True Nature

So, the next sutra (1.3) is tada drashtuh svarupe avasthanam and translates as “Then the seer abides in his own true nature.” “Then” is referring to the last sutra—when the mind fluctuations are restrained or directed, then we are able to experience our true nature. As I started to reflect on this sutra, I was also getting ready to go on a 10-day Vedic chant immersion. I was predicting that this would be a good opportunity to have some moments of experiencing my true nature. These moments weren’t really as transcendent and enlightened as I might have liked, but that’s not really how I roll (thus the name of the blog, “Keepin’ It Real.”)

I left my house at around 4:20am on a Friday to travel to Santa Fe, so by the time I went to bed at something like 9pm, I was very tired. But then I didn’t really fall asleep. What I noticed was how completely content I was lying there most of the night. My body was happy to be lying down and my mind was quiet. I was feeling very restful and easeful even though I was quite awake. Of course, at some point, there was a thought, “I am so peaceful right now,” which was enough to take me out of the experience and turn it into something. Then I wasn’t feeling as true naturish.

I have heard many times “Peace (or love, joy, compassion, etc.) is what is there when you aren’t doing something else.” I think that’s what this sutra is about. That peace is always there, we are just distracted by all of the activity of our minds and our lives that we don’t feel it.

As the chant training went on, I continued to be very tired every night. There are lots of times that I am tired, but I do more stuff anyway—check email, work, read, watch tv—all of which further stimulate me. But last week, I mostly just went to bed (maybe knitting a few rows first). This also seems connected to this sutra—the lack of compulsion toward more activity, the ability to just be okay with stillness (i.e., not following the following the chittavrttis and letting them make more). There is some part of me that doesn’t need to be doing or accomplishing anything. I think sometimes the mistake we spiritual types make is thinking that the aim then is not to do anything, to get to some quiet place where I am just sitting there all the time. It seems to me that when we are first getting to know this true nature part of ourselves, less activity is helpful, but that eventually, we can be connected to that part even while we are going about the business of life. And, in fact, we are here to live life, not to side-step it. The question is:  how do we participate fully in life and maintain some sense that we are something beyond the actions, thoughts and outcomes? How do we let our lives be directed by our true nature instead of having our lives be a process only of conditioned mind?

(find out more about me and what I do at www.seattlesomatictherapy.com)

What's Happening in My Head

Sutra 1.2 yogashchittavrttivnirodhah is a definition of yoga. Yoga is the restraint of the fluctuations of the mind. Restraint can be thought of as stilling or focusing (or maybe both). So I’ve been looking at the mind movements in my own head. What’s going on in there? Well, there is an ongoing commentary about just about everything. But one of the things I notice that happens a lot in there is a planning of things I am going to say (which for the most part I never end up saying despite the rehearsing and re-rehearsing). The first time I saw this was when I was on my first week-long silent retreat at the Zen Monastery Peace Center a few years ago. I spent the first 24 hours or so planning what I was going to tell people about the retreat when I got back! (So I was trying to figure out what I would say about the retreat I hadn’t even experienced yet). It had to be that ridiculous while I was practicing silence and didn’t have anything else to do but watch my mind for me to see it. This is probably why we need a whole text on the topic—it is so pervasive and constant that we don't even notice it happening.

If we build on the message in the last sutra, which is that yoga is now, then it becomes pretty clear why that involves quieting the mind. All of the commenting and planning and judging and reviewing that goes on in there takes me out of the present moment. I’m not experiencing what is actually happening—I’m thinking about being on the retreat instead of being on the retreat.

The other thing that comes to mind in relation to mind fluctuations is all the current hoopla around the election and debates. If you watch or listen, the newsfolks keep going around and around repeating the same things (commenting and planning and judging and reviewing like my mind does). I watch because it seems important, yet I find it just keeps the mind fluctuations going. I have to wonder if it is useful. Nothing comes of it. One could argue that it might spur me to action, but in my experience, action borne from chittavrttis doesn’t compare to action borne of clarity (which is what we get when we calm the chittavrttis).  

Now, all the rest of the yoga sutras talk about how to do this (restrain the fluctuations of the mindstuff) and I am no expert, but what I can tell you is this.  It is possible to quiet the mind and it takes a lot of work and determination (24/7). What I realize in reflecting on this sutra is that I have slacked off.

Now

Atha yoganushasanam is the first of Patanjali’s Yoga Sutras.  It means something like, “Now begins the instruction of yoga.”  Swami Venkateshananda explains that atha doesn’t just mean now but indicates some auspiciousness, that now is the moment when everything comes together to make this explication of yoga possible. It occurred to me the other day that the other important meaning of the word atha or now in this sutra is that now is the only thing—we can only learn about yoga in this present moment.  We have to be here now (to quote an oft-quoted book title) in order to do anything, including studying or practicing yoga.

When I was driving home a couple of days ago from the Samarya Yoga Teacher Training, I got frustrated with a few drivers and even passed some cars on the two-lane road. At some point, I was driving behind a black car, maybe a Trans Am (if people still drive those). I think I was off-and-on irritated with the driver’s driving who sometimes put on the brakes for no apparent reason, but mostly I was thinking about all kinds of things, about the training, about this blog, about yoga and probably all kinds of other mundane things. Then, the car in front of me braked again and I braked and said out loud, “What the f**k?” And then the driver put his arm out the window and flipped me off. And it was a quick trip back to NOW. I suddenly realized how unpresent I had been.  I will admit that I occasionally tail someone who is not driving according to my standards, but in this instance, I actually had no idea I was being a pain in the ass to this driver in front of me—I was just off in my own little world. And then I had the opportunity to wake up.  I was back in the now and I was grateful for that.

I Don't Feel Like It, Part 2

I bought some peaches this week. Like many fruits, peaches are usually not ripe when you buy them, then they are ripe for a limited amount of time, and then they are not good anymore. I, personally, am pretty picky about my fruit ripeness, so my ideal window of opportunity can sometimes be small. It’s possible that “I don’t feel like” eating the peach when it is ripe.  What occurred to me today when I was eating the last perfect peach is that when I eat that perfect peach at the right time, I am not going to have a bad experience—it is delicious. If I don’t eat it then, I miss the chance forever (either I won’t eat it at all or I eat it and it isn’t very good). Now, nevermind being wasteful and the starving children in Africa—I bought the peach because I like peaches, so who is it that doesn’t feel like eating it? By having “my” ideas about the right time for things, I end up not being in sync with life’s right time for things. This little separate self thinks it’s got a better idea than life. Yoga says this is the main cause of suffering—avidya (ignorance). When I know am part of life and I am in the flow with life, then I don’t need to worry about when I do or don’t feel like doing something, I just do what life shows me to do.

I Don't Feel Like It

Today I went to a flying trapeze class! Long ago, I bought a groupon and it was about to expire, so this week I finally got around to registering for class. This morning, as I was driving there, I was wondering why I was doing it.  The impulse I had felt way back when, when the offer arrived in my inbox, was long gone and I was definitely having an “I don’t feel like it” moment. I was going, but I wasn’t really feeling too excited and kind of thinking I’d rather just laze around at home.

And then (of course), it was totally fun.

I think I should just always be on the lookout for “I don’t feel like it.” Now, I was just thinking of this on the way home from the class today, so I haven’t done a full investigation. I’m not exactly sure what the whole process is and what’s going on, but I have reason to believe that when I’m hearing that kind of whiny voice in my head saying “I don’t feel like it,” at the very least, I need to at least check it out, try to see what’s happening. I suspect that a lot of the time it doesn’t have much to do with what I do or don’t want to do, but maybe has more to do with resistance or conditioned mind trying to talk me out of something. “I don’t feel like it” seems like it is more of a mental conversation than an actual feeling, at least some of the time. There is definitely more looking to do here (svadhyaya or self-study). I’m sure I’ll have another opportunity soon—maybe when it’s time to vacuum!

A Cup of Tea

I used to drink a cup of black tea with sugar and half and half pretty much every morning. Like many coffee drinkers, it was part of my morning ritual—the smell, taste and process of making my tea were all comforting in a way. When I started the elimination diet, I cut out sugar, dairy and caffeine, so that was it for my morning tea. I tried herbal teas, but they just didn’t do the same thing, plus it’s “summer” so the hot beverage wasn’t quite so important. There was so much adjustment at first that I didn’t pay much attention to the tea aspect of things.

Eventually, as things got more settled and re-calibrated, I realized that I did miss my tea and set out to find some sort of suitable substitute. After trying a variety of alternative sweeteners and dairy substitutes, as well as green tea, black tea and decaffeinated black tea, I think I am accepting the fact that my cup of tea might be a thing of the past. This final conclusion happened just this morning right about the time I was opening up my laptop. I made a cup of assam (my favorite black tea) and used a dollop of heavy whipping cream (my naturopath said though she doesn’t do dairy, she does this one thing in her tea in the morning and something about how since it’s pretty much all fat, it’s not so bad) and some honey (because the thing I can’t do, I think, is go back to having refined sugar every morning).

And it’s just not the same. It might be the sugar, but I actually think my taste for the tea has changed. I couldn’t even drink the whole thing. So once again, I am faced with the difference between reality and my idea of reality or how I think it should be or something like that. Rather than continuing to remember how my tea used to be, it’s time to refer to my more current experience. So as in the last post, I am thinking about how things change. Things change and it is my job to let them change—neither pushing nor resisting.

I am reminded of another thing Sonia said in that workshop. Sutra 2.1 (tapah svadhyaya ishvarapranidhanani kriyayogah) is often interpreted as something like yoga is practiced through effort, self-study and surrender. Sonia’s teacher, Desikachar, says instead, “act, observe, be open.” I have found this so helpful. The be open part asks us to allow the results of what we do to be what they are. Simple and straightforward instructions for life. I guess I am done longing for my old experience with tea.

The In-Between

We all know change is inevitable and yet we often resist.  There have been changes aplenty for me in the last year and I am finding that, counterintuitively, one of the things that helps is a willingness to be in the in-between place.  A friend recently shared a sort of mantra, I think from Joan Boryensko, “No longer and not yet.”  That’s a good one—how do we let go of something when we don’t know for sure what is coming next?

It seems like at least part of the difficulty has to do with identity.  Ego (ahankara or asmita) likes to say, “I am . . . ” or “I do . . . ”  The more ego turns something into an identity, the harder it is to let things change.  Lately, I’ve been thinking about this in relationship to how I eat.  A few months ago, I decided to do an elimination diet to see if I have any food sensitivities.  Pretty soon, I was getting used to eating very differently than I had been and even though I didn’t find anything dramatic, I was feeling pretty good and it just seemed to make sense to keep going.  It seems to me that if I had held on to my old identities as someone who eats dairy or sugar or whatever, I may have reverted back as soon as the official elimination protocol was done.  Then the diet change becomes an aberration, just a thing I did.

The other side would be to create a whole new identity as someone who is “gluten-free” or “vegan” or whatever, which doesn’t really feel right.  I don’t know how long I will eat this way.  I didn’t set out to become something different.  I mostly just think, “This is how I’m eating right now” and that seems true.

I went to a workshop with Sonia Nelson recently that was about change and she was talking about Sutra 2.15 and saying that one of the ways change causes suffering is when it is happening too quickly or too slowly.  And I wrote it down, even though it seemed not that earth-shaking to me.  But maybe this is getting at the same thing.  If I am holding on to an old identity, then the change feels too fast for me.  If I am grasping after or trying create a new identity, then the change feels too slow.  If I can allow myself to be in the in-between, then the change can go at the speed it wants to go and I have time to adapt and to actually see what is happening instead of trying to control it.