This past December 21st marked the Winter solstice. For some yoga practitioners in the West (myself included), there is a tradition of performing 108 Surya namaskar A‘s (“Sun salutations”) on the solstices. I have practiced it each solstice over the past four years. The number 108 is frequently described as “auspicious” by modern yogis. The solstices themselves are quantifiable astronomical events; however, the same cannot be said for the tradition of doing 108 Sun salutations in order to mark the occasion.
There are many reasons the ritual centers on the number 108, and they vary largely on whom you’re asking. Answers range from coincidental astronomical measurements, religious significance, the number of beads on a mala, the “number” of human emotions, numerological interpretations, and so on.
Ultimately, the common denominator is that this tradition is performed as a gesture or symbol of rebirth and gratitude. It can be performed on both the Winter and Summer solstices, signifying the shortest and longest days of the year, respectively. Truly, there is something captivating about it, and while I can entirely appreciate a good degree of mysticism, here at The Yogic Astronaut we like to as much as possible, give light to both the truth and the facts.
Contrary to popular belief, the tradition is not thousands or even hundreds of years old. Surya namaskar has its roots in Ashtanga or Mysore-style yoga. Iyengar himself frequently described Jois’s approach to vinyasa as martial, though they both had the same teacher (T. Krishnamacharya).
Modern vinyasa flow is a creative platform for yoga asana, but my opinion — and I think Maehle and Iyengar would both agree here — is that it almost allows for too much freedom. I know that’s difficult to imagine for most yogis. Like, what? Too much freedom? Never heard of her. Certainly, I view asana as an artform of the body, mind, and soul; however, I feel it’s also important to be mindful of the window it leaves for ego.
To paraphrase Maehle, when people regularly sequence their own practices they open themselves to running afoul of ego. It opens the doorway for the practitioner to believe they are both the creator and the doer. This cannot be a tenet of asana. Knowing this, a keen reader might then wonder: if that is my interpretation, then why bother practicing the 108 Sun salutations on the solstices at all?
As somebody who is partial to the lineage, ashtangis have a certain reverence for tradition. Tradition, like everything else in the universe, is not immune to the erosion of change. While 108 sun salutations is a relatively new development on the yogic timeline (less than 100 years old), I think there is a larger picture on display. The repetition of the practice is also particularly attractive to ashtangis. The goal of yoga is not to look good. It is to still the mind (raja yoga). The mind can more easily enter the meditative state when one uses repetition and rhythm as vehicles.
108 Sun salutations is a vigorous undertaking. The body warms rather quickly (tapasia), and full chaturanga is an immense ask from the physical body. The completion of the full sequence of 108 on each solstice is a reward in itself. It tests the breath and personifies willful endurance. It is a celebration of liminal movement and consciousness, wherein we devote extreme amounts of energy to witness our truest selves.
Many of the beliefs surrounding the practice are arbitrary. One can herd the doctrine of ashtangis, but the same cannot be said for “flow” vinyasa. Being open for interpretation is both a gift and curse. On the other side of the coin, having an established system and lineage which prides itself in its rigidity likewise has its benefits and pitfalls. There is no true and correct way, because at the end of the day — it’s all made up! Everything depends on how far you want to go in your beliefs and where you want to land. That is the true freedom of yoga.
The nuance is fascinating. This post alone creates room for discussion on but one small topic of an extremely minute aspect of modern yoga. We begin to observe that everything falls on a yet another spectrum. Yoga has a beautiful way of underlining the differences of, by, and between practitioners and in the uncanniest of ways, uniting them.
And there it is again, union.