Defeating Duryodhana

We've been reading the Bhagavad Gita in yoga teacher training, and it's reminded me of some of the tales from the grand Mahābharata, of which the Gita forms a part.

The central plot of the epic is the rivalry and eventual Armageddon level war between two clans, the Pāndavas and the Kauravas. During the long leadup to the war, we get to know the many characters -- their strengths and weaknesses, foibles and virtues. Although not completely black and white, in general the Pāndavas come off as the righteous and principled group, whereas the Kauravas are, um, compromised. 

A high-drama story involves the Kaurava prince Duryodhana, who reveals his vindictive nature when he challenges the five noble Pāndava princes to a game of dice. Duryodhana's equally flawed uncle, Shakhuni, weights and rigs the dice so that the Pāndavas lose every round. They keep losing, hung up as they are on notions of princely honor, until they wager their last "possession," the princess Draupadi, and lose her too. At that point, the wretched Duryodhana is not content to have left the Pāndavas destitute. He must humiliate Draupadi by ripping off her sari in public! Boo, hiss, horrid sneaky guy!

In a development which prefigures the outcome of the epic, Lord Krishna himself responds to Draupadi's pleas for help, and causes her sari to be of infinite length, never to unwind. Duryodhana is forced to give up. Hooray, the bad guy meets a bit of justice!

At the deepest level of interpretation, the Mahābharata epic is seen as a metaphor for the struggle which can occur inside each person. The small and selfish impulses don't always willingly give ground to the larger, expansive, more selfless tendencies. Sometimes it's full-on war, within us humans. 

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Also in yoga teacher training we've each been challenged to fast for one day, giving up something which is both a personal impediment to growth and an activity that we do anyway, impediments or no. 

Damn. I'm looking square at that thing which I know is a super-wise behavioral principle. It's ekagraha, one-pointed focus, one-pointed attention, in which a person only does one thing at a time. It's the opposite of multi-tasking. 

Eknath Easwaran is completely convincing and eloquent on the subject. In fact, ekagraha forms part of Easwaran's Eight Point Program of meditation.

One-Pointed Attention: Giving full concentration to the matter at hand

Everything we do should be worthy of our full attention. Doing more than one thing at a time divides attention and fragments consciousness. When we read and eat at the same time, for example, part of our mind is on what we are reading and part on what we are eating; we are not getting the most from either activity. 

Similarly, when talking with someone, give that person your full attention. These are not little things. Taken together they help to unify consciousness and deepen concentration.

One-pointed attention is a powerful aid to meditation. Though our mind may be three-pointed or four-pointed or a hundred-pointed now, we train it to be one-pointed in meditation. Until it is trained, the mind will continue to go its own way, because it is the nature of an untrained mind to wander. Attention can be trained, and no skill in life is greater than the capacity to direct your attention at will.

The benefits of this are numerous. If you have trained your mind to give full attention to one thing at a time, you can achieve your goal in any walk of life. Whether it is science or the arts or sports or a profession, concentration is a basic requirement in every field.

One-pointed attention is helpful in whatever job you are doing. But perhaps the greatest benefit of a trained mind is the emotional stability it brings. In order to get angry, for example, your concentration must be broken – your mind has to change lanes. In order to get afraid, your mind has to change lanes. In order to get upset, your mind has to change lanes. What we all yearn for is a mind that cannot be upset by anything. And we can achieve it, too; but it calls for a lot of work in the training of attention.

When the mind is one-pointed it will be secure, free from tension, and capable of the concentration that is the mark of genius in any field.

Argh, Easwaran even called out my specific situation. I've had a long, longtime habit of reading and eating -- at the same darn time.

Okay, that is my yoga class project fast. Do. Not. Read. While. Eating. Only I'm not just leaving it off for one day. I've struggled with it before, for sure. But now feels like the time to put forth some energy and leave that habit behind for good.

Speaking of struggle. Is this a Mahābharata-level struggle? Shouldn't be. More like a tempest in a teapot. But truly, I have inside me a wee Duryodhana, with a tiny Shakhuni as accomplice, who are both sneaky and sly and utterly persuasive that morning yogurt and New York Times go well together. That lunch salad and Facebook are dandy fun. And that dinner veggies are better with a gripping historical novel.

So far, I've outsnuck them for a week. Taking off my glasses at mealtimes so far is the best guerrilla warfare tactic. Thinking of this gone-public blog post ought to help, too. 

I'll keep you posted.