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On paper, it makes sense, but in practice, it's one of the most difficult yogic principles to apply, in my opinion: Aparigraha, or as it's commonly interpreted, non-attachment.
In the section on the Yamas - one of the eight 'limbs' of yoga, as outlined in Patanjali's Yoga Sutras - we're advised to let go (of people, possessions, outcomes...) in order to avoid the suffering that comes with the potential for loss, and loss itself. If we don't cling on to the things we 'love', it doesn't hurt when we're threatened with their removal, or indeed, when they are actually taken from us. We neither imagine or feel our metaphorical nails being ripped from our metaphorical fingertips - because we never dug them in in the first place. And I understand that - it's a very reasonable suggestion......until you actually try doing it.
Ironically, but not unusually (various Instagram accounts hold proof that I'm not alone in this), it would seem that I am very much attached to my asana practice - another of the eight limbs of yoga. I love using dynamic sequences of postures to stretch and strengthen my body, especially when I'm synchronising those movements with my breath and some mighty fine tunes. It makes me feel peaceful and happy, and yes, I love the effect it has on the way my body looks - it's nice having toned muscles and a flat belly!
So it's not really surprising that as I sit here tapping away on my computer, just days before undergoing an operation to remove the satsuma-sized cyst growing on my left ovary (yes, it's finally happening!!), I find myself worrying... I'm at my strongest and most flexible, and my practice is more consistent than it has ever been in the 18 years I've been gleefully throwing shapes on a 6 x 2 foot rubber mat. But this time next week, I'll be laid up in bed with a broken abdomen.
Of course I want to be rid of the freaky sack of fluid that's causing my erratic menstrual cycle, dizzy spells, sudden trips to the loo, and raging hormones (in that respect, I suppose you could say I'm attached to the outcome of my impending operation, too; I want to be free of ill-health!). But I dread the weeks (or maybe months...) of recovery and enforced rest that will come after the surgery. How will I stay fit? Where will I find the peace and calm that always accompanies my asana practice?
I actually know the answer already. I've known it for a long time, but have managed to ignore it so far. I have to sit down and meditate. Okay, in this instance, lie down - but the principle remains the same; instead of finding my focus through movement, I simply have to find my focus.
I started thinking seriously about this challenging aspect of yoga back in India, in January. First, my teacher at Mysore's Mystic School insisted on us incorporating a short seated meditation at the end of our collective Ashtanga practice (which felt manageable - he was only asking for 25 long breaths, after all). And then I struck up a conversation with the wonderful James Boag, a yoga teacher from North Yorkshire who's based in South India for much of the year. I'd been freaking out because I'd suddenly realised how limited my yoga practice was, and I confessed to him, like a guilt-ridden Catholic, that I found the prospect of seated meditation (beyond 25 breaths), well, boring.
I felt like such a fraud that I went as far as declaring that I wasn't a yogi, after all - maybe not even a yog-ish! I was on the verge up rolling up my mat for good, buying a new pair of trainers and reacquainting myself with the likes of Jane Fonda!
James was ready with some reassuring and encouraging answers. He reminded me that self-inquiry is also part of a rounded yoga practice - and congratulated me on being honest with myself. And he made me see why it might be worth stepping out of my 'comfort zone' (horrible phrase, but it really does apply in this instance) - that by risking the boredom I associated with sitting in stillness, I might actually find myself entering the most exciting internal world imaginable!
Well that, along with being under the impression that my newly diagnosed cyst meant I'd have to ease off on my asana practice, was enough to inspire me to finally turn the page and embrace seated meditation. I was already to take flight!
And then I did take flight, literally - coming back to England to address my medical needs...a process through which I discovered I could continue to fling myself into knots for 90 minutes a day, after all - there was no danger of my cyst suddenly bursting, as I'd been led to believe by the doctors in India. And all of James' wise words faded from memory...
But now I really do face a long period inactivity, those words have come back to me - especially one sentence James used in an email, in reference to the timing of my medical issues: "I trust you will draw the blessings from this". He was encouraging me to see that the physical limitations being imposed on me by my health issues, could in fact be a good thing for my yoga practice! I'd dodged the idea back then, having managed to keep hold of my asana practice a while longer, but it's not an option this time - laparascopic surgery doesn't respond well to the hyperactive tendancies of a naughty yogini(sh).
It's finally time to meditate.
And so it would seem there is a greater irony at play here, than the realisation that I have all these years been overly-attached to the phsyical side of my so-called 'yoga' practice (and have thereby failed to apply one of the other central tenets of yoga). In being forced by my health to let go of my ability to leap about a light and gymnastic fashion (up to now, my definition of 'doing yoga'), I am being given the opportunity to explore some of the other aspects of yoga outlined in the Sutras.
Looking at it like this, I can now see that by doing 'less' after my operation, I'll actually be doing more - I'll be taking my yoga practice to depths far greater than a fancy posture well-executed ever could! Or I'll be giving myself a chance to do so, at least. And knowing that will, in turn, help me continue to loosen my grip on my physical practice - without feeling worried.
I suppose you could call this my aparigr-aha! moment; I'm finally accepting that where I am now is exactly where I need to be. I know I'll come back to my physical practice sooner or later (okay, later...), and I know that even if I never put my legs over my shoulders in supta kurmasana again, that's alright - because I now have the potential to be more established in yoga than ever before.
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