Interwoven, Inseparable
By Cara Chang Mutert
I was one of the last holdouts. Yet deluded invincibility always has its breaking point.
After 5 years of escaping the dreaded covid, I got it. I let my guard down. Which in most cases, as we have learned in yoga, is not a bad thing to do. Although life has proven sometimes, it will come back to bite you. In this case, it kinda did.
Thankfully, symptoms were mild, giving me time to think with somewhat hazy consciousness about the state of the world, the state of my mind, the state of my body, and the state of my life. Time is a gift, but also a slippery slope.
I found the uninterrupted hours of solitude comforting, in truth. And then I wondered why I’m so at home, alone. I think it was the many quiet hours I spent as a child, learning to keep myself busy with thoughts, creativity and dreams.
Not too much has changed, really. Interspersed with doses of streaming Netflix, a new skill I learned when the rest of world had covid, I used my time in isolation to put a dent into procrastinated paperwork, houseplant maintenance, extended dog cuddling, and reminiscing about friends who I have lost, and friends who I’m lucky to have.
As I begin to watch friends and family pass before me, life becomes more precious, and simple moments, the nectar. I spent a good chunk of time just staring out the window, in awe of the changing cold winter skies and the dormant oaks, patiently waiting for their time of awakening once again.
In pondering the state of our world, as we have seen over and over, not a whole lot can be done, at least at this moment. So I’m doing my best to emotionally detach, and stay loosely informed in a way where I can be aware, but intentionally shielded from the details that can create anxiety, fear, bitterness, and sadness.
One of the greatest tools as humans, and possibly also our weakest link, is our ability to choose our thoughts. Unlike any other species primarily focused on mere survival, we as humans have the luxury of discretionary thought and all the bells and whistles that come along with it. Because of the intelligence of our supposedly superior brain, it allows us to decipher and discern, as well as hyperfocus, or live in delusion.
So it is up to us, within the confines of our own big brains, to decide what it is we want to focus on. We can be our own ticket to freedom. But it does take discipline and effort (tapas), to keep our attention on experiencing a sense of contentment (santosha), regardless of the situation.
During my quarantine, I experienced a fair amount of fomo (fear of missing out) as I watched our beautiful YL community coming and going to classes all week, connecting, learning, and growing together. So dang grateful for every bit of it, but found myself wishing I could be there with everyone. Lately though, when I catch myself wishing something was or wasn’t, I try to ask myself why, instead of wallowing in the what wasn’t.
Despite my love of quiet seclusion, my need for community, shared experiences, and living fully is also a part of me. While solitude and self-reflection provides a soothing salve for external overstimulation, community is a necessary component for human connection and survival. Both are interwoven. Like tapas and santosha, like svadhyaya (self-study) and sangha (community), one cannot exist without the other.
Like heart and mind, we like all things, are inseparable.