Sometimes I think yoga practitioners are firmly divided into two camps: Those that chant, and those that don’t.
Those that don’t often feel self-conscious about chanting, are reluctant to chant something they don’t understand, or feel that chanting will conflict with their belief system. (For more about this, see my previous posts about yoga and religion). And, I recognize that many people come to the mat with a desire for a no-frills, strictly physical experience.
In my classes, I usually open by chanting three cycles of Om (or more correctly, Aum), and end class with a short Sanskrit chant and “Shanti, Shanti, Shanti, Om” as a closing. The Sanskrit word “shanti” means “peace”. Students are invited to join in, or not, as they see fit.
Here are two Aum/Om videos. One is a relaxing music video that you can listen to while you read this essay. The other, just to be silly, is a dog who chants.
Just this week I had the experience of being approached by two different students about chanting. One was a new student who wanted to let me know how much she enjoyed the tiny amount of chanting that we did in class. She said chanting “Om” made her feel like her whole body was alive in a way that surprised her. I was particularly pleased when another, a continuing student, also made a positive comment about chanting. She had first arrived in my classes saying she was looking for a straightforward yoga experience “without chanting or any stuff like that”.
So what is it about chanting?
There are so many answers to this that I can think of, and I’m sure there are many more:
Chanting can help to focus the mind, wiping away the background chatter in our heads. It can regulate our breath. It can be devotional and a form of Bhakti yoga in any tradition. The physical act of chanting can open, clear, and strengthen the throat chakra.
But there’s also this other thing… this quality that is so hard to nail down. I’m going to try and deconstruct it a little. Please note here that I’m going to focus on the physical aspects of chanting, and not on mantra (the specific words and sounds that may be chanted, or the meaning of Om or Aum, or the implications of various tones). After all, many (if not most) cultures incorporate some form of chanting, from “Om” to Gregorian chants to the chants of Africa, indigenous American chants, and the chants of Asia. We instinctively chant to calm ourselves, bolster our courage and resolve (“I think I can. I think I can.”) and to soothe others, especially babies and children.
I know from personal experience, that “Om” at the end of a yoga class feels entirely different from “Om” at the beginning of class. At the beginning of class it’s about using the chant to gather focus and energy for the practice to come. At the end of practice, it’s celebration and exaltation. I feel like a bell being rung. The sound is inside me, outside me, all around me… even when I’m completely alone.
In his book This Is Your Brain On Music, Daniel J. Levitin offers this piece of insight into how the human brain processes sound:
…direct mapping of pitch [by the brain] is so important, it bears repeating. If I put electrodes in your visual cortex (the part of the brain at the back of the head, concerned with seeing), and I then showed you a red tomato, there is no group of neurons that will cause my electrodes to turn red. But if I put electrodes in your auditory cortex and play a pure tone in your ears at 440Hz, there are neurons in your auditory cortex that will fire at precisely that frequency, causing the electrode to emit electrical activity at 440Hz – for pitch, what goes into the ear comes out of the brain.
What immediately struck me when I read this, is that the all-encompassing sensation of a good “Om” is a real thing. The noise that I make when I chant vibrates my body, which feels it. My ears, in turn hear it, and my auditory nerves stimulate my brain, causing it to fire at the same frequency. It’s not quite a circular process, but it’s incredibly complete for such a simple act.
I think this is what people react to, the sense of wholeness and completeness that chanting brings. Even a simple one word chant (“Om,” “Peace,” or “Amen”) offers this experience, for reasons that may transcend what is being chanted. Choosing to chant something special (a mantra, prayer, or affirmation, for example) just adds an additional cognitive and meditative element.
We recognize that water does a fine job of transmitting soundwaves, and in writing this it occurs to me, that the sense of peace and wholeness that chanting conveys may be similar to our pre-birth experience. In the womb, we’re surrounded by water (amniotic fluid), and it also fills our lungs. During this time, our sense of sound, which would vibrate both in and around us, would be much more like chanting, than say, listening to the radio.
And it also occurs to me that this phenomenon may be part of the reason that young people are attracted to stereos with a pounding bass. The bass, which vibrates the listener to his (or her) core, may also recreate that “womb with a view” feeling – a last grasp at security for those poised on the cusp of adulthood – a sort of audible thumb-sucking as it is.
Even if you don’t consider yourself a chanter, I would invite you to experiment with this sensation. Choose a simple word and begin by taking a deep breath (but not a gasp). Let the sound begin low in your belly. Feel how it moves in your mouth as you hollow out the back of your throat. Feel it change as you begin to close your mouth, how the sounds feels like it is moving forward. End with your lips together, letting the sound vibrations make your lips buzz, humming until it fades away.
Finally, feel the quiet space after the vibration has ended. Because, this is as important as the chant itself.
Namasté & Blessed Be.
This is a great post. In ashtanga, we traditionally chant before practice (with om before and after). At first, I didn’t like it because the translated words seemed weird (I bow to the lotus feet of the guru? A jungle physician?), but now it would seem odd not to chant first. It is like a transition between ordinary life and practice.
It is difficult for newcomers, though—I have seen the discomfort when the chanting starts, and I sometimes wonder if that’s part of the reason some people never come back.
Here is the ashtanga opening chant:
vande gurunam charanaravinde sandarshita svatma sukhava bodhe
nih shreyase jangalikayamane samsara halahala mohasantyai
abahu purusharakam sankhachakrasi dharinam
sahasra shirsam svetam pranamami patanjali
Thank you so much for your in-depth advice on my yoga dilemma. I’m going to seek a class very soon. I think your idea to find a class really may be the reason I didn’t like my yoga video… no one there to tell me how to do a certain posture, no motivation or guidance… yes, it all makes sense now. Thank you!
p.s. I think I love your blog 🙂
Right on on chanting! I love your theory about why it is such a feeling of wholeness. I’ve been reading _Your Brain on Music_ too & though I’m still at the beginning it’s deepening my understanding of body-brain functioning and my appreciation for the power of sound.
I was once one of the “none of that chanty stuff for me” crowd. It made me uncomfortable because it was unfamiliar and I didn’t understand it as part of a physical practice. But now I see everything I access through what can be seen as purely physical and it’s no surprise to me that sound waves produce in me spiritual experiences. Truly, in my experience, there is no actual difference, only different places to describe it from.
Thank you so much! this article is really very helpful. I love chanting!
Incorporating yoga and chanting is really great. I love the video you posted. Thanks!