Manifesting Contentment: From Lack to Wholeness
February 4, 2024
Our minds are beautifully efficient. Some days, I find it hard to appreciate this, especially when I’m tired or overloaded. But even so, there is so much unconscious work going on under the surface that it’s baffling how the most seemingly simple feelings and actions come to life.
“All simple things are complex.” – Moshe Feldenkrais
Experiences aren’t just formative, they are formed. In every waking moment, the mind creates and recreates an ongoing model of our world by predicting the causes of what we see, hear, feel, taste and smell. This internal perceptual map allows us to make sense of our world, steering our decisions and responses. It’s how we relate synchronously with the happenings of our lives instead of playing catch-up. But if our experiences are formed internally, how do we stay on track with some semblance of reality? The following feature is muted when we dream, which makes for fantastic adventures: our mind provides a “reality check” by comparing our predicted reality with what our senses tell us. When it passes the test, deeper habits are formed. And when it doesn’t, we feel a little burst of surprise and learn something new.
On the plus side, our predictions save us a lot of mental energy. They bestow headspace to ponder a recent conversation while driving, reflect on an upcoming project while cooking, or plan your day ahead while centring at the beginning of yoga class. Well… I’m not promoting that, but I’m not saying that doesn’t happen! Through life’s experiences, the energy put towards the “reality check” diminishes, and we trust our assumptions more and more. It allows us to think and plan at a higher level, bringing together experiences of our past and aspirations for the future. However, the more we rely on our predictions instead of our sensory reality, the more our connection weakens to the curious and complex wonders of life. Gradually, we unlearn the art of feeling.
In yoga, we reawaken our senses deliberately through movement, stillness, and breath, altering our focus, intentions, and perspectives. Simple movements are deconstructed into diverse collaborations from disparate parts of ourselves. The breath is continually brought out of its automatic patterning and into a conscious field where the line between feeling and doing (“being breathed” and “breathing”) gets blurry. We may expect what it will feel like when we try to stand on one foot, but the reality of how that plays out is something we can’t predict. And if it feels too automatic, we nudge the edge of difficulty towards the unknown (try closing your eyes), where the practice demands our attention again. An attitude of non-harming and non-judgment allows for a mindful dedication to presence to take precedence over physical feats unless they genuinely resonate with the heart’s desires.
These practices are less about the insights gleaned from a particular experience. Although “ah-ha” moments do occur, we generally aren’t seeking anything from the feelings themselves. It’s more about retraining ourselves to experience life spontaneously, viscerally, and wholeheartedly. In yoga, prana is a central concept meaning “life energy.” Traditionally, these practices are said to incite the “movement of prana” by bringing awareness to feelings. Essentially, this is about cultivating a natural motivation to engage fully with the present moment.
“Just like beads rolling on a tray—sudden, ready, uninhibited.” – Hakuin’s Commentary on the Heart Sutra
In this process of resensitization, we aim to find a balance between our conceptual understanding and the ever-changing circumstances around us. We get out of our heads and into our bodies, which, despite their underlying complexity, tend to present experiences as integrated and coherent. It’s still uniquely “your reality” but more harmonized with the world we share.
Karen Andersen
E-RYT 500, YACEP, Behavioural Neuroscience Major, SFU
