Every day, we’re faced with challenge. And the biggest challenge of all, it sometimes seems, is that other people just don’t behave the way that we want them to. This is particularly the case in relationships, in the dance and the interaction and the act of meeting and matching and mirroring another person. In every relationship that we have, whether it is with ourselves (the longest running relationship of our life), members of our family, our friends, our romantic partner, our coworkers or business partners, there are expiration dates.
If we’re lucky (or unlucky, depending on how we look at it), that expiration date happens upon someone’s death. Lucky, because the reality is that we are all going to die. It’s what we sign up for in this life, even if we balk at the cost. And lucky because death as the end means that we got to negotiate and renegotiate and grow and enjoy and be challenged and inspired by another person’s company as long as we both share the molecules of the air together. Unlucky because sometimes (often) the last breath comes long before we’re ready to face the reality, or at a time when it seems tragic, uncalled for, unnecessary or painful. But whether or not that’s a choice is a topic for another conversation.
Sometimes the relationship expires, comes to an end, shifts or changes as two people both make their way through life. Sometimes that change comes with an intense sense of relief. Just yesterday, I was talking with one of my current coworkers about some of our previous ones. And although I appreciate them immensely, I don’t miss working directly with them. Other people we miss, long for in some way, grieve the loss of something, even if we know the reasons, the whys the wherefores of an ending. Or even if we don’t know. Friends we may drift away from (and then find on Facebook to keep up with their current trials and tribulations). Lovers we have “that talk” with, you know, the one that ends in good-by, take good care, it was fun.
It’s a topic that’s on my mind at the moment, dealing with shifting relationships and my own reaction. One of the things I remember and keep in my thoughts moment by moment is the yogic practice of pradipakshabhavana. It’s a tongue twister of a Sanskrit term, but what often gets repeated in my head is, “Reach for the thought that feels better.” A translation is to replace one thought for another. The advice, “Just don’t think about it,” seems empty. Literally. After all, as it goes, nature abhors a vacuum. This is evidenced by just how difficult it can seem to be to try and meditate just by emptying the mind or the near-impossibility of following through on something like “just don’t think about it.” Just don’t think about it. That’s an invitation for obsession. But replacing. Even the most recalcitrant of minds can deal with replacing.
So Patanajali, the famous or mythic author of the Yoga Sutra, knew something about the nature of the mind, the nature of facing challenges and disappointments, obstacles and frustrations, when he gave his particular brand of advice. Substitute. Look yourself squarely in the eye, whether it be the first, second or third eye and question if your dismay is really true and give yourself a truth to cling to instead. A distraction can be a lifeline on the path. Obsessing about his green eyes, the tone of his voice, the smell of his skin, the meaning of his text messages is a distraction that deserves something else to distract me; a virtual changing of the channel, turning the dial on the radio station, choosing shuffle in order to play the next tune in the queue. Next, it’s a valuable word, a valuable part of the practice or pradipakshabhavana. Reach for what feels better. Reach, reach, and reach again. Some days, next is the most important word in our vocabulary.
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