In general, there is a sort of established pattern of asana categories covered every month at RIMYI. First week is standing poses, second one is usually forward bends, third belongs to backbends, fourth to pranayama. If there is a fifth class, it is an inversions special. This month has 5 weeks and today was the inversions tasting. The asanas taken for study were all the ‘ardha‘ variations of Sirsasana, Adho Mukha Vrikshasana and Halasana.
From a personal point of view, it was great to spend time in these as I find my way back to staying upside down. I’ve found them a challenging group primarily due to fear of injuring compromised parts of my body. While I’ve used willpower to stay and progress, it was not sustainable for very long. So, I had to retrace my steps and use alternate asanas as I worked on ability in other areas. And gradually the necessary prerequisites have slowly developed, making the poses better accessible. There is also good sense now to err on the side of caution rather than simply push through. Today’s ardha sirsasana/ urdhva dandasana was a good way to experience the firmness and lightness of the legs, the lift of the spine that ought to be experienced in sirsasana.
The ardha stage is akin to a halfway home of sorts. Confidence is gained, new skills are learned and honed as one learns to adapt. Control is a key skill, how to maintain equanimity as the position changes. Learning to extend forward in uttanasana and prasarita padottanasana without using hands was one of the ways I learned how to enter and exit the asana in an even, measured way. Begin well, stay well and end well. Asanas are like waves, they are formed and dissolve time and again as we assume their spaces. While inhabiting that form and substance for the time we are in the pose, there is an ocean of difference in merely staying and being intimate with it. The Ardha stage is the blossoming of that intimacy.
After almost 2 years, I was in the big hall again. This time with a few teachers as part of a pilot project on hybrid yoga classes. It was simply wonderful to be back in the hall, same and yet different. Zoom has become so much a part of the way yoga classes are conducted that most of us present also did the thumbs up to acknowledge comprehension. It was cute. There is some unlearning as well as some new learning in the way this moves forward.
All these days, classes were in a capsule, the energy that of the household or space where one practised. Zoom yoga is a very silent activity as there is only the teacher’s voice and the odd person asking for clarification. In the hall, there is movement and sounds of props, chatter as practitioners exchange thoughts or help each other. There is a larger space where you move to a wall or column or grill. At home, it is a tight dance around available space. Today, we chanted the invocation together loudly. At home, I often chant it silently with the teacher but it was good to feel my voice as part of the other voices. Another change, not the usual call and response but a chanting together in the interest of those attending remotely.
Although it was a class, it felt like practice. Perhaps, it was a remnant from the class the previous evening which was a silent one with no instructions but an opening that invited us to consider what it meant to be human, what it meant to be alive. My teacher touched briefly upon the yamas and the niyamas as well as our being and becomings. I chose to simply stay with the thought of the yamas as we went through the asanas. And simply considering the words- ahimsa, satya, asteya, brahmacharya and aparigraha through the cycle of poses led to a very reflective and quiet experience, one that spilled over into today too. The surrender in Uttanasana and Prasarita Padottanasana was very different.
While in the hall today, I found myself at home, at ease unlike before when I wondered what I was doing hanging around in the therapy class. Today as we helped each other learn certain actions, I found myself assisting teachers as we learned together. The previous me would have been horrified about how could I give teachers a hand. The thought didn’t cross my mind this morning. I still can’t do many asanas and am not driven enough to chase poses so probably have no business being there but I love the place and will simply keep showing up as long as they will have me. Another interesting observation was how I was able to consider and measure the extent of action that the teacher asked us to do. Often the repetition of cues would see me overdo because I wasn’t able to process enough to gauge what was the right extent.
The Iyengar yoga system can be compared to any of the old classical disciplines of Indian dance or music or martial arts. Tough, very little validation and a lot of pushing hard. As a beginner, I remember wanting to do the best pose and do everything perfectly. I was willing to push hard and wanted validation that my efforts were correct although I didn’t want to ask for it. So, I made a lot of mistakes but kept asking the questions of myself and over time, they got answered. Injury taught me patience and gave me time to observe. This kind of learning has been slow but quite rich as the lines between asana and life blurred until it simply became a whole system of living.
It is a changed world, this Covid one. In the past two years, the journey on the mat has been a wide one. In sheer asana proficiency, I progressed well till I could do some of the asanas much better than I could pre-pandemic but then had to scale down due to certain conditions. There were also unexpected finds such as asanas that I had never attempted coming very easily. And more recently a complete halt with Covid and a slow finding my way back to an active practice.
I had almost 2 weeks of no asana at all when I was recovering from the second bout of Covid. Post that it was a slow re-entry with plenty of supported forward bends gradually moving towards twists and reintroducing the other categories of asanas. During those days, the body simply didn’t want to even consider inversions or backbends or standing poses. They are now available albeit to a much smaller degree but the capacity is definitely increasing. Recovery is an interesting phenomenon whether of body, mind or emotion. I don’t fall sick easily and the odd time that I do, the bounce back is quick. This time around, I still feel like I’m convalescing. It is a different experience to be short of breath and not really trust your body to do certain things. Each day is a mindful exercise in managing tasks around energy levels. But today, I am happy and thrilled at having been in beloved RIMYI and lying down on the cool floor of the big hall post class. Maybe that powered me through a long day.
A conversation earlier in the day made me think of how the foremost precept in medicine or yoga is ‘Do no harm’. It also ties in with the first of the great vows.
I finished reading the yamas in the book (Ashtanga Yoga of Patanjali) and have been reflecting on their mahavrata nature. It has been some time since I sat with different sets of contemplation, like vrittis or kleshas etc. Coming around to it now, it strikes me how different this reading has been. Repetition and a consciousness of these ideas have seeped through the mind over the years and let understanding evolve differently- almost as a gentle undercurrent, not seen but felt both deeper and wider. Moral dilemmas and ethical concerns now start to be examined with consideration and not in absolute terms. There is clarity at the existing level while also a consciousness of a subtler layer that would need a different application.
Yamas are commonly regarded as restraints, injunctions or observances. But the sutra says these are ‘sarvabhauma mahavratam’, universal great vows. Implicit in its resounding sureness is its absolute nature, the highest standard. In the order of the sutras, yama and niyama are placed before asana and pranayama, yet we always begin at asana. We begin where we are, how we are. It doesn’t matter if one is returning after a long gap or is a complete novice. It has been one of the most beautiful aspects of yoga and Iyengar yoga in particular. It reminds me of artists who painstakingly create sand sculptures on a beach, fully aware that a wave will wash over it and there will be nothing left. What if we could be both artist and sculpture, fully devoted to making our lives as beautiful in a spirit of service with the full awareness of our transience? What if we could truly embrace aparigraha? This last one has caught my attention this time as the book invites considering why the phala of this particular yama is a knowledge of one’s past and future lives.
In one of his classes last week, Prashantji mentioned that “the embodiment is like a text book” and that like textbooks which are read repeatedly, one needs to learn to read one’s own embodiment. The yamas speak differently now, a little less rigidly despite their almost thunderous injunction of non-negotiability. If there is one thing this pandemic has taught us, it has been that we never know another completely and so do not have the context of their choices.
These have been days of reflection, mulling over the question of how best do I apply the principles of ahimsa, satya, asteya, brahmacharya and aparigraha in my life. There are no easy answers for the likes of me, caught in the spin of everyday living. At best, it is a thin watered down version of what Sage Patanjali might have had in mind. The more I read, the more I realize how woefully insufficient it is to rely on translations alone. One needs to understand the language in which it was written, the health of our embodiments before considering yog. No wonder the need for the trifecta of treatises on grammar, medicine and yoga. No wonder the need to invoke samarthyam like Srineet mentioned in one of his classes. Ability and a worthiness, both of which the likes of us have to develop over a long, uninterrupted abhyas. Sometimes, it does feel like seeing through a kaleidoscope, the tumble of pieces throwing a different kind of connective pattern every single time.
Prashantji’s classes are like an arc. It’s not a class in the sense that one is used to but more in the nature of a tasting followed by long cooking of precepts and principles. Asana time is barely half an hour in a 120 minute session but it is not easy by any means. And yet, the few asanas that I experienced were an unfolding. Despite no sequencing, no ‘warm up’ or staccato instructions of skeleton-muscular adjustments, there was a quietness and longevity of asanas by skilful use of breath and mind. I also see why some years need to pass to be able to develop sensitivity or perhaps I am simply slow to grasp.
During one of the sessions, he spoke about practising in such a way today that we can practice in the future too. It resonated quite loudly with me. Just a few days ago, I was thinking about how I spent over 2 years in therapy class for my knees. All I did was mostly prone or supine asanas which eventually made it possible for me to be pain free and walk long, sit cross legged etc. It also prepared me for loss and losing, age and ageing and most of all to treat all of life as a preparation for dying well.
On the very first day of the session, he asked us to consider what the basics of Iyengar yoga meant. The first thought that sprung up was that it was to “live happily and die majestically” as Guruji said. Most of us are conditioned to say alignment, precision, sequencing but those are simply the starting point or building blocks. The magic starts when you deconstruct the ‘rules’, break them and start teaching yourself, learning yourself. Yoga is heuristic after all. After a period of time, there is an intuitive intelligence of the embodiment that adjusts organically if you can get the rigidity of the mind’s conditioning out of the way.
Today’s session was a continuation of what may be viewed as a weaving of the ‘Strands of Body, Mind and Breath’. I couldn’t help but think of the strands of sattva, rajas and tamas through the very life force of the universe. Both- limitless. These sessions are like a tasting, an invitation to sip and make mental notes and bodily imprints. The class today was a kind of opening into understanding the intense transformational period many months ago. I have tasted the biochemistry of asanas although I do not know the hows and whys of it.
Prashantji began the class talking about exploring the chemical changes of asanas and how to approach them. The more time I spend as a practitioner of yoga (and I don’t mean asana alone, it also includes other sadhanas outside of the mat), the more comfortable I get with staying with not knowing. It allows for a receiving which is given as a benediction. This week has been fascinating and I’m looking forward to going back to the basics yet again and seeing them through a different lens. Somewhere, the desire for asana proficiency has been replaced by asana curiosity and in the bargain, I’ve begun to see the limitlessness despite our constraints. As a runner, I had too much to lose and then I lost it. As a yoga practitioner, even if I lose everything, there will still be Savasana as long as there is breath in the body.
Last week in one of my regular classes, we approached malasana through different routes and it was again that same touch of limitlessness. Malasana is a beautiful pose, named after the garland it resembles. Floral garlands are an intrinsic part of Indian rituals and traditions, from weddings to pujas to inaugurations and felicitations. In traditional Indian weddings, there is an exchange of var malas. The garlands themselves range from simple to elaborate ones but their place in the ceremony remains similar. The act of garlanding is a mutual one, a receiving as well as a giving. Old stories speak about swayamvara where a woman chose her partner and indicated her choice by garlanding the suitor. Now, the exchange is a mutual one signifying acceptance of each other as life partners.
Taking possession of a new vehicle is often accompanied by the breaking of a coconut and a garland on the car. Deities are worshipped with malas, usually of flowers said to be dear to them. The entrance of houses are decorated with torans, especially during festivals and special guests are honoured with a flower garland.
In a way, the act of garlanding is a deeply mindful one of acknowledging the other and their part in our lives. In order to complete the circuit, there’s also a corresponding receiving of the offering. I suppose it is simply mimicking the endless cycles in nature, a continuous reciprocal acting. That class had malasana and its different scents through various forward extensions. While there is a certain proficiency in some of the asanas at a beginner level, there is also the awareness that asana practice is a continuum. As I stretch and find resistance in the body or unwillingness, I see corresponding holding back of the mind. I see how the breath and thought process in those situations are similar in life off the mat. There is acknowledgement of working within the constraints of bodily limitations and walking the tightrope of pushing forward and holding back. It’s interesting to see how some ‘difficult’ asanas are easier than the easy ones, the continuum of practice is a shifting one.
The beauty of this art is that there is never an end to its learning and discovering the limitlessness of the embodiment’s capability. Body, mind and consciousness stretching into infinity or compressing into nothingness. Both exist simultaneously. In the final malasana of that morning, there was an experience of that garlanding, equal parts giving and receiving. One of the shifts that has happened has been a receiving of where I am right now, whether capability or capacity. An ‘all is well’ regardless of the challenges that have been cropping up and they have been many and unrelenting. There has been displacement of routine thanks to some crazy amount of time on the road but despite that, I’ve managed to unroll my mat and join the sessions. One of the blessings of a pandemic has been access to classes regardless of where one might be.
I remember her voice. I remember her presence in the large hall. I remember her smile, her earnestness, her simplicity. And I miss never having had the good fortune of being under her direct gaze.
I never learned from her but her videos and books teach me, her students teach me. This morning, I attended the usual two classes, an asana one followed by a pranayama session. Later this evening, Abhijata taught a class in her honour. 3000 people from around the world signed in to remember a brilliant teacher. Despite the isolated nature of the webinar, there was a sense of being part of a community united in its love and respect for a gem of a teacher. It was a repeat of a class Geetaji taught in November 2006 and at the end of it, it was amazing how even in a rendition, her words was still so powerful. Not a moment of wavering attention, that’s how strongly she forced you to inhabit the moment in the asana from even beyond the dead.
Lately, I’ve been in a sort of retreat while being in the world. Digitally disconnected in terms of news, social media and even blogging and I got time in swathes. My days have been a fulfilling mix of a little work, yoga, walks and reading. The connectivity provided by the internet while useful has also sucked much out of life and the past few weeks of fullness has had me thinking that I could easily make this my default setting. The woods I frequent have been a wonderful learning ground this past year. I’ve spent many hours walking, absorbing not just the pleasures of fresh air and quiet but also lessons about time, love, silence, joy and what it means to live fully. There is contentment in its simplicity and I find it has seeped into my life too.
This month’s thought says Yoga is to surrender. It is so beautifully linked to last month’s thought of Yoga is Action. Abhyasa and Vairagyam. Asanas and Savasana. Inhale And Exhale. Increasingly I find that maybe there is no need for more words, whether to read or write. All that I need to know is already known.
September comes to an end and with it another month of rumination, this time on Integration. At different levels, there is integration, within one’s singularity, with another and then a world at large. I. You. We. Nature however rearranges grammatical hierarchy by starting with we and then trickling down to the I. Natural ecosystems are a beautiful expression of integration. The animate and inanimate coming together to create, sustain and destroy. When that balance is lost, there is depletion and desolation but left to itself, there is a beautiful symphony of a constantly evolving integration which is complete. I suppose we’ve crossed a tipping point in that respect but nevertheless there is hope that a universe that has managed to be around for so long has a few ways and means to ensure continuity of this tiny little blue speck.
At a very primal level, we see ecosystems, constantly adapting, evolving. We humans have created another well entrenched ecosystem of technology which is also constantly learning and getting smarter. It is in the nature of things in the universe, to expand and contract, grow and decay and this entire cycle of creation, sustenance and destruction is a beautiful expression of the concept.
In class, in practice, we work on small sections of the body to bring awareness, wakefulness and wholeness. Over a period of time, many little parts start finding their wholeness and eventually they come together to make a complete asana. Body, mind and breath come together in the repose of a pose, each time a whole but also an evolving whole. Lately, the work we do and what I try to practise is to bring the softness, quietness or calm that my teacher talks about alongside the firmness. It is harder to be soft than to hold firm but when both come together there is a different combustion. As far as the breath is concerned, the inhalation is whole in itself as is the exhalation and the retention. All three come together in one integrated breath. The mind with its tendencies and colour extend into the way we think, speak and act.
But yoga is more than just grunt work on a mat, it is a way of being in the world but not necessarily of it, as seen in its 8 petals. In an earlier time, there was conflict in my mind between being in the world and being not of it and so there was confusion at seemingly contradictory aspects of living. There was rigidity and a closed mindedness, a hardness which reflected in the body’s inability to completely let go. Perhaps that’s also why I steered away from pranayama until now. It’s taken me 6 years and a pandemic to take tentative steps into preparing for it.
It hasn’t been too difficult to see yoga in my everyday whether in the effortless flight of the black kites from my balcony floor or the words in a lovely book. I started to see how the different interests and time spent were not in conflict with being a student of yoga and in fact they added a richness to it. Some time ago, I settled on 3 questions to ask myself when confronted with a choice.
Is it true?
Is it good?
Is it beautiful?
Satyam, Shivam, Sundaram. Sometimes there are variations on this depending on the context. I didn’t figure out then that it was a process of integration. Again seen through asana eyes, I can ask myself if the pose is true, if it is good and if it is beautiful. Does it have Rupa, Lavanya and Balam? And the only answer that matters is the one that comes up from deep within my own heart.
I just finished a lovely book called Braiding Sweetgrass. It was a slow savouring and not the usual mad gobbling of words. The pages have been heavily highlighted, thankfully it was a kindle read and so no actual pages were mutilated. Leaving a couple of sentences from the book here.
Native scholar Greg Cajete has written that in indigenous ways of knowing, we understand a thing only when we understand it with all four aspects of our being: mind, body, emotion and spirit.
– Robin W Kimmerer
Towards the end the author says,
‘The spark itself is a mystery, but we know that before that fire can be lit, we have to gather the tinder, the thoughts, and the practices that will nurture the flame.’
– Robin W Kimmerer
While this exercise began as a simple way to stay with a thought, over the months I have begun to see how difficult it is to truly understand. The reading for the month has been the Kenopanishad, a wonderful short few chapters on knowing. It’s uncanny how lessons in life have a way of rearranging themselves to bring you an integrated understanding. It’s no surprise for an integrated universe but for the likes of me, it still remains a bit magical.
I’ve been attending classes with multiple teachers thanks to the online format, each of them bringing a distinctive flavour. If I had to break it down into what makes them dynamically different while staying true to this system of yogasana, it might be broadly categorized into Goal, Approach and Language. It appears that these three are also closely linked to their own studentship and relationship with their primary teachers. Some of the teachers clearly were mentored by Guruji, others by Geetaji. It seems as though their own personalities were taught the way they would best receive and that is the underlying current of this river of Iyengar yoga, the alignment between teacher and student.
While I miss a physical class for the opportunity to see other bodies and observe how the teachers adjust or watch, online classes have provided a peek into their own learning without the distraction of a hall full of people. There is more of the teacher to absorb. In this format, the field of practice has moved from a hall to one’s own self and observation depends as much on the spoken word as on the visual representation. The mind is a marvelous thing, constantly scanning, absorbing, arranging, rearranging, assimilating, discarding bits of information from various sources and integrating them. I find that a book about plants or watching birds teaches me yoga as much as time on the mat does, both in the physical expression of asana as well as in the way to go about the business of living.
The online medium shows the teacher or demonstrator and often just listening to the audio is sufficient. I access the lessons on my phone so the screen is really tiny magnifying the importance of the economy and efficiency of speech. One of the teachers epitomizes austerity, a refinement mindset and a sense of craftsmanship. Another teacher is about the hard work of body to develop sensitivity and I see Geetaji’s presence in the keenness of that delivery. Yet another is more relatable to us students with our mridu mind and encourages an endurance mindset, devotion to Guruji being foremost while a fourth makes sure we remain in touch with all the asanas. The differences in both the goals and approaches are at a peripheral level, the basic one still remains to enable us to experience the asana in its totality. Each of the teachers wield language in distinct ways and that is a separate post in itself. Some of the analogies are invoke such powerful visual imagery that they guide the asana effortlessly. And of course the regional Marathi that is sprinkled in adds a delicious flavour by recalling uniquely Indian experiences. How would yoga be taught in the absence of language?
In the context of my own learning, I find there are times I veer towards one and at others towards the others. The approach of a female teacher and a male teacher is distinct, while another layer is of personality and interests. But despite apparent colourings of gender and personality there flows a single river of Iyengar yoga. The difficulties of their practice and its resolution comes out in the way they instruct. A nuanced, finer touch, almost austere versus an earthy one that is empathetic towards human frailty. One, a seeking to go beyond prayatna shaithilyatha in order to begin yoga and the other to develop a joy for endeavour. Of course, this is purely a personal perspective as a student and I could be way off the mark. But, it is interesting nonetheless as it helps me look at how I study, not just asana but also other things that I am interested in. It helps me observe better, open my mind a little more and be adventurous.
September’s meditation is “Yoga is integration” and this has been a good way to begin the month, to see how learning is an integration of not just the teacher’s teaching but also the teacher’s learning that a student is privileged to receive.
The last six weeks have been intense with classes five days a week. It’s been a soaking in and while the greedy student in me wants to continue, I think it’s best to scale down from next month. I’d like to accumulate less learning and experience and explore more instead. It feels a bit lazy to depend so much on online classes rather than struggle a bit on my own. Of course, I need and want my teachers but I could do with more self practice.
Today’s class had multiple repetitions of brick setuband sarvangasana and variations. By the end of the 90 minutes, there was a fire lit in the sacral region, not in a sore way but in an alive sense. Sirsasana and sarvangasana that came towards the end of class was beautiful in its steadiness thanks to that imprint of the brick. The bio mechanics of asanas also means freedom in the corresponding frontal body and I was left with a feeling of fearless vulnerability. The eyes too experienced something different today unlike the usual 1000 watt going off in the head. It is difficult to articulate the sensations, a cradling of the lower part of the eyes would be somewhat close.
The brick was a wonderful teacher, it’s constant pricking never letting me forget what our teacher wanted us to experience. Like she said, one part is about doing the asana and the other is feeling the asana. Range, endurance, flexibility all of that comes slowly or fast. It may come and go depending on illness, injury or other conditions but the feeling of the asana can be replicated using props. In this online format and with fewer props, we often substitute the usual ones with items at home like pressure cookers, stools, pillows, dupattas, sarees, sheets, steel dabbas, dining tables, chairs, sofas, beds, walls etc. It reminds me of Guruji’s early days and how his curiosity made him play with easily available materials to teach himself.
He was a brilliant student, curious and tenacious. As a student, there is much to learn from the way he learned. He listened, he observed, he experimented. There wasn’t any sense of an end goal to be achieved, rather it was more an immersion in the endlessness of yoga. I doubt I’d ever have even a fraction of that zeal and commitment, at best I could possibly expect to plod along in fits and starts. As I reflect on today’s class, I find myself asking yet again- why do I practise yoga, what is the fascination with asana that makes me go back time and time again? There is the mental clarity, emotional stability, physical well-being but I suppose it is also a being alive in this embodiment fully and without limitations. Somehow yoga has never been about getting something in return for time on the mat, the fulfillment has been in the endeavours.
I find that in self-study of any sort, not just asana, the process of learning is largely invisible and in small packets spread over a period of time and across different spaces of our lives. They remain scattered until the body and mind are prepared to synthesize all of it into an organic whole.
The month of May threw up small pieces that spoke of space and harmony. One of the first was an article in the Yoga Rahasya on Symmetry and Space (Vol. 24, No.4 , 2017). Another was the view from my balcony floor while lying down and looking at the sky. Yet another was the toiling that happened on my mat and the reading that would come after. A large chunk also lay in the outdoors with the trees, stones, birds, flowers and so on and an interesting bit was in a colouring sheet my daughter made me fill up.
Last evening, towards the end of my practice, I came to Karnapidasana and it was a whole different experience. I tend to be wary of the pose because of pressure on the neck. Last night though, the pose was effortless and I experienced a shutting down of the ears and an opening of my eyes. Not like the opening of the eyes in backbends but almost as though there was an inner set of eyes that opened. A seeing without seeing and time didn’t exist. Maybe that’s what made it feel like I could stay in the pose forever. Despite the compressed nature of the asana, it didn’t feel that way at all.
After practice, I looked the asana up in books and on the internet to see if there was anything other than the technique or benefits of the asana. Geetaji’s Gem For Women mentions that it makes one turn inward but beyond that I wasn’t able to find anything. But, the pose caught my attention for its association with the ear, the word ‘pida’ and the theme of space which was running through the days. And this morning, I worked with a slightly different set of asanas before attempting Karnapidasana again. This time there was resistance. I was trying to replicate yesterday’s lesson without being open to what today wanted to teach.
The sensation yesterday reminded me of an experience a few years ago when I saw sound, not the form of it. Synesthesia, a fleeting experience in savasana. I wonder what is the connection between the ears and eyes? Is there one or am I imagining it? Is it stubbornness to want to connect the dots that appear through moments in life and make sense? I don’t know. But the theme of space and all the words that tie in with space, be it sound or silence have been cropping everywhere. In asana, we are taught to create space in the body. The skies rest in space, the stars and the moon too. It has been contemplative sorts of days lately, one of being brutally honest with myself, breaking patterns, facing fears. This is different compared to earlier when the process worked from body to mind a few months ago.
Sharing a few lines from the same Yoga Rahasya mentioned earlier
If you’ve followed this blog for a while, you would’ve been privy to the months of a dark night of the soul. I was incapable of maintaining any but the bare minimum to get through my days. While I anticipated a rough ride, nothing could have prepared me for the enormity of grief. Mostly, it sprung from a deep sense of loss. Over time, we become attached to our habits, people, places until they become dead weight. But by then, we’ve invested too much time, effort and ourselves to be able to hit the reset button. So, we carry on, accumulating diseases of the body, mind and heart until it chokes us.
We are taught to create, grow, sustain but never how to destroy. And that too is an essential part of the cycle of life. Birth, growth, decay, death and rebirth. We see it in nature, in the way seasons die out to receive the next one, in the way day ends in night, in the way the hunted becomes food for the predator and so on. But we live our human lives averse to the creative potential of destruction. We embrace the joyful and exciting but not the pain and despair but that too is such an essential part of being human, the capacity to embrace pain as we do pleasure.
I see a mirror in the current pandemic, the laying waste of a way of life, flawed though it be. Much pain, horror, hardship, death and desolation cutting across geographies and people. These are difficult times, no doubt, but I also believe in the resilience of our species which will pick up the pieces and rebuild. In the course of volunteering as well as in my work, I hear experts talk about various future scenarios, usually through the lens of their specific domains. While there’s a great deal of information available and conversation that happens on current issues, truth is no one really knows and we have an inbuilt fear of uncertainty. In Light on Life, Guruji mentions, “learning to live with uncertainty is the great art of living” and that couldn’t be more apt in these times of anxiety and fear.
In such a world, how does yoga help? I can only speak for myself when I say it keeps my life in the right proportion. Yoga practice becomes the Serenity Prayer in action. On the mat, my presence remains confined to the time spent on it, working with acceptance, change and discrimination. As my body takes the forms of poses, I find a suspension of my roles and concerns of the world at large and the attempt to find integration of mind, body and breath. Later, I think about how can one bring that same cohesion to our individual problems and collective ones? And I find myself drifting back to my favourite sutra, 1.33, as the healing a wounded species so desperately needs.
Yog Sutra 1.33 – “Through cultivation of friendliness, compassion, joy, and indifference to pleasure and pain, virtue and vice respectively, the consciousness becomes favourably disposed, serene and benevolent.” – Light on the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali by B K S Iyengar