Postcard From a Quiet Space Within

I am writing this away from my little home office, lounging on a futon-style sofa on the floor of an open-air restaurant-cum-lounge, looking over the placid, soundless water of the Gulf of Thailand.

It’s noon here at a yoga center on the island of Koh Samui, and for me and others who are taking a course on yogic breathing practice almost half a day is over.

Most of us have been up since 5 a.m. to take part in the daily fire ceremony – a purifying Indian ritual to honor to the sun and fire – followed by almost two hours of breathing practice, and two more hours of the physical practice of yoga.

By the time we finished the biggest chunk of our daily training at 10, I imagine most people I know back home are just settling at work, a cup of coffee on their desk, checking mailbox and typing in their first (or second) Tweet or status of the day on their preferred social networking site.

I live for this. Far away from the commotion of daily life, under the teachers’ gentle guidance in our contemplative practice, time stands still and the world slows down.

On a physical level, the exercises and the healthy meal cleanse and detoxify the body and boost the senses. I didn’t realize how much my olfactory sense – long enfeebled by 17 years of smoking – had been heightened until a few days ago, when my roommate opened a bag of Japanese sesame crackers from her loft, and it smelled to me from downstairs as if they had just been taken out of the oven.

On a spiritual level, the meditative practices, the close proximity to nature and the company of other people on a similar path of self-inquiry allows us quietude and clarity in perspective.

There are 60 people from all over the world taking part in this course. Some of them are returning students, some are Westerners who have globetrotted the well-traveled routes of eastern spirituality, and many are either yoga teachers or those with full-time jobs who want to deepen their practice and benefit from the retreat.

Our pranayama, or breathing technique, guru is an elderly gentleman from India who comes from the tradition of Kaivalyadhama, the world’s oldest yoga institute which has done extensive scientific and philosophical research into yoga and healthcare.

He has an endearing, smiley and fatherly face with snowy white hair, and dresses in a white dhoti kurta. He speaks sparingly and warned us about this on the first day: “I have come to a point where I feel less and less urge to speak.”

It was a good way to manage our expectations – I guess he could see from our zealous wide-eyed expressions, sitting cross-legged on cushions on the floor, eager to be endowed with wisdom. Yes, we yogis can be so covetous, too.

But when he does speak, he manages to get to the very essence of things, reminding us, in a non-dogmatic way, that the most important things are often deceivingly as simple as they seem.

On the first discussion session he asked us what spirituality means.

“To become fully aware,” someone said.

“Aware of what?” he asked back, his eyes twinkling in the teasing way of a teacher.

“To be in touch with our inner divinity?” another chimed in.

Spirituality is, as he expresses it, the changing of the direction of one’s lifestyle toward his or her inner space. Too often, people misunderstand this as a path that requires them to leave the worldly life.

He reminded us that we could not live without the world, but that we should not be dependent on all the earthly entanglements.

But in this process of going in toward our inner space, we are often caught up with the all-too-human way of desiring, of yearning to become spiritual, to go in deeper and deeper, to acquire more wisdom. Desire is external, he said and every growth must be natural and must flow from our inner energy.

“The moment you desire to become more, it becomes an obstacle.”

He reminded us to be clear of our goal, whatever it might be, to prevent confusion, and to practice with sincerity and intensity, but to never be dependent on the goal.

Sitting there among serious students of yoga – those who spend months and months traveling to deepen their study on the bendy arts of Hatha yoga, those who thrive in the spacious silence of meditation, those who walked out of their soul-numbing jobs to find peace of mind in the teaching of spirituality – his words rang true to me.

A couple of nights later, deep in my self-exploratory mode I became agitated with my circular, Zen-like thoughts.

I observed my course mates at dinner in their preferred dining coteries – the veteran practitioners, the cool crowds, the Filipino and Taiwanese groups, the beginners’ group. I started to question the realness of the experience and became suspicious that even in the world of the spiritually prone, there seems to be a veil of illusion being maintained to keep things on an even keel.

Maybe it’s true about life being an illusion – at least to the beholders – and that the only thing that is real is that inner space. But does this mean that all these practices are as much an illusion as a night dancing in a club, high on ecstasy?

Is enlightenment just the way our brain consoles us – another form of illusion? And if there really is enlightenment, is this really the path that leads me there? Am I walking away from the path of ignorance toward awakening, or am I drifting away from the ground of reality?

Is there really the ultimate truth? Or is truth as transient as life itself? Did those “realized” people ever have this kind of feeling? Or do they continue to struggle with it? Is it good to keep questioning or am I only going to drive myself insane?

For a few brief seconds, I find myself, as I did with organized religions, struggling hard to sustain my belief.

But then something happened. I took another good look around and realized that these people seemed happy.

They are some of the most balanced and personally, socially and environmentally responsible individuals. They believe in the intrinsic goodness of humanity, and in sharing instead of hoarding, compassion instead of aggression. They might be a tad obsessed with opening their psoas and purifying their bowels, but is that worse than being obsessed with acquiring wealth and moving up the social ladder?

They are simply beautiful, healthy individuals with their own personal struggles who, like me, come here to experience a little bliss. Maybe this is just the exact point: to find happiness, however transient.

Yes, we might be attached to bliss and yearning for God-realization or self-discovery. We work hard to cultivate our inner space, knowing very little the outcome of it (hence the word “faith”, I guess).

But when we live in the spirit of love, contentment and gratitude, instead of resentment, materialism and dogmatism, how much can it hurt us or others?

So I decided to keep my mind open, my heart soft and, who knows, maybe someday the truth will appear. If not, I’m happy enough to stay in this peace of mind.

+ Devi Asmarani

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