The Yogis call it Rāga & Dveṣa — Attachment & Aversion. Two forces that quietly shape almost every choice you make. Most people think the spiritual path is about eliminating them. But the yogis knew better: Attachment isn’t the enemy. Aversion isn’t a flaw. They are teachers. Maps. Mirrors. Rāga shows you where you seek comfort, beauty, belonging. Dveṣa shows you where you fear discomfort, rejection, truth. One pulls you forward. One pushes you back. Together, they reveal your karmic curriculum. Every time you cling, something is asking to be understood. Every time you resist, something is asking to be freed. When you get lost in them, you suffer. When you witness them, you wake up. When you master them, you become unstoppable. This is why self-study (svādhyāya) matters. This is why meditation matters. This is why your path — your pilgrimage — matters. Because the goal isn’t to erase your human tendencies. It’s to meet them with honesty, compassion, and awareness so they alchemize into wisdom.

Long ago, a student approached his teacher and said, “Master, I’ve been practicing for years and still my mind won’t be still.” The teacher handed him a bowl of water. “Walk to the edge of the forest,” he said, “and bring it back without spilling a drop.” When the student returned, trembling with focus, the teacher asked, “What did you see along the way?” “Nothing,” said the student. “I was too focused on the bowl.” The master smiled. “That,” he said, “is meditation.” ✨ The mind reflects the world like water — disturbed, it distorts; still, it reveals. Yoga is the art of learning to carry the bowl through life’s noise — to remain centered in movement, grounded in change, awake in stillness. Each breath is an invitation to return. Each posture, a chance to polish the mirror. Each moment of presence, a glimpse of the infinite. This is why we practice. To see clearly. To remember who we are beneath the ripples.

Gorakhnath, a great Hatha yogi, was mocked for his strange practices of breath and heat. To prove yoga’s power, he sat in meditation inside a boiling pot of water. This is his story….. They called him mad. A man who breathed fire into his belly and spoke of stilling storms with a single exhale. Gorakhnath — the wandering yogi, the alchemist of life force — was known to dwell where few dared to look: inside the laboratory of the body itself. When skeptics challenged his talk of mastery, he accepted their test without words. They built a great iron pot, filled it with water, and kindled the flames until it roared like the sun itself. Gorakhnath climbed inside, cross-legged, spine tall, eyes half-closed — a breath entering the infinite. As the villagers watched, minutes became hours. The fire blazed, the pot rattled. Yet when the lid was lifted, the crowd fell silent. The yogi sat serene — the water cool, the air fragrant, his body untouched by heat. They say even the flames bowed to his steadiness. But Gorakhnath only smiled. “This is no miracle,” he said softly, “only a reflection of what burns within you. When the breath is mastered, the fire obeys. When the mind is still, the elements serve. The true furnace is not beneath you — it is inside you.” He rose, dripping with light, leaving behind not the secret of invincibility, but the reminder that the body is the crucible of consciousness — the field where all transformation begins. The teaching: When prana is harnessed and the mind disciplined, tapas (inner fire) no longer destroys — it purifies. The goal of yoga is not escape from the body, but mastery within it. That story originates from oral Nath Yogi and Hatha Yoga traditions surrounding Gorakhnath (Goraksha) — a legendary 11th–12th century yogi considered the founder of the Nath Sampradaya and one of the early codifiers of Hatha Yoga. While there’s no single “canonical text” recording the boiling pot story, versions appear throughout Gorakh Nath hagiographies and folk tales

One of the most well-known examples of siddhis in history is Sri Trailanga Swami, a 17th-century Indian saint often called The Walking Shiva of Varanasi. Trailanga Swami was known to live for over 200 years, subsisting on little more than milk and sunlight. Witnesses reported seeing him float across the Ganges River, remain submerged in meditation for days, and even appear in two places at once. When asked about his powers, he would smile and say, “These are not powers — they are reflections of the true nature of consciousness. When the mind becomes pure, the impossible becomes natural.” He never claimed ownership of his siddhis. In fact, he warned that attachment to power can lead the soul astray. His life was a living teaching that real mastery is not control over the world, but liberation from it. These are not “powers” to be chased, but natural byproducts of deep meditation, unwavering focus, and inner purity. When consciousness becomes fully awakened, the laws of nature no longer limit the yogi — because they are no longer bound by the illusion of separation.