Life's Flood

I’ve always envied those people, both men and women, who cry. It was something that seemed impossible to me. I don’t know if it was me holding on to some macho notion of what it meant to be a man, even though I was 19 teaching yoga and spending the majority of my time in the company of married housewives. But I wanted to cry. I would try to squeeze out a tear at movies, while reading, in the appropriate “cry here/now” situation, but never with success. I watched my friends, partners and teachers cry. It not only seemed like such a release, but also that they were feeling life in more ways and deeper ways.

The word for tear in Sanskrit is aksha, which is the same word for eye, like in pratyaksha (senses) or literally in front of the eyes. It is said that Shiva’s tear, rudraksha, creates life. The tear is the bindu, a point, but much more the shape of a drop (3-D) than a point (2-D). That initial tear is filled with Shiva’s juice, rasa, or emotions. In Indian aesthetics art has 9 (originally 8) essential emotive qualities called rasa: erotic, comic, compassionate, ferocious, fearful, heroic, disgustful, wonder, and peaceful. The same aesthetic philosophy becomes a school of yoga called Alamkaradhvani. The original tear is filled with all the qualities that make life an art. The verbal root ras, where rasa comes from means to roar, yell, cry out, scream. The eye creates the tear, which acts like a lens to perceive and taste life.

I was taught that life happens in the tears. I would sit at retreats and the other students all around me would have these breakdowns. I felt like I wanted to have what they were having. I didn’t want the transformations I was having (which I was at exponential rates). I wanted to have that cathartic meltdown everyone else was having as my transformation. Only I never did. Did I have to live a life of hardship, self-abnegation, or torture myself? Why was I barren? Was this something I had to learn or was it more who I am?

Now I hate using age as an excuse. Sometimes it is true that age matters. You just experience more as you live. Yet, age doesn’t mean that you can’t be good at something simply because you are young. But age has seemed to be a big factor for me. In my own aging, I have grown up. I have experienced many of the hardships of life, but more the joys that come with living. I have lost relationships, friends, and businesses. People I know have died, life has been filled with terror and now the economy looms towards a depression. I have lived with the responsibilities of taking care of others and all the hardships and stresses that come with such responsibilities.

I’ve found my tears, but not because of the hardships, but because of the greatest joys. The loves of my life is where my tears formed. My wife, baby and stepsons have brought me tears – full cathartic meltdowns (it’s true I have it on video). After the birth of my son, life changed. It got juicier and I started to taste (rasa) and see (aksha) in deeper and more ways. And the tears started flowing and flooding. Now, when I am at the movies, reading, or simply experiencing the joys and pains of others my eyes swell with life. I not only know there is a point (bindu) but I see it, feel it and taste it every day in the joys that surround me. My yoga never denies the hardships, but my yoga sees the joys as the creative power of my transformations.