This essay was written on my first full day after arriving at Sampoorna Yoga in early January 2023. It forms the first of three essays reflecting on my experiences during the YTTC 200hr course.
Then what I am afraid of comes.
I live for a while in its sight.
What I fear in it leaves it,
And the fear of it leaves me.
It sings, and I hear its song.
Wendell Berry, from Sabbath Poems I.
When asked recently how I am feeling, I considered responding cryptically and with the usual stiff upper lip the British are satirically renowned for. However, I instead chose honesty and out tumbled a word I am not used to saying: apprehensive. I am not one for finding myself in situations beyond my control, or that which I can apply skills to exercise control, and so whilst I may at times feel energised by a challenge, or even a little concerned at whether something can be achieved, this feeling of lingering apprehension is unfamiliar to me.
It makes me feel vulnerable.
In turn, vulnerability is not something that I can sit comfortably with. In a classic case of fight or flight, I will usually analyse what is leading to any form of discomfort and determine whether I can deal with it (i.e., fight it), or compartmentalise it (i.e., fly from it) and eventually come back to it another time – or not. It is a word describing a raw sense of being that has surfaced in several of my conversations with dear ones recently – it seems many of us are being asked and nudged to embrace vulnerability.
Stepping through the gates of Sampoorna for the first time.
It has hard for me to not associate the idea of vulnerability with weakness – it has historically signified to me the handing over of something of yourself to an another, or a power or system, that has the capacity to harm and inflict pain. When we make ourselves vulnerable, our fleshy underbellies are revealed and become a target for attack. It has taken me years to entertain the notion of vulnerability with those few closest to me, and even in those circumstances it can often be excused or apologised for.
The first of Wendell Berry’s poems from his Sabbath collection captures an interaction with that which is feared, which I shared at the beginning of this piece. If we fear something, “living a while in its sight” doesn’t change the circumstances or indeed the nature of the fear itself, yet the fear of it can be released. Perhaps more beautifully, we might then hear something from that which we feared that resonates with the breadth and depth of a song.
Right now, I am fearful of this apprehension, fearful of the vulnerability it speaks to, and fearful of that which my heart is speaking to me in the absence of those I love. Yet, what I am afraid of has come to me, and I will choose to live a while in its sight.
The view from our shalas, across to the ocean.
The next few weeks exploring a deeper yoga practice in India marks the beginning of my three-month sabbatical, and whilst I have confidence that my relationship with yoga will shift and grow, I also hope that I may hear the song of what I fear and listen.