Making space for mischief and aimlessness

I believe in kindness.
Also in mischief.
Also in singing, especially when
Singing is not necessarily prescribed.

—Mary Oliver, “Evidence”

I’ve always been ambitious. I was the hyper-responsible eldest child. I was the people-pleaser and the kid who would finish my homework and then look around for other people who needed help with theirs. If I were a Simpson, I’d be Lisa.

At the same time, I’ve always been a “big picture” sort of girl. I didn’t go to medical school because I worked for years in the communications department of a hospital, calling doctors to come in on Christmas Day, and Saturday, and in the middle of the night. I didn’t do my PhD because I realized that that the job prospects were poor in my subject area unless I was willing to move far away, and I wasn’t willing to uproot my whole life for the sake of a university career. These decisions may have been mistakes.

Regardless, I’ve always been focused, analytical and practical. I may have waffled about what to do next, but I worked hard at waffling. In my twenties I read a lot of self-help books about goal-setting, striving and getting more done, and I did incredible amounts of work, but it never felt like I was getting anywhere. As an education junkie I kept taking courses and trying new things, and I learned a lot, but there was always one more course I needed.

To some extent I am still this way, but when I started studying yoga seriously I ran up against the concept of not grasping (aparigraha) and not gaining (the Buddhist equivalent). The mantra of these teachings might be best summarized as “stop trying to get somewhere,” or “stop living your life like a donkey in pursuit of a carrot.” I had a very hard time wrapping my mind around this.

The natural objection that I came up with, is why would I do something (practice, work, learn) if there was no point, no goal, no end in mind? But I had misunderstood. The idea is to do what you need or want to do, but to do it without having an attachment to where it leads. Ambition isn’t the problem— it’s the expectations about outcomes that leave you disappointed or regretting the time you spent. The Bhagavad Gita says: “The wise man lets go of all results, whether good or bad, and is focused on the action alone. Yoga is skill in action.” (BG 2.50)

Of course it’s impossible to eliminate goals altogether—there are things we need to do to survive, and we need to plan or change what we’re doing to adapt to the needs at hand. But assuming that our basic (survival) needs are taken care of, we can consider our leftover or excess striving as a potential source of suffering. Thich Nhat Hahn describes “aimlessness” as one of the three doors to freedom:

Aimlessness means you don’t put anything in front of you as the object of your pursuit. What you are looking for outside of you—it is already here. You are already what you want to become….Only when you stop running can you get the fulfillment and happiness you have been looking for. (Lion’s Roar, September 2016, p. 58)

Or to quote the band, America, “Oz never did give nothing to the tin man, that he didn’t [didn’t] already have.”

So in the celebration of aimlessness, these days I am taking vocal lessons. Not for any particular reason. Not because I plan to sing (other than in my car) or because I have any talent—I don’t. I’m doing it because I enjoy it, and I love the teacher, and because it surprises me what sounds can emerge when I stop trying and just give over to breath and body. I think I am finally starting to grasp the beauty of just doing without trying to get somewhere.

If we can approach our yoga practice in the same spirit, we could all get up to lots of mischief and more kindness could shine through,

Your mischief manager,

Elaine