My Daily Thread

Yoga Sutra 2.20 teaches that the Seer (dṛṣṭā) is nothing but pure seeing. Although inherently pure, it appears to perceive the world through the modifications of the mind. This fundamental misperception causes suffering, as we confuse our thoughts, emotions, and experiences with our true nature. In Sāṅkhya philosophy, this Seer is Puruṣa—unchanging, pure consciousness—while everything it observes, including the mind and senses, belongs to Prakṛti, the material world. The process of yoga is to disentangle this confusion and recognize our true identity as the Seer rather than the seen.

This idea aligns with a powerful passage from the Gnostic Gospel of St. Thomas: "If you bring forth what is within you, what you bring forth will save you. If you do not bring forth what is within you, what you do not bring forth will destroy you." When we acknowledge and embody the presence of the Seer within us, we find clarity and liberation. However, if we remain unaware of this deeper aspect of ourselves, we become entangled in mental fluctuations and external circumstances, leading to unnecessary suffering.

A simple yet effective way to reconnect with this awareness is through the Observer Pause. When faced with stress or emotional turbulence, taking a deep breath, exhaling audibly, and consciously releasing tension in the jaw, shoulders, and mind creates space between the experience and the one who is experiencing it. This practice helps us detach from reactive mental patterns and access a state of pure witnessing.

As we bring this understanding into our relationships, we see how easily interactions with others trigger conditioned responses. Yoga Sutra 2.20 offers a shift in perspective, encouraging us to pause and respond from the depth of Puruṣa rather than reacting impulsively from past conditioning. By applying this wisdom, we cultivate a presence that is grounded in clarity, self-awareness, and authenticity.

With consistent practice, we begin to recognize that we are not our fleeting emotions, thoughts, or circumstances. Instead, we are the silent, observing awareness that remains unchanged beneath it all. By bringing forth this Seer's wisdom in our daily lives, we move with greater ease, inner peace, and a deeper sense of truth.

Patanjali's Yoga Sutra 2.20 brings us deeper into the discussion of the Seer and the way we experience the world. The sutra states:

dṛṣṭā dṛśimātraḥ śuddho 'pi pratyayānupaśyaḥ

• dṛṣṭā – the Seer, the witness, the one who sees

• dṛśi-mātraḥ – pure seeing, awareness itself

• śuddhaḥ api – even though it is pure

• pratyaya-anupaśyaḥ – appears to see through the mental modifications (pratyaya)

This verse is an essential reminder that while the Seer (Purusha, the capital S-Self) is ever-present and unchanging, its perception of reality is always filtered through the modifications of the mind (citta-vṛttis). Just as a clear lake reflects the sky above it, the mind reflects the world around us—but if the lake is disturbed, the reflection becomes distorted. In the same way, when the mind is clouded by thoughts, emotions, and conditioning, we mistake its ever-changing reflections for reality itself.

Swami Satchidananda provides an illuminating analogy in his commentary on this sutra. He describes how pure white light, when passing through a red crystal, appears red—even though the light itself remains unchanged. This is precisely how our true Self—Purusha—is colored by the ever-shifting nature of Prakṛti (the material world). We do not see things as they are; we see them as our mind conditions them to be. This creates layers of misidentification, entangling us further in illusion (Māyā).

A modern example of this distortion is communication through texting. When we receive a message, it is stripped of tone, facial expressions, and body language. The mind instinctively fills in the gaps, often influenced by our current emotions, past experiences, or insecurities. A simple message like "okay" can be read as neutral, irritated, or dismissive, depending on our mental state. This is the citta-vṛttis at work, shaping our perception not according to reality, but according to our conditioning. This is precisely how we experience the world every day—our mind constantly interpreting, assuming, and coloring reality with its own narrative.

The core teaching here is that we are not our stories. The voice in our heads, the emotions that arise, the mental commentary we create—these are all passing phenomena. They are part of Prakṛti, not Purusha. The goal of yoga is to recognize this distinction and cultivate the ability to observe without immediately identifying with or reacting to what arises in the mind.

So what can we do? Cultivate mindfulness. But here's the trick: mindfulness is not just about noticing what's happening—it's about noticing without reacting. It's about stepping back and watching thoughts as they arise and pass, rather than getting caught in them. This is why meditation is such a central practice in yoga—it trains us to observe without entanglement.

For those who journal, writing down difficult thoughts and emotions can be a helpful practice. Journaling creates space between the thinker and the thought, allowing us to step back and recognize patterns rather than becoming lost in them. Another powerful practice is taking mindful walks—leaving behind distractions like music or podcasts and simply being present with each step, each breath, each moment.

And most importantly, remember: "Don't let the yoga get you down." The journey to self-awareness is not about perfection; it's about practice. There will be days when the mind feels turbulent and days when it feels clear, but the work you are doing is valuable. The answers you seek will come in time. Trust the process, and keep going.

In our search for wisdom, the My Daily Thread Podcast encourages us to find pearls of insight from within ourselves—those moments of inner awareness that we can integrate into our daily lives. Today, we turn to Yoga Sūtra 2.20 for guidance.

Yoga Sūtra 2.20: draṣṭā dṛśyamāṇaśuddho'pi pratyayānupaśyah

Translation: "The Seer is but pure consciousness; though pure, it perceives through the mind."

This sūtra directs us back to the essence of Puruṣa, the Seer, the capital-S Self. Even though the Seer is always witnessing, its perception is filtered through the mind (citta), which is where the confusion begins. Instead of seeing reality as it truly is, we see it through the lens of Prakṛti—the ever-changing material world coloured by thoughts, emotions, attachments, and experiences.

For those interested in deepening their understanding, start planning for our San Pancho Retreat with Ziggy Moves: February 2026:

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The Sanskrit term draṣṭa means "the Seer," that which eternally witnesses experience without being affected by it. This Seer is distinct from our thoughts, emotions, material wealth, and relationships. Yet, because our understanding of the world is mediated through Prakṛti, we often misidentify with these external aspects instead of recognizing our true nature.

This ties directly to the goal of yoga as stated in Yoga Sūtra 1.2: "Yogaṇ citta-vṛtti-nirodhaṇ," meaning "Yoga is the stilling of the fluctuations of the mind." The mind is constantly engaged in vṛttis—the ceaseless activity of thoughts, emotions, and perceptions. But beneath all of this, there is the silent observer, the pure awareness that remains unchanged.

Practicing stillness and self-reflection helps us recognize this misidentification and move toward clearer perception. Meditation, self-inquiry, and mindfulness serve as tools to quiet the mental noise and reconnect with the silent witness within.

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Yoga Sūtra 2.19 begins to delve into the finer points of Sāṅkhya philosophy, which, as Jeff admits, isn't his favorite topic. Sāṅkhya, meaning "enumeration" or "counting," can feel highly analytical, almost as if it was designed for those with an engineering mindset who enjoy the intricate details of how reality is categorized. The next few sutras go deep into this theoretical framework, and while we might not explore every nuance, we'll aim to simplify the key concepts.

viśeṣāviśeṣa-liṅga-mātrāliṅgāni guṇa-parvāṇi

"The stages of transformation of the guṇas are: the specific (gross elements), the non-specific (subtle elements), the indicator-only (buddhi), and the unmanifest (prakṛti)."

Patañjali describes four stages of prakṛti (nature) that unfold in increasing levels of subtlety. First is viśeṣa, the gross, tangible objects we interact with in daily life—earth, water, fire, air, and space. Then there is aviśeṣa, the subtler elements that give rise to perception—the tanmātras, or the essence of sight, sound, taste, touch, and smell. Moving deeper, we arrive at liṅga-mātra, which refers to buddhi, the faculty of intelligence and discernment. Finally, there is aliṅga, prakṛti in its purest, unmanifested state, before differentiation occurs.

The three guṇas—sattva (clarity, wisdom), rajas (activity, movement), and tamas (inertia, darkness)—are constantly in motion, shaping everything we perceive. They drive prakṛti's transformation from the most subtle to the most tangible. Sattva governs clarity and wisdom, making it most present in buddhi. Rajas fuels movement and change, dominating the transformation of subtle and gross elements. Tamas brings inertia, showing up in our attachment to form and the material world.

Swami Satchidananda provides a useful commentary on this, explaining that Patañjali analyzes these four stages, ultimately culminating in the gross object stage. He gives the example of perceiving a flower. While we can see the flower, we can only sense its fragrance rather than "see" it directly. This illustrates the increasingly subtle levels of perception, moving from the gross to the intangible.

Recognizing these levels helps refine our awareness. By cultivating mindfulness, meditation, yoga, and prāṇāyāma, we develop a more subtle perception of our own true nature—tadā draṣṭuḥ svarūpe avasthānam (Yoga Sūtra 1.3). We begin to see that we are not just the body, the mind, or even our emotions. There is something deeper, beyond the constant flux of the guṇas.

This weekend, take a moment to notice where you are identifying. Are you caught in the material world of viśeṣa? Are you aware of the subtler forces influencing your perception? Can you access your buddhi, the discerning intelligence that brings clarity? As you go about your weekend, use your energy wisely, whether that means bringing light and awareness into your actions, harnessing movement and activity in a balanced way, or allowing yourself deep rest when needed. And finally, be the light. Peace out.

We continue seeking a small but powerful snippet of wisdom from the Yoga Sūtras.

Yoga Sūtra 2.18: prakāśa-kriyā-sthiti-śīlaṁ bhūtendriyātmakaṁ bhogāpavargārthaṁ dṛśyam

English Translation: "The seen is of the nature of illumination, activity, and inertia. It is composed of the elements and the senses, and it exists for the purpose of experience and liberation."

Patañjali reminds us that we are something greater than our thoughts, emotions, experiences—even greater than the guṇas themselves. The guṇas—sattva (clarity), rajas (activity), and tamas (inertia)—are the building blocks of the material world, constantly shifting and shaping our experiences.

Each of these qualities plays a role in our lives:

• Prakāśa (illumination) relates to sattva, bringing clarity and wisdom.

• Kriyā (activity) aligns with rajas, driving action and movement.

• Sthiti (stability) connects to tamas, providing stillness and grounding.

As Edwin Bryant explains, "Patañjali is describing the ultimate metaphysical ingredients of the Seen." These forces are always in motion, never static.

The guṇas serve two functions:

1. Bhoga – They create experiences (pleasure, learning, challenges).

2. Apavarga – They lead us toward liberation, inner freedom, and transcendence.

Whether you approach this from a spiritual perspective or not, these ideas offer a practical framework for understanding life.

For instance, if you are feeling restless, anxious, or overwhelmed, that's rajas in excess—too much action, too much stimulation. If you are feeling stuck, unmotivated, or lethargic, that's tamas dominating—heaviness and inertia. In this case, a small shift toward rajas (movement, action, motivation) will help break the stagnation.

If we step outside the spiritual lens, we can still use these ideas to navigate life effectively.

• Bhoga: What do we learn from our pleasurable experiences? Do they deepen our understanding or just keep us distracted?

• Apavarga: Where do we need to find freedom? Are the choices we're making leading toward growth or keeping us stuck?

At any moment, we have the opportunity to ask: "What is this experience, and who am I that is experiencing it?"

Try this as your own personal mental experiment—pay attention to your inner state, observe your energetic tendencies, and become mindful of what your energetic anchors are.

Be curious. Be aware. And most importantly, make these insights your own.

Yoga Sūtra 2.18

prakāśa-kriyā-sthiti-śīlaṁ bhūta-indriya-ātmakaṁ bhoga-apavarga-arthaṁ dṛśyaṁ

Translation: "The seen (dṛśya) consists of the qualities of illumination (prakāśa), activity (kriyā), and inertia (sthiti-śīla). It is composed of the elements (bhūta) and the senses (indriya), and its purpose is to provide experience (bhoga) and liberation (apavarga)."

To fully understand this sūtra, let's break down the key Sanskrit terms:

• dṛśyaṁ – "the seen," referring to everything perceived by the mind and senses

• prakāśa – "illumination," associated with sattva, the quality of clarity, wisdom, and light

• kriyā – "activity," linked to rajas, the force of movement, passion, and energy

• sthiti-śīla – "inertia," connected to tamas, the quality of heaviness, darkness, and stagnation

• bhūta – "the elements," the material world

• indriya – "the senses," our instruments of perception

• bhoga – "experience," the process of engaging with the world

• apavarga – "liberation," the ultimate goal of yoga—freedom from suffering

This verse reminds us that everything we see and experience is composed of these three guṇas—sattva (clarity), rajas (activity), and tamas (inertia). These qualities exist in us, shaping our perceptions, emotions, and actions, but they are not our true capital S Self (Puruṣa). The goal of yoga is to recognize this distinction.

A Practical Reflection for the Weekend

How can we bring light (prakāśa) into our weekend? Can we cultivate clarity and awareness in our thoughts and actions? Instead of letting the rajas (kriyā) energy pull us in a hundred directions, can we use it wisely to engage in meaningful activity?

And when tamas (sthiti-śīla) arises, can we be thankful for the rest it provides? Sometimes, stillness and deep sleep are necessary to restore balance.

Ultimately, be the light this weekend. Whatever you do, do it with awareness, gratitude, and presence. Peace out.

Yoga Sūtra 2.17 teaches us that we mistake the true Self—the capital "S" Self, or Puruṣa—for something external, rather than recognizing what resides within. We become attached to our roles, identities, and possessions, believing they define us. This confusion is at the root of suffering because anything external is subject to change, decay, or loss. True freedom comes when we recognize that our essence is beyond these shifting aspects of the world.

This idea is beautifully echoed in the Gnostic Gospel of St. Thomas, which states, "If you bring forth what is within you, what you bring forth will save you. If you do not bring forth what is within you, what you do not bring forth will destroy you." This passage suggests that self-awareness and inner exploration are not just beneficial—they are essential to our spiritual and emotional well-being. When we ignore or suppress what lies within, we create suffering for ourselves. But when we cultivate self-knowledge and allow our inner truth to emerge, we move toward liberation.

To understand what is within, we must first be still. One of the most effective ways to cultivate this stillness is through meditation. In addition to meditation, prayer can also serve as a powerful tool for inner reflection. Before you dismiss the idea, remember that prayer doesn't require belief in a deity. Sometimes, the simplest and most profound prayer is simply, "Help." A humble acknowledgment that we need support—whether from within, from others, or from the universe—can be a transformative practice.

By integrating prayer and meditation, we strengthen our inner foundation and develop resilience against the external chaos of life. Other practices that help cultivate inner awareness include journaling, which allows us to process our desires and fears, and gratitude, which shifts our focus toward what is meaningful and positive. Sharing our fears with a trusted friend, allowing ourselves to be vulnerable, can also be deeply healing.

A practice Jeff recommends is to meditate, sit in stillness, and then consciously direct the mind toward gratitude. Writing a thank-you list, and ensuring that we deeply feel appreciation for each thing on that list, can transform our perspective. Gratitude anchors us in the present moment, reminding us that there is always something to be thankful for, no matter our external circumstances.

Ultimately, our inner awareness and inner peace are the most valuable assets we can cultivate. Everything external is fleeting, but the steadiness we build within ourselves remains. By nurturing this awareness through stillness, reflection, and gratitude, we move closer to true fulfillment and freedom.

We continue our reflection on Yoga Sūtra 2.17 today. We were prepared to move on, but something kept pulling us back to take another look. There's a deep-rooted tendency within us—a misidentification of the seer (drashtṛ) with the seen (dṛśya)—that deserves more attention. In Sāṅkhya philosophy, this confusion manifests as mistaking Prakṛti (the material world, the ever-changing reality) for Puruṣa (pure consciousness, the unchanging witness within us). We struggle to recognize our capital-S Self, our deepest essence beyond the shifting roles, relationships, and experiences of life.

Yesterday, we explored the importance of being mindful of our thoughts, emotions, experiences, and attachments to status or possessions. Today, let's apply that same inquiry to our relationships. Consider the devastation of communities like those in Jasper, where wildfires have destroyed homes, leaving people not only physically displaced but mentally and emotionally shaken. In such moments, people often ask: Who am I without my home? My community? My identity as a resident of this place? The suffering is not just about the loss of material security but also about the profound disorientation that comes when we attach our sense of self to external circumstances.

Now, let's take this further. Who am I without my relationships? This is a complex but crucial question. If the quality of our relationships determines the quality of our lives, then how do we navigate love and connection without losing ourselves? Can we love without clinging to a specific outcome? Can we act in relationships from a place of authenticity rather than out of societal or familial expectations?

Understanding these dynamics takes security, self-awareness, and time spent in silence. This is why meditation, contemplation, and solitude are so important—they give us the space to untangle ourselves from these attachments. Are we acting out of conditioned expectations—from our partner, culture, or family of origin? Or are we acting from our own true nature?

A line from the movie Jerry Maguire comes to mind—when Tom Cruise's character tells Renée Zellweger's character, "You complete me." As romantic as it sounds, I don't think Patañjali would approve. If we are looking for another person to "complete" us, we are missing the essence of what it means to be whole within ourselves.

So today, take this into your workshop. Observe your relationships. Notice where you might be holding on too tightly. Reflect on how you can love fully while remaining anchored in your own Puruṣa—your unshaken, eternal Self.

We continue our exploration of Yoga Sūtra 2.17, which speaks to the root cause of suffering—misidentification with what is not our true self.

draṣṭṛ-dṛśyayoḥ saṁyogo heya-hetuḥ

English Translation: "The cause of suffering is the association (or identification) of the seer with the seen."

In essence, suffering arises because we confuse the seer (draṣṭṛ, the pure awareness, the true self) with the seen (dṛśya, all external experiences, roles, and attachments). This same teaching is echoed in Yoga Sūtra 1.3:

tadā draṣṭuḥ svarūpe'vasthānam

English Translation: "Then the seer resides in their own true nature."

This is the ultimate goal of yoga—to return to our true essence and no longer be caught up in misidentification. In Sāṅkhya philosophy, this pure awareness is called Puruṣa, the unchanging, eternal witness. Some may call it the soul, while others, like Eckhart Tolle, refer to it as "the deep I"—the awareness beneath all passing experiences.

Daily, we frequently misidentify ourselves with our jobs, relationships, emotions, and social roles. We think:

• "I am a teacher, a parent, a leader."
• "I am my achievements, my failures, my possessions."
• "I am my emotions—happy, sad, anxious, angry."

But these are not who we truly are. They are just temporary states and roles we inhabit. The deeper self remains untouched by these fluctuations.

This is why attachments play such a significant role in our suffering. When we cling to relationships, status, or material possessions, we strengthen the illusion that these external factors define us. But when they inevitably change or disappear, we experience distress.

Yesterday, we spoke about Carpe Diem—seizing the day. But we must seize it not by chasing distractions or achievements but by cultivating presence and awareness. Sri O.P. Tiwari used to say:

"Be absorbed..."

Absorbed in what? In the immediacy of the present moment, we must be fully engaged in what we are doing without distraction or attachment.

Another practical exercise is observing the labels we assign ourselves and others. We constantly define ourselves by words: parent, friend, partner, success, failure. But none of these labels capture the vastness of who we indeed are. They keep us entangled in misidentification.

This is not tadā draṣṭuḥ svarūpe'vasthānam—it is not resting in our true nature.

When we begin to detach from these identities and witness ourselves from a place of stillness, our problems start to look different. The solutions no longer come from a place of stress or ego but from clarity, peace, and deep wisdom.

And with that, we can move past them.

Yoga Sūtra 2.17: draṣṭṛ-dṛśyayoḥ saṁyogo heya-hetuḥ

English Translation: "The cause of suffering is the association of the seer with the seen."

To truly understand this sūtra, we need to break down its key Sanskrit terms. Draṣṭṛ (द्रष्टृ) means "the seer"—pure awareness, or Puruṣa, the unchanging Self. Dṛśya (दृश्य) means "the seen"—everything that is perceived, including thoughts, emotions, and experiences. Saṁyoga (संयोग) translates to "association" or "misidentification," while heya-hetuḥ (हेयहेतुः) means "the cause of suffering that must be removed."

Patañjali emphasizes a fundamental truth here: suffering arises when Puruṣa, the true Self, becomes entangled with Prakṛti, the ever-changing world of experiences. This idea connects back to Yoga Sūtra 1.3, where Patañjali states that when the fluctuations of the mind are stilled, the seer "abides in their own true nature." But when these fluctuations dominate, we become lost in identification with impermanent things.

In everyday life, this confusion is constant. We mistake ourselves for our thoughts, believing that our passing mental chatter defines us. We identify with our emotions, reacting as if they are fixed rather than transient. We define ourselves by our roles—as parents, teachers, or professionals—forgetting that these are merely aspects of our human experience, not the core of who we are. We cling to attachments, thinking our happiness or worth depends on external factors. This misidentification leads to suffering because everything we attach to is subject to change, loss, and impermanence.

A powerful practice today is to observe your "I AM..." statements. Notice how often you define yourself by temporary conditions: "I am stressed," "I am unworthy," "I am my job." These statements reveal the extent to which we confuse the seer with the seen. But the truth is, you are not your thoughts, emotions, or roles—you are the awareness that observes them.

The key to liberation is to cultivate the ability to witness experience without becoming trapped in it. This is why yoga encourages viveka (discriminative wisdom) and vairāgya (detachment), as introduced in Yoga Sūtra 1.12. By practicing meditation and self-inquiry, we begin to recognize our true nature beyond the ever-shifting waves of the mind.

As we reflect on this wisdom, we leave you with Jeff's high school motto: Carpe Diem—Seize the Day. But perhaps, in the spirit of the Yoga Sūtras, we might say: Seize the Awareness. Observe, but do not attach. Witness, but do not mistake yourself for the passing clouds of experience.