Gratitude happens in mysterious ways.

It took me a while to get through the essay on ahimsa for my teaching website. I got stuck on the last paragraph, so I walked away from the computer, sat down with my mala, and did a few rounds of meditation on ahimsa. It worked, and I finished the essay. Earlier in the day I did the same thing as I was getting ready to teach, only I was at the studio, so I used one of the malas for sale. (I don’t know if that is bad mojo, and I may need to go back and buy it.) I’ve never been much into malas, but yesterday it seemed like the thing to do.

This morning I woke up filled with intense gratitude after a dream about my high school boyfriend, the kind of gratitude that made me want to look him up, and every single one his friends until I find him, just so I can tell him how fortunate I was that he was my intro to the world of romance. Without going into great detail about the dream because it is boring, in the dream we were reacquainted and I was happy as can be to see him again and know about his life, on the same kind of high that I have been riding lately. I woke up thinking that he was the ideal first boyfriend – sweet, devoted, crazy about me, and happy – and that I am incredibly lucky to have had the experience. I thought on it a bit more, that reuniting with that kind of love and good will was what fed the high and brought out this very happy, loving, grateful part of me, and that conversely there are times that I have chosen relationships -romantic and otherwise- that were stimulating and exciting, but also punishing. It turns out that the buzz from the really good stuff is way more exciting that the excitement from the not so good stuff.

Really, though, this is about the relationship I have had with myself over the years. All week in my classes I have been talking about ahimsa, and I have been knowing about ahimsa very deeply and well enough to write to essay that I am going to paste in below, but this morning, I GOT it. Really got it, viscerally. Ahimsa toward myself blows out all the fear, and without the fear, kindness to others is effortless and light, just the way it was in the dream, and the way it has been in flashes here and there over the past few weeks.

More on the Eight Limbs of Yoga – Ahimsa
The first of the eight limbs of yoga are the yamas, the “don’ts” of an ethical life. There are five yamas, the first of which is ahimsa, non-violence or non-harming. In the broadest sense, ahimsa means avoidance of causing physical harm to living beings, humans and critters alike. However, there is far more to the practice of ahimsa; it also applies to emotional harm, spiritual harm, or any other kind of harm.

It can be troubling to examine how each of our actions relates to ahimsa. Every action can contribute to suffering in some way, from the origin of the clothes we buy to the food we eat, to ignoring the needs of a spouse or friend, or driving aggressively. While awareness of the impact of our actions is extremely important, sometimes it can leave us overwhelmed, forgetting about the practice of ahimsa toward ourselves.

The physical practice of yoga is a safe means for examining the ways in which we cause harm to ourselves with our thoughts and our expectations. Where does the mind go in a difficult posture? Do you get mad at yourself for not being able to achieve your ideal? Do you push yourself to the point at which you harm your body? Do you accept the posture as it is in your body? Or is it during difficult postures that you check out, adjust your clothing, take a drink of water? Do these thoughts, ideas, and expectations serve you, or harm you?

Over time, as we examine our thought patterns in the postures, we begin to recognize these patterns when we come off the mat. Sometimes we need to push ourselves into difficult situations in order to “find our edge,” but other times we push ourselves as punishment or as a means of atonement for a perceived shortcoming. We overwork the body because we think we are unattractive, we overwork ourselves because we think we don’t measure up to some arbitrary standard, we overcommit because we think people won’t like us if we say “no,” we over-schedule ourselves because we fear the truths that will arise when we are well-rested and centered. On and on these stories go. Sometimes our stories serve us, but when they become habit, automatic and unexamined, they cause suffering.

Many people come to yoga solely for the physical benefits of the practice, but over time come to appreciate the benefits of exploration of the turnings of the mind. When we understand our mind, we are able to practice ahimsa toward ourselves. As we practice ahimsa toward ourselves, we develop a deeper understanding of the nature of suffering and liberation from it, which we can then extend unconditionally and without reservation to other beings. Once we understand it, we can give it away.

About laurenflax

My interests include writing, reading, yoga, crossword puzzles, playing the accordion, and oppressing the proletariat.
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