Between stimulus and response
there is a space
In that space is our power to choose our response
In our response lies our growth and our freedom.

Viktor Frankl, Austrian neurologist, psychiatrist and Holocaust survivor, in this, his definition of the power of pause, describes the gap into which grace and growth can flow. As we consider the practice of patience, the image of Frankl’s “space” comes to mind. Having the patience to sit without reaction, having the strength of self to watch the urge toward habitual response, and choosing not to—this is the cognitive repatterning that the yogis promise us.

Different traditions language this process in their own vernacular. Twelve Step program, in its brilliant simplicity, gives us a practical and powerful anchor into the practice of patient non-doing by offering the busy and active addictive mind this guidance:

Don’t just do something—
Sit there.

From another tradition and perspective, Lin Yutang, Chinese writer and scholar, of the 20^th century, offers us his words. Can’t you almost feel a deep breath of relief as you read the following?

Besides the noble art of getting things done,
there is the noble art of leaving things undone.

Bringing that sacred pause into our practice, we allow life to unravel in its own way. We partner with life by taking action, while letting go of the results, allowing that which unfolds to prove more remarkable than anything we might create ourselves. The phrase, more will be revealed becomes a literal promise in this practice of powerful patience.

Let’s consider two aspects of patience. The first pillar is the powerful practice of patient pausing, which calls us into self-observation without judgment, the watching of our internal response to the moment and choosing our reaction. Clearly patience is needed to develop this muscle of non-judgmental awareness. The second pillar, the potent practice of patient non-doing, not pushing the river, or attempting to force a solution, recalibrates our relationship with reality, shifting us into a more impactful and more effective position. Life simply knows better than we do! More will be revealed as we “hold the posture”, letting life take the lead.

You might be thinking, oh, great idea—yet how might I practice? Here are some simple considerations for this upcoming week—pick one, pick all, pick none. Just consider:

• Is there one arena in your life in which you are over-involved, attempting to force a solution?
• Without judgment, watch yourself. Bless the humanity that you bring to that arena of life.
• What might you do to practice letting go, allowing the situation to unfold? What would that look like? Be specific.
• What is one practical and concrete thing you can do TODAY to practice patience?

I end with these words from the brilliant meditation and mindfulness teacher, Sharon Saltzberg, who reminds us of the passionate nature of patience. Let’s breathe and relax, as we conclude with Sharon’s invitation into impassioned living:

Patience doesn’t mean making a pact with the devil of denial,
ignoring our emotions and aspirations.
It means being wholeheartedly engaged in the process that’s unfolding,
rather than ripping open a budding flower or demanding a caterpillar hurry up
and get that chrysalis stage over with.

As always, these practices open the door to the savoring of life. Let us go forth and savor, dear readers!

Dear Guests, please keep me posted. How does this conversation land for you? Feel free to email me at aruni@rnetworx with any feedback. The privacy of our email exchange can keep our practices vital.

All blessings,
Aruni

 

Stepping forward, post-blizzard

The Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous says, “acceptance is the answer to all of my problems today”.
On page 449 in Edition Three, it continues in its almost-yogic explanation of acceptance:

“When I am disturbed, it is because I find some person, place, thing or situation –
some fact of my life, unacceptable to me
and I can find no serenity
until I accept that person, place, thing, or situation
as being exactly the way it is supposed to be at this moment.
Nothing, absolutely nothing happens
in God’s world by mistake.”

The feelings, the people, the circumstances—they are not the problem. The problem is my struggle and push against them, creating literal friction between myself and the moment. Think yoga on the mat: when the sensations arise in an asana, if we fight against them, it becomes so much harder to bear. As we practice relaxing and breathing with what is, shifting from the sympathetic nervous system (fight/flight/freeze), to the para-sympathetic nervous system (rest/digest), we ease softly into the moment. We literally, from a body-centered perspective, relax with what is and enter the flow state.

And here’s the good part: as we do relax with what it, it becomes easier—it begins to change. The shift happens so much more easefully than pushing our shoulders against the moment, willing the river to flow in another direction.

Most remarkably, from this place of acceptance, action becomes profoundly impactful. Acceptance doesn’t mean sitting still. It means relaxing into what is, and from that connection to the flow state that relaxation offers us, doorways to appropriate and effective action emerge. There is work to do; yet taken from the groundwork of acceptance, everything becomes more possible.

It all changes. It all shifts. The decision is—how do I choose to be with it? If I choose to put on my boxing gloves, then in the ring I will be. If I choose to live from the principles of the mindfulness practices, then on the mat I will sit.

Here are some considerations for you:

• What arena in your world do you fight the most against?
• Breathe and relax—watch yourself without judgment—notice the struggle.
• How might you bring a little more relaxation, ease and acceptance to that struggle?
• What would it look like to live this situation differently?
• What might you learn from this part of yourself that so desperately wants your attention?

Accepting my hopelessness and my despair, as confrontational as that is to my image of myself as the ever-enlightened yogi, is the doorway to change. Learning from this part of me—what does she have to tell me, this despair, this hopelessness? How might I grow and become more of who I am? These are the compelling, powerful, and inevitable markers of transmutation and change.

Opening my front door after the blizzard, I was overwhelmed with the barricade of snow-cement that greeted me. There seemed to be so much to do—it felt impossible. Two days later, here is the same view, from that very same front door: Things do sort themselves out, in its own timing.

Dear Readers, I hope there is something helpful you can take from this week’s blog. Let me know how this landed for you and—almost: happy spring equinox!

All blessings, Aruni