Brahma, Vishnu & Shiva: The Cycle of Change

A yoga practice is never exactly the same twice. One day, arriving on the mat can feel like a beginning; another, it asks us to sustain a quiet commitment; on another, it helps us release a habit that no longer serves us.

Brahma, Vishnu and Shiva, often discussed together in Hindu traditions, offer a meaningful way to reflect on these recurring movements of creation, preservation and transformation.

Rather than treating these figures as decorative symbols or simplifying them into personality types, it helps to meet the tradition with curiosity and respect. Their stories are vast, layered and living. For yoga practitioners, they can also open a thoughtful conversation about change, discipline and the many seasons within a human life.

Brahma, Vishnu and Shiva: the Trimurti

In many introductions to Hindu traditions, Brahma, Vishnu and Shiva are described together as the Trimurti: Brahma associated with creation, Vishnu with preservation and Shiva with transformation or dissolution.

This framework points towards a cycle visible everywhere. Something begins, finds its rhythm, changes or ends, and eventually makes space for something new.

Yet Hindu traditions are not a single, fixed system. Different communities, texts and lineages understand and worship these deities in distinct ways. In some traditions, one deity is central; in others, the Trimurti is less prominent than popular explanations sometimes suggest.

Holding this nuance matters. Yoga philosophy becomes richer when we resist turning a living religious tradition into a quick self-help formula.

The three figures can still be meaningful companions for reflection, particularly when approached as a lens rather than a label. We do not need to claim that every new sequence is “Brahma” or every difficult pose is “Shiva”. Instead, we can notice how practice trains us to participate more consciously in beginnings, continuity and change.

The story of the infinite pillar of light

One of the most striking stories involving Brahma, Vishnu and Shiva begins with a disagreement.

Brahma and Vishnu were arguing about which of them was supreme.

Then, between them, an enormous pillar of fire appeared.

It stretched upward beyond anything they could see and disappeared downward into depths they could not measure.

There was no visible beginning.

There was no visible end.

They decided to discover its limits.

Brahma took the form of a bird and flew upward, searching for the top.

Vishnu took the form of a boar and travelled downward, searching for the base.

They travelled farther and farther.

But neither could find the end.

The pillar seemed infinite.

Eventually, Shiva revealed himself within the blazing column of light.

The story is known through the tradition of Lingodbhava, the manifestation of Shiva from the infinite linga of fire.

Beyond its theological meaning within Shaiva traditions, the image itself is powerful: two divine beings searching in opposite directions for the limits of something that cannot be measured.

For a yoga practitioner, it can offer a question rather than a simple lesson.

How much of our own practice is spent trying to reach an imagined endpoint?

The deepest forward fold. The strongest handstand. The perfectly calm mind. The moment when we believe we will finally have “mastered” yoga.

Perhaps there are aspects of practice that are not meant to be conquered.

Sometimes the search itself reveals our limits. Sometimes progress means recognising that we cannot control everything. And sometimes transformation begins when we stop trying to arrive.

Creation: making room for Brahma

Creation is not always dramatic.

It may be the small decision to unroll your mat after a demanding day, to take your first slower breath, or to return to a practice after months away.

Beginners often assume they must arrive flexible, calm or knowledgeable. In reality, the beginning is simply the willingness to start where you are.

In movement, creation can be felt through curiosity.

You might explore a new transition in a Vinyasa class, discover a more comfortable stance in Warrior II, or learn how props can support a resting shape.

From an anatomy-informed perspective, bodies vary in bone structure, range of motion, injury history and energy. A pose does not need to look identical from person to person to be valuable.

For teachers, this is a useful reminder too.

A well-held class creates conditions for exploration without demanding performance. Clear options, attentive pacing and permission to pause make room for each student’s own beginning.

Preservation: Vishnu and steady practice

If creation gets the attention, preservation often does the deeper work.

Vishnu’s association with sustaining and protecting the world can invite us to value repetition: the ordinary practice that gradually builds awareness, strength and steadiness.

This does not mean forcing yourself through the same routine regardless of how you feel.

Consistency is not rigidity.

Some weeks, a strong class supports your energy. At other times, Yin Yoga, meditation, Yoga Nidra or gentle breathwork may be the more intelligent choice.

A sustainable practice usually has enough structure to become familiar and enough flexibility to remain responsive.

That might mean choosing one regular weekly class, practising online when travel or family life gets busy, or returning to a few grounding postures at home.

The point is not perfection.

It is relationship.

Returning to the breath.

Returning to movement.

Returning to yourself.

Again and again.

Shiva and the courage to transform

Shiva is often associated with destruction, but this word can sound harsher than the process itself.

Transformation may include the ending of what has become unhelpful: gripping unnecessarily in a forward fold, comparing yourself with the person on the next mat