How we see things…Part II

“We don’t see things as they are. We see things as we are.” – Anais Nin

Many of us are attached to the idea that the reality we see is objective. But objectivity is difficult to come by. Our prior experiences, preconceptions, projections, and (often faulty) beliefs alter what we see.

Think of a funhouse mirror. Get the picture?

Now, this isn’t necessarily a problem unless we fail to realize it. In other words, if we become so invested in what we see in the mirror that we believe it’s real.

One of my favorite teachers, Swami Bodhananda, says that if we look in the mirror and see a fractured image we are only “lost” if we believe that we are actually fractured or distorted. It’s only the image that’s distorted. And the image isn’t who we are.

To take this a step further, consider, Who (or what) are we? Are we merely a collection of our thoughts and experiences? Are we our emotions? Our words and deeds? If identity is a construct, from what elements do we build it? And if we dismantle it, what do we have left?

Travel by Rail

Recently I took a trip by train to visit family. A long train trip. Several of my friends thought it sounded romantic, exciting, and fun. It wasn’t.

Thanks mostly to movies, train travel has been glorified beyond the reality of the experience. Perhaps a slightly more realistic image comes to mind when I recall the Sex and the City episode in which Carrie and Samantha take a cross country trip by train. The “deluxe sleeper car” turns out to be, well, less luxurious than expected.

One of my favorite written descriptions of train travel can be found in Bill Bryson’s Notes from a Small Island, in which he details his travels around Britain, often by rail. Of course, European trains and American trains are not at all alike, but perhaps people everywhere are the same.

Bryson, much to his chagrin, discovers that he is sitting behind “Cellphone Man.” I’m here to report that Cellphone Man is still alive and well. And multiplying. Bryson’s book was first published in 1995, but a surprising number of people still seem to feel the need to call all manner of friends, relatives, and work associates to report – “I’m on the train.” I’m pretty sure this is why text messaging was invented.

For a quirky movie about three brothers’ train shenanigans, check out The Darjeeling Limited, in which three brothers travel by train across India.

If you’re planning a trip, remember that real life isn’t quite like the movies. You may wish to consider another mode of transport.

Cajoling the Inner Critic

There you are, poised on the brink of accomplishing something, and it begins, that voice that tells you you’re no good, you’ll never accomplish anything, and you should just quit now.

Your inner critic (aka The Gremlin) is alive and well.

The inner critic specializes in sabotaging creative endeavors, but can show up anytime you’re in the midst of making an important change in your life.

In spiritual practice, the inner critic falls under the heading of negative mind. The negative mind, one of the Ten Bodies in Kundalini Yoga, seeks to protect us from problematic situations by pointing out hazards or pitfalls.

But if the negative mind is over-developed it can become an immobilizing influence. Thus it’s important the negative mind be balanced by the positive mind, which sees all the potential good in any endeavor. And it’s equally important that we be governed by the neutral mind, which is a manifestation of our higher self and rises above an ego perspective.

There are different ways to cope with the inner critic. Some might suggest doing away with the Gremlin altogether, though this is much easier said than done. Trying to squelch the inner critic isn’t necessarily the most effective approach, as it sets up a win/lose adversarial-type situation, an inner war of sorts.

I’ve found that an effective approach is to listen with the recognition that this is a misguided attempt at protection, and to silent express appreciation for the protective instinct – after all, this is an attempt at self-preservation – and then gently (but firmly) move forward with your endeavor.

Recommended reading: Taming Your Gremlin, by Rick Carson

“How will you measure your life?”

I just finished reading How will you measure your life? by Clayton M. Christensen (with James Allworth and Karen Taylor). The book spends a lot of time focusing on the intangibles which make up the real quality of our lives. Things like time spent building close relationships, integrity, and values. These don’t show up on any balance sheet.

Christensen, a professor at Harvard business school, observed that so many of his brightest and most promising students ended up unhappy in their lives – divorced, struggling with addiction, or in jail. All this despite the fact that they had (by all outward appearances) successful careers, enviable homes, and the like.

Christensen points out something I’ve mentioned before: “You can talk all you want about having a strategy for your life, understanding motivation, and balancing aspirations with unanticipated opportunities. But ultimately, this means nothing if you do not align those with where you actually expend your time, money and energy.”

That is, there is a great difference, for many of us, between what we say is important, and what we actually spend our time and energy on. And according to Christensen, this is where the trouble starts. In other words, when we say things like “family is important” but then put family at the end of our long to-do list, we’re in trouble.

What’s tricky is, we’re not going to notice the effects of that type of decision-making until later. No, for now, it will look like everything’s fine. But down the road, if we don’t invest time and energy in important relationships (to name just one example), over time those relationships will not survive the neglect.

Consider this: “Many of us think that the important ethical decisions in our lives will be delivered with a blinking read neon sign…[L]ife seldom works that way. Instead, most of us will face a series of small, everyday decisions that rarely seem like they have high stakes attached. But over time, they can play out far more dramatically.”

Every decision you make is important in determining the quality of your life and charting a course for your future. For happiness and success (by your own definition), it’s worth considering the question, “How will you measure your life?”

If at first you don’t succeed…

With all the hot weather we’ve had recently, I’ve been spending a lot of time at Lake Michigan. It’s an excellent place to watch people doing, well, the things people do. On a recent visit, I watched a guy getting into a kayak.

Now, if you’ve ever kayaked, you know that it’s much easier to get into the kayak from relatively shallow water. (I used to do quite a bit of kayaking, and I did share this suggestion with him, by the way.) But rather than do that, he walked out into the lake with the kayak until the water was about 4-5 feet deep, and then proceeded to spend about 15-20 minutes attempting to get into it.

As I watched, I couldn’t help but be reminded of a turtle I saw a few weeks ago by the St. Joseph River, trying valiantly to climb onto a log to sun itself.

After more than a few unsuccessful attempts, the man, like the turtle, eventually succeeded in climbing into the kayak.

I suppose persistence pays off.

But so does learning from the experience of others, which can save you a whole lot of time and effort. (And sometimes, maybe even a little dignity.)

Even still, there are some times when we have to learn through our own experiences. It can be a slower, and perhaps at times more painful process. But the lessons we learn that way are not easily forgotten.

Photo by Virginia Olson © 2012

The Science of Yoga, Part II

(Read part I of this post.)

Broad concludes by saying that yoga is at a critical juncture in its development. While he recognizes the limits of science (as I pointed out earlier, not everything can be quantified), he feels that the way forward for the practice of yoga is to more closely align itself with science than with gurus. He advocates more rigorous training for instructors, so that yoga will become more mainstream, and thus more fully accepted as a form of medicine.

I have mixed feelings about this. On the one hand, I agree that yoga is at a crossroads of sorts. It seems like there are new styles of yoga appearing daily. Gurus and leaders abound promising all sorts of transformations and miracles. Unfortunately, many lack integrity. More rigorous standards might help to curtail this sort of activity.

But on the other hand, if yoga aligns itself with medicine and science, something will be lost. Unfortunately, the probability is that, because science acknowledges only what is measurable, it may not be immediately clear what has been lost. Can we measure the value of beauty? Of hope and inspiration?

If we take the sacred out of yoga, we may be left with just the shell. A series of exercises. By sacred I don’t mean religion, but rather spirituality and self-awareness. The opportunity to tap into the fullness of our own experience, to know ourselves better, and to live our lives from a much deeper place. Yoga is a bridge to the immeasurable and unquantifiable inner world.

If we make yoga science, we lose all that. If we turn it into a series of physical therapy postures, if we disempower the practice by distilling it into a series of musculo-skeletal manipulations, we will have lost something precious indeed.