Chant - Part 2: The Temptation Story
Day 47 feels so long ago now. That was just past the halfway point on this very foreign journey. I feel, in some ways, like a solo sailor on a trip ‘round the world. At about this point of my ‘cruise’, doubts and questions are serious and solemn. What I was thinking? Why would I want to traverse these treacherous waters at all, let alone … alone?
Truth be told, the only time I feel relatively safe at this point is when I am chanting. At least then I’m not engaging with anyone else and so there is less risk of karma springing up to bite me in the butt or kick me in the gut or even to tear out my heart.
But if, for even a moment, I think that I’m alone, my teacher is there to remind me that far greater beings than I have chosen the path of sadhana and met the challenges and demons, lurking in the deep waters of their own unconscious minds. This is why we need teachers. Those who have walked the path can shine the light and coach us through our weaknesses. And we all have weaknesses. Even the greatest of the beings.
“Then Jesus was led by the Spirit into the desert to be tempted by the devil. After fasting forty days and forty nights, he was hungry. The tempter came to him and said “If you are the Son of God, tell these stones to become bread.”
Jesus answered, “It is written: ‘Man does not live on bread alone, but on every word that comes from the mouth of God.’”
Keeping committed to sadhana especially around days 38 - 40 is critical to self-realization
Who is this ‘Spirit’ that leads such a devout believer into a harsh environment, starves them, and then tests them? Why in the world would love lead us to such a harrowing circumstance?
I’m no Bible scholar and, like the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali, the Buddhist Dhammapada and every other spiritual text, these writings are often sketchy and mysterious. While we may wish for a practical and didactic How To manual, what we get are breadcrumbs. This spiritual path is not for the faint of heart. Jesus’ fast was the sadhana. Denying himself food was the technology (the chanting, if you will) that he chose to excavate the depths of his humanity to discover what shadows lie in his subconscious waiting for their moment to spring forth.
As my teacher pointed out to me, Jesus’ temptations occurred on Days 38, 39 and 40. This is why any serious sadhana is 40 days in length. This is the timeframe when the temptations show up. This is the moment when karma kicks in and we get the opportunity to glimpse our own shadows. And just like clockwork, so did mine.
Happy marriage, my left pinky toe! Day 38 was when the first bomb hit. Up until then it seemed this magical practice of chanting was sprouting beautiful flowers in the garden of our relationship. Suddenly there was sweetness. Gradually my patience seemed sufficient to overlook the typical and routine annoyances. Finally, we just might be finding the way to better communication. But then, on Day 38, after all of that chanting and all of those moments of peace, the first bomb went off. It was nothing new really. It was quite typical and familiar. And I felt tricked. I felt duped. I felt the accumulation of all the years of depletion. Right then in that single event, I felt all the air go out of my balloon. And I was pissed!!! How could he throw away all of these good, satisfying, successful, reinforcing moments and just drop right back into his usual mindless, non-communicative, distracted self? And how could he expect me to just brush it off as if it were nothing? How could I find within myself the stamina to tolerate? Would I ever?
And the other questions that arose were “how could Mother Lakshmi deny me this one single, simple pleasure that I desire?” And “isn’t my sadhana sufficient?” I get up every morning at 5AM, uncomfortable as that sometimes is, I structure my entire day around this chanting commitment to show my devotion to the practice and to show my earnestness to the process and to demonstrate the depths of my desire for this “happy marriage”. Will I ever master this relationship thing?
“Then the devil took him to the holy city and had him stand on the highest point of the temple. “If you are the Son of God,” he said, “throw yourself down. For it is written: “He will command his angels concerning you, and they will lift you up in their hands, so that you will not strike your foot against a stone.’”
Jesus answered him, “It is also written: ‘Do not put the Lord your God to the test.’””
Years ago when I was teaching Yoga at a nearby university, one of my students approached me after class. It so happened that my own teacher was there that day, invited by me as a guest teacher. She was listening as this student came grumbling to me about how difficult and uncomfortable is yoga. I don’t know where these words came from, but I told this young man that “Yoga is about discovering how comfortable you can be in discomfort.” I recall the look of surprise on my teacher’s face, her obvious response of being pleased with her student (me) and then her smile of approval.
The sadhana (chanting in my case) is meant to be an effort. It is something that we choose to do. We choose to become uncomfortable. Our discomfort is how we temper our will to make the choices that we know - well, that our Higher Self knows - will be in our best interests for greater happiness and enlightenment. Our sadhana (fasting in Jesus’ case) brings us to our state of weakness so that we can increase our strength and the power of our higher will to choose. Like strengthening our body with physical exercise, like strengthening our mind with meditation, sadhana seems to strengthen our spirit. Consider it like a spiritual bootcamp. If we can meet our demons and stand up to them in these circumstances, we can confidently rely upon ourself to know that we are ready to be steady and sure in less taxing, less extreme circumstances. If we pass these ‘tests’, we step into the state of mastery.
“Again the devil took him away to a very high mountain and showed him all the kingdoms of the world and their splendor. “All this I will give you,” he said, “if you will bow down and worship me.”
Jesus said to him, “Away from me Satan! For it is written: ‘Worship the Lord your God, and serve him only.’”
Then the devil left him, and angels came and attended to him.”
In the desert, hot, tired and starving, Jesus met his shadow. The King of Light met the King of Darkness. And in our sadhana we meet our shadow. But, unlike Jesus who truly was a master, we are journeymen on the path toward mastery. Heck, we don’t even recognize our shadows most of the time.
Shadow work is about integrating all the parts of ourselves. When we are unaware of our hidden selves, they rule us. They rule us in deceptive ways. They hijack our thoughts and manipulate us through our emotions. On a surface level my anger and irritation with Richard was completely reasonable. Any idiot could see the ways that he disappears in plain site. My ongoing frustrations, now spanning more than a decade, only account for his contribution to the dynamic. Without discovering my own contribution, I would forever be in a state of aggravation.
This is not about “taking responsibility.” Responsibility will only create more tension and resentment. This is about self-discovery. Somewhere within there is a disenfranchised part of ourself that is desperately acting to get the attention of our higher self. Once that hidden part is revealed, it no longer lives in the shadows. Now she/he/they can be integrated through our conscious mind and, as my teacher put it, become our ally.
With this shadow part now revealed to me, I have a choice. I can choose to put my focus on his shadow (over which I have no control), or I can instead attend to my own shadow - who I have named Sarah - and invite her to be my ally.
Sarah can let me know when she is feeling like she needs my attention. She can advise me when my tendency to nurture, as a way of taking care of others, is getting dangerously close to its threshold. Now, perhaps, before I hit that level of explosion, I can assert some self-mastery and curtail my over-giving ways.
Sarah needs to be recognized. She wants my loving attention. Truth is that no one else’s attention will do. She wants the feeling of appreciation and value. She is my empath. She is my intuitive, perceptive self. She is that part that can suck up and absorb the nastiness of other people’s pain. She is good at it. She’s been doing it for a very long time. But in our personal life, she expects an exchange. She wants to receive the same level of care that she offers. This will never be provided from the outside. It can only be provided from within.
So you see that by allowing Sarah to do what she does well and by giving her the job of notifying me from within when I have trespassed on my own needs, I can avert the pitfall of expecting someone else (usually Richard) to provide the care and attention that is beyond his ability to provide.
The Bible parable of Jesus’ temptation shows us how he strongly met and deflected this shadow aspect of Satan. In the case of my shadow, there seems to be a small, young and fragile part of me that is not meaning to be destructive, but whose interference has been destructive. The idea of integrating her rather than banishing her feels much more effective. Yoga is, after all, a practice of integration. When we have effectively integrated all of our parts, we become whole and coherent. This is my ultimate goal.
I have fewer days ahead of me in this sadhana than I have behind me now. My 90-Day commitment ends on September 7th. The story of that date and why I chose 90-days for my practice is one for another time, but now, today, I am too far along to throw in the towel and the gems that have revealed seem precious and worthy of my continued commitment. I am, after all, a solo journeyer making an incredible passage around my own inner world and there is no stopping until I reach my home port.