Yellow
Is it any wonder, yellow sings of cheer and abundance?

Is it any wonder, yellow sings of cheer and abundance?

By the time I turned
Back towards home from the river
The clouds were all gone.

The nicest places to walk these days are the alleys.

In classical yoga systems, we are taught that all the world is an illusion (maya) and the only thing that is “real” is Atman (spirit, the One). I do not subscribe to that belief, but I do believe in the principle that is espoused in the Bhagavad Gita of actionless action — working because it is my nature to work, but accepting that I ultimately am not in charge of the results. I thus can be fully engaged in my work, but be freer of anxiety, disappointment, and frustration or overcharged attachment to pleasure and success. From a tantric perspective, I believe it is all real and full and something to be experienced as part of the marvelous complexity of being.
This principle carries over into my relationship to my dreams. I have always had extremely vivid and present dreams most nights. Sometimes, like last night, my dreams are full of convoluted challenges and difficulties that could be filled with anxiety. I used to chew on dreams like that through the day. Now I wake up and think: what an amazingly inventive mind I have. Isn’t the subconscious fascinating? I pay attention to what lessons might be in the dream and let them release the dreams from holding on to my day. As I get more skilled with meditation and yoga, I often can find this place of simultaneous engagement/non-engagement even while I am still dreaming. This makes it so the dreams have no more hold on my ability to sleep or act than would watching a movie that raises challenging issues.
At the weekend workshop in Bryn Athyn yesterday, John Friend reminded us of the scientific fact that our energy flows to where we put our mind. As a physical matter, if we think about our little toe or our tailbone, for example, we will be better able to access it.
As a mental matter, if we think about something we just did or need to do or think we should do, our energy will be diverted to that place.
There are even more profound implications with respect to where we let our mind dwell when we are practicing. Our practice deepens and helps us embody intention (sankalpa). If we dwell on something that is making us angry or suffer while we are practicing, we will actually etch those emotions more deeply into ourselves.
This is not to say that we should not practice when we are suffering or in conflict. Nor does it mean that we should beat ourselves up when “negative” emotions or thoughts arise during our practice. Rather, the awareness of the repercussions of dwelling on and feeding what does not serve is a reminder of the benefits of turning our minds towards the good — perhaps a yearning to be at peace or free from suffering or other positive intention while we are practicing when we are feeling challenged. We use the practice not just to release what does not serve, but choose to refocus our minds so that through the practice we can embody a state of mind and body that better serves us and helps us to respond from a higher place to those things that are painful or hurtful. Ideally, we turn towards what is light, nourishing, and balanced (sattvic), not out of compunction, but because it is more delightful.