The word śraddhā is all over the yogic literature. It is the first step on the yogic path according to Patañjali. In the Bhagavad Gita, śraddhā is foundational to one’s search for truth and meaning: one’s śraddhā is the basis of their actions and the consequent unfolding direction in life. In the Veda, śraddhā is what lights the inner fires of metabolism, wisdom, and being.
It’s unfortunate - or at the very least misleading - that this concept is translated to “faith” or “belief” in English. Because of our spiritual wounds, the thing comes across as confusing, offensive, dogmatic, religious, bypassing, ignorant, avoidant, oppressive, judgmental, archaic, submissive, unscientific, stupid, brutal, and provocative. We bristle, even though the lived experience of empowerment and curiosity are the most true things we can say of our personal yoga experience.
Let’s throw out ‘faith’. It would be better to understand śraddhā as conviction or dedication. The word in and of itself breaks down to a unity of truth (śhrat) and hold (dhā to hold, to support, specifically support the mind and functions of mind, an attentional stability). Thus śraddhā means “holder of truth” or '“adherence to truth” or “in the pursuit of truth”. Which is lovely.
““Śraddhā is essential for progress,
whether in Yoga or any other endeavour.
It is a feeling that cannot be expressed or intellectually discussed.
It, however, is a feeling that is not always uncovered in every person.
When absent or weak,
it is evident through the lack of stability and focus in a person.
Where present and strong,
it is evident through the commitment, perseverance
and enthusiasm the person exhibits.
For such a person, life is meaningful.”
”
In the oldest texts, words are constructed in verb forms. In later commentaries, the same words are constructed from nouns, prefixes and suffixes. Thus in the oldest and original sense, śraddhā is an action: it is a grasping of or holding to, a moving toward truth. In that understanding, śraddhā is no different than science, logic, good relationship, the effort to do the right thing.
Wellbeing depends upon a sense that what we do matters. Sanity demands it. It’s vital that we believe in ourselves, crucial to feel we can make a difference. śraddhā affirms this wellness, sanity, and life force. Depending on the moment, the importance of our actions and thoughts either feels like being called out or like an invitation. In all moments, it is validating. Even being called out is, at root, validation.
In the fourth chapter of the Gita, Krishna says shraddhavan labhate jnanam: the one who adheres to truth arrives at knowing.
Desikachar said that śraddhā is the resolution or resolve, despite obstacles and uncertainty, to move in the right direction. I’ve heard other teachers say “urgent curiosity”, “unwavering discipline”, “vigilance”, “attentiveness”, “hope”, “source of motivation”, “longing”, “open mind”, “prudence”, “conviction”, “trust”, “heart’s desire”, “optimism”, and “hopefulness”.
“Faith” doesn’t necessarily have anything to do with truth, which is why it’s a crappy translation for śraddhā.
"The truth will set you free,” we’re told. The quip is a borrowing of a central tenet to intellectual freedom and the power of learning: Cognoscetis Veritatem et Veritas Liberabit Vos. There are versions of this statement in Judaism, Christianity, Islam, and ancient philosophies. In social terms, “the truth will set you free” examines history and social conditions with clean honesty, as the related quip “truth to power” illustrates. In personal and intimate relationship, it addresses the harm of secrecy, denial, and dishonesty with the power of vulnerability, care, trust and respect.
The most lovely aspect of śraddhā is its opening. It’s spaciousness. While ‘freedom’ has meant different things in different cultural contexts, ‘truth’ always speaks to the possibility of growth, healing, understanding and change. śraddhā includes limitations and doubt as a part of the movement. We might be wrong or make mistakes along the way, but with śraddhā failure becomes less a personal failing and more a clarification. We may not have answers or enough information. We may not feel competent.
We don’t know, but we can want to know. śraddhā is the feeling tone of ‘you have everything you need’ and ‘more will be revealed’. It is the premise of enlightenment, wisdom, and liberation.
The health and hopefulness of such a starting point is clarifying and uplifting. In wisdom traditions, śraddhā takes on the flavor of trust and confidence. These often direct or connect us to trying, seeking out guidance and expertise, counter ill-will and short term fixes in our mind heart. śraddhā is the basis of right understanding, right relationship, and perfect resolve. It fosters both respect and self-understanding. It takes a hammer to selfishness, all the fleeting and fickleness of mood and circumstance and excuses. śraddhā, to my experience, dignifies everything.
“Write one true sentence,” said Hemingway. “Write the truest sentence that you know. Once you write one true sentence, you can write another, then the next, and so on.” This tends to both cut through my writer’s block and my life generally confusions. It’s how I practice āsana, too. It’s also, if I’m keen and balanced enough, the way I navigate tricky things like relationships, disappointment, and moral quandary. śraddhā is the heart of good teaching: “start where you are,” a great teacher says, knowing full well that such a start leads to places the student can’t yet fathom and wouldn’t believe.
Truth matters. It also shows up all over the place. The weather, the news, my family, my body. I know that when I stay close to it, when I keep coming back and touching it like a rosary or a prayer mat, śraddhā takes on the quality of a pulse. It keeps me from the thinness and ungraspability of things. It’s thick and warm and hearty, as in of heart. It flows and circulates, undercurrents and swells. It is essential aliveness. When I’m anchored in śraddhā, my fears get small or at the very least unimportant. Urgency deflates. Whims - which I tend to have like a rash - pass without my having to worry about them. I don’t hate myself when I rest in śraddhā. I don’t have to fight with everybody all the time. I’m not so scared. I’m not so lonely. Life is hard, still, but I both know this and it’s okay. In inversion - which is basically what the yoga path is - the hardness of life actually becomes good.
śraddhā is gumption. Audacity. It’s even anger and fear. It’s what happens when a student shows up, or wrinkles their forehead, or asks a question. It’s the smile a good teacher gets, every single time.
**
I’ll be teaching the śraddhā sūktam Tuesday mornings in March and April. It’s (appropriately) a beginner level mantra. Come. Sing.