Hay noches en las que mi almohada se vuelve un campo de batalla entre los fantasmas que mi mente ha creado y la consciencia más allá de mi mente Eventos de mi vida cotidiana Se vuelven armas de fuego cargadas con balas de duda, desmerecimiento y frustración Al pasar la sorpresa de tal ataque Mi japa se vuelve mi escudo Y la batalla comienza Repito mi japa y mi cuerpo encuentra paz Pero mi mente encuentra la manera de atacar de nuevo Es el cansancio quien tiene la última palabra Y en mis sueños apareces para recordarme 'Suelta el miedo' Un abrazo La mañana tiene un sabor a victoria Gracias
Two weeks ago, one of my daughters and I went orienteering in the forest with a friend and colleague. While we were walking from one post to another, my friend found a little blue egg on the moss. It had been windy and rainy a couple of days before, so we thought it might had fallen from a nest.
We discussed what to do with the egg, and after some hesitation, we decided to take it home and try to see if we managed to hatch it. I packed the egg in some paper and put it in a little box I had in my backpack. When I got home and showed it to my youngest daughter, she asked why on earth I would take an egg home from the forest. It was a good opportunity to discuss what is right to do in a situation like this, and I confessed I didn’t know for sure I had done the right thing.
We checked online what to do, and the advice in Norway was very clear: let it be no matter what. We found a cardboard Easter egg from some years ago that we had decorated with some fabric inside, and we decided to put the egg in it to keep it warm. We placed it on the window where the sun heats the most in the evening while we figure out how to ‘help’ it.
While researching for what to do with the little egg, I found an article online where I learned that here in Norway, we are obliged to act when finding a wounded animal.
My friend followed up on the egg, and she sent us a good article with advice on how to find out if an egg is alive. We found out there was no bird in it. Maybe that was the reason why it was on the moss to begin with. I think we learned that we shouldn’t mess up with nature, most probably this egg would have become food for another animal if we had left it in the forest but we had good intentions.
Today, my daughters and I went to visit another friend who has a girl around their age. After dinner, my friend and I sat at their porch while the girls went out to play. After some minutes, my youngest and my friend’s daughter came back with a wounded bird. I don’t know much about birds, but I recognised it was a Great Spotted Woodpecker, and I could see it was badly wounded. Obviously, the girls wanted to ‘help’ it.
I was so thankful for having read the article two weeks ago about wounded animals! On one side, I had an ‘excuse’ to act as my friend wasn’t very keen to have the wounded bird on their porch, and on the other, well, I knew what I had to do. I called the vet and she gave me two options: either bring the bird to them or call the police who would put me in contact with the authority who takes care of wild animals. I chose the latter, and I talked with a man who to my big relief told me would come to see the bird within an hour.
He arrived, looked at the bird, listened to the girls’ story about how and where they found it. He told us it was a young bird, and that maybe the nest wasn’t far away. We walked with him around but it wasn’t possible to figure out where the nest could be. They usually nest in high trees, and there was no high tree around. They can sometimes find a whole on the wall of a house.
He took the bird out of the little cage the girls had put it in, and after examining it, he concluded that it was too wounded to try to let it heal. It had most probably hit a window or a wall and its skull was broken. He would take it with him and put it down.
I don’t know if it is age, or maybe the internal work I have been doing the past five years, but seeing this wounded bird really made an impression on me, and I was so thankful for having found the information about what to do just by chance when we found the blue egg. I am thankful for living in a country where there is a phone one can ring to get support to help a wounded animal out of its misery.
We could have chosen to leave the bird in the forest behind the neighbourhood, and it would eventually have died or been eaten by another animal. I know this is the cycle of life, but helping a sentient being out of its suffering felt more natural. A life is a life. We all wish to get some help when we are in pain.
Here’s some gratitude for knowledge that comes randomly and turns out unexpectedly useful. Gratitude also for life, peace and joy while it lasts. May we all find support when we hit the wall.
Last fall, I wanted to start a series of workshops about what I find are some of the most useful principles taught in the Bhagavad Gita to cultivate peace of mind. For this, I had to revise some of the chapters I have studied during the last five years through the guidance of my Yoga teacher, Prasad Rangnekar. I mentioned this to a good friend of mine who likes studying philosophy and especially Stoicism, and he got curious about Yoga and my engagement in it. He asked me if I could recommend a couple of books about Yoga he could read. I gave him a short version I have of the Gita but warned that it was difficult to read it from start to end without taking the time to study it, preferably through the guidance of a teacher. I also gave him another book that summarises the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali.
Yesterday, we went out with my friend and his family for a hike, and at some point, he asked me “How are your Yoga studies doing?”. I got excited with the question because for the moment, I am taking an online course with my teacher about the origins of Yoga and its development through the years until today. His next questions took me by surprise: “What do you want to achieve by studying Yoga? What kind of title will you get in the end? Are you aiming to climb up in some sort of hierarchy?”. I had to think a bit about what he meant, and what I could answer. I study because it is interesting, and because I see positive changes happening in the way I perceive myself and interact with the world through the practice of Yoga, but I don’t think there is a specific title I can get from my studies, I said.
This, or course, kept me thinking and that is why this blog post. It has happened, during the last five years that I have at times asked myself what would happen if I spent the time I dedicate to study Yoga to study something that can give me some sort of degree. I don’t have a Masters degree, for example, and I know that I will eventually need one if I one day want to change jobs. The thing is, however, that I think my life is busy enough as it is for the time being with three kids and a job. In order to add one more item to my ‘to-do list’ I would then have to sacrifice time with my family and time for my personal growth. This personal growth happens through the study and practice of Yoga, and cannot be measured as we are used to measure things in this side of the world.
So that is one aspect of my reflection today, it is difficult for some people to understand why someone would invest time, energy and even money in studying something that doesn’t give any sort of degree. This said, that is personal growth, isn’t it? Who can measure it? And why would anyone except for myself and eventually my teacher measure it?
Secondly, as I was answering his questions, it kind of hit me that I am literally on a path. I am slowly walking into something without having a very clear idea of what the ‘end goal’ is. Although I know that the ‘end goal’ is self-realisation or union with Universal Consciousness because that is what the scriptures say, it is way too abstract for me to say ‘that is my goal’ for the time being. But I walk with faith and curiosity, because so far, everything I have learned and applied has made positive changes in my life.
Thirdly, I realised how little my friend understands Yoga, and how limited my own knowledge and understanding is. I also realised how difficult it is to understand a spiritual tradition without proper guidance. It actually made me feel humble towards all spiritual traditions. My friend asked me if I am aiming towards becoming a guru. In my understanding, there is no such thing as ‘aiming towards becoming a guru’. I don’t think one can decide that one wants to become a guru. Maybe the simple fact of doing so disqualifies one to become one (hello ego!). Why would anyone want to become a guru anyhow? I guess it is because he doesn’t understand what a guru is. I’m not even sure I understand completely what a guru is, but I do understand that there is no prestige attached to it. Teaching and guiding others in the Yoga tradition is part of the cycle of life. It is a big responsibility, and should not put people in a position of power. My teacher keeps reminding us to be very careful of calling anyone a guru. According to Yoga, the natural thing to do is to help others once one has reached a certain level of understanding because we all have the same divine potential. If I remember right, it is part of what in yoga is called lokasangraha. Spiritual maturity is not measured with how many scriptures one has studied, it has to do with an internal process.
Yoga has taught me to walk life (as opposed to run) with as much awareness as I can. It has also taught me to be curious and be patient. It is teaching me humility and faith. One day, I will take a Masters degree that will benefit my profession, but it is not the right moment yet. I am way too busy with other aspects of my life, and when I am not fulfilling my responsibilities as a mum, wife or teacher, I spend time studying something that I think benefits me directly and those around me indirectly. It is not easy to measure, and I won’t get any titles for it but I believe in it. Actually, one thing that is certain about the spiritual path is that it pushes us to let go of things, we eventually loose everything we thought was so important, we do not acquire anything new…
One last thing, this is how I choose to live my life right now. I do not expect everyone to feel or want the same, let alone understand it. I am not annoyed with my friend when he asks all these questions. I like them because they make me reflect, and allow me to see things from another perspective.
About two weeks ago, one of my daughters and I decided to ride our bikes to a beach close to our place to go for a swim. We packed our things, and off we went taking a path that we have been taking either when walking or by bike during all the years we have been living in this house. It is a street that leads towards a neighbourhood with apartment buildings, and in between two of these buildings, there is a big garden. In the middle of the garden, a path leads towards the shoreline. When I walk or bike towards the sea, I always choose this way because the view from the garden towards the sea is beautiful. In addition, there are almost no cars there, so I think it is safer and more pleasant.
As we were passing one of the buildings heading towards the path in the middle of the garden, we saw an elder man standing outside. I biked passed him, smiled and said ‘hi’. To my surprise he said, ‘you have to turn around and find another way, this is a private street’. I disagreed and pointed out that we have been using this way to go to the shoreline for years without any problem. There are no signs confirming that it is a private street. I also mentioned the Norwegian law that prevents people from blocking the access to public spaces. He suddenly changed his mind, and told me that we shouldn’t ride our bikes there because there is a garage and cars come out sometimes too fast and we can be hurt. I told him that we would be ok, and that I would not find another way today. We continued our way to the beach crossing the path between buildings.
All the way to the beach, I kept wondering though. Who is right? Is this a private street? I was on one side annoyed by the unpleasant moment, and on the other trying to be reasonable about the whole situation. This has been one of my favourite areas in our neighbourhood for years, especially during this time of the year. Am I willing to let go of this area? Shall I keep using this path and be ready to go through several unpleasant situations if I meet the same man?
When I got home, I actually checked the law. I even imagined myself riding my bike alone one day and being stopped by the same man, and suggesting we call the police to help us out. I was sure the police would agree that this is not a private street. But an important question popped in my head, do I really want to waste energy on this?
I tried to see things from his perspective. There is an area near these buildings that has become very popular among teenagers during the hot summer days. They gather to sunbathe, play volleyball and bathe in the sea. Maybe, during these days, there are a lot of people riding their bikes down this path, and I can understand it being disturbing with the noise. It might also be scary with a lot of bikes passing in high speed for those who are walking.
I have been using this path for over seven years, enjoying the view and the nature, but do I want to get into a conflict just because of that? No. Are there alternative ways to the same place? Yes. Can I let go? Yes. I actually got excited with the idea of discovering other ways to get to the same place. Get to know other sides of the same neighbourhood.
About a week after this experience, I went for a hike with a dear friend, and out of the blue, without me mentioning this little incident, she told me about a similar situation she and her neighbours are experiencing but from the side of the elder man. Around eight houses share the same grounds, and some years ago, an entrepreneur built a whole new residential area near these houses. Everyday, people cross their ground to get to and from the bus. This represents noise and a feeling of loosing privacy since people passing by can see directly into the houses. Many of her neighbours are annoyed About a week after this experience, I went for a hike with a dear friend, and out of the blue, without me mentioning this little incident, she told me about a similar situation she and her neighbours are experiencing but from the side of the elder man. Five houses built in the 80s, share a driveway that helps each resident arrive at their home from the main road. Over the past year, a developer has built a whole new residential area adjacent to these houses and driveway. Everyday, people from the new development use their driveway to get to and from the bus, schools and shops in the area though there are other, far less convenient access routes available to them. This increased traffic (not forecasted when my friend bought her house a year ago even though they’d asked the seller about any existing neighbourhood conflicts) represents noise and a loss of privacy since people passing by can see directly into the houses, and sometimes carry on conversations late at night. Daily, there is also an increased safety risk as children and people riding bikes now use this area intended for the car traffic of several homes, not for the dozens of homes using it now as a walkway. My friend’s neighbours are annoyed by this change, and they are trying to discuss how to solve this problem. Although the context of her story is different because it is mainly about poor planning from the developer’s and Kommune’s side, it made me think about my own story. There are always at least two sides to a story, and most of the time, we need to be able to see beyond our own perspective in order to find solutions that do not create more distress and stress.
In many situations in my life, I often end up with the same question: who is right? Most of the time, I realise no one is completely right, it is just a matter of perspectives. The question is, where am I willing to invest my energy? Do I want to be part of the problem or the solution? Sometimes, after weighing all possibilities, we might believe that our perspective is the right one, and we then have to swallow the bitter pill of engaging in a discussion that will be unpleasant. Sometimes, we have to go through the moment(s) of unpleasantness to see a change happen. So it is a constant dance between what we believe in, what we stand for and trying to see things from other perspectives.
In my little story here, it is obviously not worth the bitter pill. I can let go of my favourite path. Who knows? I might discover a new favourite path in the process. 🙂