Stilling Leads to Seeing
The Yoga Sutras of Patanjali define Yoga as “the stilling of the fluctuations of the mind.” What if this isn’t just a definition, but an invitation to a revolution in the way we understand grief?
Yoga is the art and science of dismantling the chaos within, of peeling back the layers of noise, distraction, and illusion to uncover the radiant stillness that has always been there. It’s not just a practice; it’s a rebellion against everything that keeps us small, scattered, and asleep. And at the heart of this rebellion lies a profound truth: the mind is not who we are. It’s merely a tool, a filter, a storyteller. The real practice of yoga is to see beyond the illusion of our stories.
The Yamas and Niyamas, the ethical and moral guidelines of yoga, give us some guidelines around how exactly we do this, but they aren’t about rigid rules or moralizing. They’re a map to freedom. They show us how to live in a way that doesn’t feed the chaos but instead nurtures the stillness. They ask us to question: What strengthens the mind’s grip, and what loosens it? What choices bring us closer to clarity, and which ones pull us deeper into the fog? This isn’t about good or bad, right or wrong, in fact, there is no good or bad. There just IS. This is instead about liberation. It’s about learning to live in alignment with the Truth, not the noise.
Life itself is a distraction. The world is a masterful illusion, a whirlwind of stories, beliefs, obligations, desires, and fears that keep us from remembering who we really are. We get so caught up in the doing, the achieving, the surviving, the judging, that we forget the Being. We forget the Truth. And yet, this Truth is not something we need to find—it’s something we need to remember. It’s the essence of who we are, the infinite consciousness that exists beneath the surface of our busy lives.
This Truth is a HUGE key in grief, because when we remember the Truth of who we really are, we also remember the Truth of who our deceased loved ones really are. Grief doesn’t disappear, but it transforms in unimaginable ways. It becomes a doorway, not a prison.
There are many paths to the Truth, but in my practice, this is where yoga comes in. The stilling of the mind isn’t just a nice idea—it’s the key to everything. Without stillness, the Truth remains hidden, buried under layers of thought, emotion, and distraction. But when we create space, when we slow down, when we stop running from the silence, the veil begins to lift. We start to see what’s always been there, waiting for us. It’s not about adding more to our lives; it’s about stripping away what’s false. It’s not about fixing; it’s about facing. Facing the fears, the resistance, the parts of ourselves we’ve been avoiding. It’s about asking: What am I hiding from? What am I running from? What would happen if I stopped?
This is the path of yoga. This is the path of Truth. It’s not easy, and it’s not linear. It’s messy, uncomfortable, and often painful. But it’s also the most beautiful thing we can do with our lives. Because on the other side of the chaos, on the other side of the grief, on the other side of the fear, is what we’re seeking.
