So as we approach this beautiful season of springtime, I plant my garden of contentment. I spread my yama and niyama seeds into the earth. I “drop the control” as fertilizer. I shower it with the awareness of contentment each day, I bathe it in the warmth and depth of meditation each day, and watch […]
Axis Yoga Teacher Training students complete a personal experiment as part of the culmination of course study. This student started the experiment with a practical application of lessons learned during the program. But it was a bigger lesson in awareness and its effect on life that the experiment ended up teaching.
My personal experiment was originally going to entail a daily home sadhana and applying ayurvedic remedies to determine if either would have an effect on my chronic headache condition. The first week went well and I practiced each morning. Sadhana started with a warm?up, three surya namaskar, pranayama practice, and meditation. After reading about some restorative asanas that may help headache conditions, I replaced the warm?up and sun salutations with restorative viparita karani mudra or supta badha konasana. Unfortunately, I didn’t notice a change in the daily headaches, they appeared to be as variable as they usually were with the high grade headaches coming as frequently as normal; about two a week.
Then, I got sick. Not hospital sick, just a head cold. But, by my reaction to it, you wouldn’t have known it was just a head cold. My lack of presence during that week of illness was astounding. I flowed through my days completely unaware of my actions at any given moment. I did not even experience the weird duality I sometimes do when life’s challenges prove difficult to handle. In my dual state, I am, at least, aware that I am a wreck. I watch myself, shaking my head and laughing at how serious and attached I am to making others happy and ensuring that the things I “should do” as a responsible adult get done. It’s as if a part of me is separate from the insanity. At these moments, I get the tiniest of insights into one of Hafiz’s quotes. “God and I have become like two giant fat people living in a tiny boat. We keep bumping into each other and laughing.” Part of me is muddling through and the separate part of me finds that fact absolutely hysterical while asking “Why muddle when you can skip?” I’m still figuring out how to answer that question (which, I might add, my separate self finds even funnier). There was no watching myself during that particular week of illness; I look back now on that week as if it were a dream. I slept my way through it as I slept my way through all of my younger life. Sadhana during that week was no more than a twinkle in my mind; something else that I should do and wasn’t doing. Even the daily sadhana that I do at work was put aside.
So, my experiment became an exercise in determining what happens when even the modest amount of daily Sadhana I do is put aside. Oh boy, the lessons learned here are so simple and yet so immense that words cannot effectively describe them; but I will do my best. Their simplicity is trumped only by the fact that these realizations have occurred over the course of the last couple of days as the illness subsided and my daily practice resumed. It wasn’t until I restarted a daily sadhana that I could see again; before that I wasn’t even aware that I wasn’t aware.
My first realization is that Sadhana must be practiced regularly. Without the practice, it is simply a lovely theory. If all I do is sit in a room and read and discuss what I can be and how I can grow, I will never move from my current state. I actually have to DO something if I want to change. My next realization is that without presence, I sleep through life and the waves made by my unaware actions carry me along. Being present allows me to actively choose what to do or not do. When I am conscious, I select, for each moment, what actions I take. I get to be aware of and understand some of the possible consequence of these actions. Without that consciousness, I’m not even aware that there is a choice to be made, let alone understand the consequences of my actions; I simply react to life. The alarm goes off, so I get out of bed. I have worked at this particular job for four years, so I go to work. I have bills to pay, so I do what I have to do to earn a living. The cats are hungry, so I feed them. The laundry is dirty, so I wash it. The interesting thing is that, when I’m present, the cats are still hungry and I still feed them, but I chose to feed them and I choose when to feed them. I’m not simply rambling down the hall, with them wrapping themselves around my legs, to get the food to them as quickly as possible, so that the yowls for food stop. The point is that the choice exists.
My new awareness of my awareness has allowed me to reframe some of the recent happenings in my life. During one of a recently nasty couple of headache days where I was unable to reduce the pain to a level at which I could function, I decided to go home early from work. My decision to leave work happened on possibly the worst day I could be absent. This resulted in my boss deciding that I was no longer capable of effectively maintaining my job as a manager. I wish I could say that I handled this news with equanimity and poise; I did not. Despite the fact that I had already been talking to my boss about stepping down out of management for over a year, I went into a tailspin, questioning my ability to do any job well. After much contemplation and self?evaluation, this news has opened up a world of new possibilities. From a practical perspective, I am working with my boss to facilitate the change in a manner that works for everyone. From a personal growth perspective, I have begun the task of reevaluating what I’d like to do to make a living and I’m finding that the options are bigger than I thought possible; and the requirements for living are much smaller than I originally believed. The fact that this realization has brought a sense of space is the most unusual part of this realization. In the past, the act of transition has brought me to sheer panic. I put my head down and barrel through it as quickly and efficiently as possible, wanting more than anything to get the end so I can “get on with my life”. Well, during the barreling, I was still getting on with my life but not in the best way. In this transition I am taking the time to contemplate, and reflect, and *gasp* enjoy the time of change.
My biggest realization is how easy it is to slip away from awareness. I don’t mean to suggest that I’m conscious all of the time. I spend most of my time in a semi?stupor state and only have brief moments of clarity; and I’m not entirely sure that those moments are truly conscious . . . I mean, really . . . how many levels of awareness are there? Okay, that’s not actually my biggest realization in this experiment. My biggest realization is that I’m okay with not being aware all of the time. I know that I can lessen the time spent in that semi? stupor state by sadhana; and I know that I can decide to experience the journey, be it difficult or easy. I know that the separate part of me that finds all of this hilarious helps me through those difficult times as if I am pulling me forward, asking myself the entire time “do you get it yet?” I’m still answering myself “Nope, not yet.” Still, I choose to practice. I choose to work toward experiencing every moment at whatever level of consciousness I am in that moment. I am experiencing the journey.
The Yoga Teacher Training journey leads students down paths that are both transforming and enlightening. It is not unusual that students find themselves in an unexpected, yet familiar place in life. This student describes a journey towards finding life’s purpose.
My Yoga Training started out with an intent, to figure out what makes me happy, my passion and my purpose. I was looking for something but I didn’t know what. I started taking yoga classes in my pursuit of health and fitness but instead I found something more, something deeper. This is my journey, my […]