Pratyahara: Turning down the noise

So. I actually considered not writing an entry for this month, and I thought that would be very Pratyahara of me to post... nothing. 😂 I wondered if anyone would actually get it!

But anyway. My OC-ness would have bothered me, so here we are.

October's theme at Treehouse is Pratyahara, the fifth of the eight limbs of yoga. If we were to stick with how it has been hisorically translated in the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali, it means "withdrawal of the senses," although I think that translation can make it sound more dramatic than it needs to be—as though we're supposed to close our eyes, cover our ears, and retreat from the world. In fact, in the Yoga Sutras 2.54, Pratyahara is essentially described as the senses ceasing to follow their external objects and instead following the nature of the mind inward. In other words, the sensory organs still function—you can still hear sounds, see objects, feel sensations—but the mind is no longer automatically pulled outward by them.

In our poster this month, we highlighted Pratyahara as "turning down the noise."

Lately, there has been quite a lot of noise. Apart from what we already collectively experience (politics, the economy, war, natural phenomena, gossip, other people's life events-- the year of the fire horse is proving to be spicy), a lot has been happening in my personal life these past few months. Those of you who know me personally from the Treehouse community probably know, more or less, what I mean. There have been changes happening at home, at work, within the businesses, and in the different roles I occupy.

Interestingly, though, most of these changes have not been about adding more.

They have been about lessening.

Looking at the different things that occupy my time, energy, attention, and resources and asking: Does this still need to be here? Does this still need to exist in this form? Does this still make sense?

I suppose September's Aparigraha followed me into October.

Last month, I wrote about loosening our grip. This month feels like discovering what happens after we do. There is suddenly a little more space. And when there is more space, some things become easier to see.

Treehouse will experience this in the next few months, too, an expansion for the brand, yes, but a consolidation of what I do on the business side of things. Maybe I will expound on it in January.

Image from Ocean of Vedanta

The Tortoise

There is an image from the Bhagavad Gita that I like in relation to Pratyahara: a tortoise withdrawing its limbs into its shell. I've always found this more useful than thinking about sensory withdrawal as shutting the world out.

यदा संहरते चायं कूर्मोऽङ्गानीव सर्वशः ।इन्द्रियाणीन्द्रियार्थेभ्यस्तस्य प्रज्ञा प्रतिष्ठिता ॥ २.५८ ॥

“When one completely withdraws the senses from their objects, as a tortoise withdraws its limbs into its shell, that person’s wisdom is firmly established.”

Bhagavad Gita 2.58

A tortoise doesn't get rid of its limbs, nor does it decide that the outside world is terrible and permanently retreat into its shell. But at times, it decides to draw inward when it needs to.

And, equally important, it knows when to come back out again.

That, my friends, is energy conservation and protection. Discernment.

Wisdom.

Pratyahara isn't about becoming disconnected from life or thinking that seclusion is the answer to all this noise. It is about recognizing that we don't have to respond to every single thing that asks for our attention. Not everything needs our input or our opinion. Not everything needs a solution or to be fixed. Sometimes, things just need to exist for a bit and they will eventually sort themselves out.

We spend so much time gathering more information, considering more possibilities, asking more people, doing more, thinking more. More, more, more.

But you know what? I think sometimes, we don't need another answer.

Maybe we need to be quiet enough to hear the answer that was already there.

Or maybe, quiet has been the answer all along.

May you find some quiet you-time this last week of October.

Love always, T. Rachel