Day 83: Ramadan, Nyepi and the Soul's Superpowers (Chapter 3, Yoga Sutras 3.1 - 3.55)
When I moved to Kuwait at twenty-three, something I distinctly remember is being absolutely terrified of Ramadan.
Ramadan had always fallen during the summer holidays up until the year I arrived, so none of the teachers I worked with - some who had lived in Kuwait for 8, 9, even 10 years - had ever experienced it during the school term. Since Ramadan follows the lunar calendar, in my first year there, it happened to fall during the final few days of school.
All of us teachers were ushered into the library for what I can only describe as a fear-based lecture (delivered by white people) on how to behave during Ramadan. I remember being told:
“Don’t drink water in public. Don’t even pull it out of your bag. If you do, you’ll get arrested. And we don’t want you going to jail before your summer holidays.”
So Ramadan became something I feared. Something to dread.
But over time, that completely changed.
I ended up living in the Middle East for seven years, and the longer I lived there, the more Ramadan became my favourite holiday of the year. There was nothing to be afraid of. Obviously we had to respect the laws and customs, but if you made a genuine mistake, no one was going to arrest you. And the Iftars (the dinners to break the fast)? They were like Christmas Eve every night for thirty nights - but even better. Workdays were shortened to 9am–1pm, and my Muslim friends began inviting me to their Iftar feasts.
I’ll never forget my first Iftar. We sat cross-legged on the living room floor, breaking our fasts with three dates each. With this family, we normally ate at the dining room table so this was pretty cool! Another time, I fasted all day with a Muslim friend, and we went to a hotel Iftar together - a lavish all-you-can-eat buffet. I remember watching the cannon fire on a TV screen, signalling the moment we could eat.
One year, I even organized an Iftar in a tent for twenty of my colleagues in downtown Abu Dhabi.
Ramadan became a time of connection, community, and celebration. Being invited into it was one of the most beautiful experiences of my life.
I realized recently that I felt a similar fear the first time I heard about Nyepi in Bali.
Today is Nyepi - my fourth Silent Day on the island - and I absolutely love it now. But in the beginning, it scared me.
The rules sounded intense:
You can’t leave your home for 24 hours.
You can’t turn on lights.
You can’t make noise.
No planes, no music, no movement.
It’s a full island-wide stillness, so that evil spirits believe the island is empty - and leave.
When I first moved here, I was afraid of breaking a rule by accident. But now, I live for it.
Last night, I went with an Indonesian friend to the Ogoh-Ogoh parade, watching giant paper-mâché monsters get marched through the streets and burned in flames. (By the way, I want to mention that I explained to her that when we make floats in Canada for parades, we put them on top of cars and we drive them through the streets. I mentioned this because I was just so impressed at all the men working together to lift and carry these heavy sculptures down the roads all over the island. She thought putting parade floats on cars was the most ridiculous thing in the world, and kept bringing it up throughout the night, laughing about it. “Canadians need to come to Bali and see how a real parade is done! It’s about team work. Working together. Community.”)
And today, for Nyepi, I had one of the most restful days of my life.
No alarm.
Read a book.
Watched the end of Fight Club.
Did an online yoga class with Mr. Mantra (otherwise known as the Meow-ditator, The Rational Mystic, the-guy-i-like-that-i-feel-safe-with, him (the crush). I told him yesterday that at this point I work him into the essays because it makes me so happy to wakeup to his texts every day being entertained at the different nickname I came up for him the night before 😂).
Swam naked in my pool, because there’s no foot traffic on Nyepi and I realized this was the only day I could do it without having to worry that someone might walk in! (and people sometimes just walk into my house thinking the garden’s public space - I’m used to it, Bali culture, lol).
Nyepi is magical.
No airplanes.
No motorbikes.
No background noise.
Just the jungle hum, a dog barking, and the occasional rooster.
The world stands still - and it is magic.
I can’t stop telling foreigners how special Ogoh-Ogoh and Nyepi are. I’m even thinking of hosting a retreat next year themed around it at the end of March 2026 - would you come?
Lately I’ve been thinking about how often we’re afraid of things we don’t understand. For me, that was Ramadan and Nyepi.
But when we open ourselves up - when we experience them - they turn out to be the most beautiful things.
This idea came up in my yoga philosophy class this week with Rolf, where we were discussing Chapter 3 of Patanjali’s Yoga Sutras - the Siddhis, or yogic superpowers. I actually had to leave class early, so I missed the deep dive. But we were just shifting into the topic, and it’s stayed with me.
Chapter 3 (Vibhuti Pada) is probably the hardest chapter of the sutras to teach, because on the surface, it feels… out there. Unrelatable. Mystical.
But it’s also the most intriguing.
It’s all about Samyama, the integration of the last three limbs of yoga:
Dharana – concentration
Dhyana – meditation
Samadhi – absorption
When practiced together on one object, these three create Samyama, which Patanjali says leads to insight and mastery.
Then, in a series of verses that sound like a yogic version of Marvel Comics, we get a whole bunch of superhuman powers such as:
🕰️ Knowledge of past and future
🧠 Ability to read minds
🕊️ Levitation and lightness
🌙 Cosmic awareness
🐘 Strength of an elephant
It goes on for about 25 - 35 siddhis. And they sound unbelievable. But are they?
I always tell my students:
We’ve seen every single siddhi in movies.
In Harry Potter there was an Invisibility Cloak.
In Honey, I Shrunk the Kids, we saw becoming as tiny as a bug.
In Back to the Future we saw time travel.
In What Women Want we saw mind reading.
Where did those ideas come from?
Some ancient seed was planted - perhaps in texts like the Yoga Sutras. And I don’t believe that Patanjali was just making this up. I do believe that perhaps, when people devoted their entire lifetimes to eating aryuvedically, and meditating, and practicing yoga - that perhaps some of these siddhis were once possible in a way that they aren’t possible now. Just because something isn’t possible in our lifetime - doesn’t mean that it wasn’t possible in the past.
My Nana - 96 years old - was sitting in the car with my mom and I a couple Christmases ago. My mom needed to stop for gas and we pulled off the highway and into a small town that no one in the family had ever lived in or really been to before. I started directing her to the gas station. “Turn left here, make a right there.”
My nana, astounded, said to me: “Alex - how do you know this area so well?”
I had to explain to her that I had Google maps on my iPhone, and I could type in a location and get directions. That’s something that didn’t even need to be said between my mom and I because it’s just such a common practice in 2025 - to pull out your phone and search on a map where a location is, and drive there. But to my nana, whos 95, it seemed unbelievable! And that’s an example of how whats possible in one lifetime, culture, or society, could be completely impossible in another.
Recently, I was reading From Rags to Riches, a book about Abu Dhabi’s economic history.
In 1966, they didn’t have roads, cars, or electricity in Abu Dhabi. People traveled by camel between Al Ain and Abu Dhabi - a journey that took seven days. (Now I host an annual retreat in Al Ain and it takes my guests 1.5 hours to drive there from Abu Dhabi!)
The author, as a child, went to England one summer and saw things he couldn't even describe to his friends when he got back:
Flicking a switch and getting light.
A TV screen where strangers came into your room.
Double decker buses driving on paved roads.
It felt like magic to him. But it was just technology they hadn’t seen yet.
And I think that’s how Chapter 3 of the sutras feels to us.
We haven’t seen it.
But that doesn’t mean it’s not possible.
These days, I’m exploring this chapter through a new lens - addiction recovery, trauma healing, and mental health. And suddenly, it all makes sense.
Vibhuti Pada isn’t just esoteric - it also can be a guidebook for inner healing.
Book 3: Vibhuti Pada — The Blossoming of Inner Power
3.1–3.8: Samyama
Recovery Theme: Integration and inner stillness.
Dharana, dhyana, and samadhi mirror the healing journey: focus, presence, and surrender.
3.9–3.15: Thought Transformation (Parinama)
Recovery Theme: Rewiring trauma.
These sutras show how the mind changes over time through consistent practice—like neuroplasticity meets spiritual growth.
3.16–3.50: The Siddhis (Superpowers)
Recovery Theme: Sobriety reveals hidden gifts.
The siddhis can in some ways, become metaphors for the powers that arise in healing:
Clairvoyance = deep intuition
Lightness = freedom from burden
Mind-reading = empathy
Strength of an elephant = resilience
Time power = living in the now
3.51–3.55: Dangers of the Powers
Recovery Theme: Stay humble. Stay free.
Even on the spiritual path, ego can creep in. Patanjali reminds us: these powers are not the goal—freedom is.
So here’s what I’m sitting with today, on this still, silent, sacred Nyepi:
Sometimes we fear what we don’t know.
Sometimes we dread what we don’t understand.
But often, those very things hold the most beauty.
If we can just open our minds—and our hearts—to them.
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