A Quintessential Practice
Cultivating the Opposite
Dear Friends,
We’re just starting together here, so I want to share my most foundational and essential practice with you. It’s a practice that has been around for thousands of years, and thankfully it has been brought forward over time and shared across the world so each of us has the opportunity to learn and apply it in traditional or creative ways.
There are many roots to this practice, as varied as there are traditions. But the approach that I am going to highlight comes from India and is a yogic practice which I leaerned when I was eighteen years old.
I was taking a class with my teacher, Elizabeth Silas, in Oxford, Ohio. The class, per usual, was packed with professors, school administrators, and fellow university students. Everyone was quiet and listening, sitting cross-legged on their mats before class even began. I can still picture Elizabeth, in her purple leggings, striding to the front of the room. She had a clear manner, and as a professor of mass communications, she was exceptional at guiding our attention.
Typically, Elizabeth began classes with a philosophical lesson, affectionately known as a Dharma Talk. Her talks were brief and poignant, and they were not self-indulgent. They were the opposite. They were generous—as was true on this particular day.
She sat, kneeling in vajrasana, at the front of class. The already quiet room hushed still more. She greeted us and said, “Pratipaksha Bhavanam.” We were accustomed to her introducing Sanskrit terms in this way. We waited for her to pry the phrase open.
“Pratipaksha means opposite. Bhavanam means to cultivate. Cultivate the Opposite. In Yoga Sutra II.33, Patanjali said, vitarka-bādhane pratipakșa-bhāvanam1—which translates to: When harassed by negative thoughts, one should cultivate counteracting thoughts. Notice Patanjali says when — when you are harassed by negative thoughts. He does not say if. Maybe it’s a relief to know that it will happen, it’s just a matter of when. It’s simply human nature. And there is something we can do to counteract these Vrtti, these disturbances of our mind.”
Now, I want to back up a little to include an underlying principle of yoga, which is that the purpose of these practices is essentially to cultivate a clear mind. So I often add this caveat for myself:
If I want a clear mind, and I am being harassed by
negative thoughts, then I can cultivate opposite thoughts.
In practice, what I have learned is that before I can cultivate the opposite, I have to identify precisely what I’m thinking and feeling. But then instead of downward-spiraling into the negative thoughts which create a disruptive emotional environment, I have a process for turning my mind around. The process:
I know I have a specified time in my day for meditative practices in which I can process my thoughts and emotions. This is truly a way of living.
I set a timer, and I settle into a comfortable seat. It is best to do this in a quiet space and during a time I will not be interrupted. I do a body scan from the ground up, and then I focus on the sensations of breathing.
As a witness/observer, I study any negative thoughts or feelings. In fact, I deliberately bring them up so I can study them. By studying them as an observer, or witness, it allows me to be present with, but it also gives me a slight sense of prudent detachment from the harassing thoughts. Sometimes I have a sketchbook with me, and I attempt to draw the shapes I feel.
I begin to contemplate what the opposite of this thought/feeling would be.
I begin to imagine the opposite feeling in my body until I can feel it. I begin to say a counteracting thought. Something that is the opposite but also feels true. I may draw the new shape, and write the migration to the supportive thought in my sketchbook.
When the timer goes off, I close with a moment of gratitude.
Now, that’s the practice, but I can also be more specific. Here is an example of how this process has been playing out as I have been grieving my recently deceased father.
When I am feeling sad, and missing him, I remind myself that I have set aside time in my day to be present with my grief. This helps me to get through the moments when people around me need me to be focused or cheerful.
When my meditation time comes, I sit with my grief, which has the effective feeling of sitting in my relationship with my dad. I observe what the emotions are, and what thoughts are accompanying. I don’t rush this. Sometimes it feels like an endless silence or a vast void that I’m grappling with.
Before a downward spiral takes over, I start to think, What is the opposite of this silence and this void? Maybe I’ll imagine his laugh, or his smile, or the way he would always know just what to say, which of course makes me cry, but it also begins to fill the void with warmth. And to counter the negative thought, which is often a guilt that I didn’t spend more time with him, or do more to help him, I remind myself that he felt loved. I might say, “We had a love-filled life.” Or I may simply pray that he is at peace. But I attune my mind to more compassionate thoughts and feelings which are there, but which may feel crowded out by louder, rougher, more aggressive thoughts and feelings.
So, for me, this is a very creative and intentional practice.
Here, I will share an example of a sketch so you can see it isn’t about being good at drawing or writing. I often do this with my eyes closed, just because attempting to draw it helps me to be more specific.
A friend recently sent me the below post, shared by @outlawpoets, with this quote by Albert Camus.
It reminded me that so much of life, literature, and art involves cultivating the opposite. In a portrait painting lesson my friend Tina Brown once offered me, she said the first thing I should do is identify the brightest and darkest shapes in my subject's face and begin by painting those shapes. In a way, this practice is like that.
I like the word Invincible in Camus’ offering.
So for the next two weeks, I encourage you to carve out 12 minutes daily to cultivate this quintessential practice for mental clarity.
Here are instructions for a 12-minute meditation. I was going to record this for you, but I’d like you to try to do it on your own, without any outside interruptions from my voice.
Please, read the instructions through first.
Set a timer for 12 minutes. Sit comfortably with an upright posture where you won’t be interrupted. If you don’t already have a seated practice, I recommend sitting in a chair with your back supported, your legs parallel, and your feet on the ground. Perhaps have a sketchbook and a favorite pen with you.
Start your timer. Do a brief body scan, which means you will feel and name body parts from your feet sequentially up to your head. Then focus your attention on your sensations of breathing.
Deliberately conjure up any harassing thoughts or emotions you have been having lately. Observe. Name. Describe. If you’d like you can draw the sensation or write the thought. Before you downward spiral, consider what the opposite of the thought/feeling would be. Name the opposite. Create a counteracting thought. You can use this template:
Amid [fear],
I find an invincible [inner peace].
(The words in brackets can be altered so that the lines are true for you.)Repeat the counteracting thought several times, write it down, and maybe even draw how it feels. Be spacious.
Return your attention to your breath. Close with a moment of gratitude when your timer goes off. Repeat the next day.
Please share your questions or cultivated counteracting thoughts in the comments below. We can all benefit from each other’s experiences, and I would appreciate hearing from you.
Wishing you all a peaceful time.
Warmly,
The Yoga Sturas of Patanjali: A New Edition, Translation, and Commentary by Edwin F. Bryant is the version that I recommend.