Yoga teachers are fond of telling students that whatever the question may be, practice is the answer. Climb back onto your mat, they say. Do the research in your own body. Listen within. Trust yourself and trust life's unfolding. The practice itself, they assure us, will guide us on our path of awakening.
Mostly, it seems, our small-minded selves crave the rewards. The answers. The pot of gold at the end of the journey. Just tell me what to do, we whine. Just tell me the answer, and please make it easy.
Our big minds know, though, that this approach misses the point entirely. The journey is the goal. The effort is the reward. The commitment, the curiosity, the energy, the devotion - these qualities bring us the liveliness and vitality we so crave when we are able to move beyond the mantra of comfort at any cost.
Practice gives shape to our lives. It asks us to declare what matters most, to commit to that vision, to persevere with vitality and devotion. Practice asks us to do something more than coast through life, pulled off center by every passing wind. It asks us to clear the decks regularly, to carve out time for our deepest desires, to devote ourselves to living with care and good heart.
And although we joyfully devote ourselves to our chosen path, we do so knowing that practice takes effort. We willingly move against the grain of habit and laziness. We commit to doing something no matter what, even if it's hard and often because it is challenging.
We're not looking for perfection here - despite the well-worn adage. We're looking for integrity, for vigor, for steadiness and strength. We’re looking for a sense of agency and confidence that we are up to the task of living well. We're looking to strengthen the muscles that know how to do hard things and that steer our lives in a particular direction, in the name of ourselves and of others, too.
A practice is a refuge. A practice feels like coming home. A practice is a steadying force to lean upon in good times and in bad. Devoted practice reminds us that somehow everything is going to be all right... even when we suspect it won't ever be the same again. Rain or shine, tears or laughter, we show up just the same.
Maybe you have a yoga mat. Why not commit to settling onto it each morning for a few quiet breaths, a few gentle stretches and an opportunity to become a warrior, a mountain, a tree? Or maybe you have a meditation cushion, or a favorite chair that beckons you to sit and breathe. Or perhaps you are called to return to a long-forgotten running habit, to buy a new set of paints, to pick up the knitting needles, to tackle the tower of books by your bedside.
Maybe you have other practices in your life that are a little less formal but just as effective. Laughter. Gardening. Random acts of kindness. Hanging out with loved ones. Volunteering. Praying. Singing. Walking down the street with a friend. Cleaning. Baking. Creating.
Do the research in your own body, as the wise ones say. Be curious. Explore. Make a commitment to show up every day and then observe what happens. Watch how the lazy corner of your brain tries to weasel out of the effort. And watch how the wise voice inside reminds you that something important is going on when we rise above our small-minded comfort, when we muster up the energy to move oneself in the direction of wholeness and wellbeing.
Perhaps practice is a superpower then, a way we can rise above the everydayness of the world, developing enough strength of purpose to keep us heading toward wisdom and wakefulness. Like a good friend, practice is always there for us, at our side, ready to support us as we need.
Over time, devoted practice becomes something more. Practice becomes habit, habit becomes ritual, and ritual becomes devotion. Our actions become a potent expression of our lives. We shine brightly, with clear mind and tender heart, as we carry the gifts of our practice with us out into the greater world.