Yoga, Dharma, and Ishvara Pranidhana: A Personal Journey Through the Bhagavad Gita

Yoga is often described as a path of union—between breath and body, strength and softness, effort and ease, self and spirit, Atman and Brahman. My journey with yoga has been one of learning to trust and to have faith.  Among the most enduring texts in the history of yoga, the Bhagavad Gita has shaped both the spiritual tradition and my own path in unexpected ways.

After over two decades of working as a nurse, often in some of the world’s more remote and hostile environments, I finally came to a tipping point. I had long felt that my work was misaligned with my purpose, but I was good at what I did, and had an unusual skill set that presented opportunities for well paid roles and recognition amongst my peers. I had long been convinced by society that I could create safety by having a well paid job… this had become my focus over the preceding years and somehow I wasn’t bothered by the physical risks my career path often presented.

I had practiced yoga on-and-off since 2008, but during the pandemic my yoga practice had become more regular, sincere, and central to my daily life. As my yoga practice became more established, I felt increasingly unable to ignore the sense that I wasn’t living my life’s purpose. 

Last year I found the dissonance between my career and my calling came to a head. I was working on a compound in southern Iraq as the medical training manager for a large security company, and whilst the role was stable and well-paid, I felt frustrated & unfulfilled. In early 2024 I committed to a deep period of svadhyaya — self-study — to reconnect with what I believed to be my true path. I longed to offer something rooted in compassion, authenticity, and spiritual presence. Yet stepping away from financial and professional security to follow that call felt overwhelming & scary.

I was on a flight back to my job in Iraq when I remembered that I had an audiobook version of the Bhagavad Gita on my phone. As I listened on that flight, something inside me shifted. Krishna’s words — “You have a right to perform your prescribed duty, but you are not entitled to the fruits of action.” (Gita 2.47) — resonated deeply speaking straight to my heart.

It felt revolutionary and simultaneously terrifying to imagine living life fully aligned with your life’s purpose without having the focus on a result of outward success. As I listened, I was reassured to hear Krishna also experienced fear in facing his dharma. However frightening it was to consider a drastic change in my life’s path, I knew deep down that if something didn’t change, I would come to regret it.

The Gita reminded me that living in alignment with one’s dharma — one’s soul calling — doesn’t guarantee an easy life, or a clear outcome, but it teaches us that it is the only real path to a fully lived life. As Krishna reminds Arjuna: “It is far better to execute one's prescribed duties, even though imperfectly, than to perform another's duty perfectly.” (Gita 3.35). I’d spent years succeeding in a life that didn’t quite fit—doing work that looked right from the outside but often felt hollow within. I felt an ache, and it was now painfully clear that even if I were to perform someone else’s idea of a good life with perfection, it would never bring me the peace I was seeking.

I listened to the full story of the Gita on that journey and again in the days that followed. The Bhagavad Gita, also known as “The Song of God”, is one of yoga’s most sacred texts, nestled within the epic Mahabharata thought to have been written between the 5th and 2nd century BCE by the sage Vyasa. In it, the warrior Arjuna faces an impossible decision: to go to war against his own kin, or walk away from what he’s been born to do. As he hesitates, Lord Krishna — his charioteer and divine guide — offers teachings on life, duty, suffering, and the nature of the soul. Through the paths of jnana (wisdom), bhakti (devotion), and karma yoga (selfless action), Krishna helps Arjuna remember who he truly is.

One of the most enduring teachings from the Gita that has stayed with me is this:

“Perform actions in this world without attachment, Arjuna, and be equal in success and failure. For balance of mind is yoga”  (Gita 2.48)

Here, Krishna urges Arjuna to act in accordance with his dharma, without becoming entangled in ideas of personal gain, or the need for external validation. This message stands in sharp contrast to the way modern life often functions, where success is measured in likes, salaries, and social standing. Karma yoga invites us to turn that on its head — to act from a place of intention and presence, and to let go of the outcome.

Throughout 2024, I continued my inner work while still based abroad. I took a copy of Rod Stryker’s The Four Desires with me on the next trip to Iraq. Stryker’s work invites us to shape a meaningful life by exploring dharma (our life purpose), artha (the need for the means to fulfil our dharma), kama (pleasure), and moksha (inner peace). Working through his exercises, prompts and questions allowed me the space to explore these subjects, and highlighted to me how I’d been using my energy in ways that were not aligned with my life’s purpose. I looked back to the yamas and niyamas offered in Patanjali’s sutras and understood that I was not practicing brahmacharya (right use of energy) and I started to understand my growing sense of frustration and dissatisfaction with a life that from the outside appeared somewhat successful. At that time I could not have imagined that in less than a year my life would look entirely different and I would open a yoga studio back home in Northern Ireland.

Several people on the compound, aware that I practiced yoga and was a registered yoga teacher asked if I would lead a few classes. I agreed, a little hesitantly, and soon I was facilitating 3 yoga classes a week in the middle of the Iraqi desert. Looking back, leading those classes were the first steps toward realigning with my dharma.

In autumn 2024, life changed rapidly. I was made redundant due to project contract changes, and the reality of the false sense of safety that my job had provided became clear. I picked up a short-term contract in Saudi Arabia, but soon after, my father was diagnosed with a terminal illness. I resigned and came home with no plan other than to spend time with him. 

It felt like my world had gone from order and structure with outward success, to absolute chaos. I felt ungrounded and shaken to my core as if being whipped violently around like a rag doll caught in a tornado. My partner, my practice, the wisdom of the Gita, and the yamas and niyamas became the refuge that provided a safe haven. I am convinced that without the unconditional love of my partner, the wisdom books from the yoga tradition, and the sense of connection that my yoga practice brought me, that I would have returned to old destructive patterns of behaviour.

In a strange turn of events, my partner — who loves scrolling through estate agent websites — sent me a link to a local property for rent. “It would make a beautiful yoga studio,” he said. I laughed it off. I felt unqualified, uncertain, and emotionally stretched to capacity. But the idea kept whispering, and after some persistent gentle nudging from my partner, I decided to view the property. 

I shared the idea with a respected yoga teacher… I think I was hoping to be told it was a bad idea. In honesty, I believe I was looking for a way out. An excuse to stay on the path of the familiar. Her response was “It’s madness — but a fabulous madness. I’m excited for you!” No easy out there. This was time to put my big girl pants on and make a decision. The choice: continue with the familiar pattern of well paid overseas contracts, knowing the emptiness that brought my soul… or to follow the teachings of the Gita and Patanjali’s Sutras to take a leap into the unknown to follow my dharma. 

I knew my dad didn’t have long left to live and that once he had left this earth, I would have the opportunity to return to my old and familiar life should I so choose. Not opening the studio might feel safer to me — but I knew it would cost me something much deeper. 

Another line from the Gita echoed within me: “To abandon your own duty in order to perform another’s, though safer, is not right.” (Gita 18.47). I understand that my sense of safety is somewhat warped, and most folks wouldn’t necessarily view working in regions where it remains normal to come under rocket attack, or where terrorism and kidnapping is rife, as safe. But it is my familiar.

Though afraid, and having no plan, I felt the call of dharma more strongly than ever. In the Gita, Krishna speaks of surrender to a divine being, and as I returned to read the yamas and niyamas offered in Patanjali’s Sutras I was struck by the same wisdom - Ishvara Pranidhana.

“By surrender to God, perfection in samadhi is attained.” (Yoga Sutras 2.45)

I didn’t need a detailed plan. I just needed to trust and begin the journey. Ishvara Pranidhana became my reminder that I could let go of the illusion of control that my old career offered, and simply offer my work with sincerity.

Karma yoga and Ishvara Pranidhana aren’t separate — I feel that they are deeply entwined. One asks us to act from the heart; the other invites us to release the result. Together, they gave me the courage to move forward, even when I didn’t know what would come of it.

Opening a yoga studio has been the beginning of a new kind of spiritual practice. The studio has become a sacred container. Every class is a chance to live the teachings. Showing up, offering what I can, and surrendering the rest — this has become my sadhana.

This shift in mindset has brought me an unexpected sense of peace. I no longer measure the worth of my work by numbers. I focus on service. I remind myself that I’m just the vessel — not the source. In honesty, that takes a lot of the pressure off. When I teach, I teach from that place. Not to prove anything… but to share and to serve.

That’s not to say I never wobble — emotionally or on the mat. But the teachings of the Gita, and the quiet reassurance of Ishvara Pranidhana really help steady me when life feels like a lot.

In today’s culture, where visibility and success are often the markers of worth, the Gita’s message feels revolutionary and freeing. The guidance & wisdom found in both The Bhagavad Gita & Patanjali’s Yoga Sutra’s are as relevant today as they ever were. 

The Bhagavad Gita found me at a time of deep uncertainty. It didn’t offer promises. It offered wisdom, peace and faith. This ancient wisdom reminds me that the path itself is sacred. That every breath, every action, offered with sincerity, is already enough.