"Don't Just Do Something, Sit There!"

Today, kudos to the inspiration that is Lila Yoga Studios, I bring you an old yoga adage: "don't just do something, sit there!" I, like many others in the Western hemisphere, have problems letting go and sitting still. I twitch. I check out how that person is sitting, what that person is wearing, how I'm sitting, what I'm wearing. I think about all the text messages my phone may be collecting, all the theories I could be memorizing, all the check marks I could be swiping on the productivity scale. Then I start wondering if there's an app for productivity. Then I start getting hungry for apples.

It's a strange place, my mind.

In our culture, we expect. Oftentimes we rush through one accomplishment so we can get our claws on the next. I mean, I know John Green's treadmill desk is absolutely brilliant and sign me up for one please, but it says something about our mindset: that simply working out, or sitting back to create some genius literature is no longer sufficient. We must do both at the same time. We seem to focus less on how we do something, but how much we do.

There was once a time when I tried to write a story, do math homework and watch True Blood all at once. The math homework turned out all wrong (all I can say is "X" is fantastic at playing hide 'n seek), my story filled with clichés, and I apparently missed that Tara and Pam made out because I was too busy wondering when I would fit in time to straighten my hair. Clearly I should've worked out my priorities and set the homework and writing aside.

There will always be stuff to do. Striving to do things is not inherently bad. But we can't become masters of the universe by dinner time either. I don't know about you, but I consider it a good day if I put enough time into my makeup to not look like an oompaloompa and wear pants that don't have fuzzy animals on them.

So what does yoga have to do with all this? At first glance, yoga seems like something to do, something to accomplish. All those pretzel twists and standing on heads don't happen from just sitting there. I see your point, young grasshopper (also, good job on learning how to read; the insect community must be very proud). I was drawn into the world of yoga by the thought that I would have a tangible hobby, that I could show off a bunch of cool poses that would invoke the "wow!" reaction the performer in me adores. I mean, who comes back from a yoga class, tells their family "look what I learned!" and leans back into Savasana? It's the sideways crow that always earns the spotlight. Okay, I can't do sideways crow. But that's beside the point. It seemed there was nothing impressive in sitting there and being introspective. I am a champion of reflection. I can journal-ize like there's no tomorrow. Problem is, realizing that your carrot cake obsession goes back to your childhood doesn't earn many brownie points in the outside world. So when I first started practicing yoga, it seemed silly that my teachers stressed that yoga wasn't about the poses or how you look.

I can, however, do regular crow. Extra "points" for the jeans.

You mean to say, I would think, that we're being taught how to sit, breathe, and be? I already exist, I know how to be!

But this seemingly simple lesson is not so silly. We do exist, yes. And we know how to be happy, how to be sad, how to be productive. But we struggle to know how to be. If we strip away all the stuff--the grades, the possessions, the friends, we often see emptiness. We see nothing. And because our culture encourages us to go through the motions of life with little reflection, we keep piling stuff onto our lives in hopes that we will never be faced with a time in which we will have to be. We keep doing and doing until we feel like machines in society. If we see our lives as a yoga class, many of us tend to spend the entire ninety minutes lunging and sweating, leaving no time for meditation or savasana.

While I see myself progressing in yoga postures, I realize that is not where the true accomplishment lies. These stretches and poses are stimulation, preparation for the stillness that lies ahead. We are always faced with stimulation in our lives. But rather than getting wrapped up in that chaos, we can let yoga teach us how to observe that activity, engage in the sensations that it evokes, then settle into what will truly make us grow as humans: stillness, reflection. Everything leads up to what seems simple in theory, but what takes deep effort in practice.

So next time you're feeling overwhelmed by classes, work, and your pet turtle who keeps causing mayhem, try just sitting there for a bit. You may be surprised by how much you learn from "nothing."

Namaste. 

And your "unexpected beauty in State College" moment: