This poem is inspired by Yoga Sutra 1.
14 where Patanjali reminds us that practice becomes firmly grounded through time,
Continuity and sincere devotion.
It is not the intensity of one moment that transforms us.
But the willingness to keep the turning,
To stay with what matters and to let the practice slowly become part of who we are.
As you listen.
Allow the words to remind you that lasting change is often quiet,
Gradual and deeply rooted.
This is a poem about staying with the path.
And this poem is titled,
The Dudes Beneath the Practice.
You may not see the roots while they are growing.
The earth keeps its quiet work beneath the surface.
A seed does not become a tree because you urge it forward.
It becomes a tree because you return with water again and again and again.
Some days there is sunlight,
Some days there is rain,
Some days the soil looks unchanged.
Still,
Something is happening where the eye cannot measure.
This is how practice deepens,
Not always through revelation,
Not always through intensity,
Sometimes through the ordinary grace of showing up.
A breath each morning.
A pause before speaking.
A page written,
A body gently moved,
A moment of remembering small things repeated.
Until the path beneath your feet begins to feel familiar.
Until the breath finds you before you begin to look.
Until the pause appears before the old reaction.
Until awareness becomes less like a place you visit.
And more like ground you know how to stand on.
Do not mistake slowness for failure.
Do not dig up the seed each morning to ask why it has not become a forest.
Some growth needs darkness.
Some strength is formed where no one can applaud it.
Some roots deepen long before the branches appear.
So stay with what matters,
Not with clenched hands,
Not with fear that missing one day has destroyed the path.
The dawn.
Keep the trade alive!
Let devotion be gentler than obligation.
Let discipline become care.
Let the practice say,
I am here because this matters.
And when motivation leaves,
Do not confuse its absence with the absence of meaning.
The tree does not ask whether it feels inspired to the main root.
It simply deceives the rain,
Turns toward the light and glows.
Didga Kala.
Give it time.
NAYANANTADIYA!
Keep the turning.
Satkara.
Bring your heart.
And slowly.
Quietly.
What once felt fragile becomes firm.
What once required remembering becomes familiar.
What once felt like effort begins to feel like home.
Satu Durgakala Nainantarya Satkara Savitho Draddha Bhoomi Stay long enough.
They turn off and on.
Care deeply enough.
And let the roots become the ground beneath your life.
Namaste.
