We all carry maps of how life works, many of which were given to us long before we knew we were following them. From our families, education, culture, relationships and the experiences that have shaped us, we inherit ideas about how we should live, what happiness looks like, what success means and who we ought to become. Our minds use these maps to navigate the world, recognise patterns, anticipate difficulties and make decisions. We believe in our thoughts, act on them and deal with their consequences. The mind is continually weaving together the story of who we are. But somewhere along the way, what began as a way of understanding life can become an expectation of how life should be. We may find ourselves following a map without ever asking who gave it to us, or whether it describes the landscape we are actually living in.
And we bring these maps into our spiritual practices too. Yoga offers us postures, techniques, philosophies and pathways, each pointing towards something we might discover through our own experience. But the map is not the thing itself. A technique is a way of exploring, not the experience itself. A philosophy may help us understand something, but understanding a teaching is not the same as living it. We can become so occupied with following the instructions, or measuring ourselves against an idea of what a practitioner should be, that we lose contact with what the practice is actually inviting us to discover. The teachings are there to guide us, but it is through our own participation that they begin to come alive.
invitations
Whose map are you following? Consider an idea you've carried for a long time about how life should look, what you should have achieved or who you ought to be. Where did that understanding come from? Does it still help you navigate the life you're living?
Bring the teaching to life. During your next Yoga practice, notice the difference between making the shape you think you should make and discovering what the posture is inviting you to experience. Could a different position, adjustment or approach bring the teaching more fully to life in your own body?
Notice the image behind the image. When you find yourself reacting to a familiar situation, pause and notice what is happening in your breath and body. What do you actually know about this moment, and what might you be bringing to it from an earlier experience?
Look up from the map. Take a walk somewhere familiar. Notice how often your attention is occupied with where you're going, what comes next or what you already know about the place. Look around. What becomes visible when you allow yourself to experience the walk rather than simply reach the destination?
We can feel our old maps in our breath and in our bodies. When something troubles us, the breath changes, the body responds, and often, before we have really felt what is happening, the mind has already begun to interpret it. We judge, criticise, explain or try to make our experience different from what it is. We imagine there must be something wrong with us if we feel angry, lonely, confused, sad or afraid. Every time we see something, or someone, we see them through language, memory and ideas. Behind what we see is often an idea of what we expect to see. In Asana, meditation and Pranayama, we have an opportunity to recognise these familiar interpretations and become interested in what is actually happening before deciding what it means. The breath becomes a wonderful companion in this work, offering us a way back into the experience itself.
We spend much of our lives trying to find solid ground beneath our feet, through the approval of others, reassurance, security or the comfort of knowing who we are. Yet what happens when the maps we've relied upon no longer help us find our way? Perhaps the life we're living doesn't resemble the one we imagined, or something we once believed about ourselves no longer feels true. And rather than questioning the map, we may begin to question ourselves. Have we failed somewhere along the way? Have we misunderstood what we were supposed to do or who we were supposed to become? Yet perhaps what needs examining is not simply the life we're living, but the expectations against which we've been measuring it. The map isn't the problem. It's our relationship with the map. We need knowledge, guidance and understanding, but we also need the curiosity and discernment to recognise when a familiar way of seeing is no longer useful. The hardest path is not always to come up with shiny new maps, but to change the way we look, so that we're not looking at the map all the time.
Imagine walking through a beautiful landscape with your eyes constantly fixed on the map. You might know where the path is supposed to lead, but how much of the walk would you actually experience? The changing light, the sounds, the ground beneath your feet, the unexpected things you discover along the way. When we feel lost, a map can help us locate ourselves and orientate towards a direction. But then we must look up and keep walking. Perhaps this is true of the lives we are living too. We can spend so much time trying to follow the instructions for how life ought to look that we miss the experience of bringing our own lives to life. Your mind is your most incredible tool. Use it, don't get used up by it. The same is true of the teachings and techniques we practise. They are there to help us find our way, not to replace the experience of walking the path ourselves.
Use the map, but remember to look up once in a while.
