Georg Feuerstein > Quotes

“The postures are only the "skin" of yoga. Hidden behind them are the "flesh and blood" of breath control and mental techniques that are still more difficult to learn, as well as moral practices that require a lifetime of consistent application and that correspond to the skeletal structure of the body. The higher practices of concentration, meditation and unitive ecstasy(samadhi) are analogous to the circulatory and nervous system." Georg Feuerstein The Deeper Dimension of Yoga”
― Georg Feuerstein, The Deeper Dimension of Yoga: Theory and Practice

“Boredom is a sign that you're detached from your own bodily experience and aren't living in the present moment.”
― Georg Feuerstein, Yoga For Dummies

“A disharmonious mind is disturbing in itself, but sooner or later it also causes physical problems.”
― Georg Feuerstein, Yoga For Dummies

“Attitudes are enduring tendencies in your mind that show themselves in your behavior as well as your speech. Yoga encourages you to examine all your basic attitudes toward life to discover which ones are dysfunctional so that you can replace them with more appropriate ones.”
― Georg Feuerstein, Yoga For Dummies

“East and West, as well as North and South, need each other. Our species can no longer afford to be self-divided. Our future depends on whether we as individuals and as societies can learn - quickly - from the experiences of the different branches of our single human family, and discover how to live in harmony with one another.”
― Georg Feuerstein, Wholeness or Transcendence?: Ancient Lessons for the Emerging Global Civilization

“Ultimately, there can be no complete healing until we have restored our primal trust in life.”
― Georg Feuerstein

“CHOOSE A SUBLIME IDEAL If you dedicate yourself to a sublime ideal, your life will continually grow in richness, strength and intensity. It is like a capital investment: you place your capital in a Heavenly bank so that, instead of deteriorating or going to waste, it increases and makes you richer. —Omraam Mikhaël Aïvanhov”
― Georg Feuerstein Phd, Yoga Gems: A Treasury of Practical and Spiritual Wisdom from Ancient and Modern Masters

“The true and full object and utility of Yoga can only be accomplished when the conscious Yoga in man becomes, like the subconscious Yoga in Nature, outwardly conterminous with life itself and we can once more, looking out both on the path and the achievement, say in a more perfect and luminous sense: “All life is Yoga.” (Aurobindo 1976, 4)”
― Georg Feuerstein, The Psychology of Yoga: Integrating Eastern and Western Approaches for Understanding the Mind

“To state the obvious, conventional folk have always had their problems with spiritual teachers. The neglect or even oppression of the Hebrew prophets and the Christian mystics is well known to historians. Mohammed, founder of Islam, was badly treated by his own people. So was Jesus of Nazareth. So was Baha’ullah, founder of the Baha’i faith. Gautama the Buddha survived a murderous plot against him by his own cousin. His older contemporary Vardhamana Mahāvīra, founder of Jainism, was ill treated in his younger years as well. Socrates, an early European guru, was forced to drink the poison cup, as his philosophical wisdom was felt to corrupt the youth and thus threaten the very fabric of Athenean society.”
― Georg Feuerstein, The Deeper Dimension of Yoga: Theory and Practice

“This transubstantiated body is also styled ativahika-deha or “superconductive body.” This omnipresent, luminous vehicle is endowed with the great paranormal powers (siddhi) acknowledged in all the scriptures of Yoga and Tantra. In the Yoga-Bîja, we find the following stanzas: The fire of Yoga gradually bakes the body composed of the seven constituents [such as bone, marrow, blood, etc.].”
― Georg Feuerstein, The Yoga Tradition: It's History, Literature, Philosophy and Practice

“Aurobindo’s orientation has yielded important new insights into the thought of the Vedic seers (rishi), who “saw” the truth. He showed a way out of the uninspiring scholarly perspective, with its insistence that the Vedic seers were “primitive” poets obsessed with natural phenomena like thunder, lightning, and rain. The one-dimensional “naturalistic” interpretations proffered by other translators missed out on the depth of the Vedic teachings. Thus Sūrya is not only the visible material Sun but also the psychological-spiritual principle of inner luminosity. Agni is not merely the physical fire that consumes the sacrificial offerings but the spiritual principle of purifying transformation. Parjanya does not only stand for rain but also the inner “irrigation” of grace. Soma is not merely the concoction the sacrificial priests poured into the fire but also (as in the later Tantric tradition) the magical inner substance that transmutes the body and the mind. The wealth prayed for in many hymns is not just material prosperity but spiritual riches. The cows mentioned over and over again in the hymns are not so much the biological animals but spiritual light. The Panis are not just human merchants but various forces of darkness. When Indra slew Vritra and released the floods, he not merely inaugurated the monsoon season but also unleashed the powers of life (or higher energies) within the psyche of the priest. For Indra also stands for the mind and Vritra for psychological restriction, or energetic blockage. Aurobindo contributed in a major way to a thorough reappraisal of the meaning of the Vedic hymns, and his work encouraged a number of scholars to follow suit, including Jeanine Miller and David Frawley.2 There is also plenty of deliberate, artificial symbolism in the hymns. In fact, the figurative language of the Rig-Veda is extraordinarily rich, as Willard Johnson has demonstrated.3 In special sacrificial symposia, the hymn composers met to share their poetic creations and stimulate each other’s creativity and comprehension of the subtle realities of life. Thus many hymns are deliberately enigmatic, and often we can only guess at the solutions to their enigmas and allegorical riddles. Heinrich Zimmer reminded us: The myths and symbols of India resist intellectualization and reduction to fixed significations. Such treatments would only sterilize them of their magic.”
― Georg Feuerstein, The Deeper Dimension of Yoga: Theory and Practice

“The practice of radical self-transcendence can be described as conscious growth toward the transcendental or transpersonal Self-Identity, the ātman. Some call this “God-Consciousness.” The Self of Vedānta/Jnāna-Yoga is also completely different from the Self talked about by Jungian psychotherapists. The Jungian Self is the ego-transcending spiritual center of the mature human personality; it is not a superconscious transcendental Being. The Self, or ātman, of Vedānta is by definition beyond space-time and the whole body-mind complex. It is not a property of the individual person. Therefore, the Self is never “my” self, nor is Self-realization “my” Self-realization. When Self-realization happens, “I” am not there! So long as we believe that we are a particular man or woman, with a particular character and distinct tendencies, habits, or likes and dislikes, we live out of the ego-fiction. Then we necessarily fear the loss of what we consider to be our “own”—our various material and intellectual possessions as well as our social relationships. Above all, we fear the death of the individual we believe ourselves to be. But when there is genuine understanding or wisdom (prajnā), we begin to see a larger truth. We may even catch a glimpse of the Being-Consciousness-Bliss (sat-cid-ānanda) that is the underlying Identity not only of “me” but of all beings who, from the unenlightened point of view, appear to be separate entities. Even describing that Ultimate as Being (sat), Consciousness (cit), and Bliss (ānanda) is saying too much. Hence some sages, especially in Buddhism, have preferred to call it “Emptiness” (shūnyatā). The wisest among them have remained silent.”
― Georg Feuerstein, The Deeper Dimension of Yoga: Theory and Practice

“Writing in 1964, C. G. Jung accurately observed: Modern man does not understand how much his “rationalism” (which has destroyed his capacity to respond to numinous symbols and ideas) has put him at the mercy of the psychic “underworld.” He has freed himself from “superstition” (or so he believes), but in the process he has lost his spiritual values to a positively dangerous degree. His moral and spiritual tradition has disintegrated, and he is now paying the price for this breakup in worldwide disorientation and dissociation.3 Once we accept that we do not live in the best of all possible worlds, we can perhaps also see that we are coresponsible for our present situation. As Jung observed, we must see the shadow in our own psyche if we want to perceive reality clearly or, as the Buddhists put it, “see things as they really are.” We cannot become whole without this work on our shadow, the swampland consisting of all those aspects of our personality that we prefer to deny and instead project onto others: egotism, fantasy, greed, cowardice, laziness, irrationality, fanaticism, etc. To put it starkly: In order to become whole, we must discover the potential of terrorism in the complex circuitry of our own psyche. Terrorism is an expression of spiritual deafness, moral blindness, and irrational anger. Only when we can acknowledge the presence of these dark forces within us can we take responsibility for them. This brings me back to the mental discipline of Karma-Yoga by which action is transformed in such a way that it is not rooted in the shadow and therefore is not karmically tainted. Morally and spiritually sound action must be accompanied by self-observation, self-understanding, self-acceptance, self-transformation, and self-transcendence. Without these disciplines, we are likely to succumb to projection and wrong action (vikarma). These, in turn, are not conducive to inner and outer peace. On the contrary, if our behavior fails to be anchored in sound spiritual virtues and practices, it will predictably cause disturbance, disharmony, harm, hurt, and even chaos in the world. Krishna taught that there are circumstances when it is not only appropriate but essential to take a firm stand against evil. He was not a romantic pacifist who, in the interest of an abstract principle (however noble), allows evil to conquer good. When the moral or spiritual order is at stake, we must actively oppose the forces that seek to undermine it. He even condoned war to accomplish this end, though a war not tinged with hatred and conducted for selfish reasons.”
― Georg Feuerstein, The Deeper Dimension of Yoga: Theory and Practice

“In The Gospel of Sri Ramakrishna, which chronicles the life and teachings of this great nineteenth-century master, we find the following hymn: In dense darkness, O Mother, Thy formless beauty sparkles; Therefore the yogis meditate in a dark mountain cave. In the lap of boundless dark, on Mahanirvana’s waves upborne, Peace flows serene and inexhaustible.8 Taking the form of the Void, in the robe of darkness wrapped, Who art Thou, Mother, seated alone in the shrine of samadhi?9 From the Lotus of Thy fear-scattering Feet flash Thy love’s lightnings; Thy Spirit-Face shines forth with laughter terrible and loud!10 To absorb, devour, or destroy the universe is one of the terrifying functions of the black goddess. She brings death not just to the individual but to the cosmic egg itself in which individuals, high and low, live out their respective separative lives over and over again. In the Mahānirvāna-Tantra (4.29–31) the goddess is addressed as the supreme yogini because at the end of time she devours the devourer of time himself, Shiva in his form as Mahākāla. In many temples in Bengal and Nepal, Kālī is depicted as a black or dark blue block of stone.”
― Georg Feuerstein, Tantra: Path of Ecstasy

“Just as a king favors those who move inside [the palace] over those who are outside it, so, O Goddess, you favor those who cultivate the inward sacrifice over others. The discovery of the inner sacrifice was made long before the appearance of Tantra. But it remained the province of a select few because of the inveterate tendency in human beings to neglect the inner world of consciousness and be overly active in the external realm. Many Tantric teachers reacted against this tendency, which was strongly present in the mainstream priestly culture of Hinduism. They also reacted against the parallel tendency, fueled by the priestly philosophy of nondualism (advaita), that fled the Many to attain the One. Although in many respects Tantra continued the metaphysics and language of nondualism, it often sought to express new meanings through them. The Tantric One (eka), for instance, is not the life-negating Singularity of some brahmanical teachers but the all-encompassing Whole (pūma), which is present as the body, the mind, and the world yet transcends all of these. At its best, Tantra is integralism. This is hinted at in the word tantra itself, which, among other things, means “continuum.” This continuum is what the enlightened adepts realize as nirvana and what unenlightened worldlings experience as samsāra. These are not distinct, opposite realities. They are absolutely the same Being, the same essence (samarasa). That essence merely appears different to different people because of their karmic predispositions, which are like veils or mental filters obscuring the truth. To ordinary worldlings, the One remains utterly hidden. To spiritual seekers, it seems a distant goal, perhaps realizable after many lifetimes. To initiates, it is a reliable inner guide. To the Self-realized sages, it is the only One that exists, for they have become the Whole.”
― Georg Feuerstein, Tantra: Path of Ecstasy

“Tapas is any practice that pushes the mind against its own limits, and the key ingredient of tapas is endurance. Thus in the archaic Rig-Veda (10.136), the long-haired ascetic or keshin is said to “endure” the world, to “endure” fire, and to “endure” poison.1 The keshin is a type of renouncer, a proto-yogin, who is a “wind-girt” (naked?) companion of the wild God Rudra (Howler). He is said to “ascend” the wind in a God-intoxicated state and to fly through space, looking down upon all things. But the name keshin harbors a deeper meaning, for it also can refer to the Sun whose “long hair” is made up of the countless rays that emanate from the solar orb and reach far into the cosmos and bestow life on Earth. This is again a reminder that the archaic Yoga of the Vedas revolves around the Solar Spirit, who selflessly feeds all beings with his/her/its compassionate warmth. The early name for the yogin is tapasvin, the practitioner of tapas or voluntary self-challenge. The tapasvin lives always at the edge. He deliberately challenges his body and mind, applying formidable will power to whatever practice he vows to undertake. He may choose to stand stock-still under India’s hot sun for hours on end, surrounded by a wall of heat from four fires lit close by. Or he may resolve to sit naked in solitary meditation on a windswept mountain peak in below-zero temperatures. Or he may opt to incessantly chant a divine name, forfeiting sleep for a specified number of days. The possibilities for tapas are endless. Tapas begins with temporarily or permanently denying ourselves a particular desire—having a satisfying cup of coffee, piece of chocolate, or casual sex. Instead of instant gratification, we choose postponement. Then, gradually, postponement can be stepped up to become complete renunciation of a desire. This kind of challenge to our habit patterns causes a certain degree of frustration in us. We begin to “stew in our own juices,” and this generates psychic energy that can be used to power the process of self-transformation. As we become increasingly able to gain control over our impulses, we experience the delight behind creative self-frustration. We see that we are growing and that self-denial need not necessarily be negative. The Bhagavad-Gītā (17.14–16) speaks of three kinds of austerity or tapas: Austerity of body, speech, and mind. Austerity of the body includes purity, rectitude, chastity, nonharming, and making offerings to higher beings, sages, brahmins (the custodians of the spiritual legacy of India), and honored teachers. Austerity of speech encompasses speaking kind, truthful, and beneficial words that give no offense, as well as the regular practice of recitation (svādhyāya) of the sacred lore. Austerity of the mind consists of serenity, gentleness, silence, self-restraint, and pure emotions.”
― Georg Feuerstein, The Deeper Dimension of Yoga: Theory and Practice

“Verticalist, Horizontalist, and Integral Teachings In another book, I have made a distinction between verticalist, horizontalist, and integral approaches to life.8 The Sanskrit equivalents for the first two are nivritti-mārga (path of cessation) and pravritti-mārga (path of activity) respectively. The third orientation can be dubbed pirna-mārga (path of wholeness). The horizontalist approach characterizes the typical extroverted lifestyle of the worldling (samsārin), who is preoccupied with his or her job, family, belongings, status, and prospects. At a certain stage of spiritual development, these horizontalist concerns are appropriate enough, and the Hindu authorities have produced textbooks (shāstra) on a wide range of topics enabling worldly-minded people to live a better life.”
― Georg Feuerstein, Tantra: Path of Ecstasy

“Like one’s parents, the initiatory guru makes a deep spiritual connection with the initiate, which is thought to endure beyond the present lifetime. Initiation occurs at various levels and through various means. In most instances it consists of a formal ritual in which the guru transmits a portion of his spiritual power (shakti) awakened through a mantra that is whispered into the disciple’s left ear. But great adepts can initiate by a mere touch or glance or even simply by visualizing the disciple. Sri Ramakrishna, the great nineteenth-century master, placed his foot on Swami Vivekananda’s chest and promptly plunged his young disciple into a deep state of formless ecstasy (nirvikalpa-samādhi). THE GURU AS TRANSMITTER According to Indic Yoga, the guru is a teacher who not merely instructs or communicates information, as does the preceptor (ācārya). Rather the guru transmits wisdom and, by his very nature, reveals—to whatever degree—the spiritual Reality. If the guru is fully enlightened, or liberated, his every word, gesture, and mere presence is held to express and manifest the Spirit. He or she is then a veritable beacon of Reality. Transmission in such a case is spontaneous and continuous. Like the Sun, to which the sad-guru or teacher of the Real is often compared, he or she constantly transmits the liberating “energy” of the transcendental Being. In Yoga, with adepts who are not yet fully liberated, transmission is largely but not exclusively based on the teacher’s will and effort. Many schools also admit of an element of divine grace (prasāda) entering into the configuration for which the teacher serves as a temporal vehicle. Thus the traditional teacher plays a crucial role in the life of the disciple. As the Sanskrit word guru (meaning literally “weighty”) suggests, he or she is a true “heavyweight” in spiritual matters. THE GURU AS GUIDE Apart from triggering and even constantly reinvigorating the spiritual process in a disciple, the guru also serves as a guide along the path. This occurs primarily through verbal instruction but also by being a living example on the spiritual path. Since the path to liberation includes many formidable hurdles, a disciple is clearly in need of guidance. The written teachings, which form the precious heritage of a given lineage of adepts, are a powerful beacon along the way. But they typically require explanations, or an oral commentary, to yield their deeper meaning. By virtue of the oral transmission received from his or her own teacher or teachers and also in light of his or her own experience and realization, the guru is able to make the written teachings come alive for the disciple. This is an invaluable gift.”
― Georg Feuerstein, The Deeper Dimension of Yoga: Theory and Practice

“Thus while wisdom is always the same, it can also, paradoxically, grow inside a person. Or, to put it differently, a person can grow to reflect more and more of the eternal wisdom. But tantra is also the “expansive,” all-encompassing Reality revealed by wisdom. As such it stands for “continuum,” the seamless whole that comprises both transcendence and immanence, Reality and reality, Being and becoming, Consciousness and mental consciousness, Infinity and finitude, Spirit and matter, Transcendence and immanence, or, in Sanskrit terminology, nirvāna and samsāra, or brahman and jagat. Here the words samsāra and jagat stand for the familiar world of flux that we experience through our senses. Historically, tantra denotes a particular style or genre of spiritual teachings beginning to achieve prominence in India about fifteen hundred years ago—teachings that affirm the continuity between Spirit and matter. The word also signifies a scripture in which such teachings are revealed. By extension, the term is often applied to textbooks or manuals in general. Tradition speaks of 64 Tantras, though as with the 108 Upanishads this is an ideal figure that does not reflect historical reality. We know of many more Tantras, though few of them have survived the ravages of time.3 A practitioner of Tantra is called a sādhaka (if male) or a sādhikā (if female). Other expressions are tāntrika or tantra-yogin (if male) and tantra-yoginī (if female). An adept of the Tantric path is typically known as a siddha (“accomplished one,” from sidh, meaning “to be accomplished” or “to attain”) or mahā-siddha (“greatly accomplished one,” that is, a great adept). The female adept is called siddha-anganā (“woman adept,” from anga, meaning “limb” or “part”). The Tantric path itself is frequently referred to as sādhana or sādhanā (from the same verbal root as siddha), and the spiritual achievement of this path is called siddhi (having the dual meaning of “perfection” and “powerful accomplishment”). Siddhi can refer either to the spiritual attainment of liberation, or enlightenment, or to the extraordinary powers or paranormal abilities ascribed to Tantric masters as a result of enlightenment or by virtue of mastery of the advanced stages of concentration. A Tantric preceptor, whether he or she is enlightened or not, is called either an ācārya (“conductor,” which is related to ācāra, “way of life”) or a guru (“weighty one”). Chinnamastā, whose severed head symbolizes the transcendence of the body through Tantra. (Illustration by Margo Gal) Tantra: A Teaching for the Dark Age Tantra understands itself as a gospel for the “new age” of darkness, the kali-yuga. According”
― Georg Feuerstein, Tantra: Path of Ecstasy

“Disciples by their very nature are prone to misconceptions, projections, illusions, and delusions that prevent or delay a constructive relationship with the guru. Therefore the guru is primarily responsible for providing a viable avenue of self-transcending discipline for the disciple.”
― Georg Feuerstein, The Deeper Dimension of Yoga: Theory and Practice

“There are of course several ways of looking at grace. We could, for instance, see it as a function of our own stock of good karma. According to the age-old teaching of karma—the moral law of causation—we reap what we sow. Thus our good thoughts, our positive emotions or dispositions, and our morally sound actions create good karma for us. In other words, we are our own source of grace. I believe that most of the experiences we attribute to “grace” are simply good karma manifesting for us, without the involvement of any other agent. However, I also believe that there are occasions when an apparently objective agency—residing in the subtle or even the transcendental dimensions of existence—favors us in some way. Tradition, moreover, speaks of the guru’s grace and reminds us that the true teacher (sad-guru) is never far from the ultimate Reality. In other words, his or her grace is divine grace. Sincere Yoga practitioners, especially those resorting to prayer, are likely to encounter graceful interventions more frequently than others. To quote Swami Niranjanananda again, “In order to be the recipient [of grace] one has to go through self effort.”3 This very recognition lies behind Patanjali’s recommendation to practice īshvara-pranidhāna, which broadly can be translated as a “positive regard for a higher principle.” More narrowly, we can understand it as devotion to the Lord (īshvara), whom Patanjali considers to be a special kind of purusha, or transcendental Spirit. However we may conceptualize the ultimate Being, there is always room in our practice for opening to grace. As part of this, Western Yoga practitioners, instead of relying exclusively on postures, breath control, and meditation, might also want to include the beneficial traditional practice of prayer (prārthanā).”
― Georg Feuerstein, The Deeper Dimension of Yoga: Theory and Practice

“When a Western seeker encounters spirituality, he or she must come to terms with the four core pursuits of material welfare, physical-emotional-intellectual satisfaction, and moral integrity. Central to spiritual practice are self-inspection and self-understanding. We must be willing to examine our habit patterns: how we act and react in all kinds of situations. Then we must be willing and able to also understand what we see about ourselves. The next step is to eliminate those habit patterns that are not conducive to further spiritual growth and replace them with positive habit patterns. Newcomers to spiritual life often do not realize that spiritual practice requires consistent self-application, that is, a measure of effort. They tend to assume that their peep beyond the walls of conventional life is sufficient in itself. But to see a boat is not the same as rowing it to the other shore. Intellectualizing spiritual life is less than helpful.”
― Georg Feuerstein, The Deeper Dimension of Yoga: Theory and Practice

“Sanskrit scriptures seek to provide guidance on the first three goals or pursuits of human existence, namely, material welfare (artha), passionate self-expression (kāma), and moral virtue or lawfulness (dharma). Manu, who is remembered as the progenitor of the present human race, divided the course of human life into four stages—those of a student, householder, renouncer, and liberated being. Each stage is thought to extend over a period of twenty-one years, yielding an ideal total of eighty-four years. In the first stage the foundations for a solid intellectual, moral, and spiritual life are laid. In the second stage, the Vedic training is applied in everyday life. Then when one’s children are grown and have their own children, it is time to renounce the lifestyle of a householder and retire to the forest or a similar remote area. This is the beginning of the verticalist approach. The renouncer in the third stage of life intensifies his or her ritual practices, meditation, and prayer, increasingly focusing on the ultimate ideal of liberation. This ideal is traditionally recognized as the fourth and highest human pursuit (purusha-artha, written purushārtha). When one’s renunciation has born fruit and one has realized the transcendental Reality, or innermost Self of oneself and all beings and things, it is appropriate to adopt the spontaneous lifestyle of a liberated being. The lifestyle of the fully illumined sage is inherently integrated but may tend toward verticalism or horizontalism without, however, being confined to either orientation.”
― Georg Feuerstein, Tantra: Path of Ecstasy

“Either through effort alone or through a combination of effort and grace, we can overcome our spiritual ignorance and actively shape our future destiny. If belief is involved in some schools of Yoga, it plays only a preliminary role. The accent is typically on wisdom (jnāna), even in the more sophisticated approaches of Bhakti-Yoga, the devotional path. The impulse to attain freedom—or, in the bhakti-oriented schools, union with the Divine—underlies all yogic effort. Only in this way can the practitioner be assured of not getting stuck along the path. This impulse is known as mumukshutva, the desire for liberation, wholeness, perfection, or lasting happiness. With the sole exception of this desire, or impulse, all desires (kāma) relate to either the physical world or some subtle object or state, including heaven. Since all manifestation (vyakta)—whether coarse (sthūla) or subtle (sūkshma)—is finite, none of these desires can give us true fulfillment. They are, to put it differently, all part of the world of change (samsāra). The impulse to liberation, however, is directed toward the unmanifest (avyakta), infinite Reality. Having kindled the impulse toward ultimate freedom and adopted an appropriate spiritual path, the practitioner gradually sheds ignorance (or sin) and simply awakens as the ever-present Real. Even this experience of awakening is merely a metaphor. From the perspective of the ultimate Reality (which has no perspective at all), nothing ever happened. We were never ignorant, self-divided, or unhappy, and therefore we also did not awaken. Whenever we talk about the fully liberated or enlightened being, we inevitably get trapped in paradoxes or doctrines. And yet, tens of thousands of adepts have risked opening their mouths in order to convey something of the Unthinkable or Unspeakable to (apparent) others. When we examine the Hindu concept of liberation, or enlightenment, we find that it comes in two fundamental forms: bodiless liberation (videha-mukti) and living liberation (jīvan-mukti). The former type implies perfect transcendence not only of the human condition but of embodiment as such. It is a state of being that is utterly formless and wholly apart from the universe in all its many levels. This is the great spiritual ideal promulgated in the philosophical traditions of Mīmāmsā, Nyāya, Vaisheshika, Ishvara Krishna’s school of Sāmkhya, some Vedānta teachers (like Bhāskara, Yādava, and Nimbārka), and apparently also Patanjali’s school of Yoga. The second type of liberation, jīvan-mukti, is the ideal favored by most teachers of Hindu, Buddhist, and Jaina Yoga. It can be said to be India’s most important contribution to world spirituality. Living liberation, or liberation while still alive in a body, is the idea that it is possible to be inwardly absolutely free while yet simultaneously appearing as an embodied individual.”
― Georg Feuerstein, The Deeper Dimension of Yoga: Theory and Practice

“The Architecture of the World Similar to other traditional cosmologies, Hinduism conceives of samsāra as a vast, hierarchically organized field of experience, comprising many levels or mansions of existence, each containing countless beings of all kinds. The visible material world is thought to be only one of fourteen levels of manifestation extending above and below the earth. Both the realms above the earth and those stretching out below it, though invisible to the ordinary eye, can be seen by those gifted with clairvoyance (dūra-darshana, or “remote viewing”). As some Hindu texts insist, and as shamans around the world assert as well, it is even possible to visit these other realms in the subtle body. In fact, we can understand such paranormal abilities as the principal source of knowledge upon which traditional cosmologies are built. Many Western interpreters, however, prefer to regard these cosmologies as mere products of the imagination. The many variations found in the traditional descriptions of the higher and lower realms are generally taken as proof of their origin in pure fantasy, yet we know that a description is only as good as a person’s power of observation and linguistic facility. A dozen people witnessing the same event very likely will yield a dozen different descriptions of it, as in the well-known story of the blind men and the elephant. When we examine the cosmologies of the various spiritual traditions, however, we find a remarkable overlap. We can either explain this as being due to a borrowing of ideas from one tradition by another, or, more reasonably, see this as evidence that actual observation-based knowledge was involved in their creation. This is not to say that creative imagination does not come into play in the traditional descriptions of the world, just as it is an ingredient of modern cosmology and indeed any branch of knowledge. Why is it important to speak of cosmology in connection with Tantra? The Tantric goal, like the goal of all spiritual traditions, is to transcend the experienced world, which is both external and internal. But to be able to transcend the world, we first need to know the territory. The scriptures of Tantra by and large subscribe to the same cosmography that can also be found in the Purānas. The Purānas, as the name suggests, are “ancient” lore, combining myth with history (especially dynastic history), religion with folklore, and metaphysics with practical moral instruction. They”
― Georg Feuerstein, Tantra: Path of Ecstasy

“Many contemporary Yoga practitioners, especially those in Western countries, look upon āsana as a tool for achieving physical fitness and flexibility. The yogic postures have certainly demonstrated their physiological benefits in millions of cases. They improve musculoskeletal flexibility, strength, resilience, endurance, cardiovascular and respiratory efficiency, endocrine and gastrointestinal functioning, immunity, sleep, eye-hand coordination, balance. Experiments also have shown various psychological benefits, including improvement of somatic awareness, attention, memory, learning, and mood. The regular practice of postures also decreases anxiety, depression, and aggression.1 All these effects are clearly beneficial and highly desirable. Yet, the traditional purpose of āsana is something far more radical, namely to assist the Hatha-Yoga practitioner in the creation of an “adamantine body” (vajra-deha) or “divine body” (divya-deha). This is a transubstantiated body that is immortal and completely under the control of the adept’s will (which is merged with the Divine Will). It is an energy body that, depending on the adept’s wish, is either visible or invisible to the human eye. In this body, the liberated master can carry out benevolent activities with the least possible obstruction. ĀSANA AS A TOOL OF NONDUAL EXPERIENCE2 The transubstantiated body of the truly accomplished Hatha-Yoga master is, realistically speaking, out of reach for most of us—not because we are not in principle capable of realizing it but because only very few have the determination and stamina to even pursue this yogic ideal. Does this mean we have to settle for the more pedestrian benefits of posture practice? I believe there is another side to āsana, which, while not representing the ultimate possibility of our human potential, is yet a significant and necessary accomplishment on the yogic path. That is to cultivate and experience āsana as an instrument for tasting nonduality (advaita). Almost all Yoga authorities subscribe to a nondualistic metaphysics according to which Reality is singular and the world of multiplicity is either altogether false (mithyā) or merely a lower expression of that ultimate Singularity. Typically, Yoga practitioners assume that the experience of nonduality is bound to the state of ecstasy (samādhi) and that this state is hard to come by and is likely to escape them at least in this lifetime. But this belief is ill founded. In fact, it is counterproductive and should be regarded as an obstacle (vighna) on the path to enlightenment. While we might not have an experience of ecstasy, we can have an experience of nonduality. The ecstatic state is simply a special version of the nondual experience. As Karl Baier, a German professor of psychology and practitioner of Iyengar Yoga, has shown, posture practice can be an efficient means of nondual experience in which we overcome the most obvious and painful duality of body and mind.”
― Georg Feuerstein, The Deeper Dimension of Yoga: Theory and Practice

“The path of Jnāna-Yoga, which has been described as “a straight but steep course,”4 is outlined with elegant conciseness by Sadānanda in his Vedānta-Sāra, a fifteenth-century text. Sadānanda lists four principal means (sādhana) for attaining emancipation: 1. Discernment (viveka) between the permanent and the transient; that is, the constant practice of seeing the world for what it is—a finite and changeable realm that, even at its most enjoyable, must never be confused with the transcendental Bliss. 2. Renunciation (virāga) of the enjoyment of the fruit (phala) of one’s actions; this is the high ideal of Karma-Yoga, which asks students to engage in appropriate actions without expecting any personal reward. 3. The “six accomplishments” (shat-sampatti), which are detailed below. 4. The urge toward liberation (mumukshutva); that is, the cultivation of the spiritual impulse, or self-transcendence. The six accomplishments are: 1. Tranquillity (shama), or the art of remaining serene even in the face of adversity. 2. Sense-restraint (dama), or the curbing of one’s senses, which are habitually hankering after stimulation. 3. Cessation (uparati), or abstention from actions that are not relevant either to the maintenance of the body or to the pursuit of enlightenment. 4. Endurance (titikshā), which is specifically understood as the stoic ability to be unruffled by the play of opposites (dvandva) in Nature, such as heat and cold, pleasure and pain, or praise and censure. 5. Mental collectedness (samādhāna), or concentration, the discipline of single-mindedness in all situations but specifically during periods of formal education. 6. Faith (shraddhā), a deeply inspired, heartfelt acceptance of the sacred and transcendental Reality. Faith, which is fundamental to all forms of spirituality, must not be confused with mere belief, which operates only on the level of the mind. In some works a threefold path is expounded: Listening (shravana), or reception of the sacred teachings Considering (manana) the import of the teachings Contemplation (nididhyāsana) of the truth, which is the Self (ātman) Step by step, the practitioner peels away all the veils concealing the ultimate Truth, which is the singular Spirit. This realization brings peace, bliss, and inner freedom.”
― Georg Feuerstein, The Deeper Dimension of Yoga: Theory and Practice

“Tantra is a profoundly yogic tradition, and the Tantras call themselves sādhanā-shāstras, or books of spiritual practice. The Sanskrit word yoga means both “discipline” and “union” and can be translated as “unitive discipline.” It stands for what in the West is called spirituality or mysticism. The oft-used compound tantra-yoga means simply “Tantric discipline” and captures the intensely experiential character of the Tantric heritage, which emphasizes the realization of higher or subtle states of existence right up to the ultimate Reality itself. Tantra Yoga is unitive discipline based on the expansion, or intensification, of wisdom by means of the beliefs and practices promulgated in the Tantras and the exegetical literature that has crystallized around them. By “unifying” the mind—that is, by focusing it—Tantra Yoga unifies the seemingly disparate realities of space-time and the transcendental Reality. It recaptures the primordial continuum that is apparently lost in the process of becoming an individuated being. Tantra Yoga, as understood here, is a relative latecomer in the long history of Yoga. As we have seen, however, proto-Tantric elements can be detected even in the Vedic era. To be sure, the taproots of Yoga are to be found in the Vedas, composed some five thousand years ago. In its most archaic form, Yoga was a combination of ritual worship and meditation, having the purpose of opening the gates to the celestial realms and beyond. It was closely associated with the Vedic sacrificial cult, priestly hymn making, the mystery of the sacred ecstasy-inducing soma potion, and visions of the subtle dimensions with their hierarchy of male and female deities, as well as ancestral and other spirits.”
― Georg Feuerstein, Tantra: Path of Ecstasy

“The Purānas, which are encyclopedic repositories of traditional wisdom, including everything from cosmology to philosophy to stories about kings and holy men. They contain many yogic legends and teachings. The following are especially important: the Bhāgavata-Purāna (also known as Shrīmad-Bhāgavata), Shiva-Purāna, and Devī-Bhāgavata-Purāna (a Tantric work). The so-called Yoga-Upanishads (some twenty texts), most of which were composed after 1000 C.E. and include three extensive works: the Darshana-Upanishad, Yoga-Shikhā-Upanishad and Tejo-Bindu-Upanishad. The texts of Hatha-Yoga, such as the Goraksha-Samhitā, Hatha-Yoga-Pradīpikā, Hatha-Ratna-Avalī, Gheranda-Samhitā, Shiva-Samhitā, Yoga-Yājnavalkya, Yoga-Bīja, Yoga-Shāstra of Dattātreya, Sat-Karma-Samgraha, and the Shiva-Svarodaya, which are all available in English. Vedāntic scriptures like the voluminous Yoga-Vāsishtha, which teaches Jnāna-Yoga, and its traditional abridgment, the Laghu-Yoga-Vāsishtha, both available in English renderings. The literature of the bhakti-mārga or devotional path, which is especially prominent among the Vaishnavas (worshipers of Vishnu) and Shaivas (worshipers of Shiva). There is a considerable literature on bhakti in both Sanskrit and Tamil, as well as various vernacular languages. In particular, I can recommend Nārada’s Bhakti-Sūtra, Shāndilya’s Bhakti-Sūtra, and the extensive Bhāgavata-Purāna, which is a detailed (mythological) account of the birth, life, and death of the God-man Krishna, with many wonderful and inspiring stories of yogins and ascetics. This beautiful work contains the Uddhāva-Gītā, Krishna’s final esoteric instruction to sage Uddhāva. Goddess worship from a Tantric viewpoint is the core of the Devī-Bhāgavata-Purāna, which should also be studied. In addition, sincere Yoga students should also read and ponder the great yogic texts associated with the different schools of Buddhism and Jainism. To encounter the world of Yoga through its literature will challenge the practitioner in many ways: The texts, even in translation and with notes, are often difficult to comprehend and demand serious concentration and perseverance. Yet we do not have to become scholars, but our study (svādhyāya) will show us what it takes to be a real yogin and what magnificent tools Yoga puts at our disposal. It will also further our self-understanding and strengthen our commitment to practice. In his Treasury of Good Advice (1.6), Sakya Pāndita, who was one of the great scholar-adepts of Vajrayāna Buddhism, wrote: Even if one were to die first thing tomorrow, today one must study. Although one may not become a sage in this life, knowledge is firmly accumulated for future lives, just as secured assets can be used later.”
― Georg Feuerstein, The Deeper Dimension of Yoga: Theory and Practice

“In sacred silence, we transcend our human condition. We stand (stasis) outside (ex) our ordinary egoic personality. This self-transcendence fulfills itself in the state of ecstasy, in which our psychic conditioning is temporarily suspended in utter bliss. The spiritual discipline of silence—and it is a discipline or a voluntary self-chastening—is thus not merely the absence of speech or utterance. What appears from the outside to be a negative condition is inwardly experienced as an immense richness, or fullness. For the discipline of silence is practiced not only in regard to the organ of speech, but also in regard to the mind itself. It includes the silencing of the mental chatter that characterizes the ordinary person. This deep inner silence is experienced as peace and, ultimately, as an abundance of bliss. As the British essayist Thomas Carlyle, in his work Sartor Resartus (1834), put it, “Silence is the element in which great things fashion themselves together.” Sacred silence, then, is an activity that is really a counteractivity, for it engenders stillness. It is stillness. And that stillness opens up the dimension of spiritual existence—that luminous world that awaits our discovery as soon as we redirect our attention from external things to our own radiant depths.”
― Georg Feuerstein, The Deeper Dimension of Yoga: Theory and Practice