Pratyahara: How Do I Find Peace When I Feel Overwhelmed?

The Question I Hear Most

Today we're continuing our journey through the Eight Limbs of Yoga, and we've arrived at what I think is one of the most useful limbs: Pratyahara. And I say this because it answers the question my students ask me most, in one form or another. How do I find peace when I feel overwhelmed?

Pratyahara is usually translated as withdrawal of the senses. And at first, it's common not to fully understand what that actually means. Because if yoga is inviting us to be fully present in life, why would we withdraw from the very senses that allow us to experience it? It doesn't seem to make sense.

But for me it has become a really important practice on the road to finding peace when I feel overwhelmed, especially living in an era where we are constantly bombarded by inputs and information.

What Ahara Really Means

The word itself gives us a clue. Pratyahara is made up of two Sanskrit words: prati and ahara. Prati means "against", "away from", or "to withdraw." And ahara means food.

When we hear the word "food," we immediately think about what we put on our plate. But in yoga, ahara has a much broader meaning. It includes the food that nourishes our physical body, but it also includes everything we receive through our senses, and all of that is nourishing us, in a good way or not such a good way. What we look at. What we listen to. The conversations we have. The environments we spend time in. The books we read. The music we listen to. The thoughts we keep returning to. All of that is also nourishment.

I love that idea because it completely changes the way we understand Pratyahara. It's not only withdrawing from the senses. It's also becoming aware of how we're feeding ourselves through those senses.

A Highway During Rush Hour

Because our senses are like antennas, continuously gathering information from the world around us. They don't stop. Our eyes collect images. Our ears collect sounds. Our skin feels temperature, touch and movement. And then the mind does what the mind has always done. It takes all that information and starts making sense of it based on our beliefs. It creates thoughts. Those thoughts create emotions. Those emotions influence how we experience the world. None of that is a problem. That's simply how the mind works.

The challenge is that there is almost never a pause. Information keeps arriving. Sometimes I imagine it like a highway during rush hour. Cars keep entering from every direction until eventually nothing moves anymore. I think our minds often feel the same way. Not because we're incapable of being at peace, simply because we're constantly processing more information than we realise, especially if we have high levels of sensitivity.

This is why I love Patanjali's definition of yoga so much. He says that yoga is the state in which we cease to identify ourselves with the fluctuations of the mind. I've always found peace in that sutra. It's not about stopping the thoughts, or about emptying the mind. It's simply to stop believing every thought is who we are.

Gathering the Antennas Back

But if our mind is constantly being fed by everything our senses collect, how do we create enough space to recognise that quieter place underneath all those thoughts? This is where Pratyahara begins. Not by shutting the world out, but by gently gathering those antennas back.

I heard Thich Nhat Hanh describe this once, in a way that's stayed with me. He talked about closing the windows, closing the doors of the senses, so the wind stops rushing in and stirring up more noise inside. And in that moment, when we turn inward and stop feeding ourselves with more information, we can light something inside, rearrange what needs rearranging, and let the tension start to release. That's where the calm begins.

I like that image. Almost as if, for a little while, we stop extending ourselves in every direction and allow our awareness to return home. Because when our attention is always outwards, something also happens inside. We lose contact with our true self, simply because all of our energy has been flowing away from our centre for so long that we forget what it feels like to rest there.

The Tree and Its Roots

I think this is one of the reasons Pratyahara asks for a conscious decision. Our tendency is to live externally. We're naturally attracted to movement, to stimulation, to what's happening around us. Living from who we are at our core doesn't happen accidentally. It has to be cultivated.

And whenever I think about cultivating something, I always think of a tree. When we look at a tree, we admire the branches, the flowers, the fruits, the colours. Everything beautiful seems to happen above the ground. Yet very few times we think about the roots. They're hidden. We don't take photographs of them. We normally don't compliment a tree on its roots. And yet, everything we admire depends entirely on them. A tree can only grow towards the light if, at the same time, its roots are growing deeper into the earth. Its visible growth depends on something invisible.

I sometimes wonder if we've forgotten that about ourselves. We spend so much of our lives taking care of the branches. Our work. Our responsibilities. Our families. Our achievements. Even our spiritual practice can sometimes become another branch that we want to improve. We're always trying to grow, to become better, to do more. But how often do we ask ourselves whether we're nourishing our roots?

Because roots need nourishment. And maybe that's what Pratyahara is really reminding us: that before we ask how to grow, we need to ask what is feeding us. Not only physically. Mentally. Emotionally. Spiritually. Because everything we consume is information, and information becomes nourishment. Some of it nourishes us. Some of it doesn't. Some conversations leave us feeling lighter. Others stay with us for days. Some environments make us feel more connected to ourselves. Others pull us further away. Pratyahara is not asking us to stop living in the world. It's asking us to become more discerning about what we allow to take root inside us.

Sat Nam as a Way Home

I also think this is why Kundalini Yoga feels so powerful. When we begin a practice, we close our eyes, and for a little while, we make the conscious decision to look inward. We repeat Sat Nam again and again. Not because the mind needs another thought, but because the mantra gently brings us back to ourselves. Every repetition is like remembering where home is. Every breath is another opportunity to nourish something deeper than the thinking mind.

Then we finish the practice, we open our eyes and return to our lives. The world hasn't changed. Our families are still there. Our work is still there. Our responsibilities and challenges are still there. But hopefully we've remembered something before stepping back into them. We've remembered our essence. Without that connection, it's very easy to experience life through separation. We spend our energy chasing what we don't have and resisting what we don't want. In yoga we call that desire and aversion, and if we're honest, there isn't much peace there.

Pratyahara offers another possibility. It invites us to return to that quieter place within ourselves before we respond to the world. Not to escape life, but to participate in it from a different place.

This is also why Pratyahara comes exactly where it does in the Eight Limbs of Yoga. It is the fifth limb, the first of the final four. From this point, the journey becomes more subtle. Only when we've learned to gently withdraw from the constant pull of the senses can the mind begin to settle into Dharana, focus, into meditation, Dhyana, and eventually into those moments of profound unity that yoga calls Samadhi.

A Practice for This Week

Before we finish, I'd love to leave you with something to explore this week. Not another thing to do, just something to notice. As you move through your day, become more conscious about how you're feeding yourself. Notice the conversations that stay with you. Notice the information you consume. Notice the people you spend time with. Notice how different places make you feel. And every now and then, ask yourself a simple question: is this nourishing myself in a positive way?

Then, at some point during the day, even if it's only for five minutes, sit quietly. Close your eyes. Bring your awareness to your breath. Silently repeat Sat Nam. Imagine gathering your antennas back. Not shutting the world out, just coming home.

Because maybe that's what Pratyahara really is: a gentle return to the place within us that has always been there. The place that doesn't need more information. Only a little more presence. Thank you for being here. I'll see you in the next episode. Sat Nam.