Lessons from the Yoga Sutras: 3 Ways to Call Upon Compassion
Maitri karuna mudita upeksanam sukha duhkha punya apunya visayanam bhavanatah cittaprasadanam.
“Through cultivation of friendliness, compassion, joy and indifference to pleasure and pain, virtue and vice respectively, the consciousness becomes favourably disposed, serene and benevolent.” ~Patanjali’s Yoga Sutra I.33
This is my favorite sutra from Patanjali’s Yoga Sutras. This piece of text is known as the yoga bible, and is compiled into four chapters containing 196 sutras, or words of wisdom. Patanjali constructed his work in 400 BC when two styles of teaching collided. Samkhyan philosophy was known as the older style. As Samkhyan was dying out, it’s best teachings were assembled with the new teachings of the Buddha. Little is known about Patanjali himself; to some he is known as a great sage, to some an incarnation of Ananta, the mythical serpent. Although not the creator of yoga, this scholar was a great expositor.
Yoga master, B.K.S Iyengar decodes the sutras beautifully in his book, Light on the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali. In his interpretation of I.33 he states, “This sutra asks us to rejoice with the happy, to be compassionate to the sorrowful, friendly to the virtuous, and indifferent to those who continue to live in vice despite our attempts to change them.” It is this translation that continues to encourage me to trudge along a compassionate path.
I say trudge because it is arduous to continuously be gentle and soft in the way you relate to yourself and others, as Patanjali advises. I don’t know about you, but this is a hard life assignment. We are human; we are going to form opinions and will have judgments. One of the reasons why I’m so attracted to this sutra is because it seems as if my life work is to remain indifferent to the faults and imperfections of others, despite my attempts to change them. It is difficult for me to find empathy for those I can’t relate to. Others might find it difficult to muster up sympathy when someone they love is behaving in ways they don’t agree with. My friend who’s a waitress shared that she can never find warmth for that customer who snaps their fingers to get her attention. I bet that student who walks into class 15 minutes late gets on your nerves! Or maybe it’s that neighbouring car that ignores your flashing blinker and refuses to let you into their lane. Does road rage ring a bell to anyone? On a more serious note, how could you ever feel compassion for someone who’s committed a violent crime? Can you imagine experiencing mercy for all beings, including murderers, rapists, and abusers? Or is this something we leave up to the monks, priests and enlightened ones?
I read about a Tibetan monk who was imprisoned in a Chinese jail. The monk shared with the Dalai Lama that there had been many dangerous moments throughout his 18 years imprisoned. The Dalai Lama thought he was referring to moments when his life was at risk, however amazingly enough he meant, “There were times when there was a danger of losing compassion for my Chinese captors.” Unbelievable; Patanjali would be proud! Even when doctors examined him after he was released from prison, they found no post-traumatic symptoms. His being was “pure and serene”– the results promised if you approach life as Patanjali suggests. Even though at times it may seem like an impossible feat, Patanjali assures that it will lead to an easeful and fulfilled life.
Author and long time yoga teacher, Judith Lasater admits to the frustrations that come along with a life spent practicing sutra 1.33. She shares that, “just as with amity, dispassion, and goodwill that Patanjali encourages, expressing compassion is definitely a learn as you go process. It is also cumulative. We can strengthen our ability to be compassionate by repeatedly expressing compassion…It is always a partner with wisdom, which is gained from experience. And this experience leads directly back to compassion.”
As the pace of our society picks up and as we change into more of a “I, me, mine” society, we’re becoming more desensitized to others’ feelings and also to our own. It’s almost like we don’t have time to stop and feel. When we aren’t properly processing our own trials and tribulations our brains and hearts can become too full to fit in anyone else’s struggles. It’s almost like our baggage is too heavy to help relieve someone else of their load. Yet as Judith expresses, it’s through the experience of our own struggles that can lead us to empathic behaviour towards others suffering.
A kindred spirit of mine has been working with a spiritual guide for some time now. Her mentor expressed how another student of his had lived through a childhood filled with sorrow. Ironically, because of her painful past she is now more relatable and can easily access love. Often it is the distressing lessons that serve to awaken us.
Recently, I was battling an infection that left me defeated and vulnerable. I was forced to limit my movements to walking, lying down and lunging in and out of the bathtub. No yoga, no running–even long walks were a stretch. For someone who moves their body for a living, this was quite the shock to the system and a huge blow to the ego. I pushed myself and taught a few classes from the foot of my mat. Looking back, those were the most loving and authentic classes I had ever taught. Because I was feeling so raw and exposed in that moment I felt sincere unconditional love for the strangers, the regulars and the friends in front of me. My instructions were soft, my words were encouraging and I had nothing to hide. I finally understood that at some point these people, regardless of their religion, race, style, career, and financial state, had been broken down just as I was. My individual suffering had shifted to the awareness of a universal suffering, which made me feel less alone.
Upon doing further research on this topic, I was relieved to find scientific proof that loving one another is in our DNA. Renowned geologist, Charles Darwin declared that, “Sympathy is the strongest instinct in human nature.” In the documentary I am, Neurobiologist Jonathan Height fought hard to prove this point as well. “We are hardwire for a compassionate response to the trouble of others,” he declared. There is even a word in Sanskrit made to spread the news of our innate goodness and that word is Sri. It’s one of my favourites.
As Patanjali promised, a harmonious life and a complete understanding of our basic sameness is the pot of gold at the end of the road of compassion. Nelson Mandela, a man who trudged along this road for many years reminds us not to worry if we have forgotten, for our empathy can be taught. So I’ll leave it up to him to conclude my article:
“No one is born hating another person because of the color of his skin, or his background, or his religion. People must learn to hate, and if they can learn to hate, they can be taught to love, for love comes more naturally to the human heart than its opposite.”
3 Ways to Call Upon Compassion
- Mudra: The Lotus Mudra (Symbol of Purity)
Bring your hands to prayer pose (palms together with fingertips touching) in front of your chest. Keep the heels of your hands, your pinkie fingers and thumb fingers touching, and then spread the rest of your fingers widely apart. Imagine a flower blooming. This mudra is associated with the heart chakra, as goodwill, love, sympathy and wholeness live in this place. The affirmation associated with The Lotus Mudra is, “ I open myself to nature; I open myself to the good that exists in every human being; I open myself to the Divine so that I will be richly blessed.”
You can do this mudra to relax before bed, before entering a challenging conversation, or event, during your yoga practice or meditation, or any other time you need to cultivate softness.
- Gods/Goddesses: Kuan Yin
Kuan Yin is the bodhisattva of compassion and kindness. She is a nurturer, a mother goddess and is know to be pure. Buddhists believe that she came from the bodhisattva, Avalokiteśvara, who was depicted as a male in India before Buddhism came to China.
To be reminded of this merciful goddess and what she stands for, keep her picture close by, whether it’s on your alter, fridge, beside your bed or in your wallet. Pray or chant to her whenever you need to evoke compassion.
- Chants: Om Mani Padme Hum
This chant is associated with Avalokitesvara, the bodhisattva of compassion.
Mani translates to mean, “jewel” and Padma translates to mean “the lotus flower”. Although it is said that the mantra cannot be transcribed into a simple phrase, many believe it means, “the jewel in the lotus flower”.
Speak or chant this mantra loud and proud or under your breath. I get into chanting before practicing yoga, or often when I’m cleaning the house or in the shower. I find this chant relaxing and calming.
About the Author
The True Meaning of Aparigraha
I turned the corner onto my street, the street I have called home for the past three years, the one my son took his first steps in, where my daughter spent her first night in the world, where Christmas trees have come up and down, meals savored, and where laughter and crying have echoed through the hallways at all hours of the day. There, standing in my front yard, was the erected “For Sale” sign, signaling to ourselves as much as to everyone else in our community that we were done, we were letting go, moving on.
My heart broke the minute I saw the tall white sign in front of our little house on Placer. Not because it came as a surprise, but because suddenly I knew we were making a mistake. In reality, my husband and I had been talking about moving – to a new home, something bigger with more room, an expansive backyard, a new zip code – for years. Actually, it seems like we spent more time in our home talking about a new home than we did actually enjoying the space we were creating for ourselves and our growing family. Bookmarking houses on Zillow had become an addiction.
In fact, I had become so addicted to the thought of something new that I was completely oblivious to the reality in front of me. Like any addict, I was living in an altered state, one that was preventing me from seeing clearly the love, magic, and beauty of exactly where I was. The technological drugs I consumed were clouding my mind, offering me a constant drip of distractions. It was seeing my house officially for sale, cleaning it to prepare for showings, that woke me up and knocked me back into the reality I had been missing. But was it too late?
Offers were being made on our home, jobs being accepted out of state, apartment leases signed, boxes packed, all while my heart was flooding with regret.
Emotionally off kilter, I fled to my yoga mat, the one place that has consistently brought me peace and grounding for the past decade. I turned to sage advice, poring through the hand-written notes I had taken in the margins of books spouting eternal knowledge, everything from Patanjali’s Sutras to the Bible and, my other bible, Tina Fey’s Bossypants. While the Bible offered me inspiration and Bossypants offered a much needed laugh, it was in the Sutras that I found solace in the Yamas, the internal disciplines of yoga, particularly that of Aparigraha, or the practice of non-grasping, non-attachment.
Okay, I thought, as the final box was moved out of our home and into my parents’ truck. This is a practice; this is letting go. I will be alright, I reminded myself as I slid into the front seat of our family’s car. I have my children, my husband – everything I really need, everything that is really important, is coming with me. So we moved. Our house was still officially on the market with offers being made, but in my mind it was sold, the decision made. I was taking what I needed. Aparigraha was my bitch – I was rocking it hard.
Or, at least, like any egotistical, self-righteous idiot, that’s what I thought. Because, within a week of our big move, I was depressed. Depressed and anxious. Depressed and anxious and grumpy.
The Reality of Practicing Aparigraha
I kept saying, “This is an adventure! Make the most of it!” But no matter how hard I tried to “Aparigraha” it, I couldn’t shake the dark cloud that had moved over me, laying claim to my thoughts day in and day out.
Because family was still back home and because our “back home” home was still technically ours, we spent many weekends out of our new apartment and on the road. Each trip was an emotional rollercoaster for me. I was happy to be home but confused about the future. Would this be the last time we could open the front door of our house? What if we backed out? Could we still back out? What would people think if we did? What would I think if we didn’t?
Bittersweet isn’t exactly how I would describe what I was feeling. Each time we visited home, only to leave a day later to drive eight hours north, the taste became more bitter, sour even. But I was stubborn, repeating the mantra “Let Go” over and over, hoping to eventually crack whatever it was that was making it difficult for me to really accept all of the changes that were taking place.
Why is Aparigraha So Hard to Practice?
Still unable to shake the depression and anxiety that had befriended me at the New Mexico-Colorado state border, I dove deep into trying to better understand what practicing Aparigraha really meant. Is it really just letting go, detaching yourself? Or is there more to it.
I read what Nicolai Bachman had to say about the Yama, that by practicing Aparigraha, we discover why we were born. Or, less esoterically, he also says that the more we accumulate things the more time we have to spend maintaining said things, which means less time for internal development. Got it.
I tried to focus on the feeling of freedom, thinking that by leaving our home and our community we were on a path of new beginnings. I meditated on feeling light, no longer bound by old habits. I worked to open my eyes to what was before me, trying to soak in each and every new experience.
I’ll admit that it helped. That my days were more enjoyable. That I found reasons to smile and laugh. But at the end of the day, as I laid down to sleep, the depression would creep back in. I was still crying myself to sleep most nights, muffling the sound from my husband and children so they wouldn’t know how much I was struggling with these changes.
One day, while at my new job in Boulder, I came across a yoga video by Mara Branscombe called Aparigraha for Freedom and Abundance. Still on my quest to better understand this yogic principle, I put on my headphones and turned my attention to what she was saying. She explained it simply, so simply in fact that I didn’t register how profound her words really were. I came back to the video the next day and really heard her as she said, “Aparigraha is taking only what we need… taking only what serves us… letting go when the time is right. Aparigraha allows us to become more present by letting go of expectations.” I scrambled to find something to write this down on:
Let go of expectations. Let go when the time is right.
I finished what I was doing, tore out this page from my journal, and walked to the park behind the office. I sat for a long time in silence, contemplating these two sentences. I dropped into a place of mental stillness that had been evading me for months. As I settled in, I began to see images, screenshots of everything that was important to me: my children laughing, my husband smiling, spending time in nature, having long conversations with friends, making memories with family, my home. Yes, my home with its red front door, its stucco courtyard, the garden in the back that my husband built, the picnic table by our waterfall, the lights hung over our bed, the fireplace in our living room. I began to cry. And then I called my husband.
In the next 48 hours we were making a pilgrimage back to our home. Not to pack or clean, but to enjoy it. We made fires in our chiminea, ate meals outside, walked with the kids to the neighborhood park, took in the mountain views from our backyard. Finally, we were present together in its walls. Neither of us talking about what we need to do or what we should do, just enjoying the here and now. We listened to our kids laughing as they played chef in their bedroom. We took time to visit with neighbors. We fell in love all over again.
Discovering the True Meaning of Aparigraha
That night, as we decided to not sell our home, I finally understood what I needed to do to let go, to really practice Aparigraha. You could say that I had an awakening when it comes to understanding Aparigraha. I let go of the expectations others had placed on my shoulders. I let go of the burden I had given to myself. Instead of letting go of the wrong things, the things that really mattered, I allowed myself to let go of what didn’t.
Aparigraha isn’t about letting go of all things – it’s about letting go of the right things at the right time.
The art of the practice is finding space to think clearly enough to discern what needs to be held closely and what needs to be let go. In my case, I needed to let go of my ego, of my expectations of the big move. As I did, I found that I was clinging to something that wasn’t important – this new life I had imagined for myself – instead of fighting for what I really needed right now – my home and the community that comes with it.
Maybe one day it will be the right time to let go of my casita on Placer Drive, but I trust that until that moment comes, I will let go of the desire to change what is already so good. I will give up the drugs of overthinking and options, replacing the habit with long, deep sips of appreciating the present moment.
How to Practice Aparigraha on the Mat
Your yoga mat is a beautiful place to practice the art of “letting go”. Using your practice as a place to explore and investigate what you cling to and why is one of the most beneficial tools I have received from my decade of practice. For so many of us, our yoga practice becomes something that we get attached to (how it looks, how it makes us feel, etc.), rather than letting it be something that is truly supportive.
There is nothing wrong with having goals and milestones in your yoga practice, but be mindful of why those are there. How are they serving your well-being and that of those around you? When you can begin to allow your yoga practice to evolve daily, to allow it to ebb and flow with you through seasons of highs and lows, you are discovering the heart of Aparigraha.
Anytime I feel myself clinging to my physical practice, I turn to a softer, gentler form – like Yin. In doing so, I give myself the space and freedom to get to the bottom of what is really going on in my life. At the end of the day, your yoga practice is truly the best way to see your reflection.
