Gratitude: The Fourth Corner

As I sat with my hands firmly pressed against my thighs, leaning forward so as to straighten my back as much as possible, hoping that my lungs would expand further, gasping desperately for air, I remembered my yoga.  I am no stranger to having acute asthma attacks.  They frequent my life, often bringing me to the hospital a couple--if not multiple--times a year.  Asthma leaves you fighting for life, for breath.  I acknowledge the fact that my parasympathetic nervous system shuts down and I go into complete fight-or-flight mode, my body aching to survive, suffocating even though I try to inhale deep, satisfying breaths.  It's absolutely terrifying.  I remember being depressed, and feeling this way about life.  I'm not concerned about being a high-vibrational being.  I'm not concerned about grades, reading, cleaning up the kitchen... I am trying to survive.  There is a cycle that follows when your body morphs into survival mode.  It makes your condition worse.  I become panicked that I can't breathe, which compromises the subsequent breaths I attempt.  When I was depressed, the cycle was that everyday would feel this way.  I would die in gloom.  I would die suffocating.

And then...I remembered my yoga.  I told myself I would be okay.  I am still inhaling and exhaling, and to find the gratitude in that.  This is not my forever.  I began to inhale and exhale as if I were practicing my most beautiful asana or in the midst of a deep meditation.  I calmed down enough, able to make it to the hospital without a panic attack, without passing out.  I swear each and every one of us does yoga, even if we do not practice--and we all have the capacity to do so.  When I was depressed, I was unable to set intentions.  I could not see tomorrow as a positive.  Cue the vicious cycle.  I did not practice yoga then.  I had dabbled in it before, knew of its history (I had taken a Hindu culture class that was almost entirely focused on yoga) and appreciated its teachings.  Yet I was unable to muster up the strength to formulate a goal, an intention for myself.

Gratitude has it's own vicious cycle.  It is one of survival too.  It is of utmost importance.  But it is beautiful.  I don't know the exact moment I decided to be grateful in my depression.  I remember it led me to write a letter to myself, forgiving myself.  Then I outlined exactly how I wanted my life to look.  I used colorful adjectives and was as descriptive as possible.  I felt oddly no attachment to it though, understanding that it would materialize as God/the Universe/Source saw fit.  Being depressed, at the bottom of the barrel, allows you to relinquish attachment because well...you're used to things not looking up.  You're used to let-downs and expectations not met.  At the bottom of the letter, I wrote--"Thank you, Thank you, Thank you"--unsure of at the time who I was thanking, but feeling grateful all the same.  Gratitude is like the stamp on an envelope.  You can plan, take action, set intentions, be detached from its outcome...but without the stamp, that envelope is going nowhere fast.

Let's return to breath.  When you inhale, you are taking in life-sustaining oxygen.  Without it, you will not survive.  There is much to be grateful for.  When you exhale, you are breathing out toxic waste, CO2 that has built up in our cells as a result of energy consumed.  Without it being expelled, our bodies would become toxic and suffer.  There is a purpose in both gases--oxygen and carbon dioxide--and there is a balance that must be maintained.  We must be just as grateful for the inhale as for the exhale, the "good" and the "bad".  Even toxic wastes in our life have a purpose; although important to get rid of, it is important to show gratitude for their purpose.  When setting intentions, remember to be grateful for the trials that have brought you to this moment, as well as be grateful for what you already have and for whatever is to come.

And always, always remember to breathe.

    

 





 

Detachment: The Third Corner

I've had a hard time writing this post.  I would start, then stop, then start again only to find the curser blinking away and an empty page staring at me.  Perhaps it's because I find myself struggling everyday with the concepts of attachment and detachment.  I am possessive, territorial, and sometimes find it hard to let go.  I'm working on it.

However, in terms of intentions and detachment...I'm very good at that.  I've written multiple intentions, set them aside, and have forgotten about them.  I was able to let them go, always with love in my heart for them.  I allowed divine intervention to hold onto them, to keep them safe.  To allow whatever could manifest...manifest.  It has never failed me and often, brighter intentions were formed from them and even more manifested.    

Attachment and detachment.  They're concepts we claim we understand, yet time and time again, we are bound by our material world and what we believe is "ours".  The sense of entitlement is ever growing in our society and we live in a world of "now".  Instant gratification--life is literally at our fingertips.  We formulate grand plans for ourselves, with timelines and must-haves and perfect ideals.  We are bound by these.  If they do not occur in the order we wish, by the date we stated, with all the requirements we demanded, we panic.  We don't know how to respond.  I often hear, "I didn't expect my life to look like this..."  "I thought by this time I would have ________".  And therein lies our flaw.

When you become attached to a material object or an idea, it rules you.  You come home after a long day of being out, and your house with all your possessions, has burned down.  You suffer.  Someone you know insults something you are fond of or disagrees with you about something you are passionate about.  You become upset.  These are different forms of suffering through attachment.

There is a story that proves this point.  Hunters trap monkeys by cutting a small hole into a coconut, hollowing out the inside, and placing a sweet morsel into the empty coconut.  Then, they place the coconut with the treat inside high into the trees, where a monkey will find it.  The monkey is able to put his hand into the coconut to retrieve the morsel, but when he grips the treat, and his hand curls into a fist, he is unable to remove the treat.  The monkey refuses to let go because he wants that treat and the hunter is able to trap the monkey.

We are the monkey, closing our fist stubbornly around what we believe is OURS, our possessions, our ideals, our desires.  We can't let go, even with our hand caught in a coconut, even through the pain, the suffering.  But when we set intentions, we must release our grip.  We must be detached from the outcome.

By practicing non-attachment, you are free to make choices, to love, to serve others without the suffering.  When setting intentions, be sure to give them love.  But set them free.  In time, the coconut will be turned upside down, and the morsels of our intentions will be dropped into our open hands.