Pranayama

Pranayama, the 4th of Patanjali’s 8 Limbs of Yoga — and in many ways, it is the most quietly transformative. The word itself tells us everything: prana means life force or energy, and ayama means to extend. To practise pranayama is, quite literally, to extend your life force.

In yogic philosophy, we understand ourselves as existing across five interpenetrating layers of being — the Pancha Koshas, or five sheaths, as described in the Taittiriya Upanishad. From the outermost gross body to the most subtle, these are:

Beyond all five sheaths rests the Ātman — the true, unchanging self.

Prana flows through the Pranamaya kosha via a network of energetic channels called nadis — of which yogic tradition recognises over 72,000. The three primary nadis — Ida, Pingala, and Sushumna — run vertically through the body, and where many nadis converge, they form the major energy centres you may know as the Chakras. The Pranamaya kosha is, in this sense, the living bridge between the physical body and the subtler mental and spiritual dimensions of our being.

When we practise pranayama, we are working directly within this pranic layer — consciously influencing the flow of energy through the nadis, clearing stagnation, and creating the conditions for deeper awareness. The breath is the one aspect of this ordinarily invisible system that we can feel, observe, and shape with intention.

Why the breath matters

Modern science is catching up with what the ancient yogis understood intuitively: the breath is one of the few functions of the autonomic nervous system we can consciously influence. When we slow and deepen the breath, we activate the parasympathetic nervous system — shifting the body out of stress response and into a state of rest, repair, and receptivity. Researchers at institutions including Stanford Medicine have shown that extended exhale breathing techniques can significantly reduce anxiety and physiological arousal — findings that map beautifully onto thousands of years of yogic wisdom.

How I approach Pranayama practice

In my programs, I never rush toward breath control. Before any directed technique is introduced, I spend time simply cultivating awareness of the breath as it is — noticing its rhythm, its texture, where it moves freely and where it catches. This feels gentle, but it is real practice.

Traditionally, Asana is practised before Pranayama — the body is prepared, the nervous system softened, before the breath is asked to do something more deliberate. I honour this sequence, and sessions generally conclude with a relaxation or meditative practice to allow everything to settle and integrate.

I often weave Hastha Mudras — hand gestures — into early breath practices. Gyan Mudra — the seal of wisdom — pairs particularly well with early breathwork, and Bhramari pranayama — the humming breath — is a beautiful first step into the felt experience of conscious breath extension. Mudras create subtle energetic circuits in the body that seem to support the nervous system in finding more efficient, expansive breathing patterns. It’s one of those things that sounds esoteric until you try it.

A gentle invitation

The most important principle I bring to Pranayama is Ahimsa — non-violence. The breath is not something to conquer or force. Stress leaves its mark on our breathing — shallow chest breathing, holding without realising, bracing against the next moment. Your pranayama practice begins not with effort, but with permission: permission to breathe fully, slowly, without apology.

Namaste, Penelope