Yoga Is the Quieting of the Mind
Let’s start at the beginning. The very first definition of yoga given in The Yoga Sutras of Patanjali is this:
“Yogaś citta vṛtti nirodhaḥ.”
Yoga is the stilling of the fluctuations of the mind.
Sounds poetic. Sounds lofty. But what does it actually mean when we’re trying to live our real, messy, overstimulated lives?
Yogaś
From yuj — “to yoke, to unite, to join.”
Here it means “Yoga is…” (the subject of the sentence).
So, the sutra is telling us: what yoga actually is, not just what we do on the mat.
Citta
Literally “mind-stuff.”
Not just thoughts, but the whole field of consciousness:
Manas (the sensory mind: input, impressions, distractions)
Ahaṅkāra (the ego: “I, me, mine”)
Buddhi (intellect, discrimination, discernment)
Together, citta is your mind-heart field: the place where you perceive, interpret, and identify with experience.
Vṛtti
Means “fluctuations,” “movements,” or “modifications.”
Think ripples on the surface of a lake. These are the waves of thought, memory, worry, imagination, judgment, etc.
The vṛttis aren’t “bad” - they just obscure clarity when they dominate.
Nirodhaḥ
Means “stilling,” “quieting,” or “restraining.”
Not forcefully suppressing, but allowing the waves to settle naturally.
Imagine mud swirling in water: if you stop shaking the glass, the sediment falls, and the water becomes clear. That’s nirodhaḥ.
Put it all together:
“Yoga is the stilling of the fluctuations of the mind.”
When the ripples of thought calm, we can see clearly. We remember who we are beyond the constant chatter - pure awareness, steady and unchanging.
The Monkey Mind
If you’ve ever sat down to meditate-or even just sat down-you’ve likely met your monkey mind. Jumping from thought to thought, memory to plan, craving to worry. It never shuts up. The “vṛttis” Patanjali speaks of are exactly this: the whirlpools of thought that keep us spinning in circles.
Yoga says we don’t have to live trapped in the spin cycle. The practice is learning to pause, to soften the swirl, to touch the quiet underneath.
Not Getting Rid of Thoughts
Here’s the catch: Patanjali doesn’t mean delete your mind (good luck with that). He’s pointing to something subtler: the ability to notice thoughts without being pulled under by them.
Think of it like this:
The waves are the vṛttis.
The ocean is your mind.
Yoga is remembering you are the whole ocean - not just the surface chop.
Everyday Practice
Where does this show up outside the mat? Pretty much everywhere:
In traffic: instead of narrating the world’s worst rant in your head, you breathe and let it pass.
In relationships: instead of reacting from the first hot spark of anger, you pause and choose a kinder word.
In your body: instead of obsessing over what a pose “should” look like, you feel what’s true for you in that moment.
Each time we step out of the spin cycle, even for a breath, that’s yoga.
The Practice Is the Path
This sutra is the compass. Every posture, every breath technique, every mantra-it’s all in service of this: quieting the turbulence so we can glimpse the still lake underneath.
And the stillness isn’t empty. It’s spacious. Alive. Full of the peace we spend most of our lives chasing in all the wrong places.
So maybe next time your brain feels like a fairground ride you can’t get off, remember Patanjali’s reminder:
Yoga is not about twisting yourself into a pretzel.
Yoga is the art of remembering: you are more than your thoughts.
You are the quiet that holds it all.
Listen to: Sit around the fire, by Jon Hopkins, Ram Dass, East Forest
Recommended read: The Chimp Paradox, by Prof Steve Peters