"If you do what you did, you get what you got." —Anonymous
In today’s entry, Gates discusses two essential elements of spiritual practice from The Yoga Sutras: abhyasa (practice) and vairagya (non-attachment or renunciation).
First, I had to do a little research myself on the terms in the quote above because when I saw the word vairagya, I initially thought it was the same as aparigraha (non-attachment), which is familiar to me from the Yamas and Niyamas. However, I was surprised to find that they’re not the same. After some Googling, I discovered a key difference: “Practicing aparigraha can lead to freedom from worrying about the outcome of actions and relying less on material possessions. Vairagya, on the other hand, leads to a less stressful life enriched by concentration, focus, and gratitude.” I was surprised that Gates chose to define vairagya as non-attachment at all.
I’m incredibly grateful that I started this project during Rosh Hashana. The parallels between the themes in Gates’ intro and Day 1 and the holiday itself were striking. Now, as I write on Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement—the holiest day on the Jewish calendar—I see even more connections. Yom Kippur focuses on repentance and forgiveness, both from G-d and from others. It’s a day of fasting and prayer, a time to reflect on our actions, seek forgiveness, and commit to making amends. It also calls on us to offer forgiveness to those who’ve wronged us, promoting reconciliation and spiritual renewal.
This ties back to the quote at the start of this entry: "If you do what you did, you get what you got." Gates explains that renunciation isn’t a standalone concept. He uses the example of bananas to explain this, but I’ll frame it this way: imagine you’re trying to give up sugar, but all your friends eat sugar, and you work in a bakery. At some point, you’re going to give in. His point is that in order to succeed in renouncing something, we need to act in a way that supports our intention. After all, actions speak louder than words, right? If you want to truly give up sugar, you’ll need to change your surroundings—maybe find new friends or even a new job. This example may be extreme, but you get the idea. Doing the same thing over and over again while expecting a different outcome is, as we know, a definition of insanity.
Taking this a step further, let’s connect it to Yom Kippur. Randy Pausch, in his Last Lecture, describes a good apology as having three parts: “We must acknowledge the mistake, express regret, and offer a plan.” Pausch argues that while most of us are good at the first two parts, an apology without a plan to make things better is hollow and less meaningful. Asking, “How can I make it better?” adds action to the apology. I know I’m going off track here, but I wanted to highlight these connections—how they’re not only cool but also personal and relevant to both yoga and life.
In terms of yoga practice, this all makes perfect sense to me. Many of us have felt amazing after a class, right? And when we practice regularly, we start to notice not only how we look but also how we feel—both mentally and physically. Yoga has helped me so much over the years. Mentally, it has taught me how to approach myself and others with more equanimity and compassion. Of course, I have my human days, like anyone. But what I realized today is that vairagya is essential for cultivating that equanimity. It involves letting go of pride, ego, fear, and other attachments that hold us back. And to truly let go of these things, we need patience and inner strength. I can’t just say I want to release my pride in holding a pose or stop beating myself up when I can’t. I have to take action—and that action takes practice.
Gates warns, “Practice is not a substitute for the difficult work of renunciation. The postures and breathwork you do in a typical yoga class will change your life—asana and pranayama fill us with the energy we need to make hard choices and endure life’s inevitable highs and lows. But yoga practice will not replace the hard lessons we each must learn in order to mature spiritually.” For me, those hard lessons include discovering how Type A I was when I started practicing yoga—how reactive, results-oriented, and full of myself I could be. The list goes on.
There are days when my yoga mat feels like a torturous mirror, reflecting and distorting hidden aspects of myself, like the above. Some days, it’s like a funhouse mirror distorting reality; other days, the mirror is so clear it’s painful to look at. But no matter what the reflection shows, yoga is a mirror and a light. What needs to be revealed will eventually shine through. And even if we prefer to keep things cloudy for comfort, over time, with intentional effort, we’ll clean that mirror’s surface and get a clearer, more honest view of ourselves. With that clarity comes the opportunity to embrace the deeper gifts yoga offers.
Whatever is revealed through our practice—whether it’s equanimity or something else—requires us to apply it intentionally. Equanimity, like a good apology, comes in parts. First, we set the intention to find balance, both literally and metaphorically. Then we practice that intention, embodying it every time we come to the mat. Gates says, “Practice without renunciation is avoidance. Renunciation without practice is not long-lived. Together, practice and renunciation make all our dreams possible.” To me, this means teamwork makes the dream work! We are a team within ourselves, with our yoga mats, and with our practice. Our yoga practice gives us the fuel, encouragement, and support we need to make meaningful, lasting changes in our lives. Some days we come to the mat ready to surrender; other days, we’re prepared to face our demons or clear out clutter. Either way, our mats always take care of us when we let them.
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