Saraswatī: From River to Goddess of Wisdom in Yoga

Saraswatī, the luminous goddess of wisdom, speech, and the arts, is one of the most revered figures in Indian thought and yoga philosophy. Her story flows across history, beginning not as a goddess but as a great river that nourished one of the world’s earliest civilisations.

Saraswatī’s Roots in the Indus Valley

Long before she appeared in Vedic hymns, Saraswatī was the name of a mighty river that flowed through the Indus Valley during the mid-Bronze Age. This river was a life-giving force, sustaining communities with fertile land, abundant crops, and water for daily life. Once basic needs were met, people turned their attention to storytelling, music, dance, and the beginnings of sacred scripture. Along the banks of the Saraswatī, creativity and culture blossomed. It is in this fertile landscape, where survival gave way to expression, that the river herself began to be felt as a presence. Over time, she was imagined as Saraswatī, the flowing goddess of knowledge, inspiration, and artistic expression. Thus, what was once water in motion became wisdom in motion: the sacred stream of learning and creativity that still nourishes seekers today.

Saraswatī in Yoga Philosophy

In yoga, Saraswatī is more than a mythic figure; she is the embodiment of subtle qualities that practitioners can cultivate. Her symbols, such as the vīṇā (instrument of harmony), the mālā (rosary of meditation), and the haṃsa (swan of discernment), reveal the yogic path of clarity, creativity, and truth. She also lives in the subtle body through the Saraswatī Nāḍī, a channel said to carry gut sensation upward into intuition and truthful expression.

3 Ways Saraswatī Lives in Yoga Today:

For modern practitioners, Saraswatī offers timeless lessons. Here are three key takeaways:

1. Clarity of Speech and Thought (Vāk-Siddhi)
   Through mantra chanting: especially Oṃ Aiṃ Sarasvatyai Namaḥ—we refine our speech and bring awareness to the power of words.
2. The Flow of Intuition
   By awakening channels such as the Saraswatī Nāḍī, we transform instinct into intuition, and intuition into clear communication from the heart (anāhata cakra) and throat (viśuddha cakra).
3. Creativity as Yoga
   Whether through music, poetry, dance, or mindful teaching, creativity itself can be an offering of yoga. As an expression of inner wisdom flowing outward, just as the river once flowed through the Indus Valley.

Reflections..

From river to goddess, from ancient civilisation to today’s yoga mat, Saraswatī remains a symbol of wisdom that flows, inspires, and renews. By honouring her, practitioners reconnect not only with a goddess of knowledge but with the timeless stream of creativity and truth that runs through all of us.

- The picture was taken by me at the 'Ancient India: Living Traditions' Exhibition at the British Museum, August 2025.

How the Golgi Tendon Organ Supports Your Yoga Practice

August often arrives like a deep, contented sigh. The days are long and warm, the first harvest fills our plates with abundance, and the pace of life softens just a little. Nature seems to whisper, ease is here for you.

In yoga, we can look for that same ease in the body, not as something we have to earn through effort, but as a state we are inherently allowed to rest into. Ease is not a prize; it’s our birthright: we are here to enjoy life after all. One fascinating part of our anatomy, the Golgi tendon organ, can help us understand how the body naturally moves toward that ease when we give it the right conditions.

What is the Golgi Tendon Organ?
The Golgi tendon organ (GTO) is a tiny sensory receptor found where muscle fibres meet tendons. Think of it as your body’s built-in tension gauge. It’s constantly monitoring how much force is passing through the muscle.
When tension rises too high, the GTO sends a message to the nervous system: time to let go. This triggers a reflex that helps the muscle release, preventing injury and encouraging relaxation.

Why This Matters in Yoga..
In yoga, we often think about stretching to increase flexibility. But sometimes, it’s not about folding further, it’s about teaching the body it’s safe enough to release. That’s where the Golgi tendon organ comes in.
When we use gentle resistance in movement, such as working with a resistance band in a posture, we activate our muscles fully. This heightened engagement gives the GTO something to “read,” and when we then release the band and repeat the movement, the GTO helps us experience a natural sense of space and softness in the body.

In this week’s classes, we played with exactly that:

• Pulling against resistance in poses
• Feeling the strength and engagement in the muscles
• Then, removing the resistance and noticing the effortless expansion that followed

It wasn’t about “earning” the ease. It was about feeling the contrast and letting the body’s own wisdom offer that release.

Take this teaching off the mat and bring sase into your life..

You don’t need a resistance band to experience the benefits of the Golgi tendon organ in your day-to-day. Here are a few ways to explore it:

1. Mindful Engagement Before Release: Try wrinkling up your face after a meeting at work/any time of intense focus, or even before bed. Scrunch your nose, tightly shut your eyes, lift your shoulders to your ears as you inhale - then, with your exhale, relax it all. I like to add an audible sigh to this, too!
2. Move a Second or Two Slower Through Life: This may seem inefficient in the moment, but I promise it's not. The next time you're holding a heavy bag, hold it for 1-2 more seconds, place it down more slowly, and notice the immediate aftereffects of that release. Feel it on the surface level, but then feel it a bit deeper too.
3. Trust the Body’s Wisdom: The GTO is always working for you, finding the balance between strength and ease. You don’t need to “convince” it, simply create the conditions and listen. The next time you're waiting for something or someone, take a moment to check your posture. Is your skeleton just holding you up, like a beautiful flesh suit draped over bones? Or could you activate your glutes a little, maybe breathe length up through your spine, or even take a slower exhale with abdominal activation?

Ease as a Daily Companion
This August, with the warmth on your skin and the abundance of the season around you, let the Golgi tendon organ be a reminder that ease isn’t something to strive for; it’s built into your biology. Just as the earth gives generously this time of year without asking us to earn it, your body has mechanisms to help you soften, expand, and rest.

All we have to do is notice them and give them a chance to work.

A Whisper Between Worlds
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She sits, small and radiant, carved delicately from ivory, a figure of grace and mystery, poised between gesture and stillness. Her hips curve with abundance, her jewellery sings of distant lands, her presence emanates something both deeply familiar and wholly enigmatic.
She has been called Lakṣmī, goddess of wealth, beauty, and auspiciousness: lotus-born, ocean-churned, beloved consort of Viṣṇu. Yet scholars now suggest she may be a Yakṣī, a spirit of fertility, sensuous and wild, rooted not in divine hierarchy but in the flowering forest, in tree and fruit, in fecund soil.
And perhaps both are true. Or neither entirely. What matters is not the name but the essence, the sacred feminine crossing oceans, crossing forms.
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She did not arrive by conquest. She sailed, perhaps among pepper and pearls, tucked into silk beside saffron strands, carried by the rhythmic pulse of ancient trade. From the ports of India’s southeastern coast, she may have moved westward, cradled in the hull of a Roman ship, bound not for war but for wonder.
In one land, she was Lakṣmī, born of the cosmic ocean, bearer of fortune. In another, she may have been seen as Venus, born of sea-foam and longing, goddess of love and life. Their myths mirror each other like moonlight across distant waters.

Both born of sacred seas.
Both givers of beauty and desire.
Both worshipped through the body and the breath.

In her, these stories braid together. She becomes a thread, a bridge, a breath. She is not merely an object unearthed or a mystery catalogued, she is the ache of connection itself. A whisper between worlds.
The Yakṣī, too, is no less divine. She leans into trees, her fingers summoning blossoms, her body alive with the pulse of the earth. In her, nature is not something to be tamed, it is the temple. She does not transcend the world; she animates it. As sensual as she is sacred. As wild as she is wise.
And so, whether goddess or spirit, Lakṣmī or Yakṣī, Venus, Aphrodite or something unnamed, she carries within her the shared breath of civilisations. The feminine divine, soft-bodied and earth-bound, rising across cultures, flowing like myth itself.
She reminds us that divinity is not fixed in stone or name. It moves. It travels. It transforms.

India and Italy.
Spice and laurel.
Lotus and sea-foam.
Spirit and Goddess.
Root and star.

In yoga, in art, in whispered myth, we return to her. In the hush before morning practice, in the fire of devotion, in the gaze toward sacred form, she is there, not as a relic of the past, but as a living symbol of continuity.
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She is what remains when time folds in on itself. When stories cross borders. When beauty blooms where no one thought to look.
Not a statue. Not a relic. A reminder.
That even long before maps were drawn, the heart had already found its way.