You fit into me
like a hook into an eye
a fish hook
an open eye
-Margaret Atwood
My old home had a vicious cross breeze that often blew open the kitchen cabinets and tossed things from the dining table. One day, the wind blew over a full glass of water from the dining table to the floor. What seemed like thousands of wet shards of glass littered the kitchen floor. Mopping up water and glass, a piece of glass pierced the bottom of my foot. I felt it most of the day, and while unpleasant, it wasn’t unbearable. Knowing that taking it out would prove to be more painful than leaving it in, I waited until the evening to excavate the dagger. By that time, the bottom of my foot had bruised and the glass was so deep that removing it was much more painful than it would have been had I taken it out sooner. This story, like Margaret Atwood’s poem goes right into the heart of the path of non-attachment. Our relationship to our attachments can feel like intimacy in the beginning and like a prison over time.
I asked one of my teachers, “How do I know which tapasya (austerity/renunciation) is the right one for me?” He replied, “It’s the one you least want to do.” My own personal tapasya transformed over a three-week period. I went from abstaining from sugar, to abstaining from seeing people, to abstaining from certain relationships. I found that I could live without sugar, chocolate, and wine easily. What really got me, however, were my relationships. One by one, mirrors broke all around me. I noticed that most of my relationships were a cheap ploy to keep my act going. Without an audience, without anyone watching, what happens to the performance? Is my act over? This is abhinivesha, the fear of death. Practicing non-attachment has brought up questions like “who am I, really?”
Without anyone looking, who are you?
Without anyone giving you what you think you need (love, affection, food, power, etc.), how do you know who you are?
How willing are you to stay in the presence of pain, loneliness, jealousy, and sadness?
Separating from reactivity, certain relationships, and certain behaviors cultivates a deep commitment to who you really are. Committing to you really are means letting go of anything that will sever that union. Here we have the two wings of yoga, abhyasa (discipline and commitment) and vairagya (non-attachment) working together to help us create a deep intimacy with the truth of who we are.
Needless to say, my foot has healed. My new home is less windy. I’m making better choices, and I’ll wear slippers the next time I need to clean up broken glass.
Please join Yoko & I this coming Sunday evening from 5:30 to 6:30 pm at Purple Yoga for our monthly satsang. It is a free event, but donations are gratefully accepted.
