Book Excerpts: Slowing Down
Read something beautiful from Donna Farhi today. I am giving
below a short excerpt. Read it and then get a copy of the book. I am still
reading it, but whatever I read so far is just beautiful. One of the most
matured discussions of Yoga I have come across in a long, long time.
0o0Our perception that we have “no time” is one of the distinctive marks of modern Western culture. – Margaret Visser
When science finally
locates the center of the universe, some people will be surprised to discover
that they’re not in it. – Source unknown
Slowing down is the precursor to Yoga practice because
this simple act allows us to consider our thoughts, feelings, and actions more
carefully in the light of our desire to live peacefully. When we overwork, when
we try to fit too many things into an already congested schedule, when we rush
from place to place, we lose track of what is important, and in doing so we
almost always fail to serve those values that support our relationships and our
heartfelt aspirations. A certain harshness can creep into our interactions with
others, and this is the same harshness we ourselves find so distressing and so
undermining of our sense of connectedness. We can become curt with our friends,
family, and coworkers in a way that belies their importance to us. Maybe we
become so exhausted by all our busyness that we’re irritable when we wish to be
kind, thoughtless when we want our actions to be considerate. So before we sink
our teeth into the foundations of Yoga practice, consider this one possibility:
that you have all the time you need. When you find yourself rushing, you can
catch yourself and breathe out fully, affirming that you do indeed have all the
time you need. You can ask yourself if the sky will fall down, if someone will
die, or if the world will stop spinning if you sit down for ten minutes and
breathe the air.
When we slow down we create a conducive environment for
kindness and thoughtfulness to flourish. We find that it isn’t necessary to
join our local peace demonstration. We can demonstrate for peace by being
peaceful. We can take the time to chat with our elderly neighbor and
demonstrate through our bearing what our values are. When we slow down we make a place for silence
and solitude in our lives. There need be nothing complicated or austere about
either of these practices; they are a natural component of any day lived at a
human pace.
One of my more recent spiritual teachers is a man called
Ernie, who probably has never read a spiritual book or sat on a meditation
cushion in his life. “All you crazy people,” he tells me, “rushing around doing
big things. All you need is a little space out in nature. Heals most things, I
reckon.” A day with Ernie is a day spent with a master: he doesn’t say much,
but when he does it is always an incisive observation. Sitting on the grass
having lunch with Ernie, you notice an air of stillness around him—he’s just so
pleased to be alive (now almost seventy), taking in the day, listening to the
birds, enjoying the fresh clean air. “My, that sun does feel good,” he says.
And neither is Ernie a couch potato; he can walk over a property and assess the
most urgent tasks: this gate needs resetting, those thistles need cutting. “I’d
remove that barbed wire if I were you,” he tells me. And then without any fanfare, Ernie shows up
with his tools, sun hat, socks, and sandals and accomplishes, at a remarkably
slow pace, more than most of us could do in a week.
Striking up a conversation with the local farmers, I can
feel myself start to get edgy: there’s work to do, and this rambling chitchat
doesn’t seem to be serving a purpose.
After we turn back to work, Ernie has noted all the valuable information
that has just been exchanged: “Told me exactly the species of oak that will
thrive in this soil.” Over tea, he casually remarks, “Good neighbors are mighty
important. Never any time wasted making friends for yourself.”
Most of us could learn more from spending a day with Ernie
than a month in India sitting in a cave. In Yoga practice we set up Ernielike conditions
in a more deliberate way, but there need be nothing contrived about making room
for more quiet inward time. Although spending some time each day in formal
solitary practice is helpful, we can practice an inward solitude, as Ernie has
taught me, even when we’re in company. By not talking so much, we automatically
create more silent spaces in between things. By not doing so much, we create
natural pauses to reflect. By not spreading ourselves thin doing things that
aren’t that important, we open up time for the things that are.
You can anchor your desire to slow down by finding one thing
in your life that defines this more natural rhythm. For instance, I decided
many years ago that it was a basic necessity to cook one good meal every day
and take the time to enjoy it, by myself or with others. If I don’t have time for that one meal,
there’s something amiss with my life and I adjust accordingly. Maybe for you
it’s having the time to read a story to your child or walking the dog or
spending part of the weekend tending your roses. Perhaps it’s having the time
to cuddle with your partner and share the events of the day before you go to
sleep. The degree to which you do not believe you have time to spend even ten
minutes sitting quietly is the degree to which you desperately need to spend
ten minutes sitting quietly. If we did nothing else in our spiritual practice
but reduce our accelerated pace, the world would be transformed overnight.
When we find ourselves hurrying or pressing others out of
our way, we might ask ourselves exactly where we are going in such a rush. What are we running away from, and what are
we running toward? Pause for moment. Sit
down and relax. Smell the air. Look around you. Take a deep breath in and out.
This state of mind called Yoga can’t be found anywhere else but here. The
moment opens itself for you. Will you step in?
0o0
For more
read: Bringing Yoga to Life: The Everyday
Practice of Enlightened Living, by Donna Farhi. The book is highly recommended.
