The first of the Four Noble Truths declared by the Buddha was that ‘all life is suffering (dukkha)’. And, let’s face it,
each of us has days when we feel the truth of that! We used to turn to prayer when things got bad, now we look around for ‘control’
when life spins out in unexpected directions.
‘Wellbeing’ influencers ~ whether CEOs of large companies or super-models or successful sportspeople ~ each seem to have a magic formula for ending whatever our particular form of discomfort or insufficiency is. From exercise regimes to vitamin pills, to diets and fasts, to
visualisations and attitudes, we are offered the means to take ‘control’.
It would be harmless if it didn’t bring so much pain in its wake. We tend, when whatever method of ‘control’ we have adopted fails, to blame ourselves rather than the technique. In our hearts it becomes we who have failed, we who are once again insufficient ~ not what we put our hope in. It’s not such a new phenomenon either ~ there were the‘snake oil salesmen’ of the Wild West and the seances of
Victorian Britain that hosted all kinds of fraud. The search for‘control’ has been with us for some time.
Blind Luck
A few years ago I was in the lucky position of being at lunch with my very favourite singer and bass player, Sting, and his gracious wife, Trudie Styler. I had a problem I wanted Sting’s advice on: a friend’s young son wanted to be a musician ~ he studied music, he lived and breathed his music, and did all the right things for that career to unfold. However, my friend and I were older and life experience gave us concerns ~ music didn’t look like an easy career to break into. There I was, sitting at lunch with one of the most successful musicians in the world, what better person to go to for advice? I asked confidently, sure that Sting would not dismiss the enquiry or give an “if he does ‘x’, he’s sure to be a success,” kind of answer. My faith was justified.
I explained that for this young man there simply was no Plan B and that’s what worried us. Sting listened, and when I had finished he
said, “In a way, he can't have a Plan B, he has to give his whole commitment to Plan A.But (and he emphasised the but) he
must do it knowing that work and commitment are about 1% of determining the outcome, and luck will form the other 99%. There are musicians out there
way better than I am, I got lucky.”
Not So Blind Faith
"Tether your camel and trust in God."
~ Desert Dwellers Proverb
My guru, Swami Venkatesananda, quoted the above proverb often. It echoes Sting’s advice: we do all that we have to do … and then
it’s up to forces not under our control.
Epictetus, the old slave/philosopher of the first century ~ who seemed to have the ability to annoy emperors and tradesmen with equal ease ~ was the
founder of the Stoic school of philosophy. It insists that we grow the capacity to accept calmly whatever happens in life, because what happens is
not under our control ~ only our response is.
Even earlier, between the 4th and 5th centuries BCE, the Śvetāśvatara Upanishad also expressed this view:
tapaḥprabhāvād devaprasādācca brahma ha śvetāśvataro tha vidvān |
atyāśramibhaḥ paramam pavitraṁ provāca samyag ṛiṣiṣaṇghajuṣṭam || 6:21 ||
Śvetāśvatara, know this,
That which the seeker seeks, is arrived at through the power of these two:
The strength of one's own commitment and grace. (6:21)
Upholding this truth requires something that has become so old-fashioned ~ faith. Faith is very different from a submission to fate.
In the January blog we looked at this issue of faith: Śraddhā (in Sanskrit), derived from two words : śrat = truth, and dha=to hold. What is the truth I hold onto; what is the truth by which I orientate myself and take direction? Fate does not call on us to
orientate ourselves in any particular direction ~ we can meander everywhere and simply bemoan our fate.
Faith, on the other hand, calls on us to deeply engage with our fate. Faith is not merely an intellectual assent to something ~ it is a commitment to
living one's life in a particular way, to engaging in particular practices that remind one of what the truth is that we have orientated towards.
Just before the pandemic lockdowns began, a number of teachers of the TYA got together to give 'blindfold' Yoga classes. We were doing it as a
fundraiser for the RNIB ~ but also as an experience of ourselves on the mat without sight. The classes were hugely popular and we quickly booked out
future classes that, unfortunately, the pandemic closed down. However, the feedback from the classes we were able to give, said something about faith.
Students reported various things: their minds quietening more quickly as awareness of where they were in space became acute; a much greater
awareness of the whole of their body as they relinquished all ideas of what the āsana they were engaging in should look like and their
attention got wholly absorbed in what it felt like. Many reported there were times when they simply did not know where they were on their mat
and had to feel for the edges ~ which were seldom where they thought they were.
We come into this world with sight ~ and yet blindfold, because what we can see has limits. We do not see radio waves, for example, nor the millions of bacteria all around us. We see none of what is happening within our own body at any one time; we ~ none of us ~ sees into the next moment or the next day ~ and the agony and uncertainty of that is that we know it can bring either joy or pain. When we acknowledge this limited control, our
fragility is suddenly starkly real. That's usually when we're at our most vulnerable to those who would sell us the illusion of control.
Faith does not take the blindfold off, but it does give us an edge to orientate ourselves by: a truth we can hold onto and move through life by.
It gives meaning to what the Śvetāśvatara Upanishad and Sting advised: that nothing is wholly under our own direction ~ there is
something else operating beyond that. Accepting this uncertainty, accepting our fragility within it, we become mindful of how we orientate ourselves:
tentatively feeling for that edge that will tell us how far we might have moved from where we thought we were.
Building the 1%
Accepting our vulnerability is our first work on a spiritual path. Finding 'edges' that can help orientate us, is the next.
I find a certain joy in the Sage Patañjali's edge when things spin out of my control ~ it does not promise certainty of an outcome, but it does
offer direction:
maitrī-karuṇā-muditā-upekṣāṇāṁ
sukha-duhkha-puṇya-apunya- viṣayāṇāṁ
bhāvanātaś-citta-prasādanam || 1:33 ||
Cultivate feelings of loving friendship towards the pleasant;
Cultivate compassion towards suffering;
Cultivate joy in the face of goodness;
And be prepared to overlook the bad.
With these you will grow a tranquil mind.2
With this we follow the advice from the God Beyond Death, Yama, in the Katha Upanishad3; from Epictetus; from the Śvetāśvatara Upanishad; and from Sting: we hold onto the ancient truth that we can seldom dictate circumstances, but we can always choose our response to them.
Afterword : In case you were wondering, my friend's son took Sting's advice. He is now an adult with an extremely successful career in music ~ although not in exactly the direction he was planning when I asked the question. The advice taught him to focus and work for what he wanted, and stay open to the opportunities that presented themselves.
Resources :
1. Fragile by Sting
2. Patañjali Yoga Sutras, Samādhi Pada, Verse 33.
3. The Katha Upanishad Ch 2 Verses 1 and 2. Yama here gives the first teaching of Yoga: that before each of us, whether wise or a fool, moment by moment, choice lies in our response to whatever circumstances we find ourselves in.
©Swami
Ambikananda, August 2022
