This is a piece I wrote for a series this year we’re covering in my weekly Y12SR session (Tuesdays 7 pm ET). Each month, on the second Tuesday, we explore one of the concepts in Yoga through our own experiences in recovery. On this day, our focus was isvara-pranidhana, or devotion to God or Spirit. What I’ve noticed over the years is that even if we may not identify as a person in recovery from addiction (of any kind: substance, process, behavior) the 12 Steps and Yoga offer a useful framework for looking at any behavior from which we seek freedom.
I cannot say that isvara-pranidhana, or devotion to Spirit, comes naturally to me. Quite the contrary- as an addict, my default seems to be inner resistance to anything resembling an authority figure or guide. But it is in those moments of total surrender- letting go of outcomes, resting in what is, trusting that understanding and learning will unfold, taking the wisdom and skill I’ve learned from my teachers over the years and committing to being more patient, more kind, more loving, more accepting, and more grateful- those moments give me more peace and contentment than anything else I practice. In those moments I’m less in my head and more in my heart. And in those moments I am practicing something approaching total devotion.
In my best moments, I can step back from serving my own immediate needs for comfort, certainty, right-ness, and control, and serve the goodness that is possible, that which is just, that which is balanced, that which allows, that which guides and directs and protects. Serving a power greater than myself provides boundless serenity and I begin to experience for myself what “happy, joyous and free” truly feel like.
When I started to re-orient my life toward serving something other than myself and my needs, things started to get better. I noticed less gripping, less contraction and resistance inside. It’s not to say I never felt anything hard again- quite the opposite- but I began to want to see things differently. Working the steps helped me get there, as did lots and lots of meditation. I realized that there are so many things I just do not know. Worrying less about the things I don’t know (and can’t change) frees up my energy to focus my efforts on what feels right, useful, and purposeful each day. I’ve learned that being present with myself keeps me from becoming impatient- from wanting things to happen quicker or in a different way than they are. So, being in a state of surrender about life makes it possible for me to do a little each day.
As a person active in the world (I don’t think I can claim the title “activist”- and I try to stay away from identity labels these days) and committed to individual and collective change, there’s a tension for me. How can I find peace in letting things be as they are, when they are so terrible for so many?
The answer is: I don’t have a choice.
For me, the ability to do meaningful work comes with the capacity to let go. To not let go, for me, means to grip to the point of unsustainability, exhaustion, and total resignation. In my 12 Step community we’re called to become people to whom others would look to for guidance, from our humility and our experience. If my aim is to serve the goodness that is possible, how am I to set that example if I make my efforts contingent upon expectations? I know that as humans, our tendency is to create and experience suffering— equally though, is our capacity to grow and change. I hold both as I do this work and choose to uplift the examples of change happening in my community. No-one among us is perfect. Many of us are, however, willing to grow. And we need more people to become willing to grow.
One of the things that was modeled for me, early on, was the teaching that just as important as what we do is how we do it. If I’m moving from a place of fear and control I’m only going to re-energize that pathway in myself. I won’t have the courage and ease to keep going. Being courageous and easeful were qualities I wanted and would go to any length to get, in the early days. My teachers Nikki and Rolf embodied them, and I learned to try to embody them, too.
Most of the ways I learned to practice devotion came in my ethical commitments to my community. I learned to try to be honorable and consistent. These qualities were not familiar to me as a young person— so I’m incredibly grateful for the example of my teachers before me who showed me what honoring commitments looks like. I’m forever grateful for their example of quiet and steadfast devotion through service.
I’ve struggled over the past several years to know how to lead in this moment, a time when the world is emotionally and physically on fire and so many of our so-called leaders are breaking their stated ethical commitments in order to regain or retain power. But I learned to keep it simple and to teach what I know and practice. In the early days of the pandemic I made a commitment to be there for my community in whatever small way I could, as consistently as I could, even as imperfectly as I knew I surely would— and it has served my own recovery well. I knew I needed to keep up my practices in order to do that. And I knew that if I did all of that from a place of devotion— to serve Spirit by serving one another— I might have a chance to find a way, and to make it through. As it turns out, in this case, I was right.
