What is Sādhana?

The Sanskrit term sādhana translates as “furthering, leading to a goal, self-effort, worship or spiritual discipline.” Depending on the tradition, this could mean many things, from time spent sitting on a meditation cushion to what you read, what you eat, and who you interact with. In the context of Shadow Yoga, my tradition, I’m referring to time spent on your mat, practicing what has been learned with your teacher, or what they have asked you to do for homework. 

Sādhana is another word for “personal practice,” and almost always includes physical activity such as warm-ups, standing postures, dynamic movement and seated poses, done in a particular order for a specific effect.

Unlike classroom yoga, sādhana is something you do on your own, probably at your home, apart from classes, videos, teachers and playlists, and without the distractions of pets or partners or phones. Sādhana is that time you set aside every day to connect with yourself and your tradition, to get quiet, to try out new practices and to explore your own physical, emotional and energetic landscape. How you practice and what is included in sadhana depends on the type of yoga you are practicing. 

A robust sādhana generally requires having a relationship with a teacher, since practices are transmitted from teacher to student, who then works with and assimilates them. That student eventually becomes a teacher, and the cycle continues. This is the living, breathing tradition known in yoga as gurushishyapadam.

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Gurushishyapadam (Teacher – Student Path)

The potency of a lineage tradition – one that is transmitted from teacher to student over generations – depends upon two key things: 1) the student’s humility and determination and 2) restraint on the part of the teacher. 

Humility allows a student to trust their teacher and creates the space to struggle with uncertainty. The acquiring mindset is tempered, and the student realizes that the most profound gifts of practice happen internally. A student inevitably encounters boredom and resistance as they integrate new material. For me, there is usually an uncomfortable gap between what I currently understand and what comes through a little bit of struggle and uncertainty. Determination acknowledges that it will not always be comfortable, and helps us move through those rough patches without being derailed.

The teacher, in turn, must have both the knowledge and the discipline to give (teach) what the student needs, no more and no less. A good teacher has moved beyond the need for validation from students and will hold back what the student is not yet ready for. Over time, this relationship supports the discovery of subtle principles in the body that can only be pointed to, not taught. Intellectual understanding may be a starting point but it is fortitude that will carry the practitioner from the familiar to the unknown. Like any living, breathing relationship, one’s sādhana flourishes when given time, space and mental resources.

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My Journey & Experience With Sadhana

Fortunately, I was brought up by a teacher who insisted on personal practice as part of my training. We (students) were expected to work with classroom material at home, and it was assumed that we would struggle to recreate postures and gain a personal understanding of their benefits. 

We had texts available, such as Light on Yoga, but nothing was recorded, photographed or made available in written form. Our memories were imperfect, and we had to fumble through the process of learning and forgetting. The incentive to practice was strong because I didn’t want to let my teacher down or hold my classmates back. 

Initially, accountability felt like an external force imposed on me. Over time, however, I began to see the value in taking ownership of what I had been given. I didn’t want to waste the lessons imparted to me; doing so felt like letting myself down. It wasn’t about performing flawlessly or remembering every detail, but if I couldn’t at least make an attempt to apply what I’d learned, both my effort and that of my teacher would be wasted. This realization marked a turning point in my journey—where I embraced responsibility for my practice. I learned to navigate the oscillation between likes and dislikes, gradually transforming intellectual understanding into personal, lived experience. 

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Benefits of Sādhana

This process might seem rigid, unnecessary, or even outdated in the era of online classes and courses. With so many options readily available, it’s fair to wonder, 'Why bother practicing on my own and struggling to remember what was taught when I can just take a class every day?' While the benefits of sādhana have been discussed extensively elsewhere (you could even ask ChatGPT about it), I want to bring the conversation closer to home by sharing a few of the benefits I’ve personally experienced.

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1. Connection to Self

First and foremost, sādhana has put me in direct contact with myself, for better or worse. Just because I’m sitting on my mat doesn’t mean the impatience, worry and mental jumpiness that accompanies me elsewhere in life disappears. Without the distractions of music or a teacher to pay attention to, I become more aware of preferences and judgments. I notice when I gravitate toward poses that feel familiar and congratulatory, while avoiding the ones I struggle with. I notice when I’m hard on myself, or where I cut myself more slack than is really warranted. 

Consistent practice also reveals resistance, defensiveness and rationalization that the mind generates to avoid discomfort (e.g. you’re tired, you don’t really need to practice this morning). It’s an example of the ego manufacturing a dilemma to sustain itself, perpetuating the illusion that the easy choice will resolve internal conflict.

Showing up day after day has also taught me to be more accepting, more patient and more sensitive with myself, and probably with others. If I’m stressed out or exhausted, I adjust the practice rather than skipping it or just barreling through to check it off my list, and I can respond in real-time to the body’s feedback. 

Sādhana also teaches us to accept where we are, and to see the futility (and temptation) of wishing it were different. If we stick to the program, the mind gets tired of kicking up resistance and accepts the situation (you can protest all you want, but we are getting our a** out of bed and doing this). With the acceptance comes a mental settling and we’re given access to the underground, where qualities of compassion, neutrality and insight emerge. Like putting on scuba gear and diving beneath the whitecaps, it’s a whole different world down there.

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2. Intellectual Understanding vs. Lived Experience

How does knowledge become wisdom? Through lived experience. We can read books, watch videos, even participate in a well-constructed yoga class and still perceive the world through intellect. Sādhana expands intellectual concepts into three dimensions . . . into the body, the mind and the spirit. For example, if I tell you that relaxing the inner corners of the eyes will help you feel more grounded, it might make sense to you conceptually. If I construct this experience in the classroom, repeatedly cueing the action and its impact, you will have a personal experience. But if you take that experience home and practice it on your own, in various standing, moving and seated postures, you have now cultivated a piece of internal wisdom that belongs to you and can never be taken away. 

The more you work with this principle, the more deeply you understand it, and the more it becomes a part of you. Soon you have no memory of not having known it, and then it is truly yours. Teachers need a consistent sādhana for this very reason, as it is impossible to guide another through something you have no connection with yourself.

3. Connection to Lineage, Teachers, Teachings

Long before there were group exercise classes, students worked individually with teachers, taking away material to work with over weeks or months. The teacher knew the student and ‘assigned’ particular postures or sequences, and there was a natural rhythm of guidance and feedback. This process deepened trust and respect between teacher and student, and kept lineage teachings alive.

The goal is not for teachings to remain rigid and unchanged, but for each new generation of teachers to put in the effort required to deeply understand the science of the system they are studying. Layers of awareness and knowledge are revealed as the student explores on their own, so that a single hour spent with the teacher can translate into hours of investigation. In this spirit, sādhana keeps us connected to our teachers and to generational wisdom.  

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4. Discipline, Mental Clarity

The transition from practicing yoga in a classroom to practicing yoga on your own might be uncomfortable at first. It’s just easier when someone is guiding you through every posture, every breath, and every transition. The mind resists change, and inevitably throws a few banana peels in our well-intentioned path. 

For example, you might make it to the mat, but then notice you need to clip your toenails. Or you get partway through your sequence and suddenly need a sip of water, then notice dirty dishes in the sink . . . and pretty soon it’s time to take the kids to school. This is normal, this is to be expected, and this is EXACTLY the jumpy mind we want to confront. Noticing this stuff is a sign that we’ve made contact with the ego, the part of the mind that generates dilemmas to keep itself relevant (not to be confused with the ego we find in Freud’s theory of personality).

The ego will tell you that you forgot to turn the stove off when you know very well that you did not, or spin a story that someone doesn’t like you when they don’t return a text. The ego will add commentary until we start doubting ourselves and potentially retreating from something we know is good for us. Sādhana shines a light on the ego and shows it for the negative, problem-generating machine that it is, thus giving us a chance to squeeze out from under its influence. 

The higher mind is sharpened through the process of seeing what is really happening in there, and the inner light (known in the Yoga Sutras as viveka) of discernment becomes accessible. None of this would be possible if we hadn’t placed ourselves outside our comfort zone and come into contact with the ego in the first place. Sādhana harnesses the power of the mind to increase our capacity for discomfort, until eventually the uncomfortable thing barely even registers.

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5. Connection to Life Force

In the Hatha Yoga Pradipika, Svātmārāma says, “Hatha Yoga is the greatest secret of the yogis who wish to attain perfection (siddhi). Indeed, to be fruitful, it must be kept secret; revealed it becomes powerless,” 1.11. 

Svātmārāma is saying that yoga is revealed slowly, in private, as we move beyond attachment to the material world. He’s implying that the deepest benefits of yoga are intimate, maybe even invisible to an outside observer. Teachers can offer guidance, texts can provide context and – in the modern era – group classes can buoy the spirit. But Svātmārāma implies that a unique depth of experience is revealed to one who practices in secret, away from group support or accolades. He’s describing an independent process. He’s describing sādhana.

Sādhana shows us how we handle moments of tedium, boredom and hopelessness, and illuminates the near-constant activity of the mind as it jumps from object to object. With the distractions of a classroom, the movement is less noticeable but when you’re on your mat by yourself, there’s no place to fade into anonymity, no place to get swept up in the energy of a classroom. 

It must be the same with any traditional craft like pottery or woodworking or musical composition or poetry. We may learn in a group setting or receive guidance from a mentor, but eventually we just have to do the work, to face the empty canvas or the blank page. Raw, gritty faith comes from sitting at the wheel or the workbench by ourselves . . . or sitting on the yoga mat waiting, drumming our fingers, fighting distraction. 

If inspiration is elusive or the mind draws a blank, we might just go through the motions or force what Annie Dillard calls a “shitty first draft,” (Bird by Bird, 1995). Instead of jumping off the mat to something more enjoyable, we stand in tadāsāna or curl into child’s pose until we can think of something else to do. Staying in the experience is what’s important, overcoming the desire to exit discomfort. The poses, the sequences, the memory will be fortified with time, and there will be fewer and fewer moments of irritation.

Sādhana is where we harness our own life force. And as magical and powerful as that sounds, it’s done in a pretty ordinary way. We may feel more freedom in our joints, or less jumpiness in the mind. If we’ve been exposed to subtle anatomy, those connections may come alive within us. But these little adjustments cannot be scheduled or purchased, and without humility they will elude us. Sādhana creates the conditions for insight to arise, but grace is the mechanism by which they do so. As my teacher used to say: “you just have to get your ass to the bus stop, in case it comes by while you’re there.”

Interested in getting started with a personal sādhana? If you’re in the Bend area, try Shadow Yoga I for beginners. If you’d like online support, consider our weekly Sadhana Support class on Wednesdays. All classes are taught in the tradition of Shadow Yoga as imparted by Sundernath and Emma Balnaves.

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