As we consciously cultivate equanimity in our yoga practice, we may start to refine our ability to do so in the rest of our life as well. We may learn to keep fighting for blue whales or clear air without collapsing in despair when our efforts seem futile. We may learn to get up every morning and work on the screen-play we’ve always dreamed of writing, not driven by fantasies of our appearance on Oprah when the film is a blockbuster or crippled by the scathing reviews blaring in our own heads.
The world is full of losses we can’t stop and joys we can’t keep. We may pour our whole heart into helping our teenager get off drugs, then watch him spiral back into addiction. We may spend 10 years fighting to save a coastal wetland, then watch it get signed over to developers. At its highest level, upekkha can help us stay centered in the midst of all of these experiences—to savor life’s joys without clinging to them and to open to life’s sorrows without pushing them away.
In Buddhist Literature, upekkha is often compared with the attitude of a mother who lets go of controlling her children as they grow up—continuing to support them and wish them well but recognizing that their choices are theirs to make, good or bad. This image particularly spoke to me that first week of preschool, when o got a tiny taste of how hard such a task could be.
