Raja Yoga in the Himalayan Tradition • Meditation • Pranayama • Hatha • Subtle Body
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Practicing Greatness

July 30th, 2012 | Posted by Jennifer in hatha | meditation | yoga - (Comments Off on Practicing Greatness)

Typically, I don’t watch much television. But like many people, I find the Olympic Games irresistible. The speed of well-trained minds, the physical grace of strong, practiced bodies, the nearly palpable power of concentration… unathletic me finds it awe inspiring. So I made a trip to Radio Shack, untangled a mess of cords, and plugged and unplugged connectors from boxes until London appeared on the screen. Then Fleur the Cat and I settled in.

Of course, along with the freestyle relays, the beach volleyball matches, the road races, and the skeet shooting come the commercials. I don’t hate commercials; in fact, I admire good ones (and, I must also admit, all too often cry at sappy ones), since part of what I do for a living is write advertising and branding copy. So when I watch, I pay attention. And one commercial running during this summer’s broadcasts kept my attention.

Nike’s “Find Your Greatness” is beautifully filmed, but it was the message that made me search the Internet when the one-minute spot ended. In a nutshell, the gist is this: Somehow, for some reason, we think that greatness is reserved for the gifted, talented, rare few. But greatness doesn’t lie in wait for special people. Greatness is wherever someone is trying to find it.

Greatness is in the trying. It is in the practice. It is in the seeking. This set me to thinking… in my life, trying for what? Practicing for what? Seeking what? And the first answer that popped into my head was this: the experience of wholeness.

It seems so easy for so many of us to see ourselves and to feel ourselves as lacking, as insufficient, as not quite able, or in some way or another as less than. Yoga philosophy promises that at our core, we are always already whole, lacking nothing. But in reality, we just don’t always (if ever) feel it or we just don’t (or won’t) believe it. Nevertheless, yoga science, through things like the eight limbs of Patanjali’s Yoga Sutras, provides “maps” for those of us willing to put doubt aside and take the chance that yogis across the centuries might just have been right.

Such yogis embraced sadhana to find their greatness. The Sanskrit term sadhana is often used to mean self-effort and the discipline necessary for sticking to a program of spiritual advancement. It is from the verb-root sadh, which means to go straight to the goal, just as Olympic athletes, gathered to compete in the games, go straight for the goal.

The master teacher of a number of my own teachers said this about sadhana:

The process in which the aspirant unfolds, develops, and enlightens himself [sic] is called sadhana. Sadhana is the practice which has the power to carry the seeker (sadhaka) to his objective. The object is to realize the truth of life. We have to bring about our maximum development and arouse and express the power lying dormant within us. It is possible through sadhana alone…. Our goal is to attain absolute peace, an unalloyed happiness or perennial bliss; and this is possible only when we use all circumstances in life, whether good or bad, happy or painful, to promote our sadhana. All circumstances in life cannot be made to suit us, but continuous sadhana makes us feel that the condition which is hostile to us at present, is in fact an opportunity for advancement on the path (Swami Rama, Book of Wisdom: Ishopanishad).

The experience of wholeness (of absolute peace and unalloyed happiness) is possible, so say those great sadhakas who have, through practice, seeking, and trying, found their greatness. And what heartens me is that all aspects of a complex, modern life—the joys and losses, the gifts and griefs—play an integral part.

Feeling whole is not reserved for those with the luxury of taking daily hatha classes or going on three-month-long retreats in sacred places. It is not the privilege of ancient ascetics who sought the silence of meditation caves high in imposing mountains. It is for all of us. My own experience of that wholeness lies in my choosing to live my life, with all it brings me, in a certain way, a way inspired by the wisdom of yoga, a way that is everyday seeking, step by step, and everyday greatness.

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Already Home

July 4th, 2012 | Posted by Jennifer in meditation | yoga - (Comments Off on Already Home)

A sweet and wise friend, Namita, shared a story with her Facebook pals that went something like this (I paraphrase—and switch up genders, just for fun):

One day, a young Buddhist, on her way home after a long journey, found herself before a wide and mighty river, one that impeded her progress. She spent hours on the bank, trying to figure out how to cross the great barrier.

Feeling hopeless about being able to continue on her journey home, she saw, on the opposite bank of the river, a venerable teacher. She called out, “Oh, wise one. Can you tell me how to get to the other side?” The teacher, thoughtfully considering her answer, called back, “My child, you are on the other side.”

Maybe I find this story so poignant because I just returned home from a two-week-long journey (and very, very nearly missed the return flight). But there’s something else here that strikes home (so to speak). It’s not quite the somewhat clichéd idea that wherever one is, one is already home, but it is close.

I am graced to know a few swamis—great meditators and teachers, each one—who share a common characteristic that I find pretty stunning: they are remarkably emotionally self-supporting. I see this most in their comings and goings. When they arrive from their international travels and teaching, they are filled with happiness and contentment at seeing those of us who welcome them. And when they leave us, they are filled with happiness and contentment in their going.

This has taken some getting used to. After all, one wants a friend, teacher, or loved one to grieve a bit when she leaves, to depart reluctantly, with sadness. But now I find it something to aspire to, since I see it as evidence of a valuable kind of emotional self-sufficiency, a kind of fullness that one feels in a home that is safe, warm, familiar, and welcoming. I, too, want to feel this, wherever I am.

Sometimes the barriers we face are wide and mighty external things like rivers, or wacky airline regulations and requirements, or the emotional reactions of other people. Sometimes they are internal, but no less wide and mighty: fear, doubt, anger, jealousy, laziness, and the like. How does one get home in the face of such obstacles?

For me, the answer is this: I practice. I sit, breathe, meditate, and find that stillness that is not a lack of something, but that is fullness itself, that is the full presence of the ever-wise inner teacher. Then I consciously impress what this feels like into my memory, so that when I venture out into the world again, I can always arrive back home, especially when it seems farthest away.

 

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