Motivation, or lack thereof

Why is it that sometimes doing the things we know we love, and we know are good for us, is like pulling fucking teeth? Lately I’ve been struggling with motivation. Sometimes I like to blame it on the weather--its the rain! or the heat! but really, its me. Sometimes I feel the need to shame myself--like ‘goddammit kendall, kick it into gear!’ but what really needs to happen is some self-love and reflection. like why are you feeling so uninspired? why does everything feel like such a struggle? Why are simple choices met with such paralyzing anxiety? I feel such a pressure to ‘do something with my life.’ And yet I feel uninspired to ‘do’ anything.

Maybe it’s because I’ve spent the majority of my life with some illusory ‘grand plan.’ go to grad school, become a psychologist, make all the money, have all the babies. voila! But in a past few years these societally driven ideas about where I once thought my life should go now fell all wrong. It’s like one day I woke up and realized, “i’m drinkin the damn koolaid!” And I’ve never been able to turn back. I’ve tried to follow my heart, my intuition, but its not the most reassuring of tools when you have to pay rent and when your parents are wondering why you are going to india to study yoga instead of applying for the doctoral program.

why all this pressure to become people of importance? I feel like if I let that shit go I could lead a pretty contented life. Which is in essence all I want.

why this need to have a ‘calling?’ Do you think all people are born knowing what their calling is? this isnt reassuring in the present. and I dont know how many TED talks I have to watch about finding your passion (they don’t fucking help). but I do know that this, right here--this checking-in with myself is helpful. The consistent examination of the unfolding of my consciousness prioritizes a sense of being, as opposed to a sense of doing.

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 

Spirituality

-->

 

I used to think that spirituality was just recognition in a higher power. I thought that to be spiritual meant to believe in the power of the beyond; be it the presence of ghosts, juju, or in a deity. This Comparative Religions class has led me to question my unconscious beliefs in what is truly supernatural and spiritual.

Roy asked our class at the beginning of the semester to, once a day, observe “a thought well thought, a word well spoken, and a deed well done” as Zoroastrians do. Being aware of and recounting the paltry happenings of my day was a very spiritual experience for me. I started to recognize how pure and sacred the smallest things I think, say or do really are. Such a miniscule action like cuddling with my brother, playing the piano, or taking my dog for a walk became very spiritual acts for me because I recognized their distinctive beauty. So often do I let the days pass and not acknowledge what I said, did or thought to make them well lived. I now recognize spirituality in myself in daily blessings. It is the moments I get to myself; those brief peaceful breaths of solidarity where I can caste off the business of the day and take into account my current being. I realized that being spiritual doesn’t mean committing oneself to the rules and regulations of a religion. I recognize the magnificence of my spirit and it’s spirituality when my pen is to the page and I am composing poetry; when my paintbrush freely strokes my mind onto a canvas; when I sit at my piano bench; when I go for a run and hear only the thunder of my feet on a dirt road; when I sit on the kitchen counter and gaily observe my bickering family; when I can offer my love to a distraught heart; when I can see my breath on a frigid morning; when I am humbled by the august mountains that surround me; when I laugh; when I love; and when I smile, I feel a spiritual connection within myself and with the world.