What Is Yoga? Reflections on My Mother, the Mind, and the Sutras

This past weekend, I visited my mother, who is living with dementia.

If you’ve ever sat beside someone you love as they navigate cognitive decline, you know how tender, disorienting, and heartbreaking it can be. As I sat with her, I watched her mind wander — sometimes looping in the same confused questions, sometimes anxious, sometimes angry, or drifting far away.

I felt sadness and uncertainty rise in me.

I wished, more than anything, that I could offer her the tools I know from yoga. I wanted to whisper to her, “Mom, you are not your thoughts.”

But of course, that isn’t something you can just tell someone, especially when they are deep in the waves of mental illness. So instead, I sat with her. I held space for her — and, just as importantly, I held space for myself: for my own grief, my own sadness, my own worry witnessing her suffering.

In the days since returning home, I’ve been reflecting deeply on what yoga truly is.

Yoga Is More Than the Poses

Many people associate yoga with movement — the physical asanas we practice on the mat. And yes, the poses are beautiful and powerful. But the heart of yoga is not found in touching your toes or balancing in a handstand.

Yoga, as defined by the great sage Patanjali in the Yoga Sutras, is this:

Yoga is the stilling of the fluctuations of the mind.
Yogaś citta-vṛtti-nirodhaḥ

Our minds are busy places. Even when we’re not dealing with illness, grief, or stress, the mind chatters away: worrying about the future, replaying the past, judging, evaluating, planning. Add in life’s real heartbreaks — watching a loved one lose their cognitive capacities, for example — and the mind can become a storm.

But yoga teaches us something profound: we are not our thoughts. We are the ever-present witness, the quiet, observing awareness beneath all the mental noise. Yoga invites us to practice connecting to that witness consciousness — to rest in the part of ourselves that does not rise and fall with every passing thought or emotion.

How I’m Practicing Right Now

Since coming home, I’ve noticed how stirred up my own mind has been. Worries, concerns, grief — they’ve been swirling inside me. And I’ve found it hard to stay in my body, hard to feel grounded.

So, I’ve been returning to the most basic, nourishing practices I know including supported child’s pose, supported forward bends, legs up the wall and savasana. These gentle shapes help calm my nervous system, soften the edges of my agitation, and remind me that it’s safe to settle.

I’m also practicing compassion. Compassion for myself, as I navigate difficult feelings. Compassion for my family, who are all doing their best in a hard situation. Compassion for the parts of my mind that want to latch onto blame and fear.

And perhaps most importantly, I’m practicing forgiveness — forgiving myself when I feel overwhelmed, when I can’t fix anything, when I forget (again and again) that I am more than my thoughts.

An Invitation for You

If you’re reading this, I invite you to pause for a moment and reflect:

• Where in your life are you caught in mental fluctuations?
  
• Can you gently remind yourself that you are not your thoughts?
  
• Can you offer yourself compassion, right here, right now?
  
• Can you bring your body into a simple, supported pose — even for just a few minutes — to help calm your mind?
  

Yoga is a profound gift. It’s not just something we do on the mat — it’s a way of living, a practice of coming home to ourselves again and again.

This week, I encourage you to explore yoga not just as movement, but as a way to quiet the storms of the mind, to soften into compassion, and to remember the quiet, steady presence that you are.

If you want, feel free to share with me: How are you practicing being more than your thoughts this week? I’d love to hear.

With love and tenderness, JennTara