We are always so focused on the external. Our sensory perceptions take us captive as we walk with our eyes downward gazing ever always to read an email, watch a video, or flip through our vast collections of short songs on our mobile devices. Living in New York City, this hazard of being pulled outwards at every moment by a sound, a sight, a smell or perhaps even by a pull or a push has fascinated me of late as it increasingly takes me away from introspection. Sutra 35 from the Samadhi Pada reads: “Or the concentration on subtle sense perceptions can cause steadiness of mind.[1]” This sutra is perhaps best suited for those of us living in such sensory dominant worlds. We must always be efforting to stay inward focused as we are pulled in various directions by the world we inhabit.
One of the early challenges I faced when beginning to practice yoga in New York City years ago was that there was never really a quiet moment in the studio. My first favorite place to practice, on the upper Upper West Side above a bakery, offered many enticing distractions as I challenged myself into an asana practice. The smells from downstairs prompted me often to ponder as to what I would next taste to sate the hunger that was sensate and not sustenant. I would get distracted by lights from police cars, fire trucks and ambulances that would shimmer into the windows, especially in the evenings as dusk was setting. The sirens from those vehicles posed a similar and amplified response by me. Even within the classroom, I was able to direct my attention outwards to the student who came in late or left early or to that negligent yoga sinner who left their cell-phone turned on. I thought myself superior in a way to those noises. Could the world just not quiet down as I was attempting to do?
As I advanced in my practice, my strength and flexibility improved tremendously so that my asana practice now resembles nothing close to what it was when I smelled those fresh baguettes. However, I have achieved something even more valuable for myself: the ability to turn inwards. I now smile at the buzzing cell-phone and regard all of those smells, noises and sights that tempt me during practice – on and off of the mat – as indicators of a lively world of which I am a part. But, I also have the self-awareness and the steadiness of mind to stay inward focused and escape into myself to find a moment of peace on a crowded subway or a moment of quiet when a neighbor turns up the bass a little more than I might have.
I am more guilty than many at keeping my attention downwards as I walk along sidewalks and climb up and down subway stairs; however, I effort for a level of concentration on those sensory perceptions that I choose to find important at any one moment in order to live an enriched practice of yoga. Now, as I go along in rush-hour on crowded trains listening to my music, I do it less to drown out all that is going on around me than to illuminate that outside world as a place very separate from my inward escape as I choose to take part in the mad rush to get somewhere I like to be, most often a yoga class.
[1] Patanjali. The Yoga Sutras of Patanjali. Translation and Commentary by Sri Swami Satchidananda. Yogaville, Virginia: Integral Yoga Publications, 2008.
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