I got introduced to yoga over 30 years ago, mainly through asanas and pranayama. During this time I have experimented with various forms of yoga from different traditions all over the world. I have also read various books and scriptures by many teachers and masters on the subject.
One thing that stood out consistently throughout my yoga practice was my inability to sit in meditation for more than a few minutes. It was not because my body was not flexible and supple (I was able to perform various asanas quite well). It was not because I was not used to sitting on the floor (I grew up in a household where it was common to have meals on the floor, and to this date I prefer sitting on the floor instead of a chair or couch).
I had tried all kinds of meditation, transcendental meditation, vipassana meditation, kundalini meditation, and plain simple sitting cross-legged in padmasana or ardhapadmasana. Nothing ‘worked’. So what was it that was missing? Or what was it I was doing wrong? The only answer I would get from the teachers is, keep practicing.
I got my answer only when the answer to the eternal question 'Who am I' was understood by me. I Am That.
So why was I not able to meditate?
These days when I meditate, I imagine that a few of my loved ones are with me. I visualise that all of us are sitting, cross-legged, in a circle and a white bright light is encircling us. I tell myself that we are protected, we are loved, and each day, we are getting closer to God. The process is deeply enriching and often I get up with a feeling of complete centredness. Until yesterday, my ‘circle of prayer’ as I like to call it, included my parents, my sister and her husband, my husband Arun and me. A cosy, intimate little group indeed!
Yet, today, everything about my ‘circle of prayer’ has changed. As I was visualising the soothing white light enveloping us, a sudden thought barged in, “Shouldn’t Arun’s parents be in the circle too?” Not only do they play a very important role in Arun’s life, they are very dear to me too. Their protection was important to me. So they came, and took their seats in my consciousness and the circle of prayer grew. As I was enjoying the feelings of protective love enveloping us, the next interruption came from the thought, “Wouldn’t my brother-in-law’s parents benefit from being a part of this circle?” They came and sat too.
Slowly, as the meditation deepened, tears dropped from my eyes. I realised there was no one I could exclude from my prayer circle. My friends? Their parents? My uncles and aunts? The people I work with? The children I teach? I would want them all to be protected! I would want them all to come closer to God each day! The circle became bigger and its circumference grew with each name that popped into my mind. It seemed endless, the expansion. And finally, I reached a point where I realised I could exclude no one. Whether a person was known to me or not, in some way, he or she would be connected to me. After all, my friend’s happiness matters to me, but her parent’s happiness matters to her and to them some one else’s happiness may matter. The progression would be geometrical and ultimately it would include every single person on Earth. Whom would we exclude?
For the first time, experientially, I knew what oneness was. Those few moments of complete connectedness with every single thing that is are so monumental to my Being that even attempting to pin them down on paper would seem like a sacrilege. So, I leave it with just three lines from Hafiz:
“I have come into this world to see this:
The sword drop from men’s hands even at the height of their arc of anger because we have finally realised there is just one flesh to wound.”
I have now promised myself a single thing: each day, I will try to feel connected with one more person in my life. Just one more person will become a part of my circle of prayer. Can you expand your prayer to include just a single person each day, too? Very soon, no one will be out of it. All will become One. And One will become None. Begin now?
One thing that stood out consistently throughout my yoga practice was my inability to sit in meditation for more than a few minutes. It was not because my body was not flexible and supple (I was able to perform various asanas quite well). It was not because I was not used to sitting on the floor (I grew up in a household where it was common to have meals on the floor, and to this date I prefer sitting on the floor instead of a chair or couch).
I had tried all kinds of meditation, transcendental meditation, vipassana meditation, kundalini meditation, and plain simple sitting cross-legged in padmasana or ardhapadmasana. Nothing ‘worked’. So what was it that was missing? Or what was it I was doing wrong? The only answer I would get from the teachers is, keep practicing.
I got my answer only when the answer to the eternal question 'Who am I' was understood by me. I Am That.
So why was I not able to meditate?
These days when I meditate, I imagine that a few of my loved ones are with me. I visualise that all of us are sitting, cross-legged, in a circle and a white bright light is encircling us. I tell myself that we are protected, we are loved, and each day, we are getting closer to God. The process is deeply enriching and often I get up with a feeling of complete centredness. Until yesterday, my ‘circle of prayer’ as I like to call it, included my parents, my sister and her husband, my husband Arun and me. A cosy, intimate little group indeed!
Yet, today, everything about my ‘circle of prayer’ has changed. As I was visualising the soothing white light enveloping us, a sudden thought barged in, “Shouldn’t Arun’s parents be in the circle too?” Not only do they play a very important role in Arun’s life, they are very dear to me too. Their protection was important to me. So they came, and took their seats in my consciousness and the circle of prayer grew. As I was enjoying the feelings of protective love enveloping us, the next interruption came from the thought, “Wouldn’t my brother-in-law’s parents benefit from being a part of this circle?” They came and sat too.
Slowly, as the meditation deepened, tears dropped from my eyes. I realised there was no one I could exclude from my prayer circle. My friends? Their parents? My uncles and aunts? The people I work with? The children I teach? I would want them all to be protected! I would want them all to come closer to God each day! The circle became bigger and its circumference grew with each name that popped into my mind. It seemed endless, the expansion. And finally, I reached a point where I realised I could exclude no one. Whether a person was known to me or not, in some way, he or she would be connected to me. After all, my friend’s happiness matters to me, but her parent’s happiness matters to her and to them some one else’s happiness may matter. The progression would be geometrical and ultimately it would include every single person on Earth. Whom would we exclude?
For the first time, experientially, I knew what oneness was. Those few moments of complete connectedness with every single thing that is are so monumental to my Being that even attempting to pin them down on paper would seem like a sacrilege. So, I leave it with just three lines from Hafiz:
“I have come into this world to see this:
The sword drop from men’s hands even at the height of their arc of anger because we have finally realised there is just one flesh to wound.”
I have now promised myself a single thing: each day, I will try to feel connected with one more person in my life. Just one more person will become a part of my circle of prayer. Can you expand your prayer to include just a single person each day, too? Very soon, no one will be out of it. All will become One. And One will become None. Begin now?
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