kūrma-nāḍyām sthairyam

“[From saṁyama] on the tortoise channel, steadiness.”

In III.32, Patañjali describes a channel (nāḍi), named after the turtle or tortoise (kūrma), that is related to breath, to posture, and to the emotions. Contemplation on this channel, says Patañjali, brings steadiness.

B.K.S Iyengar describes the kūrma-nāḍi as starting below the throat and traveling to the tailbone. In the Core of the Yoga Sūtras, he calls it “the nervous system of the alimentary canal,” and he says it corresponds to the first cakra, the muladhāra  (“root”). Commentators differ on how they locate the  channel, and while I have relied on B.K.S. Iyengar’s exploration in understanding it, it is valuable too to consider the various symbolic meanings and the shape, aspects, being, of the tortoise.

In Hindu mythology, the world sits on the back of a tortoise that swims in the ocean of existence. The image is reflected in other cultures as well. Here, in North America, we live on Turtle Island, the name the Ojibwa and other First Nations people call the land. The tortoise (all tortoises are turtles but not all turtles are tortoises) symbolizes earth, endurance, sustenance, healing, truth. In the context of yoga practice, the tortoise’s ability to withdraw its limbs, its head and tail, into its shell, correlates with the fifth limb of yoga–pratyāhāra, withdrawal of the senses. In the Tree of Yoga (pp. 115-16), B.K.S. Iyengar invokes a tale from the Purāṇas to describe the role of the diaphragm in the breath of the body. There is a war between the angels and demons, the story goes, and Lord Viṣṇu incarnates as a turtle to support the churning of the oceans. The diaphragm is like the turtle, says Mr. Iyengar, supporting the inhalation and exhalation, supporting the lungs, the lift of the chest, the frame of the thoracic spine. (Jaganath Carrera also refers to this story in his commentary, see below.)

In my own contemplation, I track the kūrma-nāḍi inwardly, from below my throat down the front of my spine to the tailbone and the first cakra, which connects to earth. I feel the shape of the tortoise in the curves of my spine, and I know the spine itself to be like a shell, the support of bone, structure. I lengthen the tailbone down and lift my side ribs up. Energy ripples along the channel. I feel the roundness of the diaphragm, 360 degrees,  rimming the lower rib cage, touching front, sides, back. Its long tendrils extend down the sides of the spine, intersplicing with the psoas muscle fibers. I connect down to the root of my seat, and from the earth, a rebound current moves up. Is there a place I fall, push forward or back–do I squeeze or collapse that current? I seek to find the openness of the front body, the broadness of the back, without shortening or hardening.

There is a Somatics awareness practice (as taught by adrienne marie brown, see her website here) that takes one through the three axes of space, feeling length from our head to feet and naming that our dignity, stretching width-wise from arm to arm and identifying that as our connection to others, taking our attention to the space behind us and to the people who came before, to the space in front and to those who will come after.

I like this centering meditation because it places me in myself but also in relation to the world around me, and that means to my responsibilities too. My stability, my welfare, must be related to those beside me, those who came before and who will come after.

For two years, I have taken on a role of political leadership (I am the chair of a local political party). I don’t know that I fit this role especially well, or that the role fits me, particularly because politics seems nonstop, emergency cascading on emergency. Where is the time for pratyāhāra? Our politics operates like competitions rather than collaborations, and seem to be driven by the worst aspects of ourselves, demand for money first and numbers second. Every political action demands numbers–more is better.

In this context, I have felt supported to hear of Tricia Hersey’s Nap Ministry and to learn from her book Rest Is Resistance: a Manifesto. She draws an explicit line from our economic system to our drive toward busyness. She draws upon her experience of community care in the Black church, is influenced by lessons of the Black liberation movement, and forms her values from Womanism. She articulates the price that our capitalist, white-supremacist culture demands. Her manifesto is that rest is resistance to that system.

At its root, capitalism in the United States was slavery; it was founded on treating human beings as machines. The culture of American capitalism–called by Hersey “grind culture”–has grown out of that. Hersey describes how hard her parents worked, at multiple jobs, and how she was raised to attempt to always do more, be more. She locates in her ministry today the importance of Enough.

In the work I am doing, I am hearing, ringing in my ears, knocking on my heart, Not Enough, Not Enough. More is needed. For a period, I was in a heavy, chronic depression and my sleep had become fragmented and sketchy. I have had to develop patience and humility about my abilities and capacity.

For the group that I lead, I have had visions of the progress we might make, how we might connect with each other more, engage better, in a local way, in the big choices of government. I have come face to face with how limited people’s energy and time are, with the jobs that pay the rent and put food on the table, the children or parents to be cared for, the main necessity. Volunteers often apologize to me when they say they need to drop back or drop out, that their life demands it. I have repeatedly said, of course, respect that. I know that what Barbara Hersey is teaching is right. Doing demands not-doing. It demands down-time. It demands dreaming.

The tortoise arrives and says, Look, I am swimming in the most difficult of waters. There is earth here for you. Abide. Ground yourself. Regulate your emotions. Rest.

Let our rest be a resurrection. Let the veils be lifted so we can feel, see, taste, and smell the power of our rested selves. May we realize a full mental shift must be made to reimagine and reclaim rest as holy. May we be excited by the impossible and move through any cynicism or hopelessness to emerge on the other side steady with love, persistence, and hope. Rest can save, sustain, and prop us up when we feel weak and our backs are against the wall. Our greatest hope to thrive and disrupt is to rest deeply and intentionally. The rest is the work. It is how the portal for liberation and a reckoning will emerge and remain open. May the portal of rest be our refuge. May we go there often. — Tricia Hersey, Rest Is Resistance: A Manifesto, p. 88

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“The nervous system of the alimentary canal (kūrma-nāḍi) controls it from the throat to the anus. It is kept clean through āsanas and prāṇāyāmas so that the faculties of hearing, touch, vision, taste and smell remain healthy and able to experience the faculty of spiritual perception without hindrance.” –B.K.S. Iyengar, Core of the Yoga Sūtras, p. 153

“The tortoise channel is a subtle energy duct, assimilated with acupuncture meridians, that covers the front part of the trunk at the level of the sternum. This zone symbolizes courage in the face of adversity. Straightening the posture enables us to face aggression and difficulties. Emotion and fear, likely to show in the chest, give way to strength, energy, and stability through mental discipline or the practice of backward postures (opening postures).” –Bernard Bouanchaud, The Essence of Yoga, p. 184

“A tortoise is able to withdraw its head and limbs into a protective shell, just as a yogi is able to withdraw the senses from day-to-day concerns, allowing the mind to become still and quiet and preparing it for meditative practices. In the mythology of India, the world was said to be supported on the back of a cosmic tortoise as it swam through the universe. The tortoise would be understood to represent a powerful, steady foundation. There is a story of Lord Viṣṇu, who incarnated as a tortoise to support Mount Mandara, which was needed by the celestial beings to stir up the ocean of life in order to recover the nectar of immortality. The ocean represents the citta that is churned by the practice of meditation. The Lord’s incarnation as a tortoise represents the Divine as unyielding support. The nectar stands for Self-realization.” –The Reverend Jaganath Carrera, Inside the Yoga Sūtras, commentary on III.32

Questions:
• Does your practice bring you steadiness? In what ways?
• How does support of the body affect support of the emotions? The lift of the chest? Length of the spine? What effect comes from forward bends for you? Standing poses? Backbends? How do you experience the kūrma-nāḍi ?
• Do you deliberately build rest into your life? What form of rest is key for you?
• Are you able to turn toward inner resources in times of trouble? Are there times when it is important to “come out of the shell” and ask for help?