Misperception

I have been wanting to write something about viparyaya for a while now and had an experience at the PT recently that is a great example.  I was having a pain in my foot and some concern about a possible baby bunion beginning, so I went to see Barb Canal (the most fabulous physical therapist who has helped me immensely many times).  The only thing I had really figured out is that it seemed like when I supinated my foot more, it felt better, so concluded that it had to do with my pronating tendency (for those of you not familiar with these terms, pronating is when the foot rolls in and supinating is when it rolls out).  Within a few minutes in her office, I found out that everything I had perceived wasn’t really true—that my big toe was not going in so much as the rest of the toes were going out, that the internal rotation of my hip was the thing to pay attention to rather than the weight distribution of my foot.

Viparyaya is misperception, also referred to as error or mistake, and is one of the five activities of the mind according to Patanjali—the most common one.  While it’s easy to hear the word misperception and think that’s bad and we should avoid it because it’s the wrong thing to do, the reason it’s the most common mental activity is because most of the time we don’t really have a choice about it.  It’s the best we can do until we get more information that points us more toward what’s really happening. 

I feel like the main thing I try to do when I teach yoga (or anything) is to direct people back to their own experience and return the authority to where it rightfully belongs rather than let it rest with me.  Then I have an experience like the one in Barb’s office and I think back to so many things that I totally thought I understood or had figured out only to find out later that I really didn’t, and I have a moment of doubt about whether or not we can trust our own experiences.  But I’m actually quite sure that that’s what we must do.  My own direct experience truly is my best place to look (vs. other people and sources), but I must simultaneously remain aware that it is probably viparyaya.  

I always remember a story someone told once on our teacher training about moving and not being able to find these wine stoppers she’d had.  She knew just what she was looking for and kept looking in all the places she thought they would be until she finally gave up and bought some new ones.  When she went to put them away, there were the old ones—she thought they were white, but they were actually gray, so she didn’t even see them, right there where she had looked a million times.  Everyone has a story like that.  My view is limited not just by what I think I know, but by what I do know, what I don’t know, by my past, etc.  It’s like wanting a kid to understand multiplication before they know how to do addition.  I can only see or know what I can see or know in any given moment.

So my aim is to be open to new information, to allow my perception to change, rather than thinking I have something figured out.  To be able to trust myself and at the very same time know that there is so much more out there that I can’t even grasp, that whatever I am experiencing right now is not the end of the story and that probably at a later time I will be able to see pieces of the picture that I can’t see now.  Misperception doesn’t mean I am doing it wrong, it’s just that until I am enlightened, it’s mostly all I can do—what’s helpful is knowing that that’s what’s going on.

I was trying to talk about this whole idea in class recently and somehow during the conversation, a student said, “But what if you really, really do know that there is something wrong with you.”  And I said, “That’s the biggest misperception of all.”  That is how the mind sees things and interprets them and then uses the misperception to confirm itself as truth.  Patanjali gives this an even bigger word, avidya (spiritual ignorance).  So even when we are caught in this trap, if we can remember that it is a misperception, even if we can’t see how and can’t see our way out, we can know that it’s just not true, simply because we’re not perceiving anything accurately, because our mind is limited compared to the vastness of all that is.

Socks

I really like warm socks.  My feet tend to be cold all winter, so nice warm socks are really important to me.  My best pairs of socks are the ones I knit myself—they are really warm and have lasted longer than any store-bought socks I’ve ever bought.  (Since I mostly take my shoes of inside, it doesn’t usually take very long to start wearing out the bottom of the heel).  When I first started knitting socks, I thought I would never buy a pair of socks again.  But then I realized that I like knitting other things too, so I recently found myself at the store looking for socks.

A few years ago (before I was knitting socks), I taught myself how to darn a sock from a video on YouTube.  I was really pleased with myself—it always seems terrible to throw out a pair of socks that are perfectly fine except for the hole in heel, especially if you like them.  So after visiting several stores in search of socks to meet my specifications (which are apparently unreasonable—thicker than a dress sock, thinner than a hiking sock, not mostly acrylic, not too expensive), I finally sat down earlier today to mend a sock that I already have.  I think I haven’t worn these socks in over a year because I wanted to darn the heel, but kept putting it off because it would take too long, was too boring, I wanted to do other things, etc.

In about an hour and fifteen minutes, I had it done.  That’s less time than I spent shopping for new socks and I’m not adding to the landfill and I get to have that nifty feeling of being handy.  So what’s the deal? How do I get tricked into this same situation time and time again?  Just the number of blogs I’ve written about it is enough to wear anybody out.  Something I want to do, something I enjoy both the process of and the result of, yet don’t do. 

There’s reality (satya) and then all the stories.  And as long as I am willing to listen to and believe the made-up stories about my socks and my life, I am in trouble.  There is a story about wanting or needing “free time,” but I am not even sure what free time is, since something is always happening.  And there are many stories about what is more important, worthwhile or desirable than something else.  For example, it’s better to be working on my website than mending my sock or it’s better to go on a walk than mend my sock.  At least that’s the story until I make that choice and then the story changes to how I’m working too hard or wasting my time.  See, that’s why you can’t trust the story—it just changes to whatever makes you feel bad.

So instead of evaluating and assessing and deciding, I could just do whatever is the next thing that needs to be done and enjoy it.  What a concept! 

Memorization is Cool

Last June, Sonia Nelson did a Vedic chanting workshop at our center—it was just a couple hours introduction sort of thing.  I imagine to a lot of people that doesn’t sound very interesting, but to me it sounds very awesome.  And, in fact, I had so much fun.  (If I were going to get all woo-woo, I’d say something about how it feels like something I have done in previous lives and that somehow I am supposed to be chanting, but I won’t).  Anyway, I bought her Yoga Sutras Tutorial CD and have been working with it pretty regularly during commutes since then (with some days/weeks off for Cheri Huber podcasts).

In the last few weeks, I finished memorizing the second chapter.  And I have seen many interesting things in the process.

1) Things that seem insurmountable in the beginning, if taken step by step, are actually totally achievable.  At the beginning of this endeavor, when I was probably on sutra 1.10 or something, it seemed like so much for my brain to hold, I couldn’t really see how I could learn the whole chapter.  Then when I did, I thought, “How can I possibly learn the second chapter? Will I have to forget the first one to make room for the second?” It felt like my brain was literally stretching when I started it and then, incredibly, I did actually learn the whole second chapter while still remembering the first.  Crazy!

2) Life is non-linear.  This project seems to really highlight for me how things do not go in a straight line. I learn a little chunk and really get it down, then I go back to the part before so I can put them together and I can’t remember how that part goes, or I remember the first part and can’t remember the new part anymore (even though I was chanting it just a couple minutes before).  It seems like a continual process of learning and forgetting around in circles until at some point it’s finally in there for good.  And the whole process could be quite frustrating if I were really wanting it to be orderly.

3) Having an outside guide is really important.  I’ve had the first chapter down for a while now, so I don’t need to concentrate super-hard to chant most of it.  Sometimes I can even do that thing where I chanted part of it but I wasn’t paying attention and wonder if I really chanted it (like arriving somewhere in your car, but you don’t remember the trip).  Recently, I was chanting it through with Sonia on the track where she chants it straight through and I caught quite a few places where I had gotten sloppy or mis-remembered a note or a long vowel. It made me think that’s why we have teachers or therapists or other outside people to reflect to us what we are doing.  It is easy to start to drift off into my own little world and I could imagine my version of the sutras getting further and further from the original. It is very difficult, if not impossible, to have an objective view of ourselves.

4) Memorization is cool. Memorizing things seems very old school.  I wonder if kids memorize things in school anymore.  We have much more emphasis on understanding things, which I generally agree with. Understanding something seems better than just being able to spout off information. But memorizing the sutras has been very fun.  I feel like it uses my brain in a different way and it really gets rid of the cittavrttis (the waves of the mindstuff). There is something relaxing about just learning all these sounds and not worrying about what it means. (Though I am learning more about what it means as I go).  And it feels good to have it inside me.  I would recommend memorizing something to everyone—a poem or a chant or whatever.

So I don’t know if that is interesting to anyone.  A little tapa (effort, determination), a little svadhyaya (self-study), a little ishvara pranidhana (surrender)—hey, that’s kriya yoga (sutra 2.1)!