Tasting Relaxation

The question is how can we skillfully relax and benefit from it?  And what role does relaxation play in yoga, or life in general?

We often use the word relaxation without much thought.  When we say, we need to relax we actually mean that we want some thrilling or soothing, or even boring distractions that pull us away from other thoughts, like from work or family problems, or some gnawing only half acknowledged sense of dissatisfaction.  In other words, most often for us to relax, means to hang out, to get diverted – and in a way, to get dulled, albeit in a manner that appears enjoyable at first.  Sometimes this is indeed a good thing to do: to really let it all hang out, or simply go to the movies, to a ballgame or gossip with friends or philosophize over coffee or wine.  Some people even like to meditate.  But this is another story.

Unfortunately, many of the ordinary types of relaxation do not essentially relax us, not for long at least.  They just entertain us: sidetrack us. In many cases they turn stale much too quickly, thereby becoming yet another source of dissatisfaction, especially when we overindulge. 

Indeed, the power of relaxation lies somewhere else.  When we can access and taste real relaxation, it will even infuse the above distractions with greater, more lasting enjoyment: when enjoyment is directly felt like arising from its or our own energy and therefore less dependent on the object.

How can we access this relaxation that is nourishing to the senses, to the mind – to our entire being?

For a moment, lets put all references to different bodywork, relaxation, meditation, and yoga techniques aside.  These are just the means to relaxation, not the essence, not the taste.  Besides, so-called spiritual approaches do not represent the only means.  Some people get deeply relaxed by watching birds or butterflies, by long walks, by climbing mountains, by paragliding, by sailing, by fly-fishing, by swimming, by making slow conscious love, by horseback riding.  Some even can relax by doing nothing and watching the clouds drift by – you name it.  Many roads lead to relaxation.

Thus, before we can appreciate how to consciously relax it will help to understand what we mean by ‘relaxation’.  What state of being or state of bodymind defines relaxation?

As I am writing this, a memory pops up.  From some time in August 1975: I was deeply content that day, as I had just completed my first slim volume of poetry.  It was a Sunday afternoon.  I went out bicycling with a friend in the countryside and through the forest.  The world seemed totally fresh – alive and promising: the fragrances, the mild late afternoon sun, startled deer darting from an open field into the thick brush.  Mid-way in our outing we sat down on a patch of grass overlooking the fields.  We started talking.  There was incredible ease and flow in the conversation.  Every word we spoke and heard the other saying seemed to self-manifest, not like boundary creating thoughts or concepts – more like the magic that can generate a reality much different from what we usually label as such: words that open space, rather than restricting it.  There was a vibrant quality to the whole setting.  Neither of us was engrossed in their own thoughts when we were speaking and listening to each other. What we talked about is not really important.  I guess it was about poetry in general and about Rilke and Novalis, who happened to be my friend’s favorite poets at the time.  But what still feels wonderful about these hours, not by reminiscing but by re-living, is the vibrant quality, the acting with perfect ease and appropriateness.  Everything happened to be in focus, but no ego there to control it.  Nothing really noteworthy happened, except for in the way in which it happened.  We rode home.  That’s all.  But it was, and by savoring it again still is, an interlude of perfect relaxation. 

So many more incidents of basic relaxation could be given, most of them having drifted by almost unnoticed because they are so downright simple, so downright normal, not clamoring for attention.  In short relaxation is the opposite of excitement, and too often we may confound the two.

So relaxation means that our senses are open, taking everything in as if in panoramic awareness; there is a feeling of aliveness, of vibrancy; a sense of perfect ease and appropriateness.  It is not that the usual borders between inner and outer space, and self and other would blur into a soupy, false sense of ‘oneness’.  They remain intact but become more fluid.

To come back to our initial question: We can skillfully and consciously relax when we can induce this state at any moment’s notice and letting it take us wherever it wants to take us – without losing touch at all with what we usually call ‘reality’.  Relaxation is when reality, in whatever form it presents itself, is mostly enjoyable rather than oppressive.