The Yamas and Niyamas: Exploring Īśvara Pranidhāna

There’s a moment, often in child’s pose or savasana, when the body finally stops trying to hold itself up, when the shoulders yield, when the breath deepens without being told. When the ego steps aside, something quieter takes the reins.

That moment—that exquisite, unremarkable moment—is Īśvara Praṇidhāna.

One of the five niyamas (inner observances) in yoga philosophy, Īśvara Praṇidhāna is often translated as “surrender to a higher power” or “devotion to the divine.” But in lived practice, it’s far less lofty. It’s not about bowing to a god on a pedestal—it’s about bowing to life as it is. It’s about laying down the illusion of control and remembering that we are already part of something vast, intelligent, and unfolding.

Ice in the Stream

In class this week, I spoke about the image of a stream—clear, flowing, unhurried. And then: blocks of ice within it. The same substance as the stream itself, but frozen. Tense. Resistant.

We are like that. Made of flow, yet frozen by fear, by striving, by our grip on how things should be.

Īśvara Praṇidhāna invites us to melt. Not collapse, but soften. Not give up, but give in—to breath, to timing, to the support already holding us.

We don't need to push the river.

We are the river.

Let Them: A Modern Mantra of Surrender

I've found myself reflecting on Mel Robbins’ Let Them Theory—a modern echo of this ancient teaching.

Let them cancel. Let them criticise. Let them choose the path you wouldn’t. It’s not indifference—it’s liberation. We practise surrender by stepping back from what isn’t ours to carry: other people’s stories, opinions, and choices.

Swami Rama said it perfectly: “Do what is yours to do. Don’t do what is not yours to do.”

Īśvara Praṇidhāna reminds us that we’re not here to grip every thread. We’re here to follow the ones that are truly ours, with devotion and care—and to let the rest drift downstream.

The Wisdom of Yielding

Surrender in yoga doesn’t mean we stop showing up. It means we stop trying to control the outcome. In the Bhagavad Gītā, we’re told: “You have a right to your actions, but never to your actions’ fruits.”

We move, speak, love, and act with integrity—but we don’t demand guarantees. This is faith in action. Not blind faith, but a deep, embodied trust that life is wiser than our agendas.

As Danna Faulds writes: “Resist, and the tide will sweep you off your feet. Allow, and grace will carry you to higher ground.”

Softening Into Truth

So perhaps the question isn’t: What do I need to surrender? But rather: Where am I trying to hold life together by force? Where am I frozen… and what would it take to melt?

Let the river carry you.

Let the practice hold you.

Let them be who they are.

Let yourself soften—without losing your strength.

This is Īśvara Praṇidhāna:

Strength in softness.

Devotion without grasping.

The quiet, powerful art of trusting, of having faith, and of letting go.