Same-ish, but not the same
While walking the dogs over the weekend, a woman passed us and exclaimed, “A matched set!” As they are brothers from the same litter, this is far from the first time they’ve caused a reaction like this. Most often we are asked, “Are they twins?” These exchanges always leave me feeling a little mystified because, to my eye (and my heart), my two dogs share very little in common other than their birthday and breed. At the same time, I understand how one could walk past us and only see their similarities.
In her book of essays, Long Life, Mary Oliver writes, “It is the intimate, never the general, that is teacherly.” The intimate is not immediate. It has taken ten years of loving my dogs for me to know them so well that I can tell them apart by a glance of a white tail tip. But there are no short cuts to intimate knowing. All knowing starts with the general.
To go deep, we have to start at the surface
Generally, this is the type of learning when we have a teacher – be it an actual teacher, or a book, podcast or series of YouTube videos. As my family was in the process of choosing what kind of dog we wanted to bring home, our teachers fell into all these categories. It was the same as I fell in love with yoga. And as I began to explore spirituality as well.
Depth is often more subtle than you’d think
There comes a moment, often subtle, when our understanding shifts from heady ideas and thoughts, which can be quite thrilling and invigorating, to a deeper knowing that comes from within. In The Yoga Sutras of Patanjali, Patanjali describes it this way: “The wisdom awakened from within is superior to any knowledge gained from outside sources, as it is spontaneous and direct, and deals with particulars.” (YS 1.49)
Mary Oliver, in the same essay I referred to above, goes on to write, “The idea of ocean is neither salt nor sand; the face of the seal cannot rise from the idea to stare at you, to astound your heart.” To me, both authors are saying that you can study the heck out something, but until you have put it into action in your life, explored its nooks and crannies for yourself, your understanding of it -no matter how in depth it is – will remain at the surface level.
How to know when to go deep?
In her lovely, poetic way, Mary Oliver’s pithy wisdom is layered. We not only need to choose what to get intimate with, but we need to sort out the best way for us to get that intimacy. Sorting this out requires intimacy as well – intimacy with ourselves. Whether we are figuring out how to practice yoga, how to pray, how to grieve, how to celebrate, or how to love, there is no one right way.
Sorting it out is most often a matter of trial and error. First and foremost, it is helpful to keep in mind that you are not trying to find “the one true way.” That doesn’t exist. You are working to find your right way to do what you hope to do – be it quieting down, settling into stillness, healing, turning inward or reaching out.
The way to find your way is to experiment and explore. If what you try doesn’t work – if it feels uncomfortable or leaves you feeling anxious or confused – try something new. The fact that it isn’t working is not a statement on your lack of skill or dedication. It is simply a statement that it isn’t the right method for you right now.
Seeing beneath the surface is to know with your heart not your head
Being able to see beneath the surface of something is the gift of intimacy. There is no way for a passerby to know that my dog, Bodhi, is gregarious, curious, and willful – and very, very startled by bicycles and sneezes. Or that my dog, Pax, who has been known to bare his teeth and growl ferociously, is a gentle soul who just wants to be left alone to look at the birds and lean on his mom’s leg. Without years of intimacy, they simply see the surface truth of two speckled English setter littermates.
Intimacy is not something that can be rushed. Not everything you try will be worth drawing into your life. But when it feels right – whether it’s a style of yoga, a way of praying, a healing practice for your grieving heart – this deepening will happen almost of its own accord.
As it does, be spacious. Be slow and steady. Be curious. Be confident that, by doing it your way, you are doing it the right way. This is the way to open yourself to experiences more “teacherly” than all the other ways you’ve studied and tried. Stick with it and you might find that you are less and less captivated by heady ideas, and more drawn to your own quiet experiences – experiences so real and so personal that, like Mary Oliver’s seal, they astound your heart.
The wisdom awakened from within is superior to any knowledge gained from outside sources, as it is spontaneous and direct, and deals with particulars. – YS 1.49