1. Before you address your anxiety, ask yourself the question, "Who am I?" Through this form of quiet contemplation, your attention becomes centered in the peace and fullness of the Eternal Witness who is the thinker of the thought.
2. Attend to the inhalation and exhalation of your breath at the bridge between the two nostrils.
3. As you remain centered in the equanimity of the Eternal Witness, practice detachment and dispassionately welcome, witness and honor your concerns - allowing yourself to be present with these thoughts, desires and emotions without being controlled by them.
4. Listening to the inner wisdom of your conscience, willingly surrender the worrisome thought back to its Origin - the Origin of every person, every thing and every thought (the Divine Reality).
5. Lovingly direct your attention to your mantra (the name of the Divine Reality).
6. If it's possible, go for a mantra walk. Take a brisk fifteen to twenty minute walk just listening to the silent repetition of your mantra.
7. Try to recognize an opportunity (it's probably in front of you right now) to engage in some selfless service. This transforms the energy of worry into the energy of love, fearlessness and strength.

THE WHITEST HORSE
By Leonard Perlmutter

An excerpt from

The Heart and Science of Yoga:
A Blueprint for Peace, Happiness and Freedom from Fear
©2005

ISBN 0-9753752-8-8. $28.95, 538 pages, Publication Date: September 2005

From His Divine power comes forth all this magical show of name and form, of you and me, which casts the spell of pain and pleasure. Only when we pierce through this magic veil do we see the One who appears as many.

The sages of yoga science consistently remind us that if we are earnest in our spiritual practice and base our choices on the wise and good counsel of our own inner wisdom, everything we need will come to us - like "a thief in the night." Because the vast majority of our choices relate to thoughts, desires and emotions, the fruits of these choices may require time and patience to be seen, understood and appreciated. A few precious experiences, however, are so immediate and dramatic that they're impossible to ignore. For us, the lesson of the whitest horse was both direct and profound and continues to inspire our spiritual practice to this day.

In ancient Indian scriptures, the term "white horse" appears in connection with the yogic practice of pratyahara - the withdrawal or purification of the senses. The name Shvetashvatara literally means "whitest horse" and refers to that sage who willingly and consciously surrenders the attractive, pleasant, familiar and comfortable allure of short term ego or sense gratification in favor of the choice that will always lead toward our ultimate liberation - moksha.

A Lesson in Trust
In the autumn of 1993, our teacher, Swami Rama, left the United States and returned to Rishikesh in the foothills of his beloved Himalayan Mountains. At that time, rumors had circulated that this great teacher believed he had completed his life's mission and was ready to retire from the world in preparation for the final transition of death. Six months later, in March of 1994, we were invited to attend a one-month "spiritual journey" to study the Shvetashvatara Upanishad with Swami Rama in Rishikesh and to climb to the source of the Ganges River, high in the Himalayas.

Until that time, neither of us had felt a burning desire to visit India, yet we were suddenly drawn to this unique opportunity to study with Swami Rama for two reasons. First, we believed this would be Swami Rama's final public teaching, and since he had been our principal teacher for sixteen years, this trip presented an occasion for the respectful and sacred closure we longed for. The journey would be a way to say both "thank you" and "bon voyage." Secondly, since neither of us was even a novice mountain climber, the trek into the Himalayas represented a huge opportunity to confront our fears.

In discussing the possibility of making such a trip, however, cost quickly became a major issue. The $7,500 was an enormous amount of money for us at that time. As part of our spiritual practice we maintain a simple lifestyle, so withdrawing such a large sum of money from our long-term savings to travel halfway around the world seemed quite extravagant.

As the deadline approached, we were on an emotional seesaw. We knew the trip would be an important spiritual experience, but our concerns were real. We didn't have a lot of money and the cost represented a substantial sacrifice. Furthermore, there was the anticipated terror of entrusting our lives to allegedly sure-footed donkeys picking their way along narrow Himalayan rock ledges that, at any moment, might tumble us down into an unfathomable abyss.

Because our internal deliberations were so agonizing, we knew we were facing a major test of character. Witnessing our habit patterns, wrestling first with our fears and then with our desires, we earnestly tried to follow the suggestions of our intuitive wisdom in thought, word and deed while surrendering the limitations of our attachments back to the Origin from which they had come.

Finally, the day of reckoning was upon us. We had to make a decision - to go or not to go. And even though we had been struggling for weeks over the choice, that morning the answer was clear. There was no hesitation, no second-guessing. We both awakened that morning with a quiet certainty. We had passed beyond doubt. At 10:30 in the morning, with a calm deliberateness, we wrote a check for $7,500 and sent it off in the morning mail. The deed was done. Despite our fears and concerns, we were going to Rishikesh, India to study the Shvetashvatara Upanishad with Swami Rama.

As the confidence of our morning decision withstood guerrilla attack from deep-seated habit patterns, we remained resolute. Worries did resurface, but we were steadfast in our efforts to witness and honor them while serving the wise and good counsel of our own inner wisdom. At lunchtime, neither of us had very much to say. It seemed more appropriate to rest in our mantra as we prepared and ate our food rather than to rehash the long deliberations that had brought us to this peace.

Around 3:30 that same afternoon I received a momentous telephone call from a long-time art patron in Florida. He was calling to commission Jenness to create a traditional conformation portrait of his celebrated thoroughbred racehorse, Runaway Groom. Since the client had been a collector for many years and was familiar with Jenness's artwork, our conversation included none of the usual sales banter. Instead, we concentrated on where the horse was stabled in Lexington, the name and telephone number of the farm manager so we could schedule a visit and how long it would take to complete the commission.

When asked if he'd like to speak with Jenness personally to work out details of the painting, the client declined. "Jenness is a fine painter," he replied. "I have confidence that she’ll create a magnificent painting." Then he added, "There is just one thing, however, that I'd definitely like you to tell her for me. As you know, I've been associated with the horse racing industry for many years. Please tell her that in all those years, this is the whitest horse I have ever seen."

With a chill at the back of my neck, the hairs standing straight up on my arm and my mantra resonating in my ears, I thanked the client and respectfully ended the conversation as quickly as possible - dashing out of my office and across the hall to Jenness's studio to recount the miraculous story. Choking a bit on the humbling events that had just transpired, I recounted the story. "Jenness," I said, "this morning, following the advice of inner wisdom, we surrendered our fear of sacrificing seven thousand five hundred dollars to travel to India to study the 'whitest horse' Upanishad with Swami Rama. Now, on this same afternoon, Don Dizney has just commissioned a painting of Runaway Groom, and he insists that I tell you personally that "this is the whitest horse he has ever seen."

As if those coincidences were not enough to humble and inspire us, the price of the commission was, to the penny, the same as for the trip to India - $7,500! In other words, the portrait of the "whitest horse" was going to pay for our trip to India to study the "whitest horse" Upanishad.

We are still learning the great lesson of this amazing experience: that unimaginable and beneficial circumstances can, and do, come into our lives to guide us. But in order to receive this bounty of Divine grace, we must first consciously, willingly and lovingly serve our inner wisdom and surrender all attachments that are in conflict with inner wisdom - preparing the soil for seeds of grace to sprout.

"Grace," the sages promise, "is always available," and the preparation for receiving is simple. The first step is abiding faith. It is faith, or shraddha that provides us the will and resolution to surrender debilitating habits in order to serve a higher good. Shraddha also prepares us to recognize Grace when it appears. If Grace falls directly into our laps, yet goes unrecognized, we do not truly receive it. We must be ready to see it for what it is and to gratefully accept and employ it.

For us, this story continues to be a straightforward and dramatic demonstration of a timeless law, one that is acknowledged in every tradition. Perhaps Jesus the Christ states it most succinctly in the Sermon on the Mount when He tells us, "seek ye first the kingdom of God, and all these things will be added unto you." This is the unforgettable message of our own experience with the grace of the Shvetashvatara - the whitest horse. Through continuous practice and the unshakable faith that is its reward, we prepare ourselves to know and receive the guidance and help that are already before us.

The Heart and Science of Yoga: A Blueprint for Peace, Happiness and Freedom from Fear By Leonard Perlmutter is available from amazon.com.




© 2005, Leonard Perlmutter