The Constancy of a Shape Shifter: Taking In the Truth

Yoga is not really a religion, but there are definite principles that underlie all the various families of practice we call "yoga." There are some deep connections between Yoga and Buddhism, Yoga and the Hindu practices, and actually with most of the major spiritual belief systems. This is clearly because all of these structures have to do with how we conduct ourselves, how we treat each other, and how we approach the hardest parts about being human in the world and understanding what can only be seen as the mysteries around us.

photo by j.r.meredith

Truth is one of those underlying principles that seems relevant in every belief structure. This idea of truth sometimes seems like a shape shifter. In any given moment we can know something to be true that is simply no longer true in the next moment. This is not falsifying the truth, but requires that we live in the present moment. Memories are notoriously slippery in terms of what they hold and what they shift around. If we color the moment with interpretations, then the memory we hold of it will also slide around as our view changes with time and distance. If we can actually take in the truth of that moment, it is complete in and of itself and does not require us to add or change elements. We can take it in just as it is. Eventually we can learn to see that everything is subject to conditions, and that conditions by their nature are impermanent.

This is a very hard thing to do. It is like telling someone to let go of something without moving... but in fact we can do that too.

In a yoga practice it is probable that you will run into yourself at every turn. Much as the practice may promise you a release from the definitions and constraints that bring you discomfort and suffering, it will open all the possibilities, not just the ones that feel like letting go and floating in a sea of beautiful colors. There are very specific physical things that happen through a physical yoga practice. Of course, muscles strengthen, lengthen, loosen, tighten; breath changes, opens, shortens, lengthens, and quiets. The mind, meanwhile, attaches, detaches, interprets, tells stories. The mind is busy noticing, taking notes, questioning, smothering feelings and highlighting feelings, and so forth. The yoga mat is a great place for noticing how you, very specifically you, deal with all kinds of circumstances and expressions of yourself. It helps to start with what is actually happening, and notice the intricate weaving that the mind does all around that. Just notice it, and let it go.

So what is actually happening? Is that the truth? It is a good start. In any Asana or posture there is potential to notice changes and shifts, whether you are sustaining the pose for several breaths, or moving in and out of the pose again and again. It is not like a law of averages or finding a median where the way it feels more often or most of the time is the truth... the truth is in each moment of the Asana. It can take time in a practice to accept that which is in any moment as true. The fear, hostility or desperation that arises as you twist for the sixth or tenth time in Utkatasana (Chair Pose), and the relief, determination or urgency that arises as you release back from that twist into plain Utkatasana, the flood of gratitude, blame, or shaky surrender as you fold into Uttanasana (forward fold) or rise into Tadasana (mountain pose) are all true. We don't have to keep a catalog of all of these truths. The hip will hold on to some of it, the heart to some, the mind to some. Next time you take on the twisting either that day or in another day's practice, you will hear the echos and feel the stories rise. This is you in action and is the seat of your explorations about yourself and truth. Yet the twists will have their own shapes that next time, and learning to accept that which is now, that which is this moment, is truly the path of truth, the conditional nature of our experiences and the deepest understanding of impermanence.

What my left hip felt yesterday made me laugh at myself. How hard I was willing to work to close off from that truth, and to tell a different story. The hip kept prompting me to see the moment and I could watch my mind work to wind and unwind its attachments and interpretations. Today, this moment, is simply today, this moment. The more space I can give the truth, the clearer my practice is too. And when that attitude comes off the mat, well, try it and you will see why it is an underlying principle in all deep spiritual practices! By the way, there really is no getting around it, either. It is there whether we take it in or not. The amazing revelation in all this is that taking in the truth brings authenticity into everything. Imagine that! No wonder so many seekers give their lives to the search.

On the mat as it is in life

When my legs begin shaking in utkatasana (chair or fierce pose) I deepen my breathing. I draw my attention to my feet and notice where my weight is resting. I let a little ease open my upper back, relax my shoulders and open my heart with my exhale. The intensity of heat in my thighs begins to scream at me and I take in a longer inhale, pressing out my exhale with deliberate evenness. I might roll my wrists, or lift my toes. The shaking does not stop, but my panic has left me. The shaking does not stop, but my body understands that this is a moment of possibility. I am not hurting myself. I will feel no ill effects. I am simply breathing through the hard stuff, to strengthen and to help release my tendencies to effort where I do not need to exert energy, like in my shoulders.

The gratitude I feel as I fold into uttanasana (standing forward fold) is a combination of amazement at the flood of sensations from the physical change of pose, and a deep rush of joy that I am able to be in utkatasana and to shift into uttanasana.

I can clearly remember that when I began practicing yoga even holding utkatasana for 3 breaths made "fierce pose" an apt name for the asana. Teachers would say, sit back as though you were resting in a chair, and I would reach desperately at the word "resting" and "chair" as if they would save my wildly aching leg muscles. The concept of resting in a posture that is strenuous was quite new to me. It still amazes me, every time. I may feel the shaking after a longer period of time, but I will always continue to have those moments on the mat that ask me to reinvent myself, to investigate how I approach my own life in that moment.

The breath illuminates the moment and brings awareness into my life off the mat. A friend recently gave me driving instructions, saying, "Now remember this is a country road and it will wind, there will be turns and pieces that go off in other directions. It is a simpler way. Just stay on the road and when it feels confusing, just breathe into it, and you will get to where you see the signs. The signs are large and clear."

How well that describes the practice! The fear rises, the legs shake, the worst appears in the mind, the emotions ask for sympathy, the mind doubts and portrays all the obvious shortcomings or devastating consequences. Breathing in and breathing out I can let all that go and see the signs, so large and clear. Yes the path will turn, will twist, will splinter off; and I continue to explore the simpler way.