Equanimity

This article really is about equanimity.   As you start reading it, it doesn't seem as if that's the case at all.  But it is.  If you're impatient, this is not the article for you.  Reading this little article requires a certain amount of equanimity.  

The inspiration for this article is trivial.   

I have a small sewing box.  On the top shelf are rods into which the spools of thread rest.   And in the drawer underneath I keep needles, straight pins, safety pins, snaps, elastic, thimbles, and various other sewing-related necessities.  

Please realize:   I am not one who sews.   

Oh, I'll sew on a button now and then.   Or if my grandchildren's stuffed animals start losing stuffing, I can do emergency repairs.   But I don't sew.   My mother and grandmother both sewed, and my mother gave me the little sewing box as a gift decades ago.   Despite my disappointment at her choice of gift at the time, it's been useful.   Whenever I need to sew something (every once in a blue moon) I feel well-enough equipped.  

(Do you know the origin of the idiom "Once in a blue moon?"  It refers to the occurrence of a second full moon within a single month.  See, I told you that you would need equanimity to successfully complete reading this article.)

Although I do not sew, I have learned how to make chunky-yarn blankets - the kind that don't require knitting needles.  You use your hands and arms. I have made a few to give as gifts.   I had just completed one for my youngest grandson when I reached for my trusty sewing box.   (You have to sew off the corners where the yarn begins and ends to keep it from unraveling.)  

With just a small slip of the fingers, the sewing box slipped to the floor.   All of the spools of thread came off of their little mounting rods and rolled all over.   The drawer opened, spilling all of its contents.   And the little plastic containers that hold sharp things like straight pins and needles also opened, so there were needles and straight pins scattered all over the floor.   

I looked at the mess and sighed.   

That's it.   I sighed, and I bent down and started carefully picking everything up, doing my best to avoid the sharp tips. I put each item back into its rightful place.   Sounds anticlimactic, doesn't it?

But as I picked up the spools of thread and sharp needles, I noticed that I was not particularly upset. Yes, the sewing box had fallen, and everything it held had scattered across the floor.   But I was calm.   

I was calmly picking up the pieces.  That's what's so notable about this!

There are many times that I can recall really losing my cool (another idiom) when something like this would happen.  To greater or lesser extent, I would curse (out loud or inwardly).   My face would feel hot.   I'd be irritated and feel bothered, imposed upon.  Or I'd start to feel sorry for myself; why do these things happen to me?  I was a victim.  The world was a cruel place.  Sometimes I would even feel tears come to my eyes - tears of frustration or anger. The drama kicked in.  (Another idiom?)  Sometimes I would remain irritable for the rest of the day.

Yet on this occasion I was able to calmly pick up the pieces.

Throughout my life, I doubt that others would have described me as being overly cranky or irritable.  In fact, I suspect that I was pretty "normal."   I wager that I fit the norm of human behavior. We react to the circumstances of our lives and experience the "normal" emotions that are triggered.  

As a normal human being, I did not typically experience equanimity. (See?   I'm getting to it.)  I didn't even think about it. What did it mean?  The word equanimity was simply not part of my working vocabulary.

It was only during my yoga teacher training that the idea of equanimity was seriously considered - part of our course of study.  I paid attention:  Equanimity is the quality of remaining stable, clear and calm when faced with pleasant and unpleasant experiences.  Equanimity meant living with a balanced non-reactivity.  

Patanjali speaks of yoga as a way to "still the fluctuations of the the mind."

Publilius Syrus stated that "Equanimity is calamity's medicine."  

Lailah Gifty Akita tell us "A calm soul is a heavenly being.   Live each day with ecstatic serenity."

I began to intentionally practice behaving with equanimity.  Sometimes I even succeeded.   

But this accident with my sewing kit was remarkable because I DID NOT think about equanimity.   I simply was stable, clear, and calm.  I calmly picked up the pieces.   

Of such small steps are great journeys made.

"Breathing is the flow of the divine, where the rhythms of life turn into each other - The eternal exchange.   Pour one breath into the other, Outbreath into the inbreath into the outbreath.   Awaken to equanimity,  At peace in the play of opposites."  ~Lorin Roche, The Radiance Sutras.

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