Published June 21, 2026 06:12AM
Yoga Journal’s archives series is a curated collection of articles originally published in past issues beginning in 1975. This article about Hero Pose (Virasana) first appeared in the March-April 1989 issue of Yoga Journal.
In The Hero with a Thousand Faces, Joseph Campbell outlines the archetypal adventure of the hero which is common to all mythology and to all spiritual quests. “A hero ventures forth from the world of common day into a region of supernatural wonder: fabulous forces are there encountered and a decisive victory is won: the hero comes back from this mysterious adventure with the power to bestow boons on his fellow man.”
Each time we practice the asanas with care and attention, we repeat the hero’s journey: The region of supernatural wonder we enter is our inner world; the fabulous forces we encounter are the physical tensions and psychological fears that threaten to hold us captive and drain our energy; the decisive victory we gain is the brief moment of illumination or inward surrender that carries us deeper into the pose; and the powers we attain and bring back into the world are calmness of spirit, clarity of mind, and increased vitality.
The hero’s journey can be divided into three different aspects or stages: “a separation from the world, a penetration to some source of power, and a life-enhancing return.” These three stages correspond in yogic philosophy to the three niyamas (duties or observances) which Patanjali considers as essential qualities for the beginner in establishing a yoga practice: tapas (austerity or discipline), Ishvara-pranidhana (surrender to the divine), and svadhyaya (self-study).
The first stage (“separation from the world”) is achieved through tapas—the burning desire for transformation or understanding that starts us on the inward journey. As Joseph Campbell reminds us, “The first step, detachment or withdrawal, consists in a radical transfer of emphasis from the external to the internal world… a retreat from the desperation of the wasteland to the peace of the everlasting realm that is within.” It involves not so much a renunciation of material things, as a thorough change of values.
The second stage (“a penetration to some source of power”) comes about through Ishvara-pranidhana—surrender to the divine, or what Campbell describes as “self-achieved submission.” The hero does not triumph over the dark and demonic forces, or reach the ultimate source of light, by the strength of his (or her) will or reason alone. The hero is the one who gives up his preconceived ideas, his mental security, and submits himself to the ordeal of uncertainty.
In most cultures, both Eastern and Western, the attitude of submission or surrender is symbolized by a figure who has been brought to his or her knees.
Thus, in a fragment of Egyptian sculpture from the sixth century B.C., a priest of the goddess Nut is shown sitting on his knees and heels in the act of supplication. Virasana (Hero Pose) conveys this quality of surrender at its most profound level: The pose is quiet and self-contained, as if teaching us to wait patiently for an answer from within (Figure 1).
(Photo: Yoga Journal 1989)
Practicing Hero Pose (Virasana)
Virasana is a pose for healing the knees and for realigning the thighs. While there are numerous poses that develop the ability to rotate the thighs externally—standing poses such as Utthita Trikonasana (Triangle Pose), for example, and sitting poses such as Baddha Konasana (Bound Angle Pose) and Padmasana (Lotus Pose)—Virasana is about the only basic pose that works directly with inward rotation. Thus, Virasana is an important counterpose for Baddha Konasana and Padmasana and should not be neglected in one’s asana practice.
To better understand the internal rotation of the thighs, first stand in Tadasana (Mountain Pose) with your feet a few inches apart, and then come forward into Uttanasana (Standing Forward Bend). Place your hands on the upper back thighs (as in Figure 2), and feel the shape of the leg. Toward the center of the leg the thigh feels full and round, but at the outer back thigh you will probably find a flat or hollow area where the muscle dips in toward the bone. Place your palms over the hollow area on each side, and think of moving the thighbones out into your hands, filling the outer back thighs.
How does your body respond to this instruction? As the thighbones move toward the outer back thighs, the muscles at the front of the thigh, especially above the inner knee, become very firm and draw the weight of the hips more directly over the heels. At the same time, there is a slight inward rotation of the thighs, as with a circular motion the head of the femur (thighbone) is pulled deeper into the socket and then drawn laterally toward the outer portion of the joint. This adjustment feels like moving from a confined antechamber into the larger, profoundly quiet space of an inner cavern. As the heads of the thigh-bones move to the outer sockets, the light area across the tailbone is broadened and released, and the pelvis sinks down onto the thighs, thus deepening the forward bend.
The image of moving the thighbones to the outer back thighs is especially helpful for those with hyperextended knees, as it develops strength and awareness in the thighs, where these students tend to be weak, and takes attention away from the shins, which they habitually overuse. If you stand in Tadasana with the feet together, and think of pressing the legs directly back, you can observe for yourself how the shinbones initiate the movement by digging into the calves just below the knees, and how the spine is pushed forward to counterbalance this jarring action. This is the movement pattern that ultimately results in hyperextended knees.
If, however, you stand in Tadasana, lengthening the inner thighs from the groins to the inner knees, and think of moving the thighbones to fill the outer back thighs, you will feel the movement originate from deeper within the body, as though from the very core or marrow of the thighbones. Now the thighs grow strong and firm, and the shinbones are drawn into the lower legs by the softening and broadening of the calf muscles, without overworking the knees. The pelvis, thighs, and lower legs feel much more integrated.
When you understand the movement of the thighbones to the outer back thighs in Uttanasana and Tadasana, you can use this new awareness to explore a variety of other poses. In inverted poses like Sirsasana (Headstand) and Sarvangasana (Shoulderstand), where there is a tendency to grip the inner buttocks and let the thighs turn out, the movement of the thighbones to the outer back thighs brings the knees to a forward-facing position and strengthens the lift of the legs. In backbends such as Salabhasana (Locust Pose) and Urdhva Mukha Svanasana (Upward-Facing Dog Pose), this same movement prevents the student from overtucking the tailbone, which flattens and compresses the lumbar spine. In standing poses where the front knee is bent, such as Virabhadrasana II (Warrior Pose II) and Utthita Parsvakonasana (Extended Side Angle Pose), filling the outer back thigh of the extended leg gives stability to the pose and helps to open the groins and the inner thighs.
To understand the movement of the thighbone in Virasana, begin with the following preparation. First fold your blanket in a long narrow strip, about eight inches wide and two or three inches high. Then sit with your legs extended in Dandasana (Staff Pose), with your sitting bones on the narrow end of the blanket. Bend the right knee and draw the shin back, so that the top of the foot rests on the floor beside the right hip, not under the hip, and the thighs are parallel (Figure 3).
For most students, the right sitting bone is now lifted slightly off the blanket, and the pelvis is tilted toward the left. How can we correct this imbalance of the pelvis? The normal tendency is to lean the weight of the torso down onto the right side of the pelvis, dropping the right shoulder and collapsing the right side of the ribcage. In order to correct one imbalance, we have thus created another.
Let me suggest an alternative way: using the movement of the thigh, not the weight of the torso, to adjust the pelvis. Maintaining the lift of the spine, bring your right hand to the outer back thigh as you did previously in Uttanasana, to increase your awareness of this area. Then move the thighbone toward the outer back thigh, and feel how the head of the femur shifts toward the outer hip socket, broadening the buttocks and drawing the pelvis down, without affecting the lift of the spine. (This adjustment is also helpful in sitting poses such as Triang Mukhaikapada Paschimottanasana and Krounchasana (Heron Pose), where one leg is in Virasana position.)
Hold the position for half a minute and then repeat to the other side.
(Photo: Yoga Journal 1989)
Making Adjustments in Virasana
For those who suffer from knee pain in Virasana, the proper alignment and rotation of the thighbone may offer some relief. As a general rule, when there is pain at the inner knee in Virasana, you need to roll the thigh in, and when there is pain at the outer knee, you need to roll the thigh out.
Before making any adjustment, however, sit in Virasana and examine the difference between the two legs.
If, for example, you feel pain at the inner left knee, you will need to adjust the left thigh to match the right. In this case, you will probably find that the right kneecap turns in more than the left. If you compare the shape of the legs, the right thigh looks broader and flatter, while the left thigh is higher and narrower because the head of the femur does not move deeply into the hip socket. To correct for this imbalance, come to a kneeling position, and roll the left thigh firmly inward with your hands, as you bring the buttocks toward the floor. The hands can be either just above the knee (as in Figure 4) or at the very top of the thigh, whichever feels better for you.
The left kneecap should now be turned to the same angle as the right; hopefully the pain will diminish or disappear. But the knee is a complicated joint, subject to many different stresses and injuries, and this adjustment may not work for everyone, especially if there is torn cartilage trapped inside the knee.
Therefore, if the pain persists, come out of the pose and sit on a block and/or place a roll behind the knee to create more space in the joint (Figure 5).
Care should be taken in Virasana not only with the knee-joint but with the ankle-joint as well. If the ankle-joint is overworked, the student may experience cramps in the sole of the foot or intense pain where the top of the foot presses into the floor. The distortion of the ankle-joint can often be recognized by a blanched or yellow patch of skin at the back of the ankle, where the circulation of blood has been cut off. By placing a small roll under the ankle (Figure 6), the pressure on the foot is relieved, and the color of the skin at the back of the ankle returns to normal.
When practicing Virasana, start in a kneeling position with your knees together and feet hip-width apart. Then lower the buttocks to the floor (or sit on a block, if necessary, smoothing the calf muscles down from the back of the knees toward the ankles. Interlock the fingers, turn the palms out, and extend the arms overhead. Press the sitting-bones into the floor as you lengthen the inner arms upward. Hold for several breaths, then change the interlock of the fingers and repeat (Figure 7). Now bring your arms down, and place your hands on your knees. Let your awareness go deep within the body, maintaining the lift of the spine. Feel the quietness that comes to the brain as you watch the flow of the exhalation and receive the movement of the inhalation. This is Ishvara-pranidhana—surrender to the Lord within (Figure 1).
In his introduction to The Book of Job, poet Stephen Mitchell draws an important distinction between surrender and submission. “Submission,” he writes, “is a gesture in a power transaction, between slave and master or defeated and conqueror, and is always a mode of spiritual depression. Surrender, on the contrary, means the wholehearted giving-up of oneself.” Surrender is an act of love, not of fear and intimidation.
Unfortunately, in many spiritual communities the practice of Ishvara-pranidhana (“surrender to the divine”) has become confused with obedience to the guru, or, even more dubiously, with submission to the needs of the organization.
Around a charismatic teacher inevitably gathers a small band of ardent followers who surround and protect him, anticipating his wishes according to their own bias and interpreting his most casual words as inexorable law—without themselves having to take any responsibility for the decision. The teacher himself becomes more and more isolated, a prisoner of the legend that has grown up around him, deprived of any real communication with his students. The members of the elite inner circle are then able to say: “Look, we don’t really want to do this ourselves, but our teacher wants it, and therefore it must be done.”
In this situation, the student who truly loves the teacher, but questions some of his demands, is faced with a terrible dilemma. If he openly challenges or appeals to the teacher, he may be rejected or excluded from the community—that is his fear. If he keeps quiet, he is a coward, denying his own values and perceptions, not daring to stand up for what he believes to be right. Whichever way he chooses to respond, he feels inwardly torn by the struggle between love and power, within himself and within his community.
In his recent book The Betrayal of the Self, psychoanalyst Arno Gruen declares:
“While it is true that we all long for freedom, in many ways we are simultaneously dependent on power, desiring recognition and praise from those who hold it. This condemns us to an eternal search for approbation from those very people who deny our real needs.” Gruen further observes: “It is because we are alienated from our inner world, which causes it to appear to us as formless and anarchistic and hence threatening, that we cling so firmly to these external forms in the hope of preserving a sense of our own identity.”*
Those of us who teach yoga need to ask ourselves whether we perpetuate this situation by keeping our students dependent on us, or whether we encourage them to explore and become familiar with their own inner world, so that they build trust in themselves and in their own perceptions and feelings. For only through svadhyaya—overcoming of personal limitations through knowledge of the self—can we hope to reach the true source of wisdom that exists within, and thus complete the third and final stage of the hero’s journey—”a life-enhancing return.”
