Jiva to Atma

After the end of a long and very busy day, I sat upright in bed, next to the form of my sleepy boys. They were about to nod off and my day was finally done. The weight of all the burdens I had been carrying settled on my shoulders, and I found my breath coming in short spurts. There was a definite need to slow down and relax the body and mind a little. I know its time to restart the meditative practice…that is the only answer for my state of imbalance.

Even as I close my eyes, I dread the onslaught of thoughts that I will have to endure. The number of times I will get led away into the swirling maze of mind-work, before I pull myself back to breathing again. The very idea of it knots up my shoulders just a bit more. I try unsuccessfully, to shake it off and just stay put. Breathe in and out, in and out….and I notice how short my breaths have been. The very effort of trying to breathe slowly and deeply seemed to pressure my heart. I stick with it, and soon a little voice inside my head gives me little directions to follow. Release the tension from your shoulders. Tilt your head a bit further down. Don’t clench your hands so much. Looose. Loose. And so on. By now, the breathing is a bit more regular, but my mind has started to wander away. Its amazing how incongruously it shifts from the breathing focus to something else random, and how firmly it attaches itself to that thought and gets led away. Several seconds would have passed, before I even realise what has happened and attempt to lure it back gently to the breath once more. On and on, this cyclical process goes, but the voice in my head urges in a gentle way, and inspires me to be less violent in my reactions to my wayward mind.

Its about 10 minutes now, and I finally find it easier to stay with the breath. Thoughts still come and go, but my ability to observe them and steer my mind back, improves. I begin to get lost in a place I can’t identify. I can tell from the way an immense pressure builds in my forehead, making it distinctly uncomfortable for me to relax. Its just one step short of actual pain. A buzzing sound fills my ears, and accentuates the discomfort of that point. From time to time, it clears and I enjoy a respite while succumbing to the unique bliss of breathing deeply and intently. And while I am suspended in this short space of time, a thought comes to me. It is not the usual train of thought of things mundane, from the past or the future. It is clearer and the kind that gives you a better understanding, almost as if it is rising deep from the seat of wisdom to give perspective. I am able to recognise this different quality of thought because it is so beautiful in its clarity that I know it can’t be the product of my muddled mind.

The thought is this, and it tells me that the mind is very much like a child, and is to be regarded thus in understanding its nature in order to know how to train it. If we treat our mind with respect, understanding and gentle love, it can be moulded ever so beautifully to the patterns of our innate discrimination. But if we try to assert instant control, with pressure and aggressiveness, it is going to be regressive and try to bound even more out of control than before. A point of illustration : Even in the process of the meditation that I was engaged in (rustic though my attempts are)….I had to treat my mind with respect and gentleness, whenever it wandered off into thought. By this I mean that I had to understand that the mind was following its natural impulses to be wayward, and it is important to acknowledge and accept this, while gently calling it back to focus. When I thus gave myself the gift of acceptance and love, I have a better chance of regaining control. But if I were to put pressure on my mind that it HAD TO stay with the breath and NOT FLIT AWAY with thought, that is exactly what it is going to do.

So the mind is like a child. You have to give it love. Understanding. Time. Patience. Loving effort. Grounding. And that is the only way to have any kind of mastery over it!