Monthly Archives: July 2023

Fear and Abhaya Mudra

I generally go with my intuition on what needs to be said at a particular time, and this week it is also what is up for me right now: FEAR. I’ve been facing a number of challenges from the physical (nothing life-threatening, no worries!), to the mental and emotional, in addition to the existential crises we are facing politically and environmentally, and several other situations where I’m seeing it in myself and others. It is a lot to hold, and I’m sure some of you are similarly challenged.

Unlike many of the teachings we consider, I don’t have a specific text to point to this time, but fearlessness is alluded to in the tradition through many of the images of the Gods and Goddesses, as well as the Buddha. They raise a hand with the palm facing out, in a gesture known as abhaya mudra. It literally means “no fear,” fearlessness, or have no fear.

When I experience fear, it is important first of all to see and acknowledge it. So many times we’re driven by fear unconsciously, and it gets projected inappropriately on to someone or something else. Next it is a matter of assessing whether it is appropriate, because sometimes it is and we need to protect ourselves.

Often the fear boils down to a fear of uncertainty, of not knowing what is next, or wanting to control the situation and not being able to, fear of not being capable, failure, imperfection, having to let go of something or someone, or simply having to deal with something unpleasant. Often we are filled with fear when we’re on the cusp of something, starting a new enterprise, dealing with a health challenge, or a breakthrough in our personal or spiritual development. As I assess my fear, I often turn toward analyzing and processing, with myself or another, and that can be important as well.

But ultimately I’ve found my practices have helped me the most. My yoga asana practice can be incredibly useful. I faced fear many times approaching particular poses and I know I can breathe through it. A greater awareness of my breath allows me to more readily notice fear arising and breathe deeply since I’ve established that pattern over many years of practice, which physically relaxes me. Often when I get on my mat, breathe and move the energy through me, the fear dissipates.

I’ve learned philosophically how so much of fear is due fundamentally to the human condition of manifesting into a limited individuality with the associated occlusions which can lead to a feeling of lack, of feeling less than, inadequate, incapable, and so on. Through my practices, I am slowly removing the occlusions to my heart so that sourceplace of courage is more accessible. I also find myself able to keep a larger perspective on things, to keep in mind my svadharma, my life’s purpose, and to not let the fear take over from pursuing what I must.

One of the teachings I recently shared was about silence, and it actually takes a lot of courage to be quiet. Many people fill their awareness with stimuli of various sorts precisely so they do not have to look inside. It takes courage to close your eyes and look deep inside to see what is hidden there. It can be scary to see how much of our experience is of our own creation, how repetitive our thoughts and actions can be, and it requires courage to confront these realities of our inner workings. But as well, having mustered the courage to go inside, we discover the luminosity of our innermost self, the light of our heart which can give us courage and guide us through fearful situations.

Courage is something we can consciously muster, but with continued meditation, it also arises more spontaneously as our awareness becomes more clarified, and as we’ve gone through the process of moving through these uncomfortable shifts that often occur over the course of years of sadhana. In fact, we may even invite in those issues we need to deal with in order to move further along the path.

As we sit in meditation we see the arising of habitual thought patterns of different types, including fear, and we work with them so we are no longer held captive by them. This eventually allows us to mindfully observe and do the same on a moment-by-moment basis as we move through our everyday life.

So my sense is that abhaya mudra acknowledges that fear is part of the process of transformation on all levels of our life, but particularly in the deepest layers of our being. The gesture reminds us that ultimately we are bigger than our fear, since we are in fact divine ourselves, and we can harness the greater energy of the heart to face whatever is manifesting in both or inner and outer worlds.

Mauna: The Practice of Silence

A much venerated practice (abhyasa) in many traditions is that of silence (mauna). In the Tantric tradition, refinement of all aspects of practice, knowledge, and our lives is encouraged, and speech is no exception. Restraint of speech is a most valuable practice, for many reasons.

At the deepest level, being quiet and going inside during meditation garners access to the silence of the highest consciousness, the silence of the innermost self, the quiet steady ground of being that underlies everything. And that silence is not dead, but alive, it is vibrating. My teacher Paul Muller-Ortega calls it the “vibrating silence,” the pulsating radiance of our deepest self, which is the ground of our own being and access to which allows us to bring that luminosity and love out to the surface of our everyday life.

As a practice, there are many other benefits of silence (more than I can go into here), an important one is that as we go about our activities outside of mediation we can rest the activation of our social persona – all those parts of us that most of us think are actually who we are as people. This includes all our roles in life, our past experiences, and so on. As householder practitioners, we each have many roles and responsibilities to fulfill as we unfold our own beautiful and unique offerings into the world. This requires a great deal of effort, and one of the greatest gifts of silence is to simply take rest.

This rest of our surface social persona first of all is, well, REST. Because is it not exhausting sometimes to just keep showing up in the world? It takes a lot of energy to animate our persona in all the different domains of our life. But as well, silence allows us to better experience who we are underneath all of that, and rest in the quiet space of awareness itself. And this give us the experience and practice of resourcing this deeper place inside so that as we emerge into activity and non-silence we can remember, return to, and access that place that is always there.

When we regularly connect with a deeper part of ourself, the vibrating silence is pulsating with an energy that can give us so much if we listen. You cannot talk and listen at the same time. Our ability to listen is heightened when we are quiet, so silence is a unique opportunity to listen and observe. Part of that is watching as thoughts and impulses arise, and disconnecting that from the immediate impulse to act, by resisting the impulse to speak.

For myself, from this practice of silence I’ve garnered an ability to watch the impulse to speak or act, and pause to evaluate if it is necessary or perhaps choosing to be silent is better. I have an increased capacity to just shut up. I pause and ask myself: is my speech necessary and useful, and if so, how can it be most useful in the highest way?

Particularly on retreat, when I’m doing a lot of meditation, I can be agitated (which is part of the process of burning off samskaras) and I may want to say to do things from that place of agitation, but because I am also practicing silence, I don’t speak. I watch the impulse and I don’t immediately follow it. And many times later I realize how unimportant what I wanted to say was, how it was unnecessary, or how it might have stirred up things or create unnecessary drama.

And I’m getting better with doing this on a moment by moment basis. So many times in recent history I’ve written some comment/response on social media, and then paused, and decided to erase it before posting. Unfortunately there are still times I haven’t done this, and I’ve regretted it. And of course there are times I do speak up as I feel it is necessary and useful, but I take some time first so it is a reflection of the quiet place of my heart rather than surface agitation.

REFLECT AND EXPLORE

PRACTICE mauna/silence for a day, it could even be a weekly or monthly practice. As you do so:

– Take note of the moment the impulse to speak arises, and make a conscious choice on whether to enact that impulse.

– What does this teach you about any habitual patterns in your life?

– Do you notice an increased ability to listen to the deeper parts of yourself?

– How does this translate to your everyday householder life?

Naṭarāja and the Two Paths of Yoga

The image of Naṭarāja, Śiva as the Lord of Dance, encapsulates many beautiful teachings. To begin, take a moment to pause and consider your impression of Naṭarāja (there is an image below).

– For a few moments take in the feel of Naṭarāja —not so much the specific details, but the overall presence of the image and how it resonates with you.

– Write about your general sense of this image.

Whatever you see is what you see, but one of the main things the image elicits is, of course, a dance. Naṭarāja is dancing, but there is also a sense of serenity. His face is serene; he is very steady and aligned along a central axis. Yet this is a wild dance, and Naṭarāja’s hair is flying about. So here there is a representation of both the wild dance and a serene center.

One way to think of these qualities relates to the meaning of Śiva as the ground of being, the unmanifest, quiet and centered, stillness itself. But also in the image of Naṭarāja, Śiva is dancing the world into manifestation. From the center of his dance, everything begins to pulsate, and all of manifestation occurs. He’s starting the whole wheel turning, from which all that is manifest is created. So there is an aspect of Śiva as the cosmic dancer dancing life itself into existence.

These two aspects of Naṭarāja are related to a thread that runs throughout yoga philosophy and is mirrored in the modern yoga scene: the contrast and choice between what are termed nivtti and pravtti paths of yoga. The term vṛtti relates to turning or revolving. Nivtti is turning away from the world. This path requires renouncing the world and all associated desires. Pravtti is turning toward the world. This path involves engaging in the world. So there is a general contrast between two paths of yoga: the nivtti, or renunciate path, and pravṛtti, the householder path.

When I first began my yoga journey, the perceived push toward asceticism in the yoga world was very confusing to me. I began my practice in a very rigorous yoga school that emphasized breath, a steady gaze, and a prescribed sequence of postures. It required immense discipline, focus, and dedication. Through that practice, I got a glimpse of the quiet mind, a still point, that part of me that was watching, the draṣṭ/seer, that serene center reflected in Naṭarāja’s face and centeredness.

I began to have larger questions about the path of yoga and started exploring the philosophy underlying the practice. At that time, there weren’t many texts or books on yoga, but one that was available was the Yoga Sūtra, which delineates an ascetic or renunciate path, turning awareness inward and away from the world. I began to understand how such a philosophy could lead to a strict and controlled approach toward the body and mind, which was what I was experiencing in my āsana practice. I was so perplexed by this perspective, which didn’t resonate with me. Again and again, I found myself asking, If the goal of yoga is to subjugate the body and withdraw the mind from the world, why are we born into these bodies, into this world, with the gift of such active minds?

When I encountered a different yoga āsana school that honored the body, mind, and all of manifestation as part of a divine pulsation, it drew me in. It resonated with what I sensed intuitively. I found out that this approach was based on Tantric yoga philosophy, a development that came later than the Classical Yoga of Patañjali’s Yoga Sūtra. And Tantra acknowledges a householder path for those who choose to function in society and all that entails.

I felt lucky to have experienced both of these schools, and it felt that each had a piece of the truth, yet I struggled to reconcile them. This is the paradox represented in Naṭarāja, the serenely quiet yogi and the wild dancer. Eventually I realized what was missing from these schools of yoga āsana was the practice of meditation. In both, there was a sense that one should be meditating, but no method was explicitly integrated. So when I saw the opportunity to begin practicing and studying a Tantric-based meditation method, I dove right in.

Along with receiving a meditation practice for householders, I learned how the practice worked, which allowed me to assimilate my previous experiences. I came full circle back to the teachings of Patañjali’s Yoga Sūtra with its emphasis on meditation and practice. And as I began studying Tantra, I confirmed that there was more than the ascetic path, as I’d always intuited. The meditative state is not the end but the beginning. Through meditation, we connect to the ground of being, which supports us as we then move through everyday householder activities.

Patañjali’s Yoga Sūtra tells us the ultimate limb of yoga is samādhi, that state of enstatic, or internal, awareness. But Tantra represents a path that leads to more stages of yoga beyond samādhi. These further stages allow one to live a fully embodied life from a place of expanded awareness. One can experience the Divine while embodying the householder life. In this way, Yoga and meditation can be a support in the many dances in life.

Reflect and Explore

How do you see the relationship between practices that move you inwardly and living your life fully as a householder?

Have you experienced any conflict regarding these two paths of nivṛtti/inward turning/renunciate and pravṛtti/outward turning/householder?

How have you experienced yoga practice supporting householder life?