ancientwisdomsustainer

[ancientwisdomsustainer]

[ancientwisdomsustainer]

Ancient Wisdoms’ Grounding Forces:Bhakti Mārga

Using the Yoga During Times of Unsettlement

Yogic scriptures define fear (bhaya) as a modification in the mind. These ancient teachings delineate two kinds of bhaya natural or rational fear, which serves us in threatening situations; and “unnatural or unusual” fear which is not based in any objective reality. When hearing the later I think of ‘phobias,’ as an example. Anxiety and worry are the effects of bhaya no matter the appearance. I chuckled a bit at this physical description in one text:

It (fear) is characterized by pallor of face, palpitation of heart, slowing of pulse or stoppage, tremor of limbs, perspiration, expressionless condition of the eyes, passing of urine and feces unaware, in extreme cases, choking of voice, inability to speak, etc. The body becomes like a log of wood. The mind gets stunned. The function of the senses is inhibited.[1]

From this description it is obvious the physiological effects of fear can be vast and very real on a somatic level. As I mentioned, in a previous post, a cultural hyper-awareness of the body feeds a bhaya mindset, usually stemming from avidyā (ignorance). “It (avidyā) manifests when one identifies with the body and forgets the immortal Ātman.”[2] For those unfamiliar with this aspect of Self, Ātman is the inner part of each individual affiliated with Divineness. Fear tends to separate one from knowing this Divine aspect of Self via negative egoic (ahaṁkāra) qualities. Yoga, in all its aspects, offers multiple ways/paths for stilling these patterns of consciousness.

Sūtra I.2

yogaś citta-vṛtti-nirodhaḥ

yogaḥ - process of attaining union and a harmonious state of mind

citta – consciousness, the repository of thoughts and feelings

vṛtti – turnings, thought constructs

nirodhaḥ: ni – completely, in every respect    

                rodha – discipling, not allowing to roam aimlessly

Engaging in a consistent sādhanā (practice) assists each of us in working with the mental modifications of ahaṁkāra. Sādhanā disciplines the turnings of the mind, leading the way toward integration of the heart and Ātman. Embracing the Yogic mārga of Bhakti involves a devotional surrender, a courageous embrace of understanding our mind and heart. Cor, the Latin root of courage, actually refers to heart. In the earliest of times to have courage was “to speak one’s mind by telling all of one’s heart.” Bhakti Yoga is a dialogue of one’s heart with God, or whatever the word is one uses to describe and embrace the Divine. Surrender as a Bhakta, a person on this Yogic path, brings the ahaṁkāra to a point where it asks inwardly for guidance through chanting, listening to stories of divine manifestation (līlā), bowing the ego, emptying the mind and filling it and the heart notions of the Divine.

On my first trip to India, just over twenty years ago, I went through a day long ritual, bestowing me with a mantra.* I recited that one mantra for nearly fifteen years. At first the mantra was a tool to soothe my bouncing mind as I sat to meditate. Eventually the words became the default sound of my brain, a sacred hum replacing the noises of doubt and unkindness trying to make their way in at various times. Over the last five years Bhaktisādhanā has been a continuous courageous embracing through an even deeper exploration into nāda, the Yoga of sound. Sanskrit, japa of other mantra-s, discovering sacred sound through voice, and instrument-based practices (tānpūra and harmonium) are also now part of my daily nāda sādhanā.

“By chanting, we strip away our outer appearances, our smaller selves,

to let the Light of our true nature, shine forth.”

- Rabbi Tirah Firestone

Mantra is “a living energy” traditionally handed down from teacher to student. A mantra is a sound that has, as the ancient sages say, “one foot in this world and one foot in a world that transcends ordinary sensory and psychological experience.”[3] The mystical mental practice of mantra provides a framework akin to the physical aspects of āsana. Neuroplasticity, within the brain, and mantra’s effect on the mind’s adaptive nature is being investigated by modern scientists. Their findings are validating what the ancients inherently knew, the vibrational quality of Sanskrit has a profound effect on the brain’s wiring. Swedish researchers are now able to demonstrate the health benefits of Sanskrit mantra, as a conduit for freeing [the] mind… and calming [the] nervous system[4]. A consistent devotional recitation or quiet focus on mantra is proving to insulate against sensory stimulation from the external world.

Auṁ is “described as the audible echo of inaudible sound.”[5] It is a profoundly basic opening to the power of mantra. Auṁ consists of four parts:

1.) ahhh, like stick out your tongue and say…

2.) u is pronounced oooo with the lips coming into a circle

3.) mmm, with the tip of the tongue resting just behind the front teeth

4.) silence

Each part of the sound is given equal time, including the silence before the repeated sounding of the whole mantra.

If you are new to Sanskrit and mantra please  know the goal is not to parrot the sound. Proper placement of the tongue (there are five positions) is the key. Aim to let your mind rest in the sound of the mantra and the cultivated inner silence that comes with time. Eventually with persistent practice and devotion, the sound will become a resting place for the mind. Mantra provides fortitude along the ever-winding meditative path.

ૐLauraLynn

*you may read more about this in my memoir, Inspired to Live: the Story of an Unlikely Rebel

[1] Swami Sivananda. Conquest of Fear. The Divine Life Society. Tehri-Garhwal, U.P., Himalayas, India: 1997.

[2] Swami Sivananda. Conquest of Fear. The Divine Life Society. Tehri-Garhwal, U.P., Himalayas, India: 1997.

[3] Sovik, Rolf. A Mantra for Your Mind. Yoga International, Summer, 2013.

[4] Moran, Susan. The Magic of Mantra. Yoga Journal, April, 2018.

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Ancient Wisdoms’ Grounding Forces: Rājā mārga

Using the Yogic Paths During Times of Unsettlement

Rājā mārga is also known as the royal road to uniting of mind-body-spirit (Yoga). It is also often translated as the path of meditative sādhanā (practice). Rāja may encompass any of these techniques -  observing thoughts, centering the mind through breath awareness, reflecting on the various levels of the mind, or coming to an understanding of a past impression, saṃskāra.

When one embarks into meditative practices first efforts are likely to encounter impatience, boredom and/or  ego-based attachments, often associated with a variety of fears. Meditative practices as svādyāyā, the discipline of self-effort and study, provide a space for the routine investigation into surrendering our attachments and facing fears. A commitment to regular sādhanā allows for an expansion of consciousness. It illuminates an understanding of self as more than the just a body/flesh suit.

In reflective practices one comes to see how a saṃskāra, also translated as a habitual habit, can prompt a need for sensory fulfillment. Imagine it is the end of a long day of work and you come home what is your habit for unwinding? Do you consciously reflect on this action or is it merely a habit?

When kāma (desire), an associate of habitual habits, creeps into the mind one may become disappointed or express anger if it goes unfulfilled. For example, if you are someone who likes to go out and about each weekend, meeting friends, and embarking on adventures the current situation of being requested to not do these things may fuel your desires even more. The experience may invoke a lack of fulfillment resulting in an unwillingness to consider alternatives. It may even lead to full-on anger at the situation, looking for someone to blame.

Swami Sivananda, world renown Yoga philosopher, notes another mind temptation, the hidden ego. “The hidden ego is ready to fill those corners which are not so enlightened.” He provides this example of ego’s trickiness.

We are practicing a beautiful sādhanā. But we soon become attached to the way we practice our āsanaand how beautiful we feel. Suddenly, the whole world is no longer as pure as we are. Everything is beneath us. ‘Oh Gosh, this person still smokes! It smells!

He continues to point to how arrogance rises up challenging the power of our meditative sādhanā. Best intentions are replaced by māyā, the illusion of life pulling at us. If the whole of our concentration is more on the physical body the ego is quick to identify any potential loss associated with the somatic attachment. Every cough or heightened temperature one becomes afraid. An immediate assumption of disease easily sets in, especially in the current circumstances.

“The negative emotions you feel have an impact on your heart – and your health,” says counseling psychologist M. Mala Cunningham, Ph.D. For better health and reduced stress, Dr. Cunningham suggests a practice I often use with my private Integrative Health Coaching clients, the three-part breath.

Practice

Sit in a chair with your feet on the floor or sit on the floor in a comfortable seating position.

Place one hand on your chest gently and the other on your belly.

Inhale through your nose and let your lower belly expand,

           Notice the length of the breath as it comes in and out, you can count…

1-hippopotamus, 2-hippopotamus, 3- hippopotamus as you fill up

           Do the same for the exhale noting its length as well.

           Repeat this 3-5 times.

If you have more breath at any point draw it up into the middle of the torso…

           and even the lungs if possible, this is the complete three-part breath.

When exhaling with the full the three-part breath empty from the top down – lungs, torso and then belly.

Pause a moment before inhaling again.

Do this full process for up to three minutes.

On the next Inhale when you have filled up allow a space in the action. with the throat soft, before releasing slowly through the mouth.

Adding a gentle contraction to the stomach at the end of the exhale assists in expelling all of the breath.

Repeat for 8- 10 minutes.

Finish this meditative prāṇāyāma sādhanā with 2 minutes of regular breathing.

This practice is especially helpful for surfacing anxiousness. You may wish to notice and track how you feel post-practice compared to when you began the session to see impact of your focus.

When starting a reflective mind practice consider starting with the first piece of saṃ-yama. (the collective term for the meditative path): dhāraṇā (concentration). The three-part breath practice above is a great starting point. Softly focused, concentrative practices begin the process of psychological absorption eventually leading to dhyāna (meditation) and beyond.

ૐLauraLynn

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Ancient Wisdoms’ Grounding Forces: Jñāna mārga

Using the Yogic Paths During Times of Unsettlement

Each of you, I’m sure is witnessing how fear is a daily reality right now as this in-the-face unknown looms across the globe. I suspect this unknown is also being magnified, at least in the US, by a cultural norm of focusing on the physical body. If you are uncertain what I mean by this just scroll your Instagram feed for twenty to thirty seconds; there are likely to be multiple examples of this somatic-based mentality. The modern Yoga scene tends to amplify this hyper awareness, with a greater focus on haṭha and the physical practices associated with the term Yoga. So much so that many folks, in this modern culture, associate the term Yoga only with āsana (the physical postures). I am sure, none of this is new news to many of you reading this post. We honor birth and youth as we run in fear from illness and death. We as a culture are truly challenged by the continually spinning wheel of saṁsāra, birth and death.

In this series of writings, I offer you three historical Yogic approaches to facing uncertainty and life as an embodied being. Each path (mārga) – Jñāna, Rāja and Bhakti (hyperlinks offered for further investigation) offer a different perspective in the practice of self-study, svādyāya and the aim of Yoga’s true purpose to yoke (yuj) or unite with the divineness within and without.

We begin with Jñāna, the path of wisdom and knowledge. This Yogic lens encourages truth seeking. Who am I? What am I experiencing as I live in this body? Swami Sivananda, world renown Yoga philosopher and teacher, encourages us to identify the Truth (as he named it) by understanding it as changing phenomena. “Everything, all matter in the universe, is constantly changing, that is the only Truth there is. The baby is born and we say he or she is already one day old – not one day young.” Here his words connect to how our words come from a basis of future-based fear.  “Fear comes from avidyā (ignorance),” he underlines.

In Jñāna Yoga we investigate and reflect on what is the Truth, what is really lasting. “Is it the body?,” Swami Sivananda asks. “No. It is just a beautiful instrument,” he reminds us. He points us to notice where avidyāattempts to rule our understandings of what life in this body is and means. Personally, I faced this stark realization at a very young age when doctors gave me a fifty percent chance of survival from a life-threatening illness. My “beautiful instrument” brought me to an immediate and obvious first thought, without it (the body) there is no life, a deep quick reality check for a twenty-year-old. During the endless months of chemotherapy and radiation I unsuspectingly embarked into the inner world of self. It was scary and quite disorienting. Though I had grown up with a faith in Divineness I battled often to understand it more, to have true faith in the Truth. As my flesh suit’s, one my teacher’s description of the physical body, insides burned with chemicals and the skin turned a charred black I was convinced all my chances for a “fulfilling” life in a continued career as a model was completely nixed. My ego fought hard as I accumulated scars from procedure after procedure left me marked forever; and as strand by clump of hair fell in the shower, into the sink when I would brush it, and caught in my clothing as I put them on (the prior years I had been a hair model) the only dream I had ever envisioned for myself was diminishing rapidly.

Gratefully, one day as I rummaged through the dusty bookshelves of a used bookstore a series of texts about sages living in a mountainous setting was discovered. Reading this series of books, Life and Teachings of the Masters of the Far East, became my daily sādhanā (practice). A profound inner evolution was set into motion which I continue to pursue still, over thirty years later. I came to discover, through reading the texts, how the turning of every moment comes with temptations and desire, kāma, keeping a constant motion toward a perceived fulfillment. Working, making money and buying things coo us into feeling a temporary fulfillment of these desires. When these desires are interrupted or unfulfilled the ego rears up causing a range of expressions and actions, fighting on behalf of the kāma. Some folks are crushed by these pursuits. Their thoughts turn to words like failure, others ignore the under-stirrings completely by numbing the senses - taking tablets, drinking alcohol, doing drugs, eating disagreeable foods or sleeping too much. Another may blame parents or the world in general so feelings within can be discounted.

The teachings of the ancient sages offers another choice, to surrender to wisdom, as the experience of fear attempts to overwhelm. In Yoga, as a complete life practice, one does not only invest in the body; there is also an investment in the mind. Avidyā is a real disrupter and distractor. The ego can hide behind fear, behind arrogance, behind being “the best.” It wants the power to control everything and it manifests in different ways. Fear often expresses as a very deep-rooted saṃskāra, an impression that often becomes habitual in both positive and challenging ways. I have learned from the ancient saints, sages and many teachers it is habits of the ego facing us when fear surfaces. It took me that year of deep physical pain to realize how I associated losing this body, the beautiful instrument with losing my whole identity.

When we face the egoic aspects of self an opportunity to transcend is presented. Svādyāya, self-study, coupled with openness to the teachings of others is the Yogic mārga, Jñāna. If one has many fears, this may be a signal of a strong identification with ego and body/mind. If one chooses to investigate a saṁskāra, habitual habit, space is generated for an expansion into self-understanding. The mind makes mental modifications, cracking and making space for new conditions to exist within the mind. It is then a matter of what one fills those cracks with, such as inspiring texts, meditative contemplation or devotional practices.

The mind is where I began my Yogic path decades ago. I quickly learned, while fighting the egoic attachments fueled by a deep mind-set and societal influences, I am not just this “beautiful instrument” of flesh and bone. It has been a tough lesson for someone who banked twenty-ish years of life on her looks. Over time Yogic philosophy and daily sādhanā has also firmly taught me I am also not just a mind. The mind is also a changing phenomena, hovering around the soul, Ātman or Self – that center point which never changes. It is this aspect of the Yogic journey we will consider in the next post on the mārga of Rāja.

If you are curious about generating a Jñāna inspired practice here are a few suggestions for readings:

The Inner Tradition of Yoga by Michael Stone

Letters from the Yoga Masters by Marion Mugs McConnell

Polishing The Mirror: How to Live From Your Spiritual Heart by Ram Dass

Falling into Grace: Insights on the End of Suffering by Adyashanti

ૐLauraLynn