By Maria Sibylla Merian
Ah, the aging body and mind. Plenty to work with here as far as a spiritual practice is concerned, isn’t there?I have recently been revisiting the subject of attachment as I have been teaching on chronic pain (attachment to the way things were or may have been in the past), anxiety (attachment to control or fear of losing it in the worst possible scenario), depression (attachment to identity, ideas etc.) and addictions (attachments to substances, states of mind, or escapes of mind).
I’ve also been reflecting on attachment in both my meditation practice and asana practice—both of which have changed shape so to speak—and what that has brought up for me.
Recently I have been in a battle with Lyme disease. For me (and everyone is different), I am really fatigued a lot of the time and achy in joints and muscles. My asana practice has slowed down to being mostly stretches, which I need to do so that I don’t contract into a knot of tightness, and restorative postures to rejuvenate my system. This is fine-ish, but not totally wonderful for me because I wish I had the stamina to practice a few more strengthening postures to keep my body more fit. Although I hike and walk a lot, my upper body strength isn’t what it used to be and my arms have sprouted under wings that flap in a breeze of movement—something that horrified me when I was younger.
My meditation practice has shifted in that I am doing more couch-practice. Couch-practice is how I’ve been working with strong emotions when they arise. I go to my couch (when I’m at home) and feel the pain of them or the strength of them or even the just plain restlessness of feeling a lot. This has been really valuable, and a terrific way to watch something morph and change and go, but as a mindfulness and meditation teacher, there is a little bit of I–need- to-sit- on- my- cushion- to- be- valid feeling. I’m also meditating lying on the ground, flat or with my hips up in Bridge pose (Setu Bandhasana) as my nervous system copes with the onslaught of challenges it is facing.
Even though I am doing these practices in this way and am okay with it, there is a little feeling of this isn’t enough or I wish I had the energy for more. This is a subtle form of attachment—specifically, attachment to the way things were. We could—and some do—spend a lot of time lamenting the way our bodies looked or felt before we reached a particular age, or received a certain illness or injury, and it’s really beneficial to notice this so that we aren’t buying into wishing it were different so much as to cause ourselves incredible stress and sorrow.
One of the pivotal teachings of the Buddha was how everything in conditioned phenomena is impermanent. This means not just outer things like the chair you might be seated on or your Grandmothers favorite teacup, but also our body and the contents of mind, including thoughts, memories, feelings, ideas, and mental energy, and stamina.
Being attached to the way we look is a big one as we age (see Attached to My Face), because the change isn’t always pleasant and creams don’t quite fix that. Attachment as Nina wrote in her post about identity Attachment (Raga) to Our Ideas of Who We Are is also a big subject at any age, especially when we are older and begin to feel less relevant or needed. Being attached to what we used to be able or want to do to do can be just as powerful. I have a dear friend who turned 66 last week. He recounted living in Manhattan when he was in his 20’s and running up six flights of stairs to his great, inexpensive apartment and seeing older folks walk slowly and even stop along the way. He thought, “I’ll never walk up stairs, no matter how many—I’ll always have the strength and determination to run up them no matter what age I am!”
“Haha,” he says now. How things can and do change.
This attachment to what we used to be able to do or want to do can be viewed as normal, and also held lightly so that we have the opportunity to remind ourselves “Ah, impermanence, all things can and do change.” With a gentle reminder we undo the strong pattern of attachment to a maybe having a preference, but not being so stressed or discouraged when things are not as we wish or hope.
One practice that can be particularly useful is noticing the breath while practicing both asana and meditation, and consciously using it as enforcement of the fact of change. Breath has a beginning, middle, and end, just like everything else. We are aware of this, but can we actually know this? If we experience breath as an example of impermanence, we can reinforce the intellectual understanding and change it into knowing. (Knowing is seeing and experiencing things as they are over and over again—not reading about something or listening to a talk on it, but actually living the experience of it. This is why meditation, mindfulness, and yoga asana are experiential practices.)
Another way to work with an attachment to how things used to be is to practice loving kindness when the body doesn’t do as we wish it would, but as best as it can for now. I find the word “yet” encouraging because we can always improve, but forgiving and still loving the body for not being 20 years old or perfectly well is a practice of non-attachment worth pursuing.
Attachment in Pali is upādāna, meaning:
“Clinging; attachment; sustenance for becoming and birth — attachment to sensuality, to views, to precepts and practices, and to theories of the self. Access to insight” —from A Glossary of Pali and Buddhist Terms
Whatever we cling to—no matter how large or small, noticed and often unnoticed—causes pain, stress and discomfort in the mind.
So if you want to continue to free yourself from the ties that bind your mind and heart, and I would add body, watch out for your attachments, especially the more subtle ones. With awareness and intention, little by little we can let go of the ties that bind us, have some humor about them as they go or stubbornly stay and remind us, and witness that even a small change of letting go creates a lot of ease.
Jill is currently accepting private clients for embodied mindfulness coaching, online or in person, as well as somatic yoga therapy and mindfulness in person in the East Bay area of Northern California. For therapists, healthcare providers, and caregivers, she also offers lessons on integrating mindfulness into your profession. Because she is frequently traveling to New York City, she is also taking clients in person there on a limited schedule. Please go here for more information or write Jill at info at jillsatterfield dot org.
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