Tao of Decorating part 2

As I have been peeling and scraping and sanding and washing and my sub conscious has been processing the words of Alan Watts in The Meaning of Happiness I realise that I love the preparation for decorating in as much as it cannot be separated from the painting and papering - you can't have one without the other. But I don't like the tasks involved in the preparation. Accepting the dislike/frustration/impatience prevents these demons from taking me over.

Now the preparation is over and the ceiling and woodwork painted everything is looking brighter and so is my mood because, even though things still don't go entirely according to plan, I am doing tasks that I like. Practising acceptance of something I like is a piece of cake!

Painting the woodwork is my favourite task of all. I find it very soothing and I become contemplative. While I was on my knees painting the skirting board I got to thinking about the ancient Indians. They recognised that creation, sustenance and destruction were all part of the same spectrum and that one could not exist without the others. This realisation is reflected in the Hindu trinity of Brahma (creator), Vishnu (sustainer) and Siva (destroyer).

Siva, who represents the destructive aspect of the divine, was said to be the originator of yoga the purpose of which is transformation. Siva gave man yoga to transform his life. It's interesting that that which transforms us comes from destruction. It's good to be reminded of this in our practice. We cannot be transformed while we hold on to our likes and dislikes, habits, what we know and what we think we want. All has to be swept away. And while this may be uncomfortable and we may be resistant to giving them up it is necessary to do so if we are to be transformed.

How do you choose your teacher?

All too often our choice of teacher is based on our likes and dislikes. We may choose a yoga teacher because we like the person or maybe they play nice music in the class, or burn candles or incense or they conform to how we want our teacher to be. In other words we feel comfortable with them.

But yoga is not about feeling comfortable. Yoga is transformation. Transformation into what? Who can say. If we have an idea of where we're going it's not transformation we're simply heading for an idealised known.

Think of it like a 'Star Trek' adventure - to boldly go where you've not been before. And the role of the teacher is not to take us somewhere she's been and leave us there but to help us on our journey of discovery. To hold our hand or give us a shove when we need it.

A teacher I know who worked with a famous guru at his ashram in India says that he didn't actually like the man but that he stayed for the teaching. Yogananda said of his guru: "Sri Yukteswar's intuition was penetrating; heedless of remarks, he often replied to one's unexpressed thoughts... I daresay he would have been the most sought-after guru in India had his speech not been so candid."

I am reminded of one of Anthony de Mello's stories (in The Prayer of the Frog: v. 1). A spiritual seeker resisted all the temptations the Devil through at him but failed to recognise God because he didn't like the way he spoke, dressed or behaved. "Such is the fate of those who, in their search for God, are willing to shed everything except their notions of what God really is."

That's not to say of course that you can't like the teacher or that she shouldn't play nice music etc! It's just that such things are irrelevant. Incidentally the fascinating story of how Yogananda met his guru is told in his Autobiography of a Yogi

One day we may find our self alone and then we have to find the guru within to encourage us to new understanding. There are few among us who manage to do this. The late Vanda Scaravelli was one and so is her student Diane Long whom I am fortunate to have as my teacher. We would do well to emulate such teachers. By that I don't mean by hanging on their words or slavishly following their actions but rather in adopting their approach to the work.