The Virabhadrasanas: Drama, Destruction, and the Wisdom of the Warrior

Let’s be honest: the gods were dramatic.

Read the salacious story of Sati and her lover Shiva.

Let’s be honest: the gods were dramatic. If you think your family gatherings get messy, wait until you hear about Shiva, Sati, and Daksha. This is the myth behind The Virabhadrasanas, the warrior poses, and it’s basically an ancient soap opera that somehow still manages to teach us something real.

Here’s the gist. Sati fell in love first. From the time she was young, she daydreamed about Shiva, her secret crush, her high school fantasy, the mysterious god she whispered about in her prayers. Shiva, the wild, ash-covered yogi with matted dreadlocks, loved her back. But her father, Daksha? Not a fan. In his eyes, Shiva was the absolute worst son-in-law material: he lived in graveyards, spent centuries meditating, had a bad temper, wore little more than a tiger skin, and oh yeah, he was the god of destruction. Not exactly the dream match for a doting father.

When Sati married Shiva anyway, Daksha held a huge party and, just to twist the knife, didn’t invite them. Sati, heartbroken that her father still rejected her choice, showed up anyway. The drama escalated so much that she literally burst into flames and turned to ash right in the middle of the dance floor. Talk about making an exit!

Shiva, upon hearing the news, was furious. He ripped out one of his dreadlocks, hurled it to the ground, and from it rose a warrior: Virabhadra. This is where the poses come in. Warrior I is his dramatic entrance from the earth, arms raised. Warrior II is him brandishing his sword across the room. Warrior III is the final strike, the beheading of Daksha. Overkill? Absolutely. Effective? Well, yes, but also… not the best conflict resolution strategy.

Here’s the twist: even Shiva realized he’d gone too far. At Sati’s insistence, he calmed down, patched things up, and because Daksha’s original head was a little too far gone, he replaced it with the head of a goat. Problem solved. Family dinner awkward? Yes. But also, everyone lived (sort of) happily ever after.

Now, what’s the point of all this godly drama? It’s a reminder that we all have that reactive part of ourselves. Someone says the wrong thing, and boom, our inner Virabhadra wants to storm the party. The Virabhadrasanas aren’t about learning how to fight better; they’re about learning how to stand strong without being ruled by reactivity.

As Patanjali’s Yoga Sutra 1.33 says (in less dramatic terms): preserve your peace of mind by practicing joy for the joyful, compassion for the sad, delight for the fortunate, and neutrality toward the unkind. It’s basically the opposite of what Daksha and Shiva did.

So the next time you step into the Virabhadrasanas, channel the strength without the soap opera. Root down, lift up, steady your gaze, and remember that real power isn’t in the beheading, but in the repair that comes after.

Written by: Christen Schritter

Join Christen February 16th 2026 6:15pm for her live telling of yet another classic tale from the yogic tradition.

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