In college (and graduate school) I studied music. My days were filled with music history, theory, and performance. It felt like each lesson or class revealed a new mystery about music. I delighted in learning how to analyze music, and I had a friend who shared this passion. But he developed a peculiar habit that set him apart. In public, he sought silence.
He began to find it increasingly difficult to just listen to music without also analyzing it. When eating in restaurants, he would ask the server or host to turn off the music. He longed to savor his meal without the distraction of analysis. Time and again, he was met with polite refusals. The world, it seemed, thrived on sounds.
This desire for control resonates with us all. We live in a society that teaches us to seek more of what we want and to push away what we don’t. We curate our lives, attempting to shape every moment into something perfect. Yet, this pursuit can feel like a Sisyphean task, forever rolling a boulder uphill only to watch it roll back down.
In yoga, we explore a different approach. The ancient yoga texts remind us that suffering (duhkha) is woven into the fabric of existence. Vyāsa, in his commentary on Yoga Sutra 1.31, identifies three sources of suffering:
- Our own body and mind (ādhyātmika): The inner turmoil we face, our fears and desires.
- Other beings (adhibhautika): The pain we experience in our relationships, the conflicts and misunderstandings that arise.
- Nature (adhidaivika): The uncontrollable forces of the world around us, the chaos that disrupts our plans.
We cannot escape difficulty; it is a part of life. We feel it in our bodies, our relationships, and just moving through the world. But we can practice seeing it for what it is—a transient experience rather than a permanent state. In yoga, we do not try to create the perfect environment. We explore the feeling of aversion. We learn to sit with discomfort. Rather than resisting the music of life, we can choose to listen to it, to acknowledge its presence without judgment.
Just as my friend sought silence in a cacophonous world, we often crave control in our lives. Yet, the path of yoga invites us to accept the noise—the clatter of dishes, the laughter of strangers, the ebb and flow of emotions. Even the Muzak. Through mindfulness, we can transform our relationship with suffering, understanding that it is not an enemy, but a teacher.
In every practice, we have the opportunity to embrace what is, to find peace within the chaos. When we learn to let go of the need for perfection, we discover that life’s beauty often lies in its imperfections. So, the next time you find yourself overwhelmed, whether by music in a restaurant or the pressures of daily life, pause. Take a breath. Allow yourself to be present in the moment, knowing that suffering is simply part of the symphony of existence. See if you can embrace it, and let it guide you toward a deeper understanding of yourself and the world around you.
Comments