Sanskrit Terms Starting with M

Mādhurya-bhāva – the sweet (mādhurya) sentiment (bhāva) of devotion. Within Bhakti Yoga, five primary bhavas are taught (śānta – peaceful adoration, dāsya – servitude, sakhya – friendship, vātsalya – parental love, and mādhurya – romantic love). Mādhurya-bhāva (also called kāntā-bhāva) is regarded as the most intimate and “highest” form of devotion, where the soul relates to the Divine as a lover or consort.

This conjugal mood is exemplified by the Gopis’ love for Krishna - especially Radha’s unconditional, ecstatic love. In practice, a bhakta (devotee) in madhurya-bhava might sing songs treating God as the sweet sweetheart, longing for union. Texts note that in this bhava, the devotee seeks complete absorption – much like two lovers merging in heart and mind.

Spiritually, it symbolizes the soul’s yearning to merge with God (the “Ultimate Beloved”). While it involves metaphorical romance, it is not ordinary emotion but a transcendental love (prema) that dissolves ego. Many Vaishnava saints (like the poet Mirabai) embodied madhurya-bhava, addressing Krishna as their husband or lover. Yogically, this bhava reminds practitioners that divine love can be as personal and sweet as human love, transforming personal desires into a path to union. It is said to culminate in mahabhava (great ecstatic emotion) and ultimately maha-prema (supreme love), wherein the devotee experiences oneness with the beloved Lord.

Mahāmantra – literally “great mantra”. In devotional yoga, the title Mahāmantra is most commonly associated with the Hare Krishna mantra, as mentioned in the Kali-Saṇṭāraṇa Upaniṣad and popularized by Chaitanya Mahaprabhu in the 15th century.

This mantra is considered “great” because of its supposed unmatched spiritual potency: “Hare Krishna, Hare Krishna… Hare Rama, Hare Rama…” is said to contain the essence of all devotional practice and to directly connect the chanter with God’s energy.

The Sanskrit breakdown – “Hare” invokes divine energy (Radha or Hari), “Krishna” means the all-attractive Lord, and “Rama” the source of joy – thus, chanting invokes the presence of God in affectionate forms.

In practice, repetition of the mahāmantra (japa or kirtan) focuses the mind, purifies the heart, and is believed to destroy negative karma, leading to moksha or liberation. Beyond Hare Krishna, some traditions might call other central mantras “maha” (for example, Om Namah Shivaya in Shaivism, or the OM̐ itself). The idea is that a Mahamantra encapsulates the highest truth in sound form, making it a one-stop practice: by unwaveringly chanting it, a yogi can achieve concentration, devotion, and ultimately Self-realization.

maitrī is often translated as loving-kindness, amity, or benevolence. It comes from the root mitra meaning friend. In Patanjali’s Yoga Sutra I.33, maitri is listed first among four attitudes to cultivate for mental peace: “maitrī karuṇā muditā upekṣā… citta-prasādanam” – by cultivating friendliness (maitri) toward those who are content, compassion for those in pain, etc., the mind becomes purified.

This highlights maitri as an antidote to jealousy and ill-will; instead of comparing or judging, one genuinely wishes happiness for others.

In Buddhist practice (where it’s called mettā), maitri is one of the four Brahmavihāras (divine abodes) – practitioners systematically generate feelings of loving-kindness starting with themselves, then radiating out to friends, neutral people, and even enemies, and finally to all beings.

The goal is to break down barriers of aversion and indifference, thus maitri fosters empathy, forgiveness, and a sense of connectedness. In everyday yoga context, maitri can mean approaching your own progress with kindness (rather than self-criticism) and interacting with the yoga community (and beyond) in a spirit of friendliness and support. It aligns with Ahimsa (non-harming) and Karuṇā (compassion), reinforcing that a yogic life is rooted in warmth of heart. Notably, the Pali word metta is directly equivalent - so a “metta meditation” (loving-kindness meditation) is essentially a maitri practice of silently offering well-wishes (“May all beings be happy, peaceful, and free from suffering”). By cultivating Maitri, a yogi softens the heart and stabilizes the mind, creating optimal conditions for deeper meditation and harmonious living.

makara is a composite mythological creature described often as having the head of a crocodile (or elephant) and the tail of a fish (or peacock’s plumage, depending on artistic depictions).

In Hindu tradition, Makara symbolizes the powerful, untamed forces of water and is considered a guardian of thresholds (temple gateways frequently feature makara carvings). Because Ganga rides a makara, it also represents the life-giving, yet potentially fearsome, aspect of water.

Astrologically, Makara corresponds to Capricorn, an earth sign depicted as a sea-goat or crocodile - combining land and water qualities, which aligns with the creature’s hybrid nature.

Within yogic lore, makaras are sometimes used to illustrate steadfastness: just as a crocodile latches on tenaciously, a yogi should hold firm to discipline. In Makarāsana (Crocodile Pose), one lies on the belly propped on the arms; it’s named for the resemblance to a resting crocodile and is valued for promoting diaphragmatic breathing and relaxation of the lower back.

So, whether in myth or asana, Makara evokes grounded power and connection to water elements – reminding practitioners of both the stability and adaptability needed in yoga. It stands at the intersection of imagination and practice: a fantastical beast guarding sacred spaces, and a simple pose aiding a yogi’s rest.

mālāsana – mālā means garland, and āsana means seat or pose. Traditionally, yogis in India often assumed a squatting posture to rest, which may have led to this asana’s name (implying a relaxed posture like a garland draped loosely). In Hatha Yoga texts, different squatting poses were described; Iyengar’s Light on Yoga refers to a version of Malasana with a rounded back and arms thread around the legs (sometimes called Kanchyasana).

In the West, Malasana typically refers to the simple yogic squat with hands at heart center and spine lengthened. This position is anatomically beneficial: it naturally aligns the pelvis and can alleviate lower-back strain and improve elimination (squatting is a posture humans have used for digestion/elimination for millennia). Energetically, malasana is said to activate the Muladhara (root chakra) by grounding the body close to the earth.

It’s also a counter-pose to lots of sitting in chairs - opening tight hips and bringing blood flow to the pelvic region. Because of its shape, sometimes the knees splay out like an open garland, giving it the Sanskrit nickname. Some lineages call the regular squat Upaveśāsana and reserve Mālāsana for a version with bound arms, but colloquially in modern yoga, Malasana = yoga squat.

When practicing, keeping heels down (you can use a folded blanket under heels if needed) and chest lifted helps maintain form. Culturally, one might note that in many Asian countries, a full squat is a common resting stance - hence Malasana can feel natural or challenging depending on one’s lifestyle. But with practice, it becomes a soothing posture that “grounds” a sequence, often used to transition between standing and seated poses.

In summary, Malasana (Garland Pose) is a simple yet profound posture for hip opening, ankle flexibility, and rooting the body’s energy, living up to its name by helping the practitioner hang gently (like a garland) close to the earth.

māṃsa is flesh, meat, or muscle. Ayurveda classifies Māṃsa Dhātu as the third layer of the body (after rasa – plasma, and rakta – blood). It is composed mainly of the earth and water elements and provides bulk, strength, and the protective padding of the organs.

Healthy māṃsa-dhatu is equated with good muscle tone, physical power, and stamina; imbalance in this tissue could manifest as muscle wasting or overgrowth. Ayurveda says that when mamsa is balanced, one feels grounded and physically secure, whereas excess mamsa (obesity) or deficient mamsa (frailty) can lead to health issues.

Interestingly, in certain Tantric interpretations, “mamsa” was coded as one of the pañcha makara (“five Ms” substances), but in esoteric practice it’s symbolically reinterpreted - for instance, mamsa sadhana in some texts is explained as the practice of controlling one’s speech (the idea being “not indulging in the flesh of words,” i.e., avoiding gossip or excess talk). This is a reminder that some terms like mamsa had dual meanings: the literal (meat) and the symbolic (in this case, disciplined speech).

However, for most yoga practitioners, mamsa will be encountered in discussions of the body. For example, yoga poses that “strengthen mamsa-dhatu” refer to building muscle. Ethically, classical texts like the Manusmriti or yogic guides might advise avoiding māṃsa-bhojana (eating meat) to practice non-harm, so mamsa is also a term at the crossroads of yoga philosophy and lifestyle.

In summary, Mamsa denotes the tangible flesh or muscle of the body - an important concept for understanding the body’s makeup in Ayurveda - and it also carries connotations in disciplines like Tantra regarding inner sacrifice (restraining one’s fleshy tongue from idle speech as a form of austerity).

manaḥ (manas) is the mind-stuff associated with processing and rationalizing the data from the senses. In the Vedantic model of the antahkaraṇa (inner instrument), manas is one of four parts: Manas (the mind that thinks and doubts), Buddhi (the intellect or faculty of discrimination and decision), Chitta (the memory storehouse or subconscious), and Ahamkāra (the ego-maker that personalizes experience).

Manas is described as the indecisive aspect - it weighs options (“Do I want this or that? Is this good or bad?”) and is driven by saṃkalpa-vikalpa (oscillation between thoughts). It is also linked with desire, emotion, and sensory processing: for instance, upon seeing a flower, your manas registers “flower” and possibly “I like it.” The buddhi would then decide whether or not to pick it, and the ahamkāra would assert “I like this flower.”

In Sankhya-Yoga theory, Manas is one of the 24 tattvas (fundamental principles) - it evolves from ahamkāra and serves as a central coordinator of the five senses (jnānendriyas) and organs of action (karmendriyas). In meditation practice, much effort is spent on quieting the manas because it’s naturally restless (the term monkey mind essentially describes manas in default mode). Pratyahara (withdrawal of senses) and Dharana (concentration) train the manas to slow down and focus.

An interesting nuance: the word manomaya (as in Manomaya Kosha) means “consisting of manas” - i.e., the sheath made of the mind and senses. Yogic texts sometimes personify manas as a wild horse that needs reigning in by the intellect. Ultimately, in samadhi, the fluctuations of manas (citta-vrittis) are stilled so that Purusha (the true Self) can be realized.

In summary, Manas in yoga is the basic mind – the thinker and feeler – which when purified and mastered becomes a helpful servant, and when unregulated becomes a source of distraction and bondage. Yoga aims to transform manas from a turbulent whirlpool into a clear reflecting pool that can reveal the deeper truth of ātman.

A maṇḍala is a concentric arrangement of shapes and symbols that holds spiritual significance. In Hinduism and Buddhism, mandalas serve as yantras (instruments) to guide contemplation. For example, Tibetan Buddhist sand mandalas are carefully constructed cosmograms depicting divine palaces; after use, they’re dismantled to symbolize impermanence. The Sanskrit term breaks down to manda (essence) + la (container), implying it’s a container of essence - a microcosm of the universe.

A typical mandala has a central bindu (point) representing the source or deity, surrounded by layers of circles, squares, or lotus petals indicating multiple dimensions of reality. Each shape carries meaning (e.g., a square often denotes stability, a circle wholeness), and each direction may house specific guardians or elements.

In yoga practice, one might visualize a personal mandala (like the Sri Yantra in Tantric meditation) or create mandala drawings to engage the creative mind and the intuitive mind simultaneously. The act of focusing on a mandala is a form of dharana (concentration) – by continuously bringing the attention back to the symmetrical patterns, the mind becomes absorbed and quieter.

Psychologically, Carl Jung noted mandala-like imagery often appears in dreams, symbolizing the dreamer’s search for completeness. In modern yoga studios, mandala imagery is popular for decoration, aligning with the idea of finding unity and centeredness. Some flow classes are called “mandala vinyasa,” meaning the sequence moves in a circular pattern around the mat.

Ultimately, a mandala represents both the universe as a whole and the individual’s spiritual journey, illustrating how one can find the universe within oneself.

maṅgala signifies auspiciousness, good omen, blessedness. In Hindu tradition, Mangala is invoked in rituals and everyday life to attract positive energy. For example, before major undertakings, one might seek a mangala muhurta (auspicious time) to start, and weddings have mangala sutra (an auspicious thread or necklace symbolizing marital auspiciousness). The concept pervades yogic practice as well: classes or pujas often begin with a mangalacharan (auspicious invocation) to ensure the endeavor proceeds under good fortune.

Etymologically, Mangala has the sense of “that which bestows happiness or success.” In Jyotisha (Vedic astrology), Mangala is the name for the planet Mars, known as a fiery planet that can be benefic in giving strength and confidence (hence perhaps seen as auspicious in certain contexts). The importance of auspiciousness in yoga philosophy is tied to the idea of aligning with dharma and positive cosmic influences.

For instance, Patanjali’s Yoga Sutra II.32 includes Ishvara Pranidhana (surrender to God) which often involves trusting that grace (mangala) will bless one’s practice. We also encounter Mangala in phrases like Sarve bhavantu sukhinah, sarve santu nirāmayāh… concluding with “Om Shanti Shanti Shantih”, often referred to as a mangala mantra because it wishes auspicious peace for all.

Another example is in Buddhism: the Mangala Sutta is a discourse where Buddha lists the highest blessings (mangalani) in life - essentially a guide to auspicious living. Thus, to describe something or someone as Mangala is to celebrate their goodness and auspicious nature.

In practical yoga terms, setting an intention or chanting Om can be seen as creating a mangala (auspicious atmosphere) for your practice. In summary, Mangala means auspicious and blessed, reminding practitioners to begin and end their endeavors with positive, sacred intent for the greatest benefit.

Maṇipūra Chakra – the third primary chakra in the yogic subtle body system, counted upward from the base of the spine. Maṇipūra is located around the navel region (solar plexus). It is symbolized by a ten-petaled lotus, typically yellow in color, with a downward-pointing red triangle at its center representing the transformative element of fire.

The name means “City of Jewels” – mani (jewel) + pura (city), signifying the idea that within this chakra lies a treasure of energy and vitality. This is the seat of Agni (digestive fire) in Ayurveda, and correspondingly, Manipura governs digestion, metabolism, and the pancreas.

On a psychological level, Manipura is all about personal power, confidence, and autonomy. When energy flows freely through Manipura, one has a strong sense of purpose, balanced ego, and the “fire” to take action (the phrase “fire in the belly” is apt). Conversely, blockages in this chakra might manifest as low self-confidence, indecisiveness, or digestive disorders.

Yogic practices to balance Manipura include core-strengthening asanas (like Navasana – boat pose), Kapalabhati pranayama (stimulating breath), and visualizations of a bright sun at the solar plexus. In Kundalini yoga, awakening this chakra is crucial for stirring the dormant energy upward.

It’s said that when Manipura is activated, one’s personality shines with dynamism, courage, and the ability to translate intention into reality – much like a radiant gem exuding light. In the Bhagavad Gita’s metaphorical language, one who is “steady in the Self” is “like a lamp in a windless place” – an image resonant with the steady flame of Manipura’s fire when the mind is disciplined.

Summarily, Manipura Chakra is the powerhouse of the subtle body, the jewel-like center that powers our ambition, transformation, and strength of will. Nourishing it fosters a balanced ego and the confidence to fulfill one’s dharma (life purpose).

manomaya-kośa is the “sheath made of mind (manas)”, as described in the Taittiriya Upanishad’s framework of five layers of the Self. These layers are: Annamaya (food/physical body), Pranamaya (energy/breath body), Manomaya (mind-emotion body), Vijnanamaya (wisdom/intellect body), and Anandamaya (bliss body).

The manomaya kosha includes the processing mind (manas) along with the jnānendriyas (sensory faculties of hearing, touch, sight, taste, smell) which feed the mind. It’s within this sheath that our personality (conditioned by memories in the chitta and the sense of “I” from ahamkara) largely operates, giving rise to the feeling of an individual ego-self.

Importantly, manomaya kosha is said to create the illusion of separateness – by identifying with our thoughts and reactive mind, we feel “I and you” as distinct. Spiritual progress involves understanding that this is just a sheath, not the true Self.

In meditation, when one observes thoughts without attachment, one is effectively seeing the manomaya kosha in action and learning to transcend it. It interacts closely with the outer two koshas: the pranamaya (breath affects mood) and the annamaya (body chemistry can affect mind), and it’s guided by the deeper wisdom of the vijnanamaya when we access intuition or insight.

A common example: when you practice Yoga Nidra, the teacher may guide you through layers – relaxing the body (annamaya), then observing breath (pranamaya), then witnessing thoughts/emotions (manomaya) – aiming to go inward to subtler layers. Manomaya kosha is the layer where habits, opinions, and mental narratives reside; thus much of yoga (pranayama, pratyahara, dharana, etc.) is designed to calm and purify this sheath.

As it becomes sattvic (clear and tranquil), it no longer dominates the outer behavior or clouds the inner light. In essence, Manomaya Kosha is “the mind as a sheath” – it’s our mind-body complex’s operating system, and through consistent practice we learn to not be enslaved by it, but to observe and refine it.

Eventually, this helps penetrate to the deeper Vijnanamaya (knowing sheath) and Anandamaya (bliss sheath), moving toward the realization of the Self beyond all sheaths.

A mantra is in the broadest sense, any sound syllable, word, or set of words believed to have psychological or spiritual power. Vedic rishis considered certain sounds to embody aspects of the divine or laws of nature. Mantras are “thought tools” (as the derivation manas + tra implies) that practitioners use to shape consciousness.

They operate through meaning, vibration, and rhythm. For example, the famous Gayatri Mantra carries a profound cosmic prayer in its meaning, but even without understanding the Sanskrit, the act of rhythmic repetition can induce a meditative state. In Mantra Yoga, one chooses a mantra (often given by a guru) and repeats it japa style – either aloud, whispered, or mentally – thousands of times to purify the mind.

Over time, the mantra’s vibration is said to resonate within the practitioner’s subtle body, creating positive changes. Each mantra is associated with a specific intent or deity: Om̐ is a primordial vibration aligning one with universal consciousness; the Mahamrityunjaya Mantra is for healing and conquering fear of death; the Hare Krishna Mahamantra (discussed above) is for developing love of God.

When recited with devotion and concentration, mantras are believed to create powerful internal vibrations that can influence one’s state of mind – literally tuning the body-mind “instrument” to higher frequencies. Neuroscientifically, mantra repetition can engage the parasympathetic nervous system, lowering stress and enhancing focus.

In practical yoga class settings, you might chant Om̐ at the beginning and end – that’s using a mantra to set a sacred space. Many meditation traditions (Transcendental Meditation, for instance) use a mantra as the focus of meditation.

A key aspect: sound as a form of energy is central here – mantras are often valued not only for semantic meaning but for their sonic effect on the practitioner. The Sanskrit alphabet itself is considered charged, and classical mantras are composed with attention to sound patterns that correspond to chakras or subtle energies.

marma (marma-sthāna) is defined in Ayurvedic texts as a “junction of bones, tendons, veins, etc., where life-force is particularly concentrated.” The word itself can mean secret or sensitive part. These points were catalogued in works like the Sushruta Samhita, which lists 107 primary marmani and describes their locations and effects. Each marma is measured in terms of angula (finger-width) size and is associated with specific doshas, organs, and elements.

For instance, Hridaya Marma (at the cardiac region) is a major marma controlling vitality (injury there is often fatal), whereas a smaller marma like Kshipra (between thumb and index finger) can be pressed to relieve headaches or stimulate the brain.

In practical yoga, knowledge of marmani enhances understanding of how pressure or touch can direct energy. Certain yoga poses or self-massage techniques stimulate marma points—for example, balancing on the crown of the head in Shirshasana activates the Adhipati marma (vertex of the skull), which might affect hormonal balance and calm the mind. In martial arts like Kalaripayattu, fighters targeted marma points to incapacitate (hence the esoteric nature of this knowledge).

Therapeutically, Marma Chikitsa (marma therapy) is part of Ayurvedic treatment: a therapist might apply essential oils and gentle pressure to a series of marma points to detoxify or rejuvenate the patient. The principle is that prana (life energy) flows through subtle channels (nadis), and marma points are entryways or “switches” to influence that flow, somewhat analogous to acupuncture meridians in Chinese medicine.

Working with marma can relieve stagnation of prana, thus alleviating pain or restoring function in the corresponding area. On a subtle level, focusing awareness on a marma during meditation can localize pranic awareness (for example, concentrating on the ajna chakra area, which is a marma point between the eyebrows, to enhance intuition).

In summary, Marmani are like the body’s vital energy hotspots – understanding them gives the yogi or healer a map of where consciousness and flesh intersect most powerfully. The existence of marma points highlights that yoga and Ayurveda view the body not just as a physical machine but as an energy matrix, where specific points act as access nodes to influence health and vitality.

Maṭha, also spelled mutt in some Anglicized forms, literally means “cloister, college", or "institute for study.” These have been crucial in maintaining India’s various spiritual traditions. For example, Adi Shankaracharya’s four Amnaya Mathas each took responsibility for one Veda and one quarter of India, creating strongholds of learning and practice that have lasted over a thousand years. Each matha typically has a lineage of abbots (called mathadhipatis or Shankaracharyas if in Shankara’s line) and a resident community of monks (sannyasis or brahmacharins) dedicated to a particular philosophical school (darshana).

The curriculum might involve daily sadhana (spiritual practice), scriptural study (like Upanishads, Brahma Sutras, Bhagavad Gita in Vedanta mathas), teaching local devotees, and preservation of rituals. Mathas can also refer to monasteries of other sampradayas (traditions): e.g., the Madhvacharya mathas in Udupi (there are eight mathas rotating responsibility of worship of Krishna idol), or the Gaudiya Vaishnava mathas (such as those established by Chaitanya’s followers). Essentially, where there is a need for a living hub of spiritual life and education, a matha is formed.

Historically, mathas contributed to inter-generational transmission of yogic knowledge, much like universities for spiritual sciences. They often have libraries of palm-leaf manuscripts, and the heads of mathas (like the Shankaracharyas) were/are influential voices in religious and philosophical discourse. In yoga communities today, one might use matha to describe the ashram of a particular guru lineage. For instance, a Swami from the Saraswati order might refer to their training center as a matha.

Mathas underscore the importance of community (sangha) and structured learning in yoga traditions - reminding us that while yoga includes solitary practice, it has thrived within communal monastic settings.

In summary, Mathas are the monasteries/learning centers that anchor a spiritual tradition, providing residence to monks and a base for teaching the broader community, thus ensuring that yogic wisdom and practices continue from generation to generation.

Matsya, beyond meaning any fish in general, has rich mythological significance as Viṣṇu’s first avatāra (incarnation). According to scriptures (like the Shatapatha Brahmana and Puranas), at the end of one epoch, Vishnu appeared as a small fish to King Satyavrata (who later becomes Manu, the progenitor of humans). The king cared for this fish which kept growing enormously, eventually revealing itself as the Lord who then guided Manu to build a boat before a cataclysmic flood.

Matsya (the fish) then towed the ark (with Manu, sages, and seeds of life) to safety, thus preserving life and sacred knowledge. This lila is celebrated as a metaphor for divine guidance through prana (water) and indicates the saving power of the Divine amid chaos. In iconography, Matsya is depicted as a giant fish with the torso of Vishnu.

Now, in Hatha Yoga, Matsyendranath (a medieval yogi and Nath lineage founder) has a name meaning “Lord of the Fish,” tied to a legend that he overheard Shiva’s secret teachings while inside a fish’s belly - connecting fish imagery to receiving spiritual wisdom. Matsyasana (Fish Pose) is a beginner-friendly backbend: one lies on the back, arches the chest upward, and typically places the crown of the head on the floor. It’s traditionally a counter-pose to the shoulderstand (Sarvangasana), as it stretches the neck and stimulates the throat and chest regions.

Symbolically, performing Matsyasana is sometimes poetically said to allow the yogi to “float in water like a fish” - hinting at buoyancy and relaxation in the posture. Some texts even hyperbolically state “the practitioner of Matsyasana can resist water and disease”, nodding to the idea of Matsya’s protective, buoyant qualities.

In summary, Matsya evokes the theme of salvation and support: Vishnu as Matsya supports humanity through the flood, and Matsyasana supports the opening of the heart and throat chakras (Anahata and Vishuddha) in the body. Yogically, when you embrace Matsya (fish) energy, you’re invited to trust the currents of life and divine help that keeps you afloat, just as the mythic fish guided Manu, and as the pose helps your breath flow freely in the chest.

māyā is a fundamental concept in Indian philosophy, especially in Advaita Vedanta and Yoga. The term originally meant “supernatural power” or the power of a god to create an appearance. Over time, it came to specifically signify the power that creates the cosmic illusion of multiplicity.

According to Advaita Vedanta: Brahman alone is real (eternal, unchanging consciousness-bliss), the world is mithyā (provisionally real but ultimately not independent of Brahman), and the jiva (individual self) is not other than Brahman. It is Maya that causes Brahman to be experienced as the world and individual beings - effectively Brahman under the spell of maya is Ishvara (God as creator, who wields maya), and jiva under maya identifies with body and ego.

Maya has two powers: Avaraṇa Shakti (the veiling power, which conceals the true nature of reality) and Vikshepa Shakti (the projecting power, which projects the appearance of the world). Through these, the infinite Brahman appears as finite forms; the One appears as many; the formless as forms.

In the Bhagavad Gita (7.14), Krishna says “This divine illusion of Mine (maya) is hard to overcome, but those who take refuge in Me cross over it.” This highlights that maya is not merely a negative concept - it is a divine play of concealment that can be transcended through devotion or knowledge. In Classical Yoga, Patanjali doesn’t use the term maya explicitly, but the idea is present via avidya (ignorance) which causes misidentification of Purusha (spirit) with Prakriti (matter).

In Buddhism, the concept of maya appears as well, denoting the insubstantial, dreamlike nature of phenomena (e.g., in the Diamond Sutra: “view all of the fleeting world as a star at dawn, a bubble in a stream… a phantom, and a dream.”). For a yogi, maya is what one is trying to pierce through with practices like meditation, self-inquiry (vichara), and samadhi - to see reality as it is.

It’s often said the world is relatively real but not absolutely real; only pure consciousness is absolute. To illustrate: a movie on a screen can captivate you (within that frame, things seem to happen), but you ultimately know it’s just patterns of light (the screen and projector are the only reality). Similarly, Maya makes the temporal world captivate us, and enlightenment is like realizing the “screen” of Brahman behind the images.

In summary, Maya is “that which is not” - it has no independent absolute existence. It is the grand illusion or “magic show” of the cosmos, beguiling us until knowledge (jnana) dawns and the magician’s trick is seen through. Recognizing life’s experiences as maya encourages a yogi to not be overly attached or fearful, since the only enduring reality is the Self.

Once maya is transcended, one attains moksha (liberation) wherein the true nature of Self as Brahman is fully known.

mayūra - the peacock holds a special place in Indian culture as a symbol of auspiciousness, immortality, and love. The bird’s Sanskrit name is used in various compounds: e.g., Mayurāsana (peacock pose) or Mayur Mudra. The mythological backdrop: it’s said the peacock’s dazzling plumage came from imbibing venom and transmuting it - in Hindu lore, when Shiva consumed the Halahala poison during the churning of the ocean, he turned blue (Neelakantha), and lore analogously credits peacocks with an innate alchemy to digest poison and display beauty.

This is why peacocks are sometimes seen as symbols of purification and triumph over toxicity. For yogis, this ties into Mayurasana. Mayurasana (Peacock Pose) is an advanced arm balance where one’s torso is kept straight and parallel to the floor, supported only by the palms on the ground (elbows tucked into the abdomen). Historically, Hatha Yoga texts like the Hatha Yoga Pradipika (15th century) praise Mayurasana’s detoxifying benefits, claiming it can “destroy all diseases” and “make even poison digestible”.

The logic: by applying pressure with the elbows to the abdominal region, it stokes the agni (digestive fire) and massages internal organs, thus improving digestion and metabolism. Metaphorically, just as a peacock can digest a snake’s poison and turn it into a rainbow of feathers, the yogi through Mayurasana stimulates their manipura fire to burn up toxins and negative residues.

The pose also requires focus and balance - attributes akin to the peacock’s composed stance. Culturally, Mayura is found in dance (classical Indian dances have movements named after peacocks) and art (many temple decorations, including at yoga schools, feature peacock motifs for beauty and protection). Another spiritual note: the peacock’s feather is in Krishna’s crown, symbolizing infinite beauty and mysticism.

Mettā, in Pali, corresponds to Maitrī in Sanskrit, one of the Brahmavihāras (divine abodes) in Buddhist philosophy. Cultivating mettā means developing a mind imbued with kind affection toward all that lives.

The classical practice involves silently reciting phrases such as “May I be happy. May I be safe. May I be free from suffering,” then extending the same wishes to a loved one, a neutral person, a difficult person, and finally to all beings everywhere. This gradual expansion breaks down barriers in the heart, dissolving ill-will and indifference.

From a yogic standpoint, metta meditation can be seen as an application of bhavana (mental cultivation) to fulfill the commandment of daya (compassion) and maitri (friendliness). In Buddhist and Jain stories, metta is so powerful that it’s said even wild animals can sense it and become non-threatening around a truly loving-kind person.

Neuroscience today finds that compassion meditation like metta can increase activity in brain areas linked to empathy and positive affect. In some modern yoga classes or trainings, instructors incorporate metta intentions at the end of sessions - e.g., dedicating the merit of one’s practice to all beings (this is effectively a metta prayer).

Linguistically, metta comes from the word mitra (friend), indicating it’s about treating others as dear friends or oneself with the kindness a true friend would show. The concept also encourages warmth towards oneself - self-compassion - recognizing that you too are a being deserving of care (which counters a lot of harsh self-criticism).

Mokṣa is derived from the root muc (“to free”) – is the culmination of the yogic path, representing ultimate spiritual freedom. In classical Hindu philosophy, it is one of the four Puruṣārthas (aims of human life), the others being Dharma (righteousness), Artha (prosperity), and Kama (pleasure). Moksha stands as the supreme aim, as it brings an end to all earthly entanglement and leads to eternal bliss (ānanda).

What exactly is one freed from? From avidyā (ignorance) primarily – ignorance of our true nature. The Taittiriya Upanishad and others describe the process as realizing that what we took ourselves to be (body-mind-ego) was a case of mistaken identity, and upon enlightenment, one recognizes oneself as pure Consciousness beyond birth and death.

In Yoga (Patanjali’s system), the analogous concept is Kaivalya (absolute aloneness of Purusha, the Self, once it’s disentangled from Prakriti). Moksha is characterized by the cessation of kleshas (afflictions) and karmic impressions; the individual soul no longer incarnates in samsara because there’s no binding desire or unresolved karma pulling it back.

In Advaita Vedanta, moksha is not a place or something newly attained – it is the natural state of the Self, already free, only obscured by ignorance. The realization “Aham Brahmasmi” (I am Brahman) or “Tat Tvam Asi” (Thou art That) encapsulates the liberating knowledge: it destroys the illusion of separation, and one abides as Brahman – that is moksha.

How to achieve moksha? Different paths: Jnana Yoga, Bhakti Yoga, Karma Yoga, and Raja Yoga. Upon moksha, one experiences Sat-Chit-Ananda (being-consciousness-bliss). Moksha signifies the full realization of one’s true Self and unity with the Absolute, ending all limitations and suffering. It’s the final goal that gives context and purpose to all yogic practices.

mauna (mounam) is far more than just not talking, it refers to a state of inner quietude. In Hindu philosophy, mauna is extolled as “the voice of the Self.”

Practically, Mauna is used as a discipline (tapas). By controlling one’s urge to speak, a yogi directs that energy inward. Many ashrams have periods of mauna, and figures like Sri Ramana Maharshi taught through mouna upadesha (teaching in silence).

Sages describe levels of mauna: silence of speech, silence of mind, and silence of pure Being. In advanced yogic experience, Reality itself is described as silence.

Mudrā is the Sanskrit term meaning seal, mark, gesture. Think of a royal seal stamping an envelope – it “locks in” the contents. Similarly, a mudra “locks in” certain energies or intent.

Hand mudras are most common in yoga: the fingers, each associated with elements and planetary energies, are brought into specific alignments to produce an energetic effect tnp.org . For instance, touching thumb (fire element) to index (air element) in Gyan Mudra is said to promote mental calm and clarity – it symbolically unites individual soul (index finger) with universal Self (thumb). Anjali Mudra “seals” the left and right energy channels and creates symmetry, fostering a balanced, prayerful state.

In Kundalini Yoga, mudras (combined with bandhas and pranayama) are integral to awakening energy. There are also postural mudras like Viparita Karani Mudra (inverted action seal, a mild inversion) and Yoga Mudra (a forward fold sitting, grasping hands behind back) found in Hatha texts. Some mudras involve eye positions (like Shambhavi Mudra – gazing at the third eye).

Khechari Mudra – an advanced technique – involves curling the tongue back into the nasopharynx; it “seals” the upward flow of amrita (divine nectar) preventing its dissipation, according to texts. The Hatha Yoga Pradipika says “Mudras are to Hatha yoga what seals are to a king – guarding his treasures.” That implies mudras unlock yogic accomplishments and guard prana from leaking.

On a neurological level, hand mudras likely work via the concept of sensory-motor representation – the fingers have large areas in the brain’s cortex; forming precise gestures can create specific feedback loops that influence the nervous system (explaining why certain mudras can induce calm, focus, etc.).

Culturally, mudras are everywhere in Indian dance, iconography, and ritual. Dancers use a vocabulary of hand mudras to convey story and emotion. Deities in art hold specific mudras: e.g., Buddha often shown with Dhyan Mudra (meditation gesture) or Bhumisparsha Mudra (earth-touching gesture to witness enlightenment). These reinforce the archetypal energy the figure represents.

In tantric practice, mudra can also mean a physical consort or partner, but that’s a different usage. When you hear a yoga teacher say “bring your hands into a mudra,” they’re usually asking for something like palms up, index-thumb touching (often called Jnana Mudra when done by oneself in meditation, or Chin Mudra if the hands rest on knees with palms down). Each gesture is believed to facilitate the flow of prana in specific nadis (energy channels) tnp.org . For instance, pressing the thumb tip to the little finger (water element) in Varuna Mudra is said to help with fluid balance; Apana Mudra (thumb + middle + ring fingertips together) is said to stimulate downward-moving energy aiding digestion and grounding; etc.

Whether or not one subscribes to the esoteric anatomy, the practice of mudras can be psychologically effective – they act as “embodied affirmations.” For example, making Abhaya Mudra (palm forward, “no-fear” gesture) can invoke a feeling of courage and safety.

In summary, Mudras in yoga are intentional positions of hands (and sometimes body) that act as energetic seals and psychic gestures tnp.org . They enhance meditation, focus the mind, and symbolically connect aspects of one’s consciousness. They are a subtle but profound tool: small movement, big impact.

Mukha as a noun, means face or countenance. In compound words, it often means “having the mouth/face of” or “facing towards”. For instance, Simha-mukha would mean “lion-faced” (used to describe certain deities or figures with a lion’s face).

In pose terminology, it’s very straightforward: Adho Mukha = face downward, Urdhva Mukha = face upward, Parsvottanasana is sometimes translated as “intense side stretch,” originally Parsva (side) + Uttana (stretch) + Asana, no mukha there, but for poses like Adho Mukha Vrkshasana (downward-facing tree, which is the full arm balance handstand) the mukha tells you how the vriksha (tree) is oriented (in this case, upside down).

Another example: in the name Gomukhasana (Cow Face Pose), Go means cow and Mukha means face – the intertwining of arms and legs in that seated pose is whimsically thought to resemble a cow’s face (the knees form the snout, feet the ears). So mukha can also indicate shape resemblance. But the more operational usage is the facing-direction in pose naming, which is quite literal and helpful to understand.

When you break down asana names: Adho (down) Mukha (face) Shvana (dog) Asana (pose) – it precisely describes how the dog (body) is positioned. Similarly Urdhva Mukha (up face) Shvana Asana is upward-facing dog.

In non-asana contexts, mukha shows up in terms like mukhya (principal, literally “of the face”, meaning chief or foremost). Also, mukha is used metaphorically: e.g., “giving face” in some languages means giving respect; in Sanskrit idioms, mukha might be used in phrases about showing one’s face or someone’s face falling etc., similar to English.

In philosophy, Antarmukha means inward-facing (as in turning the mind inward in meditation) and Bahirmukha means outward-facing (mind going out through senses). A classic instruction from yoga/advaita is “Antarmukha-samaradhyah bahirmukha-sudurlabhah” – the inner-turned mind can worship the Self, the outward-turned mind finds it hard (from the Lalita Sahasranama). Here mukha as mukh indicates orientation of attention.

In summary, Mukha is a simple but useful word: in yoga contexts it most often helps describe pose orientation (facing up/down). If you understand mukha = face (facing), a lot of asana names become more intelligible without rote memorization.

Mūla bandha is often introduced in pranayama and asana practice as a way to control the muladhara chakra and associated energies. Physiologically, it involves contracting the pubococcygeal muscles (the ones you’d engage to interrupt urination) and the surrounding perineal muscles.

In men, this feels like lifting the area between the anus and genitals; in women, similarly lifting the pelvic floor region. Engaging Mula Bandha tonifies the pelvic floor (which can aid bladder control and core stability), and energetically it’s said to kindle the dormant Kundalini energy at the base by sealing upward the pathway.

In the classic Hatha Yoga Pradipika, Mula Bandha is one of the tri-bandhas (the other two are Uddiyana Bandha – abdominal lock, and Jalandhara Bandha – throat lock). Using all three together is called Maha Bandha (the great lock). They are often applied during breath retention. Mula Bandha specifically is thought to redirect apana vayu (the downward/outward energy responsible for elimination) upward to unite with prana vayu (the inward moving energy in the chest), resulting in an upward awakening force.

Apart from esoteric effects, mula bandha in asana can give core stability: e.g., engaging it in standing poses improves balance and in inversions protects the lower back. Some lineages like Ashtanga Yoga place strong emphasis on bandha control – Mula and Uddiyana bandha are to be kept subtly active throughout the practice to create lightness and agility. It’s often cued as “lift the pelvic floor” or “engage your lower core” by teachers.

Importantly, Mula Bandha is meant to be a gentle, sustained engagement – about 20-30% of maximal effort – not a hard clench (over-tensing can cause gripping and actually block energy or cause discomfort). Over time, yogis become adept at holding mula bandha almost continuously during practice and even meditation, reporting a sense of inner lift or light upward pull, which helps maintain a tall spine and alert energy.

Anatomically, this practice is akin to the modern understanding of Kegel exercises for strengthening the pelvic floor which has health benefits like preventing incontinence and prolapse. But yoga extends it to energetic benefits: a well-activated Mula Bandha supposedly connects the practitioner to the earth’s energy (root support) while channeling life force upward toward spiritual illumination.

In summary, Mula Bandha (Root Lock) is a fundamental internal practice of contracting and lifting the pelvic floor muscles to stabilize the core body and guide subtle energy upward in the body. It marries physical pelvic health with spiritual aspiration.

Mūlādhāra Chakra in Sanskrit is literally “root support.” It is depicted as a four-petaled deep-red lotus at the base of the spine. Each petal corresponds to a Sanskrit bija (seed syllable) letter, and at its center is a yellow square (symbol of earth) with the bija mantra LAM.

A tiny inverted triangle within the square represents the latent Kundalini energy coiled 3½ times around a shivalinga. In yogic anatomy, muladhara is the grounding center that “anchors” the soul in the physical realm. It governs the solid aspects of the body – bones, flesh, nails, teeth, and the sense of smell (earthy sense). Its presiding deities in some systems are Brahma (creator aspect) and Dakini (a goddess).

Psychologically, Muladhara relates to our sense of security: family ties, home, financial stability, trust in life’s abundance. When energy flows freely here, there’s a fundamental trust and ability to relax into existence. One feels “rooted” – like a healthy tree with strong roots can withstand storms, a person with balanced muladhara handles life’s challenges without losing ground. Signs of imbalance may include constipation, lower back pain, fatigue (physical symptoms) or anxiety, spaciness, financially feeling “ungrounded” (psychological).

Many grounding yoga practices target this chakra: standing poses (Tadasana, Warrior poses), squats like Malasana, and root-lock (mula bandha) practice all activate muladhara. Additionally, earth element activities (walking barefoot on grass, gardening, clay work) can harmonize it. The development of muladhara chakra is often said to occur in early childhood when we form our base sense of trust vs. mistrust.

In Kundalini Yoga, as Kundalini Shakti awakens, she first pierces Muladhara then rises upward; clearing and stabilizing this chakra is crucial, because it’s the launching pad for spiritual ascent. Many meditations for beginners focus on the root. This builds a sense of being centered and present in the here and now. Philosophically, muladhara is also the abode of the sleeping consciousness, the karmic archives (some say, Ganesh energy resides here as the remover of obstacles at the gate of the central channel). Therefore, balancing it can remove fundamental obstacles to progress.

In summary, Muladhara Chakra is our energetic foundation. It deals with survival, instinct, and grounding. A favorite affirmation for it is: “I am safe. I have what I need. I belong here.” Only when the root is secure can one build the rest of the spiritual journey upwards (just as a house needs a solid foundation).

Mūrti comes from the root mur (to solidify) which means form, manifestation, embodiment. In Vedic times, worship was more to fire and sun; later, the use of anthropomorphic or symbolic images became widespread, giving rise to temple culture.

Philosophically, Advaita Vedanta reminds that the Absolute is nirguna, nirakara (without qualities, formless), yet through maya it appears as various forms. Murti worship is thus seen as worshiping the One in a convenient form that the human mind can relate to. A beautiful analogy given is: just as one uses a telephone to talk to a distant person, one uses a murti to communicate with the unseen Divine.

Likewise, a murti is not “idol worship” in the sense of worshipping stone as God; rather, it’s inviting God to express through that stone. In many traditions, it’s said that during prana pratishta (ceremony to infuse life-breath), the deity’s consciousness is requested to dwell in the image, making it a “living form of God” for devotional purposes. That’s why a murti in a temple is treated with the same care as an honored guest or family member: awakened early (by ringing bells), bathed, clothed, offered food (prasad), put to rest at night – these are acts of love toward God present in that form.

There’s an understanding in Hindu thought that the infinite can have finite appearances (just as ocean water can be held in a cup). The term vigraha (body) and pratima (likeness) are synonyms of murti. We see murti usage also in yoga contexts: e.g., some yoga studios have a Ganesha murti at the entry for blessings (Ganesha removes obstacles), or one might keep a murti of Patanjali or a Guru on an altar as inspiration.

It’s common to do a brief murti dhyana (image meditation) where you gaze softly at the deity’s form, then close eyes and visualize it in the heart – this practice can deepen focus and bhakti. For those from iconoclastic backgrounds, murti worship may seem foreign, but it’s helpful to realize that even in secular life we keep photos of loved ones to feel their presence – a murti serves a similar sentimental and psychological role, with the added belief that it actually harbors a spiritual presence.

Yoga in the broader sense (especially Bhakti Yoga) embraces murti puja as a valid path to connect with the divine through Saguna Brahman (God with attributes). In the Bhagavad Gita (12.5), Krishna acknowledges that worshiping the unmanifest is difficult for embodied souls, implying that having a form (like a murti or Avatar) makes devotion more accessible.

Ethically, there’s a principle: “Don’t see the stone as stone once consecrated – see it as God. And don’t see God in stone only – see God in all hearts.” Murti worship is a training to help see the Divine in all forms eventually. In summation, a Murti is a sacred, tangible focal point for devotion – an embodiment of a deity’s presence.

It is both deeply symbolic (each aspect of the image holds meaning) and practical (it engages sight, touch, and other senses in worship). Within the mūrti, “the infinite takes form for the love of the devotee.” A yogi may or may not formally do puja to a murti, but even practicing Surya Namaskar (sun salutation) is a kind of murti worship – treating the visible sun as a murti of the life-giving Surya. It’s all about forging a personal, loving link with the divine, using form as a gateway to the formless.