Yoga of the Heart

Once when Rama and I were walking in his garden in the Himalayas, he pointed out a lizard that scurried away when we approached. He told me that this particular type of lizard was so poisonous that one drop of its spit could kill seven men, yet it ran away from us in fear, not remembering its power. Rama laughed and said, "You are like that, Alice!"

We are all like that lizard, in a way. Because we have forgotten our spiritual body, we have forgotten who we are and what we can do. It takes a special individual to look for the answer to the question "Why was I born?"; one develops an overriding passion for it, a desire that supersedes everything else in life.

When I first began Yoga, I lived on the surface of my personality. The physical self, that I considered my entire being, was easily tired, bored, and fragile. It was not enough for me. I wanted more of everything: more life, more knowledge, more strength, more everything. I realized I could not do it on my own and turned to my spiritual body to enlarge and brighten my world. It was a wonderful decision. My fragile physical nature turned inward to find the great power of my spiritual body waiting for me with open arms; I was continually surprised as I saw, in deep, clear flashes, that I was not at all what I seemed to be.

We became one, and from that union I experienced a passion in life that is constantly, effortlessly reinforced and supplied from the spiritual half of my personality that never tires, nor dies. Passionate emotion carries us straight to the heart with no bargaining along the way. Passion is a direct route to our own emotional depth; not something reflected from some other individual, but a shining reflection of our deepest self.

The physical body connects the idea of passion with youthful sexuality, but that is only a small part of passionate experience. I can best describe passion as similar to — but far greater than — the attainment of Purity as described in Chapter 9: becoming one with yourself, your goals, your life in an embrace of the physical and spiritual bodies that defines real love.

A passionate person is never a watered-down personality. Most people can endure passion for only a few moments; Yogis are passionate forever.

Passionate feelings encompass my life. Everything matters to me, and because the weight of this passion is too much for me to bear in my physical body, I have to ask for extra support. That support comes from the spiritual body.

And when Love speaks, the voice of all the Gods makes heaven drowsy with the harmony. (Shakespeare, "The Two Gentlemen of Verona")

As my recognition of my spiritual body grows, I welcome the awareness that takes me out of the ordinary to a perception of life that sings with glamour and excitement, providing a never-ending stream of knowledge and experience.

This experience is available to you if you practice the ethical concepts in this book. This is the classical, well-trodden path of heroes: people who search for meaning in life. It is important to realize that whatever ethical practices you do, you are doing them for yourself alone. The product of this ethical practice is a state known in classical Yoga as internal austerity. Most of us think of the word "austerity" as referring to some external action or discipline, but internal austerity is a state of being. It is characterized by the knowledge that you have pared yourself down so that everything has meaning to you. You have rid yourself of all unusable, unwanted, destructive parts of life; there is nothing in your life that is meaningless. In other words, you have found what you wanted and you dwell in that state, shining in simplicity, strength, and purity. You have seen yourself as you really are and you love what you see. This beautiful state of internal austerity is the source of the passion that results from the union of the physical and spiritual bodies

The passion that lies within you is already complete. Its power does not depend on someone outside yourself. It can fully express itself in your physical body, originating from your inner divine self: your spiritual body.

Some people are afraid of passion, because it sometimes seems dangerous or out of control. There is no need to be afraid. When passion is carefully guided by ethical practice, it never becomes a destroying force. It is the supplier of the beauty and depth needed to make life worth living. The passion to see and know the spiritual body brings the answer to that primitive longing I described in the previous chapter, and the experience of real love blooms.

Each of us has a different capacity for passion. It is that desire to know myself, overriding everything else, that has brought me to Yoga. The heart knows what it wants, and it is up to you to clear the path for its fulfillment. The ethical principles of Yoga allow that path to be cleared safely. It is not always easy, but those of you with depth of passion will do it anyway, because, in the end, you find you cannot do anything else.

God consciousness is not achieved by means of the scriptures, nor is it achieved by the grace of your master. God consciousness is only achieved by your own subtle awareness. (Vasishtha)

THE ROSE-COLORED GLASSES

Are you familiar with the famous story of the rose-colored glasses? A man walks into an old, dusty antique shop and sees a pair of rose-colored glasses. He puts them on and realizes that he suddenly knows what everybody is thinking.

He buys the glasses and goes out into the world, using them to become tremendously successful, wealthy, and powerful. In spite of this, however, happiness eludes him. Life is too simple. There is no fun of failure, winning or losing. He knows he cannot fail. And so he puts the glasses in the top drawer of his dresser, thinking that he does not need them anymore because he has everything the world can give him.

A long time later, however, some crisis happens. He realizes that he needs the glasses again and runs upstairs to rummage through his dresser. He finds the glasses, frantically puts them on, and happens to glance in the mirror at his own reflection. Suddenly he sees himself — and he collapses and dies in shock. The glasses allow him to see himself as he really is, and he cannot stand it.

When you begin to become more familiar with yourself, the experience can sometimes be as frightening as it is compelling, because we are not used to examining ourselves so closely; we are not used to seeing our struggles and powers in such direct light. The practice of ethics and the remembrance of the spiritual body provide a cushion for those unknown qualities as they gradually become revealed to us. A student wrote to me about this experience:

I recently noticed a wonderful break in a rigid pattern of thinking that has been with me my entire life. When working with other people, I used to be unable to consider any option besides the one that seemed most "logical" to me. People often got very frustrated with me because whenever they offered a suggestion, my automatic response was "no."

As I started to become more aware of what I was doing because of my practice of Yogic ethics, I began to realize that this rigid pattern was violating all sorts of ethics: Nonviolence, Nonhoarding, and Contentment are just a few that come to mind. For a while I became deeply troubled — almost depressed — because this rigidity seemed so deeply ingrained that I despaired of ever changing it, even though I was trying so hard to be ethical.


One day I was thinking about something you said and I finally realized that in taking on the responsibility for changing this pattern myself, I was using only my physical body. I decided to try your fantasy exercise of asking my spiritual body for help with this problem.


The very first time I tried it, I had written a press release and was going over it with my boss. I started to feel the familiar stubbornness when my boss suggested some changes, but I remembered the technique and asked my spiritual body to help out. I found myself really listening, for once, instead of immediately objecting, and then a thought came to me — I guess my intuition — suggesting a way to word the paragraph in question so that both of our concerns were addressed. I felt almost lightheaded with happiness, as if a door had opened within me and a bright light was shining through.

This is why the practice of ethics is so important: it provides a cushion of protection from and guidance in the force of change .

In Indian art there are many images of Shiva, which we have discussed as representing a state of consciousness (see Sidebar, "Shiva Consciousness," in Chapter 1). He is often shown in the form of an ascetic, seated in meditation, with the river Ganges pouring down upon his head. Shiva deflects the power of the river’s force by diverting the rush of water through his long, matted locks so that the earth is not injured by the impact of the flood. In this image, the river depicts the force of the unknown self as the channel between the physical body and the spiritual body is opened, and Shiva’s head represents the protective quality of the practice of ethics.

When a Guru Appears
A passionate desire for meaning in life, guided by careful, steady training in ethical behavior, produces a new individual, born again, a mystic. I use the term mystic in the traditional sense, of one who has knowledge of spiritual truth and a feeling of unity with the divine. This ecstatic existence is so complicated that it is impossible to intellectually understand it, but it can be experienced.


When individuals have passionate desire to experience this ecstasy, usually a teacher or a guru appears in their life. They move on together toward the ultimate goal of union with the inner divine self. The saying is often quoted: "When the student is ready, the guru appears." The next sentence, rarely acknowledged, is "One gets the guru one deserves."


Until a guru appears, the best thing to do is to simply follow the ethical principles outlined in this book. By doing this, it will be easy to place more reliance on your inner power and you can gradually begin to experience the confidence and happiness of knowing that your life is fully supported.

THE EXCITEMENT OF UNCERTAINTY

Once you realize that another source of life lies within you, the enjoyment of watching your spiritual body’s form emerge becomes a continual occupation. I have tried to get to know that other half of myself intimately. It always knew me, it was part of me, but I had not recognized it. Now I find that I am very rarely bored, and I have great strength because I am no longer only "half there." The frustration of feeling constantly limited by what I know is gone as I have learned to depend more and more upon what I do not know. My unconscious has come forward to show its tremendous capacity, and I incorporate its abilities into my everyday life.

I realize that my spiritual body is the heart of all my emotions and is the direct, clear voice in my intuition. Before I practiced Yoga I would many times ignore my intuition, hearing it speak but trying not to pay too much attention to it. Now I know that I can depend on it completely and I wait to hear its voice before making any decisions. It is fun to do, playing and fantasizing with all the possibilities. When any decision is to be made, no matter how small, I find I can quickly decide what "I" want to do, but I wait to see what "it" — my spiritual body — wants to do.

In the beginning it slowed me down a bit, but I found this attitude very protective for me, in that I have learned to make very few impulsive decisions. I do not feel impatient at the wait that is needed for answers from both bodies; in fact, I feel much more secure and confident that my whole being is involved in actions guarded by tolerance, restraint, and the extra input of information that comes from a fully functioning intuition and ethical behavior.

There is no fear in meeting with the unknown for me. I have no fear of losing or the humiliation of failure. Life is always more interesting when you do not know what will happen next. Rama was like that. He would sit in class with students and say, "Ask me something! Ask me anything!" Not at all afraid that he would give the wrong answer, he knew that the words that he spoke would surprise him because they came from the intuitive voice of the spiritual body, the source of the unknown. He was ready for anything it could tell him because he had prepared the way, designing a strong, guarded path that protected him from all harm.

Lakshmanjoo once said, "Once you’re on a path, you can’t get off it." It becomes a burr under your saddle. I cannot say that you’re going to like it or hate it or enjoy it or love it; it simply exists. But I can tell you that it has been the reason for my existence all my life. Every day I find myself respectfully knocking at the door asking my spiritual body to show itself in all its power, saying, "I must know! I must see you!" And I have never regretted it for a moment.