On this mahashivratri , the darkest moon of winter, the night to delve into our dreams, into the rhythms of the wild dance of existence, experiencing the fullest emptiness . On this night, too, the goddess Uma (aka Parvati) incarnate as feline WHO IS NOT SUPPOSED TO BE ON THE BED appears to have been reunited with Siva Nataraja.
It’s no surprise: I find myself more and more consumed by thought and activity regarding the state of the country and what I can do as a citizen (including voting) to make things better. As I seek to stay engaged, but grounded and without anxiety, I find solace of the teaching in the Bhagavad Gita that true yoga is action without attachment. To be detached is not the same as withdrawing from action. In fact, the Gita suggests that the path of action is better than the path of renunciation.
What is actionless action? Given the Gita’s fundamental premise that we must act in accordance with our duty (what that means is the subject of much debate that is beyond a simple blog), actionless action does not mean disengaging from the process. It also does not mean not caring. Rather, it means that we should act fully in accordance with our principles (which principles should be shaped by the yoga guidelines of non-harming, truthfulness, non-stealing, alignment with nature, non-greediness, cleanliness, contentment, fervor, self-study, and surrender), but with the mental understanding that we are ultimately not in control of the outcome. We act because not to act is a cop out. We offer the fruits of our action to forces beyond ourselves. We act out of love — not selfish love for personal gain — but with loving gratitude for being able to act at all. We engage fully and then still seek to be free of being unsettled by either pleasure or pain from the outcome. Whatever the results, we keep acting, we keep doing our duty, fully and with loving engagement.
See: BG IV.19-20: He whose undertakings are free from anxious desire and fanciful thought, whose work is made pure in the fire of wisdom: he is called wise by those who see. In whatever work he does such a man in truth has peace: he expects nothing, he relies on nothing, and ever has fullness of joy. (trans. Juan Munoz)
He who has abandoned all attachment to the fruits of action,/ Always content, not dependent,/ Even when performing action,/Does, in effect, nothing at all./ Performing action with the body alone, / Without wish, restrained in thought and self,/ With all motives of acquisition abandoned, He incurs no evil. (trans. Winthrop Sargeant)
P.S. I will have voted in the morning and will be teaching at Wm Penn House on Tuesday so come join me resting in yoga before going home to watch the returns.
I just received a yoga email advertising classes and workshops that quoted a well-respected teacher as saying not to listen to your mind and to listen only to your heart. I respectfully disagree.
I do believe that if we listen (listening in the deepest and broadest sense) only to our mind, we lose connection with body and emotion, which can lead to ill health and unhappiness. I also believe that individual consciousness is more than mind and includes bodily and emotional awareness as well as brain function and that one of the salutary aspects of yoga practices is to expand our capacity to be aware beyond thought and mere processing of sense perception.
But to listen only to our heart is to be empty-headed, to be without discrimination (viveka), and also presumes that we can process and act on what is in our heart of hearts without using our minds. To dismiss our mind as somehow not being a source for deep listening also defies the tantric yoga notion that all is an essential part of being, of consciousness, of the source of inner bliss (Satcitananda–being, consciousness, bliss). Why would we have minds if we weren’t meant to use them?
Want to be a fully engaged yogi who lives in the world? Go ahead: cultivate, educate, enlighten, and use your mind. Just do it with an open heart and ever expanding sensitivity and awareness of all your being and all that is around you!
I was first taught that adhikara meant “studentship.” Although that is not a literal translation, adhikara implies a dedication and steadiness in the student that makes the student worthy of receiving the teachings (of yoga). As I was steadying myself during this momentous time and working in the garden, I was thinking about how the principle of adhikara applies to so many aspects of life, including gardening and being a citizen.
One of the literal translations for adhikara is “competence.” What is the competence one needs to have in order to participate in the study? As I harvested the last of the peppers and eggplants and pulled up the plants, making room to sow another round of greens (not too late in my sunny, protected yard in the city), and decided to leave the orchids out for another week, I thought about how I knew what to do when in my garden. By being present and observant for two decades in my yard alone, I have grown competent to know what will likely grow in my little patch of earth and for how long into the season, depending on the year’s weather. My initial competence, when I started this garden almost 20 years ago, was some basic training in other gardens, reading technical books, and enthusiasm. My consistent efforts to learn yielded results delightful to me from the beginning. As I have continued my studentship in the garden, my appreciation grows. The same is true for me also with cooking, relationships, and my participation in the community (not necessarily in that order).
The fundamental competence of a student is having the basic skills to participate at the level of the teachings. For a gardener, it is recognizing our climate, our space limitations, and our soil, and being open to learning what can be changed in a particular space and what must be accepted. For a citizen, it is knowing basic civics, what are the most relevant issues for us and society at large, and what we can change and what we must accept (I think knowing the subtle differences between what we can change and what we must accept is incredibly difficult). For yoga, it is much the same: we must know what are true limits and what are false ones and be consistently present, practice steadily, and be ever open, not only to studying, but to the fruits of study (expected or not).
I cannot change the weather, nor guarantee how other voters will vote, but I can continue to maintain the adhikara necessary to be a fully engaged student of this life on all days and not just the days it is fun or gratifying. The yoga, on a day like today, is to act fully, accepting, and perhaps even appreciating, the limits on what I can control.
