16 ~ Living in an Ashram. Part 4: The Important Things.

December 24th

The female Guru also transmitted an immense energy when she looked at you. Every day after the Aarti, she gave a Satsang, a spiritual talk where anyone could ask her questions, and she would answer. Sometimes they were practical questions about how to apply spirituality to everyday life, and sometimes they were deeper matters—as if the former were not profound enough. Of course, we usually attended. Life during the retreat was intense.

The chanting was improving, or perhaps I was understanding a bit more. In the end, it was not just a matter of reading and studying but of timing, like everything else. Timing for the inertia of the body and mind to stop, to slow down, to allow other processes to open, both external and internal.

I hardly left the Ashram except to go to the banks of the Ganga, which was right in front, to meditate, to the Aarti, or to buy some dried fruits on the same block.

I took slow walks inside the Ashram through the gardens and corridors full of Hindu gods. That kind of walking that doesn’t take you anywhere, it just accompanies you in internal contemplation. I was finding my places of peace. Little by little, my body and mind were calming down, as if they were finding another rhythm of being. I understood a bit more of the philosophy, and the Sutras were sticking to my mind. I hummed them almost unconsciously, and they sounded better. I could also share a bit of all this with the people who came to visit the Ashram and asked me what I was doing there.

The conversations among us also became more interesting. We debated more and asked ourselves how to fit everything we were learning into everyday life. The Satsang helped with that because, in the end, that was what we needed: to apply it.

Life inside the Ashram seemed tough, but in the end, you realize it is easy and almost a gift. It allows you to assimilate everything you are learning, among people who cultivate the same things as you, among spiritual talks, scheduled times for Yoga, meditations, voluntary silences, time for yourself, peace, and introspective moments. There are people who cook for you and help you with whatever you need. But we were not going to live in an Ashram forever—at least not for now—so the real challenge would also come when we left here. When we returned to the "real" world, the one that hasn’t changed, the one that remains the same, the one that will try to drag us back to the same things it did before, the one we escaped from, the same one from which we sought a breath in this parallel world.

Facing the same reality and realizing that—most likely—we haven’t changed as much in three weeks inside here as we think, or as people expect. Like the fantasy of those revelatory moments that one imagines finding idyllically. It was also about understanding that true changes are built day by day and require time and comprehension, which is almost the same thing. That we will still have to deal with our ghosts, probably the same ones we left frozen, waiting for a few days.

–No, ma'am, I haven't become a Buddha yet, I will answer when they ask me how this changed my life, but I know that now I am a little more awake, more connected, more alert, and with new tools. Changes are smaller and less thunderous than one imagines and, sometimes—like everything else—they almost always hide in the little things. I know what I have been through. Surely, I will stumble over similar stones again—probably the same ones—but now I will be able to identify them from another place, recognize them as old friends, and thank them for being a challenge. To understand that by and thanks to them, learning is the only possible outcome.

How can we know we've understood if there are no real situations to test ourselves? Nice way to look at challenges, isn’t it?

I already know they are not real, that they are not pits to fall into but obstacles to be solved. That it is just a game of necessary lessons to evolve on this path that is life, and that it also consists of having the clarity to find joy and happiness in that very process.

I have more tools, and above all, tools that do not belong to me, tools that activate when I let go of control—or when I truly take it, depending on how you see it. And I surrender to trust... I trust deeply in that which is beyond me, and I pause to perceive the signs, with more dedication and more faith, and with effort, I try to follow them.

❦

AUTOBIOGRAPHY IN FIVE CHAPTERS From "The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying" by Sogyal Rinpoche.

1◀ I walk down the street.There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.I fall in.I am lost... I feel helpless.It isn't my fault...It takes forever to get out.

2◀ I walk down the same street.There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.I pretend not to see it.I fall in again.I can't believe I'm in the same place!But it isn't my fault.It still takes a long time to get out.

3◀ I walk down the same street. There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.I see it is there.I fall in anyway... it's a habit.But my eyes are open.I know where I am.It is my fault.I get out immediately.

4◀ I walk down the same street. There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.I walk around it.

5◀ I walk down another street.

What a beautiful way to understand processes. Maybe it is called "autobiography" because we can place our own learnings within it.After four years of a relationship, after many repetitions, after living for a year in India and several more in Asia, now I am not sure if I have evolved enough to walk down another street, but I surely at least try to walk around it.

Even today, writing this ten months later, I can remember all the first Sutras by heart as if they were a song. Patañjali was a wise man. Each Sutra consists of short phrases that summarize the essence of yogic philosophy, written in a simple and practical way to facilitate memorization. The problem is that we no longer understand Sanskrit, so what was once easy has now become difficult.

अथ योगानुशासनम् 1- Atha yogānuśāsanam

योगश्चित्तवृत्तिनिरोधः 2- Yogah cittavṛttinirodhaḥ

तदा द्रष्टुः स्वरूपेऽवस्थानम् 3- Tadā draṣṭuḥ svarūpe’vasthānam

वृत्तिसारूप्यमितरत्र॥४॥ 4- Vṛttisārūpyam – itaratra

वृत्तयः पञ्चतय्यः क्लिष्टा अक्लिष्टा 5- Vṛttayaḥ pañcatayyaḥ kliṣṭā akliṣṭāḥ

प्रमाणविपर्ययविकल्पनिद्रास्मृतयः 6- Pramāṇa viparyaya vikalpa nidrā smṛtayaḥ

1- Now, the practice of Yoga begins. 2- Yoga is the control, the effortless regulation of the modifications of the mind. 3- At that moment of meditation, the Self remains in itself, resting in its own nature: Self-realization. 4- At other times, when the Self is not in that state of realization, it appears to take the form of the mind's modifications, assuming the identity of those thought patterns.

In other words, in those moments of non-realization – which, phew, are everyday life – the Self identifies with the mind and the emotions we feel, and THAT is part of the Great Illusion we live in. The confusion and the trap of believing we are what our mind thinks: those agitated, untamable, intricate, ever-changing thoughts. But the good news is, we are not, and Yoga largely aims at understanding this simple yet complex truth, as it directly challenges the experience rooted in our senses – the reality we "feel."

And Patañjali continues:

अभ्यासवैराग्याभ्यां तन्निरोधः॥१२॥ 12- Abhyāsavairāgyābhyāṁ tannirodhaḥ

तत्र स्थितौ यत्नोऽभ्यासः॥१३॥ 13- Tatra sthitau yatno’bhyāsaḥ

स तु दीर्घकालनैरन्तर्यसत्कारासेवितो दृढभूमिः॥१४॥ 14- Sa tu dīrghakālanairantaryasatkārāsevito dṛḍhabhūmiḥ

दृष्टानुश्रविकविषयवितृष्णस्य वशीकारसञ्ज्ञा वैराग्यम्॥१५॥ 15- Dṛṣṭānuśravikaviṣayavitṛṣṇasya vaśīkārasañjñā vairāgyam

13- These patterns or modifications of the mind are mastered through practice and detachment. 14- Practice means choosing to perform, with effort, those actions that bring us to a stable and tranquil mental state. 15- This is a continuous path, without interruption, with devotion, sincerity, respect, reverence, a positive attitude, and attention. When practiced continuously, it becomes deeply rooted. When the mind loses its desire for objects, it attains a state of total control over desires – this is called detachment.

The goal, or that supreme state to pursue, is called Samadhi. To reach it, all the fluctuations of the mind – the constant and unstable waves of thoughts and emotions with which we identify – must subside. Samadhi is that state of consciousness where the mind becomes still, allowing the experience of profound union, realization, and inner peace that transcends the ego's limitations. The mind becomes completely absorbed in the object of meditation, and the boundaries between the observer and what is observed begin to dissolve. It is a tremendous expansion that feels like an ecstasy of pure bliss, a sensation distinct from everyday life: the calmness of crossing the barriers of our own mind. A Supreme Reality.

This feels true because we experience it directly through our senses in the body. It becomes something beyond mere belief... A re-connection with the Whole. The cessation of feeling separate.

A glimpse of this is what we sometimes feel – if we have a prosperous day – when we meditate. That sensation of entering a different kind of space, one where the boundaries that define us disappear, and the "I" and the "other" merge.

To reach this in sustained states, unless one is enlightened or has extensive experience in the path of meditation, an arduous process is required.

Patañjali lays out a systematic path to achieve this through faith, strength, meditation, and wisdom. He describes everything in detail: every moment, every practical difficulty encountered along the way, and how to overcome them. Concentration, techniques, discipline, study, and practice – it's all there. It is a light and a guide to understanding and transcending suffering. A form of action, or at least a way to begin to understand. To open our eyes, to be aware of what is the true reality and the phantom immersion in which we live.

To begin to identify what is real and what is not, what is essence, what is a mask, and what is a distraction. Who am I, what is my Self, and what is my Ego.

We identify ourselves and suffer because of the pains of the mind, which are not real, which are not our essence. We suffer from misunderstanding the nature of things. We are not our mind – nor our thoughts nor our emotions – but the mirror and the senses confuse us. They show us the body, the mind, and the ego, and there we remain, trapped in the snare of image and sensations – not so far from what psychoanalysis suggests, to my surprise. But we are more than that... That is why I like Bindis, because they remind you that there is something beyond, and they show it right there, in the middle of your face, so that when you look at yourself in the mirror, you do not forget it. Like a reminder for the soul.

"You are not just what you see; there is more beyond." There. Is. More. Beyond.

Meditation and study lead us through an introspective process of returning to our center, to our essence, and recovering the true nature of things: what we really are. The deconstruction and reconstruction of a new way of seeing. The other reality. The one we do not see, the one that is not so obvious, the one that is not easily captured by the positive criteria of science, but where, they say, the peace we so desperately seek is found. And there, the intensity we put into the process matters. The feeling, the conviction, the dedication, and the surrender matter too.

Complex and beautiful. It gives me peace. At times, it is so clear. And to think that there are still people who believe that Yoga is just about contortionism, standing on your head, and playing with flexibility.If it were only that, it would be easier and would probably become just another sport. Fortunately, Yoga is more than that, and the Sutras are the proof. It is a key – another one. It is a path to walk, to understand, to liberate – from our mind, from ourselves, and from the suffering that afflicts us. It is a practice, but in the sense we mentioned before.

Obviously, this is a humble preface that, like any preface, is only the beginning.The doctrine is profound, complex, and much more interesting as well. Patañjali, who according to tradition was the author of these yogic principles, was detailed, consistent, and clear, and he took his time to explain everything abundantly. One only needs to go to the sources, with love, study, and dedication – as with any doctrine.

That's what seven of us were doing during those days, on the eve of Christmas and New Year, in a humble little room painted all in white, sitting on the floor of an Ashram in Rishikesh.

In these lines, I offer a very humble and general sharing, asking for forgiveness for any imprecision that may exist in the simplification of the interpretation—or in the interpretation itself—which is nothing more than an attempt to draw closer to a truth, as each person can and with the knowledge each one has at any given moment. But how beautiful to take some time to reflect on it, even if only for a while.

It's lovely, at least, to try.

This is a piece of what I experienced during those days, something I suffered and also loved. A seed to be planted in our souls, to begin to understand—just a little—of the GREAT universe that is Yoga.

I hope that something from all of this resonates, little by little, in our personal quests, even if only for a few moments of light. It is not an easy path, but as a friend once told me: “It is worth walking the paths of the masters, even if only for a moment.”

“When the modifications of the mind have weakened, the mind becomes like a crystal—transparent. When memories, past knowledge, and imagination are purified, the mind seems to be devoid of its own nature, and only the object in front appears to shine.”

Patañjali, Yoga Sutras.

♥

Thank you for reading.