Where’s the Drishti?

While leading a yoga class a few days ago, during a challenging asana, a practitioner called out, Where’s the drishti?

I replied quickly with a suggestion. Even as I did, I realized the practitioner was asking for a set gaze point for the pose—a way of using drishti that I rarely follow.

This moment led me to consider more carefully what drishti is and how to apply it in practice. I wanted to share my thoughts here, hoping you might feel inspired to explore the practice more thoughtfully yourself.

Breaking my own rule

Out of habit, in many classes I have said, “Each pose has a drishti.”

That’s vague, and perhaps a way to fill space with information—something I lean into too much at times. I heard the phrase many years ago from another teacher and have come across it consistently when studying Ashtanga Vinyasa yoga, a style of asana practice developed by Pattabhi Jois in the last century.

Parroting another teacher without filtering the teaching through my own experience is a teaching no-no I aim to avoid. Yet here I am, realizing I’ve broken my own rule. Well, what is one to do? As my dear teacher Kim would say, make a course correction. So, here I go adjusting my compass.

Drishti in asana and the texts

I turned to my yoga library to read about drishti across time and lineage.

Drishti is a Sanskrit word from the root dṛś, meaning “to see.” It can refer to sight, the faculty of seeing, a look, or a mental perspective. In asana, it describes where to gaze in a posture. But drishti is not confined to asana; it is used in other yoga practices and can even become an orientation in everyday life.

The systematic use of specific drishtis in asana is a defining feature of Ashtanga Vinyasa. In Ashtanga Yoga: Practice and Philosophy, Gregor Maehle describes eight gaze points: toward the nose, the center of the forehead or third eye, the navel, the hand, the toes, the side, the thumb, and upward.

Maehle writes, “One prevents oneself from looking around, which would let the mind reach out. Following the drishti, the practice becomes deeply internal and meditative.”

A specified focal point is also a useful way to guide a group of people in a class. It gives everyone clear direction and helps keep the class coherent. I wonder if some asana prescriptions began as practical ways to do just that. For example, many poses are held for five breaths, giving groups a shared rhythm. A specified drishti gives the teacher a single cue. Both can be useful starting points.

But a cue can harden into a rule when we forget why it was offered. Then a direction meant to support practice becomes doctrine, applied to every student regardless of their personal needs or development.

I remember taking a class and the teacher instructing us to stare at the tip of the nose during a balancing pose. For me, it caused quite a bit of strain which was not useful for finding sthira or sukha, steadiness or ease, in the posture.

In the books I consulted, most references to drishti came from teachers influenced by Pattabhi Jois. I found no mention of drishti in B.K.S. Iyengar’s Light on Yoga, James Mallinson and Mark Singleton’s Roots of Yoga, Goswami Kriyananda’s The Science of Kriya Yoga, Indu Arora’s Yoga: Ancient Heritage, Tomorrow’s Vision, or David Frawley’s Yoga and Ayurveda: Self-Healing and Self-Realization.

Mark Stephens, in Teaching Yoga, points to the Shiva Samhita’s reference to dristana, or conscious gazing. In his discussion of asana, Stephens notes that prescribing a point can remove uncertainty about where to look, and suggests directing students to “gaze steadily at something nearby that is not moving.”

What is the gaze meant to do?

Looping back to Gregor Maehle’s words—“Following the drishti, the practice becomes deeply internal and meditative”—we get a sense of its purpose. Aha! Drishti helps turn attention inward and make the practice meditative. These are worthwhile goals for a yoga practice.

There is a phrase I like that reveals something true about the flow of prana, or life force energy: where the eyes go, energy flows. Naturally, prana flows outward through the eyes toward the objects they see. Then the mind investigates and wonders: What is it? How do I relate to it? Do I want it?

When we steady our eyes at one point, we practice a bit of wholesome mental discipline: I will look at only one object for a bit. The eyes naturally follow movement around us, and the gaze can follow the mind’s movement too—to a distant memory, an imagined future, or a present judgment. Returning the eyes to one point gives attention a place to gather. In this way, drishti helps the practice become deeply internal and meditative.

Drishti and Patanjali’s eight limbs

Patanjali’s Yoga Sutras do not discuss drishti as a distinct practice. Yet drishti can support the eight limbs of yoga, especially pratyahara and dharana, the fifth and sixth limbs. Please note that here, ashtanga yoga refers to Patanjali’s eight-limbed path, distinct from Ashtanga Vinyasa, the style of asana practice developed by Pattabhi Jois.

Pratyahara is the practice of turning the sense organs inward, away from the objects they perceive and toward inner experience. By fixing the eyes on a single point—even an outward one—we reduce the pull of everything else in the visual field. The gaze may remain outward, but the effort of holding it steady turns the sense organs inward.

Dharana is the practice of concentrating the mind on one thing. This requires the mind to set aside thoughts unrelated to what we are concentrating on. When we attempt this, we become very aware of the mind’s natural tendency to wander.

At the very beginning of The Yoga Sutras, Patanjali writes:

1.2 Yogaś citta-vṛtti-nirodhaḥYoga is the stilling of the changing states of the mind.

1.3 Tadā draṣṭuḥ svarūpe ’vasthānamWhen this is accomplished, the seer abides in its own true nature.

1.4 Vṛtti-sārūpyam itaratraAt other times, the seer is absorbed in the changing states of the mind.

(The English translation comes from Edwin F. Bryant.'s text The Yoga Sutras of Patanjali.)

These sutras describe both the aim of yoga and what happens when the mind is not still. When the mind settles, the seer—that's us!—abides in its own true nature. Otherwise, it is absorbed in the mind’s changing states or wanderings. Here we are, circling around the heart of yoga practice: gathering ourselves so we can become still enough to simply be.

Inward and upward

Patanjali describes the workings of the mind and the path to stilling its movements. Drishti supports that aim by focusing the gaze and mind and concentrating prana.

This brings us to the question: Where do we want to focus the gaze and the mind and concentrate prana? In Kriya Yoga, the direction is inward and upward, toward the spiritual eye. Although other yoga traditions direct prana inward and upward, the Kriya Yoga lineage uses the phrase “inward and upward” almost as a mantra.

The spiritual eye is the point between the eyebrows, also called the third eye, ājñā chakra, or the sun center; some associate it with the pineal gland.

Here is a way to find this point, taught by Nayaswami Diksha:

Extend an arm straight out in front of you and fold your fingers toward the palm. Lift just the thumb and raise its tip until it lines up with the top of your head. Look at the thumbnail. Then close your eyes and imagine looking at your thumbnail. This gives you a point of orientation for the inward, upward gaze.

Focusing here, we can listen for intuition, search for answers to our heartfelt questions, experience the subtle body, gain aid from the Unseen Help, offer our strengths and weaknesses into a purifying fire, and abide in our own true nature. Pretty potent, yes?

Finding your drishti

Drishti can be a valued part of your asana, pranayama, pratyahara, dharana, and meditation practice. It can also be part of your everyday life, a way to be more present during ordinary activities like loading the dishwasher, watching a favorite streaming series, having a conversation with a friend, or taking a walk. Although the eyes may remain open as you tend to your life, the drishti moves ever inward and upward to the spiritual eye. Just don’t try it while driving or crossing the street!

So the next time you ask, Where’s the drishti? perhaps you can take it as an invitation to explore. Try a few breaths with a steady gaze in a posture, then try turning the gaze inward and upward toward the spiritual eye. Notice what happens in the body, in the mind, and in the flow of prana. Carry the experiment into an ordinary moment and see what you discover. What does drishti open for you? I’d love to hear.