Maintaining
May 28, 2020
The second act of Shiva’s five-part ecstatic dance is sthiti. It is the force that maintains something at a certain level for a specific duration of time. In our ocean - wave metaphor (introduced in Creation), this act is the wave rising up out of the surface of the water and growing into full form. As the wave grows in height, there is a perceived separation from the body of the ocean and a uniqueness of presentation which is compelling. Each wave has specific characteristics; some are bigger, some are smaller, some are present for longer and some slide back into the ocean faster.
In this stage of the dance, then, we are focused on being a wave. We are less concerned with being part of the ocean out of which we arose. This sense of identity makes each of us feel separate and distinct. We are in a moment in the dance of equilibrium where forces are at work to maintain a specific identity.
As humans, we have defined identities that we craft particularly through the early part of our life. Our sense of self is built around preferences and developed responses to the sensory experiences of the world. Through childhood and young adulthood, our likes and dislikes slowly coalesce into a reliable set of characteristics that either bond us or separate us from those in our immediate vicinity. Commonly held groupings of qualities define race, gender and family. More specialized subsets form individuality within close-knit groups of friends and family. We are distinguishable by our preferences and qualities. The imprint of our collection of attachments and aversions, samskara in Sanskrit, literally means “well thought out” (sam) “action
undertaken” (kara). It refers to the subtle impressions of our past actions. When these impressions become engrained and unconscious, they form habits and addictions that drive our behaviour without any connection to the circumstances from which they arose. We are creatures of habit so it becomes increasingly easy to slide along well oiled automated actions to repeated situations. We become inured to the link between stimulus and reaction and to the cost or benefit of the reactions. Samskaras hardens with time and we become less and less able to shift from the concepts of selfhood we have constructed around these attachments and aversions.
Some samskaras are useful responses that move us in beneficial directions. It takes discernment and discipline to identify which habitual patterns serve us and which ones do not. In our yoga practice, we endeavour to bring awareness to our habits and pay attention to which ones are beneficial (positive samskaras) and which ones are not (negative samskaras). Once we understand which habitual patterns impact us negatively, we cultivate the discipline needed to erode these imprints.
Discipline comes from the latin word meaning pupil or disciple. A disciple is a follower of a particular path or teaching and discipline is the effort needed to stay on that track. The automated reactions to stimuli, our samskaras, create grooves or tracks in our mind that move us in a certain direction. Well-used paths, we all know, are easier to follow. They take us down familiar steps toward predictable results. However, because of this it is very easy to follow the habitual path half-asleep, unconscious of whether
this path is really taking us where we want to go. It takes a disciplined effort to pay attention to our engrained responses to stimuli and to question whether these actions are beneficial. Positive samskaras take us toward our essence-nature. Discipline then is what keeps us steadfast at this stage of the dance.
Our mind’s tendency to see difference and pay less attention to the impact of our habits combine to create a seemingly overwhelming array of differentiation. We see the separateness everywhere and we become proficient at pointing out difference in an endless internal monologue of comparison and evaluation. We overwhelm our capacity to know the humanness we share to the point that we create artificial boundaries of “us” versus “them.”
The stronger our sense of identification with these qualities and preferences, the less we feel our ocean-nature. The more alone we feel. The more disconnected we are. The more afraid we feel. Our perilous hold on life seems completely linked up to these defining and separating personality traits.
In the Shiva Nataraja figure, this second act of the dance is represented by the lower right arm. The hand of this arm is held in a mudra, or hand gesture, embodying fearlessness and protection. Abhaya mudra is the hand held up, palm soft and facing outward. In this position, Shiva is saying that in the mode of stasis, we need not be overwhelmed or afraid of the apparent differences we constantly take in with our senses. While present and true, these differences are only a thin layer on the surface of our ocean-nature. (Geneticists are proving that the differences in humans (visible and invisible) are held in a small percentage of our DNA. Most of our genetic code reveals our sameness, even if what we see is difference). It takes courage to shift away from our overt perceptions and to seek out that which is universal.
Shifting modes of behaviour that are not useful also requires the willingness to move into the unknown. The lure of our habits lies in their familiarity and it is an act of bravery to explore the unknown territory of a new way of responding. We must tolerate being clumsy and uncertain with fortitude. The result, however, is an adventure in freedom and a linking into the ocean-ness at our heart. We can know we are the ocean even as we delight in being a wave. This stage of the dance provides the time and steadiness needed to assimilate and integrate this understanding before we shift into the next phase.