Take Your Time

by Eknath Easwaran

  Look at what happens with most of us when we start a fitness program. We see some show on TV over the weekend and are filled with enthusiasm; we get expensive shoes and a fashionable outfit and go to bed Sunday night with the alarm set to go off early for a half-hour run before a good, nutritious breakfast. And for a week the schedule works perfectly. We have a keen appetite after the run, enjoy a nourishing breakfast, and feel invigorated for the rest of the day – all week long.

  But when Saturday morning dawns and the alarm goes off, we’re tired and sore. And after all, it is Saturday. There’s no clock to punch at work. What does it matter if we have our run a little later? It’s rather boring, and anyhow, rest is important too.

  By the time we wake up an hour or two later, the sun is high and we remember we have a number of other things we need to do. There really isn’t much time for a run. It’s almost eleven when we get to breakfast. Since it’s Saturday, we allow ourselves a sweet roll – with three cups of strong coffee to get going.

  By afternoon, serious difficulties have set in. Someone has lent us an old paperback on UFOs, and it’s just been lying around. It doesn’t look particularly elevating, but we really should glance at it before we give it back. Remarkably, it proves rather gripping. After a few pages, we settle down on the couch and get into a comfortable reading position on our back. There is a package of cookies on the table, and we take one or two while we read. One or two won’t hurt.

  Eventually we realize that our hand is scraping the bottom of the bag. In fact, only one cookie remains. We’re not particularly hungry any more, but we might as well eat it. We go on reading, and soon we have fallen asleep. We wake up just in time for ­dinner.

  All in all, not such a good day for our fitness program. But it is better than the following day, when we can’t seem to rouse ourselves out of bed at all.

  We have a phrase for this in India: “a hero at the beginning.” Plenty of energy at the start, but it fizzles out.

  Or the energy cycle may start at the other pole. Years ago I saw an entertaining film about one of those rather seedy detectives whom you grow to love. The opening scene is still vivid. When the fellow drags himself out of bed in the morning he has a three-day growth of beard and can’t even open his eyes. His movements are so sluggish that you think he must have been worked over by gangsters or be suffering from a serious hangover, but it turns out he’s just a slow starter. He manages to get to the kitchen for a strong cup of coffee, and then discovers that he ran out a day or two before. Fortunately he hasn’t done the dishes in a while. He finds some old grounds at the sink, pours in some boiling water, and drinks the result with a grimace while he lights a cigarette. We want to ask, “This is the hero? He can’t even get himself dressed!” But then the phone rings, and the transformation begins. There’s a crisis, someone’s been killed, and within minutes this slow starter is a man of action.

  Fortunately, there is a state beyond both phases of this cycle – beyond restless activity and sluggish inactivity too. The energy frozen as inertia can be released, and then all our energy brought under control in a dynamic balance that allows us to give our best and enjoy life to the fullest.

  I appreciate the person who is energetic by nature, but I have special admiration when I see someone who suffers from lethargy learn to turn it into a torrent of activity. Vigor, vitality, energy, and will can all be developed. I have seen really lackadaisical men and women turn into dynamos. When they visit home again or go to a high school reunion, people say, “I can’t believe it’s you! You used to get up at ten and take an hour to eat breakfast. I’ve never seen you work so hard. What happened to you?”

  Everyone likes a man or woman who has gusto and enthusiasm, but it is not enough to have an enthusiastic attitude and lapse when it comes to action. We need the energy and will to carry out our good intentions in whatever field of action we choose. Otherwise, even if we are enthusiastic, we won’t be able to follow through; inertia will block our way. If we take to painting, we won’t get beyond buying paints and canvas; if we decide to learn a language, we will get the books and tapes but not find time for Lesson 2.

  Having all our energy in a dynamic balance allows us to give our best and enjoy life to the fullest.

  Inertia is like driving with your brakes on. A surprising number of people do this; their brakes are set all the time.

  Once, when Christine and I were driving along next to the university – where, fortunately, the speed limit was twenty-five miles per hour – we began to smell something like burning rubber. Christine was distressed, but the car seemed to be functioning all right and we were almost home. It was only when we reached our house that we discovered the emergency brake had been on the whole time. I didn’t know it was even possible to drive that way.

  That is just what happens when we are in a state of inertia. We may have gas in the tank and an engine in top condition, but no amount of potential power helps if we drive when the brakes are on. On the other hand, it means there is no irremediable problem. All that is required is to release the brake.

  When energy surges, we have the opposite problem: no brakes at all. Then we can’t stop. We have to move, have to act, have to get involved – which means we can get caught in virtually any activity under the sun.

  Often – though not always! – what we get caught in is something we enjoy. Once we get caught in it, however, we can’t think about anything else. I have known many people who tell me that they think about their work day and night because they really enjoy what they do. But they can’t turn it off. They can’t keep from taking their work home or working late at the office, and they can’t turn off their minds when it’s time to sleep. When you talk to them, they are not really listening to you but thinking about their work or their hobby. They may not realize it, but what once seemed so pleasant to think about has become a burden.

  We can get caught in anything: in fashions, in collecting things, in shopping, in furniture, in yard sales. We can easily get caught in cars and food and computers. These are the things that drain our energy and our time. And once we get caught, we begin to get speeded up, trying to keep up with where our hobby leads us. One friend confided in me that he had got caught like this in taping old movies on TV. After a while he was spending hours at it, sitting through late shows so he could avoid taping the commercials. He realized things were out of hand only when he caught himself staying up until two in the morning to tape a movie he didn’t want so that he could trade it to someone in his video club. And don’t you know people who complain that they have so many plants that they haven’t time for anything but watering and cutting and spraying?

  I’m not at all saying there is anything wrong with video ­collections or houseplants. But there are times to cultivate the garden inside: time to reflect on what we are doing, what we value, how we are spending our lives. Homo faber, “the maker,” has to stop incessantly making and doing in order to become Homo sapiens – truly wise.

  We need time for pondering life’s deeper questions instead of always making money or making things. We need time simply to be quiet now and then. There is an inner stillness which is healing, which makes us more sensitive and gives us an opportunity to see life whole.

  We need time simply to be quiet now and then: time to reflect on what we are doing, what we value, how we are spending our lives.

  To live in balance, we need to drive the way skilled highway patrol officers do: ready to accelerate if necessary, but always ready to brake when the situation starts to get out of control.

  Do you remember those dual-control cars in which you learned to drive? Picture the will – your capacity for discriminating judgment – sitting in a dual-control car as the driving instructor, and desire as the student at the wheel. As long as Desire is driving correctly, Will doesn’t need to do a thing. But the moment Desire starts to do something dangerous, Will takes the wheel, touches the brake, and says, �
��That’s no way to drive.”

  Desire retorts, “How do you know what I was going to do?”

  “By the look in your eye,” Will replies.

  When Will is in control, he can tell from the gleam in the eyes of Desire that what is about to happen is not going to be good for your health, your nerves, or your sleep.

  Of course, in the early days, Desire is going to thump on the steering wheel and howl and say, “I’ll call the highway patrol!”

  But Will just replies patiently, “I am the highway patrol.”

  After a while Desire comes to know that Will is his friend. Thereafter, if there is any difference of opinion, instead of looking upon Will as somebody hostile, Desire will say, “Will, this is something I can’t handle.” And Will says, “Leave it to me.”

  This is a perfect picture of the state of balance. It is not that you lose your desires, but your will is always in control. Wherever desire is in control and the will lags behind, there is likely to be trouble – emotional distress, psychosomatic and physical ailments, personal entanglements with painful consequences. These are the problems of energy running out of control. But when will and desire are in harmony, you enter into a state of perfect driving – with power steering, power brakes, power everything. This is victorious living.

  Living in balance means living in the present, ready for whatever comes.

  As a boy, when I discovered Charles Dickens, I was so enthralled by his stories that as I neared the end, I would read only a couple of pages at a time to make the pleasure last. My little niece was like that with chocolate; when she got a bar of Cadbury’s, she would take just one lick and then wrap it up again and put it aside.

  This is all right for children, but when our mind treats life like a bar of chocolate, it will be looking for chocolate all the time. It will always be restless, which is the root cause of all our hurry. And, of course, a restless mind can’t ever be at peace – and how can we expect a mind that’s not at peace to find joy anywhere?

  When you live in balance, you are in joy always – not joy in the sense that things always take place in the way you want, but because you are never disturbed and have a quiet confidence in yourself that cannot be shaken. It is one of the fallacies in our modern approach to life that we believe we can be happy only when everything takes place exactly as we want. Actually, I would say that it’s a good thing life doesn’t work that way. Sometimes the best things in life are not what we thought we wanted at all, and the unpleasant experiences are what helped us grow. When your life is in balance, you lose the capacity to be disappointed.

  Once I took Meera and a few other friends to see Agatha Christie’s The Mousetrap. Meera is an Agatha Christie fiend, so she had been looking forward to this outing for some time. When we arrived, however, we found a crowd of disappointed people standing near the box office bemoaning the fact that the theater was already full.

  In my earlier days I would have been crushed by this kind of catastrophe. My mind would have protested, “I’ve been looking forward to seeing The Mousetrap, and now there’s no room even for mice!”

  But today, mainly as a benefit of the practice of meditation, I have lost the capacity to be disappointed. My thoughts were on my niece, looking bravely devastated beside me.

  We had to make a decision right on the spot. I got a paper and discovered that there was one show in a theater near us that we could reach in time – a movie starring Woody Allen, whom I don’t profess to understand.

  Meera and our friends perked up, though, so I said, “Let’s go see Woody Allen.” The only scene I could relate to in the whole movie was when Woody Allen introduces the same question that the Hindu and Buddhist scriptures ask: “How can we ever enjoy anything in life when we know that we have got to die?”

  “Oh,” I said, “this is going to be a great film.” Then it took off in another direction, where I couldn’t follow. But Meera and the others enjoyed themselves thoroughly, so I did too.

  When your life is in balance, you lose the capacity to be disappointed.

  When harmony predominates, it means your mind is at peace, so you cannot be disappointed. It also means you become an utter stranger to loneliness. When you are with people, naturally you are at one with them, but the incomprehensible thing is that when you are alone, too, you are at one with the world.

  I enjoy being with people. It is not social enjoyment; it is not even intellectual enjoyment. It’s a kind of enlightened rapture of being one . . . always. In the early days, I used to feel at home only in a small circle who enjoyed the things I enjoyed. Today I relate to everybody. When I go out, I like to sit in a corner somewhere and just watch “me” passing in many disguises.

  I can’t tell you the joy of this. I can be in any country on the face of the earth, I can be with any people, and I will always feel deeply, “These are my people.” Then you are a good friend to your friends and a good friend to those who are not so friendly also. When people praise you, you are at peace; when they criticize you, you are still at peace. You are not any better because of the praise and no worse because of the censure.

  This kind of peace of mind cannot be disturbed by any external circumstance. With it you live in freedom, which is the real fruit of slowing down.

  Ideas and Suggestions

  It is important not to confuse slowness with lethargy. In slowing down, attend meticulously to details. Give your very best even to the smallest undertaking.

  When it is difficult to start a project or task, try to take the first small step towards completion. For example, if you resist writing a thank-you note to your aunt, tell yourself that you will just get out the stationery and a pen. Often, once this small step is taken, the job will be completed quickly.

  When you feel driven to act on an impulse, take your time to ask if this is really what is in your best interest.

  Observe the ebbs and flows of energy in your day. When are you most alert and energetic? What drains your energy? With careful observation you will be able to identify the swings of energy: perhaps too much caffeine or sugar has left you agitated, and then exhausted. When we see these swings more clearly, we can take steps to enrich our performance, patience, and inner peace.

  Most of us find we have energy for jobs and activities we enjoy. Try doing with enthusiasm a necessary job that you don’t particularly enjoy. Put the task you dislike first on your list. With training, you can actually begin to juggle these likes and dislikes to release more energy into your life.

  If your life seems cluttered, ask yourself if you have got caught in some hobby that may be harmless but time-consuming. Are you spending more time than you’d like on a pet hobby, a cherished collection? Even worthwhile activities can come to dominate our time if we do not consciously ask this question now and then.

  CHAPTER 5

  Living in Freedom

  To live in balance we need a mind that listens to us, not one that drags us about as it pleases.

  To enjoy anything, we cannot be attached to it. William Blake understood this beautifully:

  He who binds to himself a Joy,

  Doth the winged life destroy;

  But he who kisses the Joy as it flies

  Lives in Eternity’s sunrise.

  What we usually try to do is to capture any joy that comes our way before it can escape. We have our butterfly net and go after the joy like a hunter stalking his prey. We hide and wait, pounce on it, catch it, and take it home to put on our wall. When our friends come to visit, we say, “Hey, Stu, would you like to see my joy?” There it is on the wall – dead.

  We try to cling to pleasure, but all we succeed in doing is making ourselves frustrated because, whatever it promises, pleasure simply cannot last. But if I am willing to kiss the joy as it flies, I say, “Yes, this moment is beautiful. I won’t grab it. I’ll let it go.” And I live with a mind at peace and a heart untroubled.


  Pleasure comes and it goes. When it goes, we don’t need to cling to memories of past happiness or dwell on when it may come again. When we turn to the past in yearning, we are running away from the present. When we propel ourselves into the future in anticipation, we are running away from the present. This is the secret of what the world’s spiritual traditions call detachment: if we don’t cling to past or future, we live entirely here and now, in “Eternity’s sunrise.”

  Likes and dislikes don’t have to be rigid. We can learn to play with them, and the freedom can be quite enjoyable.

  When I get an opportunity to do something enjoyable – to attend a good play, an interesting movie, a fast soccer match, or game of tennis – I do enjoy it. But I don’t let my mind dwell on the event before it happens, and if something requires me to drop my personal plans, I can do so without any lingering disappointment. That is a wonderful development, and it comes through training the mind not to have rigid likes and dislikes.

  Often, rigid likes and dislikes are merely a matter of attention getting stuck. We get caught in a groove of what we have been conditioned to like or dislike, and we can’t imagine getting free. When we find that others have their attention stuck in their groove too, friction results.

  Usually, without thinking, we react negatively and move away. But we can learn to play with our likes and dislikes instead, and once we taste the freedom this brings, it can be quite enjoyable.

  Suppose you and your partner are trying to decide what to do on Saturday night. You have been reading reviews of a new film, but she wants to see a local production of As You Like It – even though she knows Shakespeare bores you silly. You have been looking forward to your movie; she has been looking forward to her play. What are you to do?