Less than ideal conditions
It was a dark and stormy morning when our alarm clock rang. The thought of sitting in an open Jeep in the cold, driving rain made the temptation to skip the last of our three safari drives in the Indian jungle immense. One of us said, “But if we don’t go, we’ll always wonder if this was when we would have seen a tiger,” and my husband and I started to bundle up as best we could with the limited clothing in our suitcases.
The first thing our guide said after we’d clambered into the Jeep, while gesturing at the skies, was, “The tiger she is asleep. Wouldn’t you be?” Had we not already been speeding down the road, we might have clambered right back out of the Jeep and into our bed.
It surprised us on our first two drives that looking for a tiger is much more about waiting quietly and listening than driving about and seeing other wildlife while hoping that you’ll cross paths with a tiger. This morning, the waiting was wet, and the listening was hard because the pattering of the rain drops obscured the silence of a jungle that might be frozen in fear as a tiger soundlessly pads past. Nonetheless, we waited. For the rest of my life, I will be grateful that we did.
A moment so engaging that experiencing it was all I could do
Neither of us heard what the driver and the guide heard, but they threw the Jeep into gear, and we hurtled off-road toward whatever it was – slamming to an abrupt stop after only a few, tooth-shaking minutes. The guide whispered what sounded like a chant, “tiger tiger tiger tiger.” I don’t remember standing up, but, when I saw her, I was no longer cocooned in my seat.
She was just a hint of a shape in the mist. Almost unbelievably huge. There was not a sound as she began to take shape – shades of gray against jungle trees also made colorless by the weather. As she stepped into the clearing, it was as if she lit up. Her vibrant coat glowed like the warmth of a fire.
Tears streamed down my face as I watched this magnificent creature take shape. She didn’t honor us with even a glance – we were not distractions worthy of her focus. She regally crossed the clearing and continued her graceful stroll. Something in my heart ached as she faded back into the mist as mysteriously as she had appeared. I wiped my face wondering what about the experience had so moved me that it had not occurred to me to take a single picture. In fact, I have continued to wonder about that for almost a year.
When soul glimpses soul, it recognizes itself
In the Yoga Sutras, Patanjali describes our authentic, unchanging and eternal self as Purusa. He writes that deep within each of us is an aspect of self that is who we have always been and always will be. This self is pure consciousness, and it experiences life and the world around us without the veil of chattering thoughts or deeply rooted reactions (Yoga Sutra 2.20) that typically obscure it. This aspect of self simply glories in each moment. This is the way we are meant to experience our lives.
This was what I witnessed as I watched the tiger glorying in her solitary early morning walk in the rain. She was fully focused on each step she took. She was not distracted by a Jeep full of humans. She did not need to flex her exquisite muscles to intimidate us. She did not try to flirt with us. She – her magnificent, authentic self – simply took her walk. And as she did, she was serenity and power and beauty in motion.
And that ache in my heart? I know now that it was my own magnificent, authentic self seeing its reflection in that beautiful beast. In the year since I saw the tiger, this aspect of my self has continued to stretch into my consciousness. She has been slowly emerging from the gray mist of cluttered thoughts and distractions that usually prevent me from noticing her. Like the tiger emerging from the jungle mist, over this past year she has been silently and steadily taking shape and brightening into color.
What we do is not who we are
That beautiful tiger taught me a profound truth – a truth that I believed I already knew, but clearly did not. I know I didn’t because I left that jungle wondering what I needed to do to be as authentically me as the tiger was authentically herself. I came home, and as I threw myself (with all my mind, all my strength, and all my spirit) into what would be the last eight months of my mother’s life, part of me continued to anticipate what I’d do as an expression of my newly recognized inner “tiger” once our family crisis had passed.
Slowly and silently, as I have continued to ponder our encounter, a new certainty has taken shape in the mists of my mind. When my soul recognized itself in that gorgeous tiger, she was not doing anything – she was not hunting, she was not mothering her cubs, she was not baring her teeth at us. She was doing nothing other than being herself. She was a glorious glimpse of exactly what Patanjali has been teaching yoga students for millennia – that who we are is infinitely more lasting and breathtaking than anything we could ever do.
Which is not to say that the tiger and I need do nothing in this life. She will hunt and I will teach. She will tend her cubs and I will love my family. It’s not a matter of not doing things. It’s a matter of remembering that what we do is not who we are. It’s a matter of knowing that who we are will always glow beautifully in this world no matter what we’re doing.
As you and I step into 2025, let’s try to do so with this in mind. No matter what you’re doing – whether you’re negotiating a peace treaty or making a grocery list or listening to a dear friend – give it your all – all your mind, all of your strength, all of your spirit. But know that how it turns out is not a reflection of you. You are so much more than what you do.
“Be who God meant you to be and you will set the world on fire.” – St. Catherine of Siena
Happy New Year!
P.S. Luckily, 30 minutes after our first meeting, the tiger returned to the clearing where we still sat basking in her afterglow and I got a picture!