Abhyasa and Vairagya
Abhyasa and vairagya are two concepts from the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali that are often presented as opposing forces. Abhyasa can be defined in many ways, but is usually characterized as "action without interruption," presence, practice, or effort. As a musician, this is very familiar. Trapped in a practice room for hours a day, doing something over and over and over again until it is perfect, it takes years to develop the focus necessary to be rigorous and dedicated in one's musical practice sessions (and I thank my lucky stars everyday that I'm a singer and not a pianist or I'd be stuck even longer!). But most musicians will also be the first to tell you that it is not just the act of practice that makes you better, but it is attentive practice, thoughtful practice, and that the practice room also has to be a place where you can make mistakes. This is where vairagya comes in. In the same sutra (1.12), Patanjali also brings up the necessity of this other concept: vairagya, defined as non-attachment, acceptance, or non-reaction. Abhyasa is dangerous without vairagya there to counteract it. I have unquestionably noticed this in the practice room and in my performances. You cannot just will yourself to not make a mistake or to be "good." You also cannot attach so many stakes to something that failure becomes the worst thing ever. (I am particularly bad at this one). If you are so attached to the outcome of something, fear of failure can result in paralysis and total inaction. In the practice room or in a lesson, you gain so much more from being willing to try something and see how it goes, analyze it post-facto, and then see how it can be fixed or improved, than from clenching and tightening to make something 100% perfectly the first time.
My yoga practice has been very instrumental in helping me better balance these two forces in my life. I am naturally perfection-oriented, which extends from my desire to keep my living spaces organized, to my schoolwork, and was deeply reinforced by training seriously as a ballet dancer for about eighteen years. The non-competitive nature of yoga and encouragement to keep one’s thoughts on your own mat has been helpful to me to mitigate my impulse towards “faultlessness.” When I practice yoga, I try to analyze my energy level and mood before I begin and set an intention for myself in that practice. If I am feeling energetic, focusing on finding my edge, challenging myself a little, or building strength can be priorities, but if I am feeling in need of recuperation, then taking a step (or more) back, and approaching class more gently is fine. Instead of needing to always be “improving” or disappointed in myself if I can’t do something that I did before, or feel like I should be able to do, I strive to be content with where I am in my practice, that minute, that day, or in general. This lack of attachment to the expected outcome can sometimes be really challenging, but I always feel better when I am able to do so. It’s very easy to be disappointed when you experience that you have taken steps backward, but at the same time, I am trying to see it as a way to rethink the way I was approaching more basic postures and see what I learn as I rebuild my strength.