A case of mistaken identity?

Yesterday, a friend's hands spun in disjointed spirals as he related his encounter with a stranger. "He just approached me and said: 'What you are now living, I am already forgetting', so calmly, with such conviction - he blew my head open!"

The stranger's riddle left me with my own thoughts to ponder. It reminded me of the story of the 2 monks who met a woman at the riverbank as they were about to cross. The senior monk picked up the woman, carried her across the river, and set her down on the other side without a word. The junior monk remained silent throughout. Twenty minutes later, the junior monk turned to his elder and asked: "I thought monks are not supposed to touch women!". The other monk responded: "I see that you are still carrying her. I put her down by the riverbank 20 minutes ago".

If the unmet stranger is still letting go of what happened in his life 20 years or so ago (based upon my friend's calculations of the stranger's age), I wondered, what could I still be carrying around from my past, and - is it weighing me down? Could I still be reacting to a memory of a life/circumstance that no longer exists?

In the Yoga Sutras Patanjali says that "yoga is experienced in that mind which has ceased to identify itself with is vacillating waves of perception." He defines memory as "a vacillation of knowledge created by not allowing the objects of sensory experience to escape." If the world we experience is in constant flux- money is gained and spent, food is obtained then eaten, night gives way to day, a breeze turns into a hurricane - no wonder suffering ensues when we try to interrupt the flow of nature. Maybe the reason is a case of mistaken identity. Instead of a fleeting role, label or occupation, maybe we are more like a screen that always reverts to blank after the end of each movie. What movie do you choose to play today?

Practicing rescue 911, again and again and again

We all permeate the same field of consciousness. Our being is the universal mind-stage that holds every actor and every prop manifested within it. Yet the on occasion the mind thinks - I am alone, or I don't belong here, or, there are no options, or I am too young/old etc.

One can always count on self deception. In reality, is any character separate from the novelist? Is any one wave independent of the ocean?

Our essence is a pure mind, free of the delusions created by guilt, fear, anger, greed or selfishness - the delusions that dirty the windshield of perception. Our true Self is peaceful, blissful, quiet mind. A mind that has the ability to manifest whatever it wants - to materialize, sustain, edit or delete any storyline at any point.

But how to clean out the dirty filters from the mind? The same way one replaces a dirty Brita filter - by throwing it out and putting a clean one. Patanjali tells us in the Yoga Sutras that "when you consistently cultivate the opposite (positive) thoughts and emotions, the unwholesome (negative) tendencies are gradually destroyed."

Of course, who learns these things in theory? It takes an angry call from the boss, or the news that one of the kids crashed the car, or that someone borrowed your credit card number, etc. Like everything, it's all about practice. Consistent practice.

In the Hindu tradition, Hanuman is a monkey warrior that rescues Sita, a goddess who was kidnapped by a demon who shape shifted as a monk to trick her. The demon symbolizes the "hooks" that trick us into forgetting our true nature. Hanuman, in turn, represents our breath, which is the tool for a "time out". When the breath slows, thoughts slow. When thoughts slow, it becomes easier to observe our feelings and needs before reacting (or not). Sita in reality is getting kidnapped over and over again, but the warrior Hanuman, steadfast in his service, is never too far off.

Practicing trust and opening to humility

Patanjali emphasizes in the Yoga Sutras the importance of consistent earnest practice. My teenage rebellious mind often responds by saying: "why do I have to make the bed if it's only going to get messed up again?" When that mind set is prevalent, I forget to be grateful for all that I have, and instead focus on everything I think I can to control, such as the exact date I will find a "permanent" apartment in my price range.

I once told a friend that just because I can't think of an answer, that doesn't mean there isn't one, or that there is even a problem. I know I said it because it's in writing but at times can't believe I wrote that, can't believe I felt that with every fiber of my being, because I forget. Forget to trust. That's when the stress comes.

Doesn't the sun rise every day, without my interference? Doesn't digestion take place without any guidance from me? There is so much that I don't know, perceive, explain or control, yet is there anyway. There is a larger perspective. Bhagavan Nityananda says that "while the ocean has plenty of water, it is the size of the container you bring to it that determines how much you collect." I take this to mean that if we can keep ourselves empty enough, open enough, humble enough, we will have space to grow, learn. I obviously have a long way to go, as the obstacles keep coming. Nityananda says: "when a person overcomes one obstacle, another presents itself. This process continues until one's experience is complete and the mind is able to face any situation with the right perspective."

In the meantime, I find strength in the increased self-confidence gained by curbing a debilitating habitual response to a situation. Confidence in the Self that makes the sun rise and our tears fall. The well of infinite possibilities. Our True Self.

Climbing back into the driver's seat

Three mornings ago, I was half awake when I realized I was dreaming. In my dream, I was attempting to convince a police officer that I hadn't hurt anyone. I parked my car at a red light behind another car while I went out for a few moments (?!) As soon as I re-entered the car, the light changed. I struggled with the gear shifts and the car jolted forward, bumping the car ahead of me. It was a light bump. The first cop at the scene saw it, and said as much. But the woman in the car ahead of me, she wanted to "think over" whether she was hurt or not. "I'll get back to you later," she told the second officer. He nodded. I was so caught up in the drama that I didn't want to stop arguing with the cop, even after I realized the entire drama only existed in my head - it wasn't real. I felt so angry, and I wasn't even up yet!

After I left the bed, I checked in with of my breath. It was shallow and rapid. I checked in with my thoughts. They ran into each other in a long run on sentence: "I'm just trying to do the best I can, and this happens to me/I'm so hungry/I wonder what time it is/I hate driving/I need to get milk/how long have I been here already?/who gets to "think about" whether they are hurt?/I'm so thirsty/I haven't even meditated, how much time do I have left?/this is so ridiculous."

Slower breath led to deeper breath. The thoughts slowed down. Whenever the image of the cop came back, I gave it permission to go. It's not real, I'm safe, I repeated over and over. After a few minutes, I calmed down, even started chuckling. A few stretches later, I faced the new day with a smile and a fresh outlook - until the next drama.

The mind is like an teenager with a new license - it always wants to drive. If you you snooze, you lose! The good news is, the choice to get back into the driver's seat is always there, even if it at times it feels like it's an ejection seat. Patanjali tells us in the Yoga Sutras that self-study, self-discipline and devotion are the practical means for attaining higher consciousness. Listening to what's up is self-study. Listening to what's up every morning is self-discipline. Listening to what's up with a compassionate ear is devotion.