Yesterday, we looked at Yoga Sutra 1.33 and the four keys: Maitrī — friendliness Karuṇā — compassion Muditā — joy Upekṣā — equanimity Easy, right? Of course, I’m friendly. Of course, I'm compassionate. Of course, I can experience joy. Of course, I’m able to show equanimity. But… if we took a scope to our daily lives, are these the keys we use for living? Or are we doing this: Meeting someone’s happiness with jealousy. Someone’s Pain or suffering with impatience. Goodness with distrust, or negativity with anger or annoyance. Think about the last few days. Where could you have used a better key? Free-write for five minutes, without judgment. Which key did you use?

Yesterday, I posted the sequence of words we’ve been carrying in the Christ-in-Kundalini Classroom. Ahimsa. Satya. Asteya. Brahmacharya. Aparigraha. Vairagya. Smṛti. Pratipaksha Bhavanam. Srotas. And I asked which affirmation was unlocking something in you. Today, I want to stay with that word: unlocking. In Yoga Sutra 1.33, we are given what many teachers call the four locks and four keys. The sutra names four ways we meet the world: happiness, suffering, goodness, and harm. And it gives us four keys: Maitrī — friendliness or loving-kindness Karuṇā — compassion Muditā — joy or gladness Upekṣā — equanimity These are not ideas to admire from a distance. They’re ways to meet what rises in the body. When someone else is happy, can I meet that happiness with friendliness? When someone is suffering, can I meet that suffering with compassion? When I see goodness, can I let myself feel joy? When I encounter harm, confusion, or behavior I do not understand, can I practice steadiness instead of letting it take over my whole body? Which key do you need right now? Vote below, then tell us what it might unlock in you. PS: Forgiveness is another key. If you want to explore this further, my series ForGiveNess: Acts of Joyful Giving continues tomorrow with a focus on the element of fire. Here we ask: how do we transform what fires within us into creative, loving acts? Check out the Classroom for options, or DM me. I’d love to see you! What key do you need right now?

I’ve been looking back at the words we’ve been carrying in the Christ-in-Kundalini Classroom. Ahimsa. Satya. Asteya. Brahmacharya. Aparigraha. Vairagya. Smṛti. Pratipaksha Bhavanam. Srotas. They’re Sanskrit words, yes. They’re teachings from the Yoga Sutras and the wider yogic tradition. But we’re not learning them to collect definitions. We’re letting them ask something of the body. Take a look at how the word turns. So far, this is the movement: Ahimsa (non-harming) becomes: I am worthy of my own love. Satya (truthfulness) becomes: I am willing to see what is true. Asteya (non-stealing) becomes: I have enough. I am enough. Brahmacharya (right use of energy) becomes: My energy is sacred. Aparigraha (non-grasping) becomes: I am in need of nothing. No thing. Vairagya (non-attachment) becomes: I notice what pulls me. Smṛti (remembrance) becomes: I remember what’s sacred in me. Pratipaksha Bhavanam (cultivating the opposite) becomes: I turn toward what restores me. Srotas (channels) becomes: I clear the channels within me. Here in Skool, your activity helps unlock some of the free material inside the Classroom. But these words can also unlock something in you. Let them. Free-write. Respond to a post. Answer a poll. Start below. Choose the line that’s meeting you today. Then tell us why in the comments, or write your own affirmation from the word that chose you.

“Awareness is like the sun. When it shines on things, they are transformed.” — Thich Nhat Hanh But sometimes the sun is blinding, isn’t it? We can’t look at it directly, though we may want to. And when we try, we look quickly away. Awareness can hurt. It can be too much to observe ourselves and the world around us. There are truths the body needs to approach slowly or through something that helps us see. Like special glasses to observe an eclipse. When I re-read Hanh’s quote, I replace the word sun with Son and something else is illuminated for me. The light is different. I'm not outside of myself. I'm inside the sun. Write three lines.

when everything around you is stirred? There’s a story in the Gospel about Jesus and the apostles in a boat in the middle of a raging sea. His followers are panicking. Jesus is sleeping. He’s still, inspite of what is thundering around him. The mind is that sea. It roils and rises, stirring up all the gook on its bottom. Rife with sharks and scary things. One thought catches another and before long our whole world is churning. How does one stay still within its midst? Yoga Sutra 1.2 has an idea. Yogaś citta-vṛtti-nirodhaḥ This sutra is often translated as: Yoga is the stilling of the fluctuations of the mind. But “yoga” is not forcing the mind to be empty. It’s noticing what is moving and returning to the deeper presence beneath it. Be still and know that I am. Jesus wakes and says to the storm, Peace, be still. And it stills. But for us, the practice begins before we can say anything to the storm. It begins in noticing whether we have become it. It begins with awareness, with self-study, and with daily practice. Jesus modeled how to meet the storm. He fasted. He prayed. He held space for others. Through his service—what in yogic philosophy we might call Bhakti—he brought people back to a deeper understanding of what life could be. He brought them to that still point. Peace. A place in us. Not something we force. The Sutra and the Gospel meet in lived experience: when we stop feeding every thought wave, we can remember the deeper water beneath it. Just for today, when the mind begins to churn, I can pause. I can say quietly: Peace, be still. Where are you right now?