Film Yogina

“Yoga” comes from the root of the Sanskrit word meaning “to yoke, or harness.”  It is our active mind, our fluttering attention and how we define ourselves in relation to the world that ancient yogis advised we should learn to control.  This is for the purpose of becoming better adapted to dealing with the tribulations of life, and the personality deficits of other people and ourselves – to be able to see productive, positive possibilities in whatever situation we are confronted by.  (Or, to become enlightened, as they would say.)  Isn’t it interesting to know that ADD and cynicism are not just a modern afflictions, but rather is something we have battled since we developed thought?

Over time, the word “yoga” came to be understood as the union between the physical self and the spiritual self (or lower and transcendental selves).  As I understand it now, it is essentially, the union of the Id, the Ego, and the Superego – called manas, ahamkara, and buddhi in Sanskrit.  Yes, thousands of years before Freud, Indians developed a similar psychiatric organization!  The idea is if you can interject a better choice or more positive outlook into your buddhi’s (superego) interpretation of a manas (id) stimuli, you can make your ahamkara (ego) take more beneficial action.  By controlling your mind, you can control your reactions and entire reality.   I will be curious how my understanding of what “union”means changes as my practice deepens, since this is yoga’s purpose. 

“The mind can make a heaven out of hell or a hell out of heaven.” – John Milton


I distinctly remember when I first learned this lesson on my own.  It changed my whole life, and I literally transformed into an entirely new person over the coarse of one summer.

For the first eighteen years of my life I was a bit of a depressed loner, jealous of all the happy kids because I felt cursed into a life of misery that was defined by my negative, socially-unskilled parents and their angry relationship with me.  I hated my life, my family and myself.  I thought there was no way out of who I was.  I was unable to see anything positive about myself or my life.

Then the summer after I graduated high school I went to Paris, France to study art by myself.  I had always been an artist, and had never been to a foreign country (except a few resort trips with my parents which don’t count because we didn’t experience the island we were on).  I don’t remember how or why I chose the program since French was my worst subject and I had no knowledge of the culture or people outside of what I didn’t pay attention to in French class.  My family lines went back to the Native Americans and the Mayflower, so it’s not like I had extended family incentivizing me to learn about other cultures.  But somehow I ended up with a studio apartment in the Fifth, the Latin Quarter, taking art classes with three fun, outgoing, adventurous, highly creative American girls my age.  In fact, one of them was even going to be a freshman at the same university as me that coming Fall.

And to my great surprise, these girls really liked me.  They said I was fun.  No friend had EVER said that about me.  I was the brooding artist who had long conversations about her parents’ divorce.  In fact, it had been many years since I truly felt like I even had real friends.  The first few weeks I expected they would soon realize I was a loser and turn on me or say something mean.  But they never did.  They loved my ideas for things to do, laughed at my stories and we did everything together.

Slowly I realized why these girls liked me.  I was not behaving anything like how I did at home or at boarding school.  I hadn’t thought once about my parents and my unhappy home life since arriving, and hadn’t even spoken with them (this was before email or even average person cel phones).  I WAS fun when the shackles of obsessing over my dysfunctional family were removed, when no one was criticizing my every idea, my performance, my weight, my grades, or making me feel bad about not getting into an Ivy League college.  When no one was (badly and cheaply!) controlling my haircut, my clothes, or the decorations in my room I found I had quite a flair for style, which gave me new confidence about who I really was, and helped me begin to change my self-image.  And without family fighting, schoolwork and the pressure of grades and sports, with only seeking the next interesting museum to visit, best crepe stand, favorite local street fair to buy fruit and cheese from, new bar to check out to focus on, I realized I was a very happy person at my core who naturally saw funny things everywhere she went.  I didn’t see any clouds in the sky, shadows on the ground, or hear any negative comments coming out of anyone’s mouth who I interacted with (even when the French reacted  rudely to my horrific butchering of their lovely language, it was amusing to me – I wasn’t taking it personally).  For the first time in my life, I was happy, and felt good about who I was.

I could have focused on the same old negative things – my poor French skills despite five years of studying it in school, not having a boyfriend even though the other girls had all found one, my larger unfeminine size (tall and athletically built), the fact that my parents didn’t even care enough to attempt to be in touch with me.  But I didn’t.  In Paris, I focused on learning about my new friends, being in the moment, exploring a big, fancy city, learning the language, and seeking out cool things to do.  I felt incredibly lucky, for the first time in my life.  I saw the world around me as an interesting playground at my disposal, rather than something I was not cool enough to be a part of, and I realized I was not who I thought I was.  I suddenly loved learning about history, language, and people in another culture. I was valuing the adventure of each experience, rather than focusing on what wasn’t perfect about me or my life.

It was incredibly powerful to learn at that age that I had the power to choose what values I find in the world around me.  That I have the power to choose the people around me.  That I have the power to be happy when I focus my attention on the positive.  When I returned to the States and began college, this new perspective on myself and my life remained even though I did have to get back to work and focus on my schoolwork and future.

So am I a total genius who achieved spiritual enlightenment at age eighteen and has lived a perfect life ever since?  No way.  This was a lesson I am constantly reminding myself I need to apply to whatever crappy situation with which I am currently dealing.  And from the confessionary books I am reading by others treading along the path of yoga, it sounds like even the most devoted, spiritual, enlightened yogis actively are adjusting themselves, sometimes falling short of where they thought they were.  This is the sort of wisdom that we all need to remind ourselves of daily, as every single time we are confronted with something new, we must actively work to react with our best self.

I did however, always have many close, fun, positive friends from that summer on, and still do!  And I returned to France the following three summers, made French my second major, and became fluent in that which was the bane of my high school existence.

Enjoy la vie en rose!