The Mirror of Yoga

by Richard Freeman

  Matrix means the “womb.” It comes from the word mother, and it implies that there is a nest that interconnects and sustains everything. Whatever your practice is, no matter what you think or experience, all of this is cradled within the matrix called yoga. The matrix itself has no motivation or desire, but it allows each and every thing within it to evolve fully so that everything finds its mate and its complement in order to become actualized. Just as a mother, with unconditional love, supports and nurtures her child, the matrix allows everything to grow, flourish, and flower, and it also allows everything to die or to disappear. In this way all things discover themselves, and they also ascertain their relationship to and their interconnectedness with everything else. From whatever point we initiate our own yoga practice—and incidentally, we must begin from where we actually are—this matrix starts to open for us, and we find that we can go ever deeper into our own immediate experience, just as when digging a well. We see that each philosophical stance and every practice is a composite of all other philosophical perspectives and of all the other types of practice. We experience for ourselves that each is nested within a more complex interwoven pattern of the yoga matrix, where no type of practice or theory is dominant and where the pure radiant presence, the underlying nature of the matrix itself, is revealed.

  When we experience this process of insight we see not only the interconnectedness but also the temporary or impermanent nature of whatever appears to us. Eventually this realization comes to include our own bodies and the bodies of all those we love. Understanding viscerally as well as intellectually that everything is impermanent is terrifying to the ego structure. A great deal of clinging, remorse, and avoidance naturally arises in the face of this reality. But with close meditative observation of such strong emotions, by watching states of dread and theories of doom and oblivion that surface, they too are seen to open up into their contexts. In this way the background of unconditional love and absolute support that is the true nature of an open mind is revealed. This awareness allows us to be at peace, even in the face of impermanence, and it also fosters a sense of love for others in spite of the fact that we might not know them perfectly well. We might not understand others or be able to control them, we might not even like them, but we can still have unconditional love for them. Likewise, this deep visceral understanding of the interconnectedness of all things allows us to accept the world in all of its multiplicity and complexity, without constantly analyzing and inserting our ego into the situation. We experience that the entire universe as it is being given to us in this moment is a great joyous being whose essence is pure consciousness.

  This may sound a little idealistic and perhaps even unattainable, however it is actually quite straightforward, and it happens automatically by deeply observing what is as it arises. Through our yoga practice we learn to cultivate this observational skill, seeing what is immediately before us, so that eventually the practice transforms into something that penetrates every aspect of life. We hone the skill of focusing the mind on whatever pattern of perception it lights upon; whatever we are thinking, feeling, sensing, emoting becomes the object of meditation. By paying attention to the pattern of whatever is happening right now—and it could be a pattern we would normally consider to be miserable or neurotic or even ecstatic—by allowing the mind to rest there we find a gateway into understanding the whole beneath it. Through this meditative approach the context of that which we are observing is revealed, and quite easily, without a sense of anxiety, we perceive the background as an interlinking web of pure consciousness that has manifested as whatever we are observing. It becomes clear that the one point that appeared so separate within our attention is actually interpenetrating its immediate background, and that this same background (that also could be perceived as separate) melts into its own background, and so on. We experience this in a deeply physical, embodied way when the practice of yoga postures is done well. A viscerally grounded understanding of interconnectedness prompts the mind to soak deeper and deeper through various layers of background to where our perceptions and even sensations appear to us as sacred, inexplicable, and wonderful.

  When we are able to appreciate the content of our mind in this way, whether it is perfect or imperfect, we have temporarily suspended the habit of reducing our immediate experience to theories about it. Just as when we look at the tip of an iceberg and intuit that it is a vast chunk of ice with a massive bottom section that is hidden to us, so too we can distinguish the deep matrix of yoga as ever new and always sacred through the tip of our own perceptions, which are revealed through the practices and through the immediate world as it appears before us. We realize, too, that neither of these perspectives (the top of the iceberg or what lies beneath it) is better than the other, nor is one possible without the other. Through a consistent yoga practice we gradually learn to switch easily between seeing points of view—the specific and the universal perspective of our experience. This fluidity of viewpoint allows for a depth and richness of understanding far greater than any one perspective might ever offer. Simultaneously seeing things from both a global and specific perspective sounds more difficult than it is. Imagine a forest thick with trees. If you are next to any particular tree you have a unique viewpoint of the whole forest. The nature of the forest is that the trees hide its totality from within and that you can never see the whole complete forest when you are in it. You can fly above the forest and see it as a green, textured sea, but even this perspective is not actually complete because the details of any one point within the forest are not perceptible from so far away, so in a sense each viewpoint within the forest gives you a rich taste of “forest” that is far more vivid and real than the sense you get when you observe the entire thicket of trees from above. The essence of the taste of “forest” is mystery. What makes forests so calming and exciting to be in is that most of the viewpoints are hidden, they are mysterious to you, yet in the midst of the forest, the one viewpoint you have is astounding. As if nestled within a forest, a good yoga practice reveals a sense of safety in the insight that everything we are observing is at once specific to us alone and at the same time interconnected to the universal structure of all that is outside ourselves.

  In Indian mythology the god Indra is said to have a net of illusion (maya) that he casts over beings in order to either bind or free them. The net has been called the Jeweled Net of Indra because there is a beautiful jewel at each juncture or linking point in the lattice. The metaphor of this net demonstrates that illusion and insight are two sides of the same phenomenon. When ignorance and egotism are dominant, the net falsely makes everything appear separate. In our struggle to get out of the net we grasp at sense objects, which causes us to become more and more entangled since those objects are not actually separate from everything else; they only appear to be so. If you are fortunate and are able to listen to teachings about the nature of reality and illusion, you are able to look closely at the net itself. If this is the case, once the net is cast over you and you come to an intersection in the mesh and look into the facets of the jewel you find there, you are able to see all the other junctures and the thousands of jewels within the net. The entire pattern of the net of Indra is contained in each point or jewel. Seeing this kindles the understanding that from any point of view the truth of all experience and existence can be discovered. At the same time you can see that the appearance of things as separate forms is an illusion, and you realize that escaping from your place, your viewpoint within the net, is unnecessary; instead you become wise to it, you see through your own illusions. Likewise the yoga practice reveals a jeweled net of perception within our own experience. During the practice, wherever your mind goes, if you make that perception—like a jewel within the net—the object of your meditation, then your awareness is automatically transformed into a seed of insight that reflects deeper forms of consciousness and compassion contained within the entire net of your immediate experience. Through the observation of your own senses the insight that e
very point contains in it, as its background, everything else becomes crystal clear. If you meditate on whatever is arising in this way, a sense of immense pleasure and satisfaction starts to flood your awareness and you find that it is as if you are living in a continually self-renewing, open, magical, and fresh experience of pure life. Your perception of the simplest sensation or the most ordinary everyday experience can take you to unlimited depth, and this is truly where the heart of yoga is revealed.

  Jeweled Net of Indra (1)

  The Jeweled Net of Indra represents the way we might experience the universe when the intelligence is purified. At each intersection of the net there is a jewel, and each facet of the jewel reflects all of the other jewels of the net. This is a universe in which each point is the center, and in which we find the whole universe within each point. When viewed this way, there is no longer the illusion of a separate self and we cease trying to escape. Seeing that every “thing” is a composite of its background, wherever the mind goes, that very place is the supreme place. There is no inside and no outside to the net, and there is no one center and no supreme point of view. Every center and each point of view contains all of the other centers and points of view.

  Dissolving in this way into the heart of yoga is an act of honesty. It is the art of humility and of genuine awe and appreciation for the life process as it is. Yoga reveals itself when we allow our senses, our intelligence, and our bodies to unfold free of a self-image or any sort of goal or motivation. Through this process of openness and expansion, we find ourselves engulfed in a rare form of freedom in which we experience the luminosity of each jewel of our awareness increase as it reflects upon every other gem within the net of our own consciousness. The more we meditate on this interpenetrating pattern, the more accessible and friendly the mystery of its interconnectedness and depth becomes, which allows us to let go and to relax, knowing that we are supported by an incredibly ancient, self-renewing latticework of tradition. We can lie back in this hammock of the matrix that is yoga, and allow reality to unfold without the distraction of any overlay of our own preconceptions and without the encumbrance of our own desires—it unfolds free and unobstructed.

  2

  The Body and Mind as Fields of Experience

  maṇi bhrātphaṇā sahasravighṛtaviśvaṁ bharāmaṇḍalāyānantāya nāgarājāya namaḥ

  Salutations to the king of the Nagas,

  to the infinite, to the bearer of the maṇḍala,

  who spreads out the universe with thousands

  of hooded heads, set with blazing, effulgent jewels.

  The mythological serpent king Nāgarāja, the object of the mantra that serves as an epigraph to this chapter, is said to have one tail and an infinite number of heads, and is envisioned as the supporting background energy of all the things that manifest within creation. The earth that your house sits on, the foundation of the house, the floor beneath your table, the glass holding the water you are drinking, and so on, until you find something that does not serve another—all of these things are aspects of this serpent. Anything that supports, renders service, and seems to exist selflessly for another would qualify as the king of serpents. The awakened inner breath, within which the adept yogi’s mind rests, is considered to be an aspect of this same expanding serpent energy. In relation to yoga practice, those things that support and assist the body of the practitioner are also looked upon and experienced as Nāgarāja. Tradition invites you to look at your practice space, your sticky mat, your block, your strap, or your sitting cushion as being manifestations of this divine serpent, and in that light, the Nāgarāja chant is used as a way to sanctify the space and the ground upon which yoga āsana are to be practiced.

  We often begin yoga by chanting, which can set the correct context for the entire practice, especially if we contemplate the meaning of the words of the particular chant. In addition, the physical act of chanting can awaken the internal yoga processes by smoothly linking together the inhale and the exhale. The vibration of the chant also stimulates internal awareness as the sounds automatically bounce off of the palate in the mouth, resonating within the skull and reverberating throughout the core of the entire body. These vibratory feelings are considered to be fundamental aspects of the practice of chanting. Many chants, therefore, begin and/or end with the sound of oṁ, which reverberates easily as it trails off into the relaxing tone “mmm.” The sound of oṁ travels forward and then back through the mouth along the entire palate, moving through the complete spectrum of possibilities for vowel sounds. As it flows from the lips back through the mouth, it travels behind the soft palate, where the vibration naturally ends at the upper back vault of the sinuses under the pituitary gland. The ending point of the vibration is called the bindu, which is translated as “droplet.” The tapering off of the “mmm” sound is called the anusvāra, which means “extension of flow.” In Indian thought, the bindu of the anusvāra is considered to be a source of a delightful nectar that when stimulated can drip down and saturate all our perceptions and experience. The physical feeling of connecting to the anusvāra is very close to what is experienced as the ending point of a good yoga practice. As we chant we find that the tapering off of the sound of the anusvāra automatically draws us into a feeling of kindness and compassion, and we discover that this same ending point of the chant is also considered to be the starting point of a yoga practice. The feeling of connecting to this point of nectar is similar to what you might experience when you have something wonderful to eat, or when you experience something delightful that resonates deeply within you and that feels in tune with your own sense of aesthetic; it is quite natural to nearly swoon with a sensation of “mmmmm” when our aesthetic sense is satisfied. Chanting creates resonance and deep sensations throughout the entire body, and these sensations facilitate the initial sense of awe and release we experience when we perceive the interconnected meta-pattern linking our immediate experience to its background. If we allow ourselves to merge into the sensations that chanting can awaken within the body, then we can begin our yoga and meditation practices within a context of intelligence and kindness. With this initial satisfaction, our individual desires and needs begin to dissipate and every object of awareness becomes a starting point for our practice.

  To be honest, we often begin our study of yoga with a desire to alleviate our suffering or to find happiness or just to get a little pleasure. We may come to the practice to relax, or because our back is out of alignment, we feel frustrated, our knee hurts, or we just want a distraction. As we continue, however, our reasons for returning to yoga begin to change. We find that the practice solves our initial problems—the desires that brought us to the practice in the first place—but then deeper problems, desires, and aspirations that appear to be linked together in a chain of preferences begin to reveal themselves. “Well, at first I’m going to deal with this, then I’ll get around to that, and then to this . . .” until we finally realize that although we use our body to experience the yoga, the purpose of the practice is not to cure our ills or to meet our desires, nor is it about relaxation or stimulation. In spite of the fact that yoga may temporarily delay the onset of the inevitable decay of the body, it is not ultimately about healing the body any more than it is about making us beautiful or getting rid of the body once we understand it to be an impermanent bag of skin and sensations. Instead yoga is a path to undo the root of all types of misery through the direct experience of deep, clear, open awareness. Ultimately we find that it is an attraction to the joy of this liberating experience that underlies all our other desires and that attracts us into the realm of practice in the first place.

  Within the yoga tradition the body is identified as our means of practice, our instrument of perception, and our medium for perceiving reality; we know the world through our bodies. Our situation as embodied beings is astonishing. Within our individual experience we have an extremely limited point of view on the world as a whole. Each of us is located in a specific geographic loca
tion, at this one particular instant of history, and we are taking in and processing information through our eyes, ears, skin, nose, and mouth. It may seem as though we are witnessing a great deal, but in reality we have only a miniscule perspective within the vastness of the world as a whole. We arrange the information we gather so that it makes sense to us, concocting conclusions, deducing theories, and imagining all sorts of things in an attempt to understand the world, to form ideas of who we and others are, and to postulate how these aspects of the universe are related. All of this is naturally—most often unconsciously—taking place for each of us within our own body all the time, as part of the body experience. Through the practice of haṭha yoga āsana and prāṇāyāma, which focus on joining currents of opposite patterns within the body, we begin to recognize this phenomenal body as the foundation for our entire experience. This mere, mortal clump is the field of our direct experience of the world. From subtle feeling to spatial projection, we mentally project and experience past, present, and future events, beings, and worlds both near and far. As we arrange and move the body intelligently within yoga postures, the feelings, sensations, thoughts, and emotions that arise become the platform for our practice, and their intricate, impermanent patterns and details draw the attention into natural, deep meditation. There is a famous verse found in the Tejo Bindu Upaniṣad that says that a true yoga posture occurs when meditation flows ceaselessly and spontaneously, implying that yoga āsanas encourage an integration of body and mind. An āsana practice does not torture the body physically, nor does it cause distraction to the mind; instead, āsana invites more and more refinement when approached internally. A mindful, concentrated quality of attention is used to create a dynamic, aligned form, and the same focus of mind is used to observe the subtleties that arise throughout the body. A certain level of meditation gives rise to the posture, and a refined posture reciprocates by giving birth to an easy flow of meditation. This concentrated work of going back and forth between opposite patterns of perception, technique, and evaluation within the body and mind, and then uniting and squeezing these opposites together, produces a rich juice from the practice. Just as when you squeeze an orange you get a liquid of a vibrant color, a healthy drink, a great smell, and a delicious aesthetic absorption, so too in a yoga āsana the effect is a deep and multifaceted “juice” of experience. Within the context of a haṭha yoga practice it is the powerful juice or elixir of wisdom—insight into the true nature of the body—that we squeeze out of the physical body.