Replenishing Flame

            The other day, before going to yoga I was tempted to bail because of fear of judgement from my teacher. I hadn’t been to the studio in a few weeks and for some reason I felt shame for that.

            Once I got to my mat, I realized how my fear of my teacher and the situation was merely a projection, my absence representing my internal wrestle with fire—in the practice and in life. This got me thinking about how so much fear in my life is merely a projection of what I fear in myself. These projections are like sand in the wind, leaving my essence no ground to root itself into.

            The other morning, I took a walk in the forest with my sister. We talked of yin and yang—how both of us emphasize the masculine, firey yang and drain ourselves to the point of break down. It is a swinging pendulum upon which yin is siphoned from the depths of our souls through mere exhaustion. Like the sandbar exposing precious shells upon being beaten by a violent surf.

Sometime it takes indulging in heat to realize we don’t need so much of it. Creation isn’t the issue—and what is created is born out of fire. The issue is refractory silence—the replenishment of that flame. The deeper I get into my creation the more I recognize the true necessity of non-doing. Only in this introspective, negative space can I address the fears that hold me back from experiencing and loving fully.

Do Right, Fear No Man

All the translations of the Yoga Sutras I come across link brahmacarya, or moderation, with courage. The connection makes sense when we consider the state of intemperance. Nothing is more debilitating than the dread associated with immoderation in any area of our lives. The state of active addition is accompanied by an overwhelming sense of doom. Even in less extreme situations, that fear is profoundly destructive to our belief in ourselves.

At the core of intemperance in any form is the mistaken belief that we are not OK as we are. Convinced that we are imperfect, we carry real pain. The cause of our suffering, however, is not our imperfection but our mistaken belief in our imperfection. Acting under the erroneous assumption that we are imperfect, we reach outside ourselves to create balance, to end our suffering. Naturally this is unsuccessful, so we redouble our efforts and demand even more. All our effort, all our striving, merely worsens our situation and deepens our conviction that we are somehow flawed. Caught up in this cycle of chronic suffering and misguided attempts to relieve our pain, we spend our days out of balance and in conflict with ourselves.

The solution is twofold. To begin with, we have to stop whatever it is we are doing that creates imbalance. When you are stuck in a hole, stop digging. The second step is to examine the beliefs that drive us to intemperance in the first place. Brahmacarya concerns the first step, summoning the courage to step away from the downward spiral. We discover that there is a power in nondoing. As we practice moderation, a wind begins to fill our sails. We find that the ever-present anxiety that accompanies immoderation evaporates. We realize that our fear, which grew out of a specific behavior, had contaminated every aspect of our lives. And as we finally walk away from the food, the sex, the alcohol, the debt, the fill-in-the-blank, we leave our fear behind as well. Suddenly we can begin to meet people's eyes again. We are no longer making up excuses for our reality. The colors of our lives become brighter and bolder. We find that when we do right, we fear no man.

--- An excerpt from Rolf Gates and Katrina Kenisons' Meditations from the Mat