The Practice

There are layers of bullshit in modern life, however small or big they are. We have built up so many barriers to the source of humaness over time, that we have made it almost impossible to be fully a human. We pretend that peeing and shitting don’t exist. “Ah, what is that thing?”, the collective mind asks, feigning confusion in a superficial manner, while everyone knows exactly what it is.

This builds up a lot of leakages of humanness. We trap individuality somewhere deep inside ourselves and never try to find it again, lest we be exposed as the absolute fraudulent imposters we are.

We then go about our lives, interacting with others and performing "work" while wearing the thickest yet most fragile armor imaginable—if only it were visible to the eye.

Then perversions and strange habits start to arise when we are left on our own and can peel off a few layers from the armor for a few minutes. How do you think you can handle such a life unless allowing leakages to get out of you in the form of weird behaviors and beliefs?

You're stuck in a chair, shoulders raised, breathing 30 times per minute—as if you're waiting for a lion to pass by, hoping not to be seen. And you sleepwalk through life this way, in a state of constant, shallow inhalation.

"Maybe I need yoga," you think after seeing a beautiful advertisement on YouTube. "Yes, definitely yoga is the answer," you reassure yourself after spotting another yoga ad on your way to work.

So you attend your first yoga session. No one speaks. Everyone pretends to be in some kind of meditative state. Yet you can feel tension within yourself and in the room. You wonder, "Is it just in my head? Does it even matter?" Better to stay quiet. You focus on yourself, reasoning, "I'm just a beginner. Surely I'll experience enlightenment after some time, right? Yes... yes?"

The session begins. You diligently follow the teacher's every move and instruction. It's all linear and predictable. You don't feel much change, but you're just a beginner, right? "Don't question the journey!" you tell yourself.

After some time, you realize yoga isn't the answer. Disappointing, isn't it? You wonder, "Now what am I doing with my life? How can I feel better, more human?" There is no single answer. The answer is everywhere—in the sound of one hand clapping, the finger pointing at the wall, the tennis ball sitting on the floor, the bird flying, the burn of a hand touching fire. This is it. You are it.

There are practices, and there is Practice.