Good Feeling

As I prepared to leave, I wanted to run to the water for one last swim, but as I looked back at the ocean and calculated the time, I saw my desire. It felt like an insatiable hunger in the pit of my stomach. The gentle Hawaiian rain had cleansed my thirsty soul, and the plumeria-scented wind had stirred me awake. I recognized my longing.

Reflecting on this moment, I realized it’s been almost two years since I’ve felt the release from alcohol and a lifetime of searching for the feeling of fullness. The longing sent an ache through my chest and seized my breath, like remembering those I’d lost and longed to see again. It’s like realizing my child is no longer by my side in a crowded place, their hand slipping away like time, like wine, with every cell in my body feeling their absence.

Wanting

I decided not to swim one last time in Maui but to leave early and have a stress-free time at the airport. Much of my self-care practice has been deciding what to do in situations like this. Should I stay or should I go? Should I eat the cake or let myself want it? The urge to fill the space created by suffering drives me to overconsume and self-medicate. Nothing could dissolve my desire to feel full, only numb it temporarily.

Instead of tending to my wounds, I tend to develop intense feelings about them. How I perceive my painful past experiences is the source of my suffering, as Patanjali, the author of the Yoga Sutras, explained. My afflictions, or Kleshas, prevent me from feeling full, causing me to over-consume, feel terrible, treat others poorly, and repeat unwanted patterns and behaviors.

In Sutra 2.8, Patanjali discusses Dvesha as one of the five Kleshas: “Unreasonable dislikes are usually the result of painful experiences in the past connected with particular objects or situations.” Dvesha causes us to become over-identified with our beliefs, and we live in a world with a “like” button at our fingertips. In fact, it wasn't long ago that I had a major aversion to yoga.

I practice yoga in a house with a preschooler and a cat, where a downward-facing dog is seen as an invitation to play Horsey, and Corpse pose as a Superman ride. Anytime I do a floor pose or meditation, my cat comes running like a can of tuna has just been opened and begins to groom me. My idea of yoga was the first obstacle to overcome in my practice.

Asteya and Brahmacharya

The Yamas, yoga’s first limb, have helped me to recognize my longing, pain, and suffering by first creating an intention to cause no harm (Ahimsa) and to seek the truth (Satya). Ahimsa and Satya have paved the way for the following two Yamas, Asteya and Brahmacharya, which have illuminated my obstacles to joy.

Asteya is non-covetousness, resisting the desire to take what’s not ours. When I made Ahimsa my number one goal and honesty my number two, I discovered stolen joy (like the illusion that alcohol relieves stress) sprinkled throughout my life. Looking back at the water, I found that I no longer needed to hold onto good feelings. It was time to stop searching for everlasting joy and to heal the wound that created harmful false beliefs.

I felt my chest release over the idea of no longer chasing good feelings. I could use my energy to nurture my truth, like when I stopped drinking. “Brahma,” meaning truth, and “charya,” meaning move, is what guides us to our highest purpose and vitality (Yoga Sutra 2.38). Brahmacharya is moderation in all things and goes beyond our bodies, desires, and longings and into the right use of energy.

This summer season has awakened the fire and water elements surrounding my damp, cold, earthy Kapha body. I’m enjoying the movement of life all around and being mindful of this Pitta season with a sweeter, drier, astringent, softer, and cooling diet and lifestyle. The profound peace, unity, and joy I experienced in Hawaii, called Samadhi and the Eighth Limb of Yoga, exposed my longing for truth.

Like every trip to Hawaii and each full moon, a new layer of healing is unveiled. July’s full Buck Moon comes with antlers of my own as I returned home from Hawaii to an autism diagnosis. The buck’s antlers arrive this time each year to display strength, growth, and vitality, but like healing, so much of the work that goes into making antlers goes unnoticed. The Yamas have been that work for me.

With Brahmacharya, I can see the energy I’ve spent trying to maintain my good feelings, but this diagnosis helps me understand why. I’ve spent my life as an outsider, never quite fitting in, managing daily life and the mental, emotional, and physical demands of the status quo. I’ve searched for good feelings, whether through stolen joy, misguided energy, rigidity, or hiding my true self, but it’s led to burnout.   

This diagnosis is my Samadhi, my “aha” moment that explains my anxiety, depression, addictions, awkwardness, attachments, and aversions. I can separate my longing caused by a lifetime of forcing myself into masks from my grief and sorrow. My healing journey has directed me toward my wounds, to the pit of my insatiable hunger, to nurture the truth and remember the water so that my antlers and good feelings can rise.