Wednesday, August 21, 2013

Watching the Swatching


Have I written about swatches? (No, not the watches that were so cool when I was in high school, I’m talking about knitting swatches). In knitting, before you start a project, you are supposed to knit a swatch so you can make sure you are using the right size needle and that yarn you are using is right. In order for the swatch to be very useful, it really needs to be a certain size (they usually recommend 4 by 4 inches). And I almost never knit one that big because I am in a hurry to get to the project.
For me, this is a really great example of process vs. outcome, or, as we talk about in the therapy world, process vs. content. Knitting the swatch is an important part of the process of knitting something, it’s part of how you end up with the finished product that you want, even though the swatch itself won’t be part of the item. I cannot tell you how many times I have knit my little mini-swatch and said, “OK, that’s good enough” and started the project only to find out however many hours later that my gauge (number of stitches per inch) is not what I thought.  It just happened to me a couple of days ago and it means starting over.
Most translations of Sutra 1.15 talk about mastery over craving for objects seen or heard. Drshtanushravika vishaya vitrshnasya vashikara samjna vairagyam (click here to hear it). There were a couple of things that were interesting to me when I looked up the words in the dictionary. First, vitrshnasya means “free from desire or content”—the word content caught my attention because it made me think of the difference between process and content. Second, vashikara means “fascinating, attracting, cause of attraction, subduing, subjugation.” (I love these words that have seemingly opposite meanings, which happens a lot in Sanskrit).
Vairagya is non-attachment and I think it is one of the commonly misunderstood concepts in yoga. We take it to mean that we should be totally detached, unaffected, not interested in anything, not wanting or feeling anything—we think that is the way to be peaceful, calm and enlightened. I personally don’t think the goal of yoga is to stop being human, which is what that sounds like to me.
So how do we remain human and not be at the mercy of our reactions to every person, situation or experience? We have feelings, likes and dislikes, desires and all the rest, and non-attachment is when we can take one step back from them. We have our human experience and we get a little perspective on it. One of the ways to do this is to focus on process instead of content. 
I have a desire, for instance, to start knitting the “real project” instead of the swatch. If I put my attention on the content, I will either hurry up with the swatch or tell myself I shouldn’t feel that way and try to convince myself with rational explanations what to do. The alternative would be to become interested in the desire itself: how does it arise? what does it feel like? what thoughts come with it? how long does it last? what happens if I follow it? what happens if I don’t follow it? If I get to know how desire works, then, as this sutra explains, I’ll have mastery over it (which doesn’t mean I won’t experience it, but that it won’t control me) vs. if I focus on the object of desire, then I think I’ll be satisfied when I get it, but then there is just the next thing and the next thing and I am being mastered.
Rather than fostering disinterest as we might think, non-attachment actually feeds curiosity. Life becomes interesting and fun when we put our attention not on what happens but how it happens. I might find myself less focused on getting things right and awaiting the surprise of what might happen next. Swami Venkatesananda talks about this as turning the “compulsive and overpowering craving for objects seen and heard of” on itself—developing an “intense and consuming quest” in understanding the craving itself.
This can be done with any experience, not just desire or craving. I’ve been having a lot of anxiety lately and I want to attach it to something—I look around to see what is making me anxious so that I can solve it. But it just keeps grabbing on to the next thing. What seems more helpful is looking at the anxiety itself, feeling the sensations and simply asking the question, “What is this?” (not answering that question, just asking it). Attaching to that inquiry (process) instead of attaching to getting rid of the anxiety (outcome or content) makes it easier for me to be okay no matter what happens. No wonder vairagya is an important part of yoga! 
For more info about therapy and yoga with Stephanie, go to www.seattlesomatictherapy.com

Friday, July 19, 2013

Weeds

As I said in a previous post, I pretty recently moved into a place with a yard and have been doing a little bit of gardening. I have a whole new appreciation for the phrase “growing like weeds.” Weeds give a very tangible view of what happens when you are not diligent in your practice. They just keep popping up. A person could weed every day. I put in some weeding time every weekend and it feels like if I were to miss a weekend, I’d be fighting an uphill battle to get back on track.

Sa tu dirghakala nairantarya satkaradarasevito drdhabhumih is sutra 1.14 (click here to hear it). Practice becomes firmly grounded by practicing:
1) for a long time (dirghakala)
2) without break (nairantarya)
3) with care, attention, reverence, respect (satkara)
4) with respect, reverence, care, attention (adara) These must be important since they are here twice (though not all versions of the sutras include adara). Adara also includes eagerness.
5) repeatedly, zealously

This seems like further definition of the diligence mentioned in sutra 1.13.

Now, I often think while I’m weeding that there is nothing wrong with weeds, why am I discriminating against weeds? It’s true. But the thing is, I have to decide what kind of yard or garden I want—which plants I want and which I don’t want. And then it’s up to me to work repeatedly over a long time with attention and zeal to make that happen. 

My mind is like my yard. I decide what kind of environment I want there and then work at creating that—building focus and discriminating between thoughts that are helpful and those that are destructive, between those that are true and those that are not, etc. If you think dealing with the weeds is a serious job, they are nothing compared to the wily and unruly thoughts in your head! This is definitely going to require all the things on Patanjali’s list in this sutra.

I think the part about care seems important (and not just because he says it twice). We have to pay attention to what we’re doing and whether it is getting the results we want so that we can continue to refine. If we just want to get rid of the weeds, we could bulldoze the whole yard. If we just want to clear the mind we could knock ourselves over the head with a rock. But this job of making our way to yoga, a state of connection, requires a little more precision than that.
For more info about therapy and yoga with Stephanie, go to www.seattlesomatictherapy.com

Monday, June 17, 2013

How to Make the Grand Canyon


Sutra 1.13 explains more about practice, abhyasa. Tatra stithau yatno’bhyasah (click here to hear it chanted). Yatnah is effort, exertion, diligence, perseverance, care, zeal, vigilance, pains, labor or difficulty. Sthitau means in steadiness, firmness, devotion, stability, continuance, steadfastness, maintenance of discipline or consistency. So practice is not just effort, but effort directed at continuing—it’s diligence in our diligence. It’s relatively easy to put forth a burst of effort. It’s totally different to maintain and be steadfast in it. In my experience, a little bit of consistent effort over time yields way more than an occasional large effort. It’s like the Colorado River making the Grand Canyon.
One of the things I have done in the last year is to start drinking more water. Like everyone else, I knew I was supposed to. I knew I wasn’t drinking enough, but I could never make the change. I’m sure there were plenty of individual days when I would drink more water, but I probably didn’t notice much difference, so I didn’t continue. When a naturopath suggested drinking a giant glass of water first thing every morning, I thought that sounded like something I could do. I was able to commit to that glass of water and then it wasn’t really that long before I was drinking more water throughout the day.
Starting with a small thing that I could be consistent with, allowed me to experience a difference, which led to a bigger change. This is one of the tricky places with practice—results are what motivate us to continue, but a lot of the time, we only get them after we’ve been continuing it for a while. This is one of the reasons this sutra is so helpful. If practice is meant to get us somewhere, then it has to be maintained over time. Just sitting down and meditating one time, for instance, is not going to change your life. It’s meditating over and over that makes a gradual shift.
The other important piece of perseverance is starting again when we have stopped. Have I had days in the last year when I drank hardly any water? Have I missed days of meditation? Of course! A commitment isn’t as much about the first promise to do something, it’s about the re-commitment when we’ve dropped the ball.  According to Patanjali, that’s what makes it practice—diligence in continuing.
For more info about therapy and yoga with Stephanie, go to www.seattlesomatictherapy.com