our need for control, our harsh self-talk. But it also becomes a training ground—a sacred space where we practice letting go of that very struggle.
Over time, something beautiful emerges:
A life lived with less friction and more flow.
Tending the Ground You Stand On
This journey asks us to widen our inner boundaries, question our patterns, and nurture a gentler relationship with ourselves and the world.
Like planting a seed in the soil you stand upon—not looking longingly at the greener grass elsewhere, but tending lovingly to this ground: your own body, your current life.
Water it with discipline.
Nourish it with joy.
And share its fruits with others.
That, perhaps, is the most beautiful asana of all.
Asana is not a fixed form but a fluid experience—one that reveals itself slowly through sincere, sustained practice.
It is a quiet unfolding, where effort gives way to grace, and the body becomes a vessel for steadiness and ease. Whether on the mat or in the world, it is a reminder to meet each moment with presence, poise, and a soft strength.