why we call it "practice"

A Buddhist teacher I studied with once related this story:

She was standing outside the meditation center and someone came passing by.  "What is this place?" he asked.  "A meditation center." she replied.  "And what do you do in there?" he asked.  "We practice meditation."  "Well," he said, "i hope you get it right someday!"

She told this story as an illustration of how we can get caught up in the idea of "practicing" something like meditation.  We tend to think that "practice" is just something you do to rehearse for something else.

Is it possible to have a "practice" that isn't just a preparation?  Could we cultivate a meditation that felt amazing to do, and was an end in itself, but prepared us for bigger and better things to come?

There is a beautiful Sanskrit word - "Paramita".  A Paramita, in the Buddhist yogic traditions, can be the action of a perfect being, or the action of one who aspires toward perfection - there is no contradiction.

Litearlly, paramita means "to go across".  In one sense, it refers to a being who has crossed the ocean of suffering - and so it means a "Perfect Action".  In the other sense, though, it is this kind of action that makes you perfect - they take you across, from here to there.

There's a long argument amongst yogis - some say that things are already perfect, and we just have to realize it and act accordingly.  Others claim that things are by no means perfect and we have to act in a way that can make things better.  I personally see evidence of both views, and so I find my yoga practice infused with each.

Some days, my practice feels like the expression of divine light molded into completely auspicious mudras, in a world unfolding exactly as it should - according to sacred timing.

Other days, my mind is a sea of painful emotions, and I turn to my practice as a refuge (for at least a few moments, please!) - because I know how it can act to dissolve the painful feelings.

In one sense, I'm "practicing" as a doctor "practices medicine" - i'm DOING it, i'm acting out actual yoga.  In the other sense, I'm "practicing" as one might practice for a piano recital - i go through the motions and work my way toward being able to do it right, on command.

The most amazing thing about the second kind of practice is that it only takes a little bit of it to make vast alterations in the structure of your mind.

The Tibetan word for meditation means roughly "to habituate" - and many of the Tibetan meditations are simply this - practicing some state of mind or some new idea to get the mind used to it.

The wonder of meditation, though, is that by putting the mind into an expanded and relaxed state, this process of habituation happens much more readily than normal.  This, to me, is the true power of practice.

What we are doing every time we get on the yoga mat or meditation cushion is setting up a ripple of effects through our body and mind that will have long lasting results.  It's like eating breakfast.  You don't have to keep eating every moment of the day to have energy, you eat a meal, and then by some magical process, your body lives for hours and hours.  It is the same with practice.  We sit, or perform asana, and some change takes place that continues changing us until we come to sit again.

The cliche says that "practice makes perfect", and with yoga this may actually be true.  If we want to move the mind or body toward a state of greater health or integration, the good news is that we only have to take baby steps.  We don't have to have it all accomplished already.  We can practice - a little bit at a time until we begin to see our practice in everything we do.  Sweeping the floor becomes asana. Helping your parents becomes meditation.  As the old kung fu masters taught - we come to "practice 24 hours a day".

At this point we have to wonder, are we trying to "get somewhere"?  We're certainly not just resting on our laurels - but at the same time, everywhere we could possibly go is exactly what we are looking for another opportunity to "practice".

perhaps we call it "practice" because it's the only word that can really withstand this paradox.  A preparation for something that's already arrived.  A perfection that only exists as long as it is aspiring.

Finally, we must recognize that we are already practicing 24 hours per day - we just may not be practicing the things we want to see in our worlds.  The time has come to "practice what you preach" - let the power of your yoga bring about the world of your dreams!