Whether in active yoga practice or ordinary’ life, we all eventually reach a point where we plateau, reach a sort of homeostasis or acceptance of our state of development…and possibly stagnate there. Satisfied with our development to this point, we may ‘rest on our laurels’ and stop the ongoing growth that is the essence of life. If this goes on long enough, the trend can change from growth and anabolism to decay and catabolism – physical, mental, and spiritual.
Like strings of a guitar or harp, we need to be tuned regularly, kept in a state of alignment and balance conducive to growth. Like plants, we need the right environment for continued growth. Like humans, we need to be actively interested and participating in life, consciously moving forward on all fronts, or we tend to slowly disengage and begin an inevitable decline, in both will, dreams, and ability.
This is in keeping with the laws of physics and science; bodies at rest tend to stay at rest, and bodies in motion tend to stay in motion. Homeostasis is naturally sought on physical, mental, and spiritual levels. Yet without practice (and the resultant growth), we tend towards entropy, towards dissolution, decay, and chaos. This is the second law of thermodynamics, and a law of yoga and life. Through our practice, through constant mindfulness and growth, we prevent this trend, harness the physical (and other layer) laws that tend to support our growth and practice.
In yoga, this tendency for unconscious self-limitation can be seen on the physical level as placidity in practice, of an acceptance of current, perceived limitations and/or of state of development. I can do a good crow pose, so I make a check in the box in my mind marked ‘crow.’ I then begin to automatically perform the posture, failing to continue to strive for a fuller and more engaged manifestation of the pose. Refinements to the pose (such as one-legged crow, etc.) fall from my mind, as in it I think I already can ‘do’ crow, and there is nothing left to do.
On the mental level, this is also manifest in a similar type of entropy; I meditate regularly, and find content and peace therein. I then fall into the trap of not being present in my meditation, but only in the way I typically ‘perform’ meditation. I am ‘done,’ a successful meditator who can no longer learn anything from the practice. At best, I think I can maintain my state. The idea that there may be new, undiscovered levels of practice eludes me.
The same occurs on the spiritual level. I might believe that I see God in all things and that I maintain an active and harmonious relationship with the Divine, staying tuned in to and constantly practicing Ishvara Pranidhana, gratitude, presence, and non-duality. Once I have manifested all the virtues, my ego tells me that the list is complete, the check marks are all filled in, and there is nothing left to do. In my social life, I may think that I embody compassion and service, and thus limit myself from new potential levels of compassion and service.
An empty cup does not mean only an open mind and heart; it means a continuously new ‘beginner’s mind,’ open to new experience and new levels of growth, understanding, presence, and manifestation.That is the great secret of both yoga practice and life; the journey is never over. We never arrive, never ‘get there.’ There are always new levels of growth, development, and integration possible – if we remain open to them.
The gross is an indication of the subtle. My physical state is a metaphor for the state of my overall being. The lessons I learn on the physical level apply in the mental, spiritual, and social levels. As I limit myself in the physical expression of yoga (‘I could never do lotus pose, or peacock), I express a limitation in my mental self (the perception that those levels of strength, endurance, flexibility, and presence are unavailable to me or inaccessible (or undesirable) to me, due to age, physical limitations, or whatever reason my mind comes up with).
One thing is sure – if I believe these states of being (for yoga postures are more than mere physical attitudes or poses, they represent states of being) are impossible, I will indeed never be able to achieve them. In the wise words of the fictional sage:
“Argue for your limitations, and sure enough, they are yours.”
-Don Shimoda
So while the gross (my present physical state) may manifest the subtle (my inner state), the subtle also precedes the gross. An idea or possibility must first be born in my mind before it can become manifested in outward ‘reality.’ Yet the mere knowledge that the possibility exists (say of performing peacock posture) is worthless without the practice: the actions necessary to actually manifest this state, to slowly move towards (and perhaps eventually achieve) the state. Without desire and will, no practice is possible. First the possibility must exist, and then the motivation to make that possibility into a reality (or at least proceed towards the goal in a dedicated fashion).
This is where yogic wisdom helps us…in the concept of acting without regard to the fruits of our actions, without attachment to them. We perform the practice faced in the direction of a theoretical goal, yet have no expectations of an end result or specific achievement. The fruits of practice are found along the way, not at some mythical endpoint or destination. You never arrive at the destination. The journey is the destination, and if you are focused on a goal in the future, you will miss the actual journey.
Yet some general goal must be held in mind, some inner compass or direction for our simultaneous and integrated physical, mental, and spiritual development. We all find, or attempt to find this in various ways.
Instead of looking for areas in our lives where we can find new growth, development, or change, perhaps we can look for areas that we think we are ‘done with,’ and look closely to see if we are missing opportunities for new growth and expansion in these areas. Who can truly ever manifest enough kindness, love, and compassion? When do we reach a limit on the amount of service we can give to ourselves and others? Is there and endpoint goal of gratitude or presence, where we are at a state where no more is possible? Can you ever be too strong or flexible, physically or mentally?
Just the idea of such untapped growth potential is exciting and reassuring. The mere idea of so much unexplored and undeveloped space within our physical, mental, and spiritual selves is cause for celebration. For the final frontier is within us, a vast, uncharted region ripe for exploration.
So the next level of yoga is always before us…and behind us. It is all around us. We proceed not only in one direction along a single plane of reality, but shine and expand outwards, in all possible directions and planes. Growth is possible in all areas of our lives; improvement is possible is all facets of being. Yet this expansion and growth is accomplished more with mindful acceptance than it is with striving. Motivation, effort, and practice are surely needed, general goals are essential. Yet without allowing, performing the actions more out of love than of obligation or seeking, do we find the possibility of continued manifestation and growth.
This growth is not linear and sequential, but flies upward on a curve, like a snowball gaining momentum as it rolls downhill, or a feather as it is borne upward on the wind. As we practice, we are truly borne on these divine winds. As we practice, we develop our wings, that we may be borne more surely on them.
We may fly, but must also flap our wings sometimes to do so. Sometimes we may soar and glide, almost effortlessly. We move between the state, in and out of balance, flying, moving, soaring forward…into the present, into the future, borne on the divine winds of change and the wings of our practice.
AUM, Shanti
: )
Just One Yogi 