Wednesday, February 28, 2007

Aparigraha

The last of the yamas is aparigraha, which means in different senses to not have greed, or to not have jealousy, but like a lot of translated words with in-between definitions like that, it might help to conflate the various entries. So, we would have a "greed that is rooted in jealousy."

It might be obvious to approach this from a generalized Buddhist perspective, with the greed rooted in wanting something or to be as some aspect of another, because we perceive it as better, being interpreted as a desire. That is, operating on the principle that an unhealthy desire will lead to suffering (note that important point that not all desire has to be considered bad, however - for example, having a desire to be happy is healthy, or to develop one's virtues). And, directed externally, having greedy envy or jealousy of someone else or their possessions can sour the relationship, with bitterness and resentment.

One somewhat more subtle way I've noticed how aparigraha can affect my own life is that the jealousy/greed doesn't actually have to be directed at a person or object - it can be for an idea, or even an ideal. In having this envious desire of some perfect image of something, an obsessive greed to have a perfect life or a perfect relationship, the bitterness and resentment mentioned above can be turned against the self and the 'not-perfect' actuality of that ideal or relationship, along with the suffering of an unfulfilled desire. And in that sense, for me personally at any rate, that negative is especially insidious, and so aparigraha is unexpectedly that much more important for me to work on developing.
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The Evolution of Consciousness - a very interesting article, from Kevin by way of his brother

-haven't quite figured out a solid meaning for this, but it seems interesting:
"The mind creates the abyss, and the heart crosses it." - Sri Nisargadatta

Monday, February 26, 2007

Brahmacharya

Brahmacharya is probably one of the more charged of the yamas, in terms of people's response to it. Literally, its translation is "walking with God," but it's more simply and often translated as "celibacy." The straight-up, literal interpretation of that is something like becoming a monk and just abstaining from sex and thoughts thereon (or transmuting them to thoughts of divinity), but as the Buddha pointed out with his middle-path (and my dad in a tangential memory of mine, speaking to the idea of celibate Catholic priests), that's just not a normal nor healthy path for most people.

So, what does it mean for the regular person, then? It might help to remember here that the yamas are sometimes translated as "restraints" or "observances," and also that they are generally directed externally - for healthy relationships with others. So developing brahmacharya might mean to devote energy to a healthy relationship in this sexual sense - it's obviously harmful to the relationship, and in the end, both people, if someone cheats, for example. But even if one is single, it's harmful to use someone sexually, say, or ultimately harmful to the self to just have sex unthinkingly, in a variety of ways from the base physical (STDs, unwanted pregnancy, shady people) to more intangible ways (like a harmful drug, it might feel good for a moment, but in the long run does nothing to fulfill or heal).

And as important as being conscious of and being healthy about sexuality is to the human psyche, brahmacharya can also be extended out beyond that, to just keeping a healthy restraint on obsessive and compulsive impulses, or other things done mindlessly, like stress-eating, for example. Everything in moderation, as they say.
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Kind Ambition - on various aspects of ambition, competition, and their effects on self

Asteya

After satya is asteya, or "not stealing." As with the other yamas, this principle isn't so much a technical thing, like a "don't shoplift!" commandment, but rather a principle that applies to one's general attitude. So, of course stealing money from someone would be harmful to them, but also taking credit that hasn't been earned is just as bad, however intangible. In an even more intangible way (and this seems more a subtlety that shows the translation isn't quite 'steal,' I think), we can 'steal' from our selves in a sense when we don't act to our fullest potential, out of laziness or otherwise, by losing that opportunity and that virtue.

Interestingly, another book I'm reading right now, which has absolutely no overt connection to yoga, actually has as one of its underlying principles something like asteya. Whereas the (financial advice) book encourages an attitude of abundance, that is, approaching life with the attitude that there's more than enough money to go around, turning asteya internally towards one's self means finding those unconscious impulses towards the converse, but in all manner of areas. It's an easy feeling to drop into that there's not enough love to go around, that a loved one will not give back as much as we give, or to give in to an impulse to hoard and cheat to feed greed. With asteya as a principle turned on those impulses, a more positive feeling and attitude of abundance is cultivated, which is helpful instead of harmful to others, and makes for less stress and anxiety on the part of oneself.
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somewhat relatedly, though out of context, an interesting passage by an old professor:
"The nice thing is that once I saw this, I was able to completely relax about my colleague, who I didn't want to feel envious of. Because, let's face it, to call someone an 'asshole' or a 'helicopter parent' or a 'slut' or a 'narcissist' is always to indicate the wound they create in you by being who they are, the vulnerability established by the possibility of your choices or your abilities being somehow not enough. (Conversely, the 'idiots' on the other side of the equation make us feel better about ourselves.) "

Friday, February 23, 2007

Satya

The next of the yamas, satya is often translated as truthfulness. Again, there's the obvious consequences for lying to others - loss of trust, the violence (in the ahimsa-sense) of lying itself, and again, the guilt if one has a developed conscience. And, again, it is not healthy to lie to one's self; in a physical context, say, it would be harmful to injure oneself by overstretching to try to touch the floor for the sake of looking good, when one is just not flexible at all. Or, to not admit the truth and take responsiblity after making a mistake, and thus nothing is learned, and so that is harmful in its own way.

To flip the coin, learning from mistakes by being truthful to oneself, acknowledging and learning from the consequences is a very healthy choice. Back to a more external aspect, while one might argue that to be 'perfectly honest' and flat out tell someone the dress really does make them look fat is actually kind of harmful, it's important to remember that these principles can act as checks and balances on each other. Just as excessive ahimsa can lead to (ultimately harmful) passiveness, or even turn dark and become passive-aggression, excessive satya can be ultimately harmful if untempered by that ahimsa - tempered, it becomes tact, allowing the honesty to be as helpful and healthy as it can potentially be, even in a difficult situation.
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"Do you know what astonished me most in the world? The inability of force to create anything. In the long run, the sword is always beaten by the spirit." - said by Napoleon Bonaparte just prior to his death

Through the Looking Glass

Thursday, February 22, 2007

Ahimsa

Ahimsa is usually translated straight-up as 'non-violence,' which has a pretty obvious literal meaning, but I'm not going to approach that or the definition-arguments (ie, the monk/snake story or the Bhagavad Gita taking place on a battlefield).

Rather, I'll speak to the subtler elements that have struck me in the past (not to pun, there). One is that violence doesn't necessarily mean physical violence, of course, but includes the whole gamut of mental, emotional, and verbal violence as well. Thus, the parallel interpretation of the Christian commandment, 'Thou shall not kill,' that includes insulting someone as a sinful action - in a sense, an insult is injurious, as much or more as physically hitting the person is. Following this thread to a different point, in terms of one's own health, violence to others is often hurtful to the self as well; if one has a developed conscious, there will be guilt, or that violence will be reflected back upon the inflicter (insults flung back and forth, resentment and bitterness ruining relationships, say).

And, following that thread a little bit further, as much as the yamas are directed externally, one should also note that the principle of ahimsa can apply internally as well - obviously, banging one's head into a wall probably falls under the umbrella of violence-to-self, but less obviously is second-guessing, self-pitying, baseless anger towards the self, and other negative things of that ilk.

Long and short of it (here's the important part), developing ahimsa in these senses means working on becoming more aware, considerate, and empathetic towards the effects of one's actions on others (and Self), for both healthy relationships, and one's own health as well.

Wednesday, February 21, 2007

the Yamas

I'm going to begin with the first of Patanjali's eight limbs of yoga, the yamas. Now, Patanjali was this fellow who compiled the Yoga Sutras, a long, long time ago, in a galaxy far away. Minus the galaxy part. In a horribly basic, simple sense, it's practical advice for living happily.

The yamas are sometimes called observances, and sometimes called restraints. One way they might be understood is by likening them to putting reins on a horse - you're just putting reins on yourself with these principles to better control and guide your Self. And the particular area these principles address is public living - the better and healthier your behavior, the more easily and happily you can coexist with others, and, notably, the more easily and happily you can coexist with yourself.

Mind, this is on something of a deeper level than just having good manners, though that might certainly be a manifestation of a person dedicating themselves to developing the yamas. We don't generally live ascetic, hermet-in-a-cave lives - we're social animals, living in a social world, and so it helps for our internal development to balance that external development as well.

First up, tomorrow: ahimsa!

opening

Just to start things off properlike, an article by Shiva Rea - The Practice of Surrender