Physical and mental toxins create stiffness and tension. Anything that makes us stiff can also break us. Only if we are supple will we never break.
Satchidananda
In other words we need to be able to relax into what is, both on the mat and off.
Serendipity again.
I was reading a little Indian story yesterday, found in the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali, about a weed and a big tree. The story was found in the description of Sutra 46 in Book Two: Asana is a steady, comfortable posture. Satchidananda was basically using the story to illustrate how we should not only relax, with flexibility and steadiness, into the uncomfortable postures of Hatha, but also into the "uncomfortable" situations of Life. We begin by removing the judgement "uncomfortable" and "comfortable". We need to remove all judgement.
Well, I thought of that story and contemplated coming here to write about it today. Morning came, and one thought after the other led me away from that intention until I heard Michael Singer mention the "Oak Tree and the weed" in his podcast. It was like a zap of lightening to my memory cells activating them all over again.
The story goes like this (my version):
The seed of a weed, picked up and blown randomly by the wind, landed near the trunk of a mighty Oak tree that grew on the bank of a fast-moving river. (Though the tree in the Indian fable was likely a Banyon tree, I will use the Oak tree in this story because Michael Singer used this type of tree in is analogy. I also have big Oak trees in my yard that deserve a shout out.)
Feeling awkward and displaced, the weed grew quickly, as weeds do, but even still it barely reached the first knot in the great tree's base when it was fully grown. One day the big oak tree happened to look down to see the weed standing so closely to its trunk that it brushed against it when the wind blew. The tree was outraged, "How dare you, puny, insignificant weed, stand so close to me, let alone have the audacity to touch my bark! Do you not know how mighty I am? Aren't you ashamed to have your meager weedy form touch my majestic strength and solidity?"
The flimsy little weed trembled beneath the breath of the mighty Oak as it looked up, way, way up the never-ending trunk that was so stiff and solid, "So sorry...so sorry. It was never my intention to get so close. The wind has dropped me here. I had no control over where it took me then and I have no control over how it blows me now. Forgive me." The weed, in shame, dropped its eyes and curled its limp body forward. "And yes, I am ashamed very, very ashamed when I see my puny self so close to such majesty and power. I know I am not as strong, stiff, and sturdy as you are. Please, please forgive my presence here, oh Mighty One."
The tree boomed back, "Well, there is not much I can do now, is there? It is your bad fortune to be so close to the likes of me. How embarrassing it is for you to be compared to my great strength and size, my solid, unmoving stiffness" snorted the tree as it flicked an annoying Eagle off its branch. " Not even an elephant can knock me down...but you...you can easily be squashed by a child's foot or eaten by the smallest rodent. The people and animals of the forest will laugh at you when they walk by. Such a poor pathetic mistake of creation you are."
"I know, I know said the weed." Its little voice barely heard over the rustling of the
Oak tree's leaves. "Please pardon my presence while I live out my lifespan here. Take heart in knowing, it will be much shorter and much more unnoticed than your own."
"Hmph!" the big tree conceded, "Yes that is true...but you better mind your place when you are near me, little weed!"
The weed agreed and did its best to stiffen and steady its little body whenever the wind blew. It struggled against the forces of nature that made it bend towards the tree, and it did everything it could to lean in the opposite direction whenever the wind pushed it toward the tree. Its efforts were useless. The little weed had no solid strength. It was at the mercy of the forces around it. It had no choice but to bend with the wind when the wind blew.
"Oh, I am so pathetic!" said the little weed one day when the wind was especially strong moving it this way and that way.
The big tree looked down at the weed and smirked, "Yes, yes you are," it laughed. "Just watch how strong I remain in this upcoming storm, pathetic little weed. How it cannot hurt me in anyway even when it destroys you. "
Just then a big clap of thunder filled the air and the dark clouds above their heads, now black and menacing, opened up to let a torrent of rain fall upon them. It rained and rained, and the wind speed picked up making the leaves on the Oak tree's branches screech in delight.
"Bring it on" the cocky Oak tree called out to the storm, laughing at how powerful and unmoving it was. It stiffened even more against the wind refusing to bend at all.
And the storm obliged. It rattled the big tree's branches even more. It tossed all animals and debris around in front of it. It stirred up the water in the river beneath them making rip currents that jumped up to lick the exposed roots of the big Oak, pulling down the soil of the bank into its belly, as it did. It pushed the weed this way and that way making it nauseous in the momentum.
The Oak tree just stiffened up more against the storm, showing off its amazing strength. The little weed looked up at it in awe.
Then in one big gust of wind the weed was knocked forward into the earth. It could not move. It could do nothing but relax into the soil in which it landed. The wind was so loud the little weed could hear nothing but its cry. It was sure it was the end.
"Goodbye Oh, Great Tree. I guess, this is the end of me." The little weed relaxed into the idea that these were its final moments on Earth, and it went to sleep.
It woke up when the storm had passed. The sun was shining kindly down on it warming it to the root, like it had never been warmed before. It lifted itself up stretching into the light. "I am still here, oh, Great Tree," it cried in delight, turning to where the tree once stood only to discover it was gone. A large piece of bank was missing.
"Where is the tree? How can such a great and sturdy thing be gone?"
From somewhere up the river the tree's reply could be heard. "Oh little weed, I have been pulled off the bank by the water because I was too stiff and rigid, too arrogant and unbending. I should have been humble, and simple, and supple like you. Strength, I realize too late, comes in bending and relaxing into Life. It comes with flexible allowing. Like you have done little weed, like you have done."
The tree was swept away and the little weed continued to grow strong, bending and blowing with the wind in the humble way it has always done.
All is well.
Michael A. Singer/ Temple of the Universe/ Sounds True ( June 09, 2025) Unconditional Love Is Who You Are. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3x3gJzVjG_Q&list=PLyOuAoSmZkKoESr2acNWwhznusbBkKXsT&index=1
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