Practicing shaucha, meaning "that and
nothing else," involves making choices about what you want and don't want in
your life. Far from self-deprivation or dry piety, the practice of shaucha
allows you to experience life more vividly. A clean plate enjoys the sweetness of an apple and the taste of
pure water; a clear mind can appreciate the
beauty of poetry and the wisdom imparted in a story; a polished table reveals
the deep grain of the wood. This practice both generates beauty and allows us to
appreciate it in all its many forms.
Santosha--Contentment
Santosha, or the
practice of contentment, is the ability to feel satisfied within
the container of one's immediate experience. Contentment shouldn't be confused
with happiness, for we can be in difficult, even painful circumstances and still
find some semblance of contentment if we are able to see things as they are
without the conflictual pull of our expectations. Contentment also should not be
confused with complacency, in which we allow ourselves to stagnate in our
growth. Rather it is a sign that we are at
peace with whatever stage of growth we are in and the circumstances we find
ourselves in. This doesn't mean that we accept or tolerate unhealthy relationships or working conditions. But it may
mean that we practice patience and attempt to live as best we can within our
situation until we are able to better our conditions.
Contentment not only implies acceptance of the
present but tends to generate the capacity for hopefulness. This may seem
contradictory but is not. When you are equanimous within any situation, this
strengthens your faith that there is the possibility of living even more fully.
This possibility is not held out as something to look forward to, nor does it have the negative effect of
making you feel dissatisfied until those hopes are gratified. Rather, the
ability to sustain one's spirits even in dire
situations, is proof that a central sense of balance is rarely contingent on
circumstances. And, sustaining hopefulness, even when there are few signs that
things win improve, is one very good way of
fostering contentment.
Tapas--Burning
Enthusiasm
Literally translated as
"fire" or "heat," tapas is the disciplined use of our energy. Because the
word discipline has the negative connotation of self-coercion, I take the
liberty here of translating this central precept as "burning enthusiasm." When
we can generate an attitude of burning ardor, the strength of our convictions
generates a momentum that carries us forward.
We all know how even a seemingly boring or unpleasant task like cleaning the
house can be transformed when we work with vigor and impulsion. Suddenly cleaning the toilet becomes
fun, hauling heavy loads invigorating, and
dusting the furniture absorbing. Tapas is a way of directing our energy. Like a focused beam of light cutting through
the dark, tapas keeps us on track so that we don't waste our time and
energy on superfluous or trivial matters. When this energy is strong, so also
are the processes of transmutation and metamorphism.
We are not all equally possessed of the
disciplined energy of tapas. Some people need to work more earnestly to
kindle the flames of tapas, and it is at these times that it is helpful
to have a kind of parental consciousness coupled with a good sense of humor. Our
actions are then guided by a part of the self that knows what's good for it,
which is aided by the ability to laugh in the face of one's neuroses, lethargy,
or addictions. Even the laser minds among us have days when it takes a sheer act
of will to get out of bed, turn to our studies, or withdraw the hand that
reaches for a second slice of cake. If you have little enthusiasm yourself, it
can be enormously helpful to seek the company
of those who have this quality in abundance. Attending a class with an inspiring teacher or practicing
yoga with a friend who has already established
a strong practice can help to stimulate tapas within yourself.
Once activated, however, the embers of tapas
tend to generate more and more heat and
momentum, which makes each subsequent effort less difficult. The analogy of
a fire is fitting for this precept. Once a
fire has completely died out it can take a great deal of effort to start it up again. When you do get a fire
to light, the tentative embers must be fed at regular intervals or the fire dies
out again. But once the fire is roaring, it is easy to sustain.
For what greater purpose do we need tapas,
or discipline? Pema Ch�dr�n, the Abbot of Gampo Abbey in Cape Breton, Nova
Scotia, and the author of many books on
Tibetan Buddhism, tells us that "what we discipline is not our 'badness' or our
'wrongness.' What we discipline is any form of potential escape from reality"
(italics added). When we're not living in this disciplined awareness, our
willing tactics of avoidance create an endless cycle of more suffering for
ourselves. These avoidance tactics may temporarily placate our senses, but they
create a deep form of unhappiness. On some level we know we're not being true to
ourselves or our potential. Discipline is having enough respect for yourself to
make choices that truly nourish your well-being and provide opportunities for
expansive growth. Far from being a kind of medicinal punishment, tapas
allows us to direct our energy toward a fulfilled life of meaning and one
that is exciting and pleasurable.
Swadhyaya--Self-Study
Any activity that cultivates self-reflective consciousness
can be considered swadhyaya. The soul tends to be lured by those
activities that will best illuminate it. Because people are so different in
their proclivities, one person may be drawn to write, while another will
discover herself through painting or athletics. Another person may come to know
himself through mastering an instrument, or through service at a hospice. Still
another may learn hidden aspects of herself through the practice of meditation.
The form that this self-study takes is inconsequential. Whatever the practice,
as long as there is an intention to know yourself through it, and the commitment
to see the process through, almost any activity can become an opportunity for learning about yourself. Swadhyaya
means staying with our process through thick and thin because it's usually
when the going gets rough that we have the greatest opportunity to learn about
ourselves.
While self-study uncovers our strengths, authentic
swadhyaya also ruthlessly uncovers our
weakness, foibles, addictions, habit patterns, and negative tendencies. This
isn't always the most cheering news. The worst thing we can do at these times is
give ourselves the double whammy of both uncovering a soft spot and beating
ourselves up for what we perceive as a fatal flaw. At these times, it's
important actually to welcome and accept our limitations. When we welcome a
limitation, we can get close enough to
ourselves to see the roots of our anger, impatience, or self-loathing. We can
have a little compassion, for the forces and conditions that molded our
behaviors and beliefs, and in so doing develop more skill in handling,
containing, and redirecting previously self-destructive tendencies. The degree
to which we can do this for ourselves is the degree to which we will be tolerant
of other people's weaknesses and flaws. Self-study is a big task.
Self-study also can become psychically incestuous
when the same self that may be confused and fragmented attempts to see itself.
This is why it can be so helpful (not to mention expedient) to secure the help
of a mentor, teacher, or close friend to support your self-study. If you've ever
said that someone "just doesn't see himself" and watched him enact the same
self-destructive behaviors again and again, just consider how likely it is that
you too are blind to your own faults. A skillful mentor, and that can be anyone from a wise aunt to a
therapist to a bona fide guru, can find loving ways to help you see yourself as
you really are.
Ishvarapranidhana--Celebration of the
Spiritual
Life is not inherently
meaningful. We make meaning happen through the attention and care we
express through our actions. We make meaning happen when we set a table with
care, when we light a candle before practicing, or when we remove our shoes
before entering a temple. Yoga tells us that the spiritual suffuses everything
it is simply that we are too busy, too distracted, or too insensitive to notice
the extraordinary omnipresence that dwells in all things. So one of the first
ways that we can practice ishvarapranidhana
is by putting aside some time each day, even a few minutes, to avail ourselves of an intelligence larger than
our own. This might take the form of communing with your garden at dawn, taking
a few moments on the bus to breathe slowly and clear your mind, or engaging in a
more formal practice such as a daily reading, prayer, ritual, or meditation.
This practice requires that we have recognized that there is some omnipresent
force larger than ourselves that is guiding and directing the course of our
lives. We all have had the experience of looking back at some event in our life that at the time may
have seemed painful, confusing and disruptive, but later, in retrospect, made
perfect sense in the context of our personal destiny. We recognize that the
change that occurred during that time was
necessary for our growth, and that we are happier for it. The catch is that it's
hard to see the bigger picture when you think you are the great controller
of your life. When you are the great
controller, you fail to recognize that supposed coincidences, accidents and
chance meetings all have some greater significance i the larger scheme of your
destiny. When you are the master of your universe, it's hard to trust anything but your own self-made plans. When
we don't have this recognition that there's a bigger story going on, we get
caught up in our personal drama and a frustrating cycle of resistance to change.
Ishvarapranidhana asks us to go quietly, even when it's not possible to see exactly where
things are headed. At first this can be
frightening, like being suspended in the air between one trapeze bar and
another, but, over time, this not knowing exactly how life is going to unfold
and the giving up of our frantic attempts to manipulate and control makes each
day an adventure. It makes our life a horse race right up until the very
finish!