Every now and then a little insight pops up during a yoga or meditation practice. Tonight, with sweat pouring off me and fatigued to the point of my muscles giving out, these words popped up into the air like little bubbles: Right or Righteous? It was mental shorthand for the larger idea of bringing awareness to whether my decisions serve my little self or my big self. Am I acting in accordance with my ego and intellect, or with my greater purpose of meeting the world with soft hands?
Sometimes, it is easy, and my actions obviously serve one or the other or both and I barely have to think about it, but occasionally it is much cloudier.
In the grossest example of this, I think of the people I know who always do things “right,” but are miserable because it doesn’t serve them; they’re living up to an arbitrary set of rules from their peers, religion, political party, etc.. I wonder if life is ever sweet for them. It must be. There must be some time when it matches up.
I am not into arbitrary rules. Still, in the more subtle realms, I can ask myself again and again, is it compassionate, loving, and kind? Is it sacred, righteous, and true? Are my offerings at my alter of fear or my altar of love? And after all that, I still don’t know the answer. Those are the times when I have to accept that asking the question is enough, and hope that by asking the question, in a way, the action is a movement toward my bigger self.
