Consistency is about showing up as much as it is about not showing up.
For four years, I worked for and studied under a teacher of Ayurveda and yoga who was known to be a strict disciplinarian. Her students reported daily at 5:00 a.m. for nearly three hours of meditation, pranayama, and yoga asana. They were to then eat a modest breakfast in absolute silence, followed by physical labor on her farm, where no singing, music, or chit-chat was permitted. They were to drink no more than ½ cup of water at a time, regardless of how much they had been sweating in the sun and offered no snacks, no matter how thin they became. Most importantly, they were to show up each day with absolute consistency, with no resistance or any erratic emotional responses that are so common when a person is thrown into a completely different life.
Because of this teacher, I wake up before the sun (or my daughter) rises and do my practices. I eat a simple breakfast, and then set out to do the service that is mine to give.
Also because of her, I allow myself to sleep in if I have overspent my energy, eat a piece of homemade pumpkin pie for breakfast sometimes, and dance with all the emotional responses I have to this wild roller coaster called life.
Consistent Wisdom
Before working with this teacher, I never had difficulty being consistent. I’ve often dug my heels, gritted my teeth, and enacted a thousand other metaphors that denote discipline and delayed gratification. My discipline and consistency have served me well. The right kind of hard work build character and strengthen our bodies.
However, what I learned from witnessing dozens of my former teacher’s students break down under her thumb is that consistency without regard to one’s natural fluctuations is foolish, and discipline without love is abuse.
But the most important lesson I learned — what keeps me waking up with the sun most days — is that the only thing worth consistently showing up for is honesty about what we’re truly capable of that day.
In other words, when consistency is a ribbon wound around our ever-changing needs, it is an unparalleled gift.
Tapas is Not a Snack
In yoga, the wisdom of consistency and discipline is taught through tapas, a Sanskrit word that means “to burn” (not Spanish-style small plates). Tapas recognizes that it’s human nature to resist doing hard things, but a great amount of growth comes from doing them anyway. However, what’s less clear in this traditional teaching is how to deal with the fact that, for some of us, the voice of discipline is the same as the relentless tirade of not-good-enoughness chasing us from the other end of the tightrope.
Tapas has nothing to do with how many sun salutations you sweated through that day if your body is aching from pain. It has nothing to do with how long you can fast when you need nourishment. It has nothing to do with how long you can stick with a partner — or a teacher — who consistently dampens your fire.
Tapas is a way to find consistent joy by turning daily to what we really need — which may be different from what the limits of the mind tell us we need.
Consistency is a quest that asks us to resolve our fear of making mistakes. As you explore, show up imperfectly for your “no” as well as your “yes.” Let every day be an experiment in what motivates you, what depletes you, and what fills you with passion. What falls into these categories may surprise you, and it will likely change over time.
It did for me.
Burn, Baby, Burn
Like I said, I have never had problems adhering to high standards. Yet my four years under the disciplined abuse of my former teacher changed what I was willing to be brave for.
At first I was performing a familiar dance — chasing an unattainable level of perfection. I was so good at that. Despite having a nursing newborn, I woke up at 4:45 for morning sadhana every day. Despite my marriage almost breaking in half from the household strain, I made perfect Ayurvedic meals from scratch and kept the house spotless. Despite seeing my former teacher consistently abuse her students, I ghost wrote hundreds of inspiring blogs in her wisest voice.
Then one day, I found myself facing a fire so big that it threatened to consume me. I had no choice but to sacrifice instead the perfectionist who had ruled me for many years. In went the guilt, the need to prove myself, and my job. I’ve never looked back.
There Is No Pill for This
If you’ve read this far, congratulations, because you were likely raised in Western culture that values healing in an easy-to-swallow pill — the opposite of the balm of consistency that must be applied daily.
All wisdom traditions say that at least half of healing anything that hurts comes from falling in love with the brokenness. Whatever we can lovingly stabilize in this process — times to eat, sleep, and play, for example — holds us in a warm embrace as we show up to face our ugliest parts. But sometimes what will most inspire love is letting go of all responsibilities for the day or week and finding your wild somewhere.
Life is a constant study of the fine line between poison and medicine. The wise ones decide which is which by noticing what needs to soften and what needs to tone. Let that guide you.
If you still aren’t sure which direction to go, explore playfully. You have a panel of voices inside of you urging you to do one thing or another, and not all are as helpful as you think they are. Listen to all of them. Give each of them names. Dress up as them if you like and allow them to have their say for a few days. You’ll be surprised at how many there are, and how much they’ve been guiding you without you knowing it. What you’ll likely find when you begin to pay attention is there is one more voice, one that is consistently saying “yes” to the things that melt all your rough spots like caramel. That is the voice you have been searching for. Follow that one. Always follow that one.
