On the Fluctuating Gunas (The What???)

Today I woke up anxious. Physically, I had a slight tightness in my chest. My heart felt a little heavy, but the worst was my breath. I couldn’t help but sigh every few moments—obviously releasing some kind of tension. I felt slightly lost, not sure where my life is going. Not even an hour later, I was laughing and feeling like wherever my life is going, it doesn’t matter—I’ll get there as I need to.

These are the “Gunas”—fluctuations that are normal in the universe. They are everywhere: in the weather, in our moods. It’s a universal law. What goes up must come down. What swings one way will swing the other.

The Gunas are a term I learned in yoga teacher training and were often discussed. They’re now part of my regular vocabulary and thought process. We don’t stay in one mood forever. Nothing stays in its state forever. We are supposed to feel good and bad. It should be expected that both good and bad things will happen. Fighting it is what leads to suffering. In Buddhism, a key tenet is that attachment causes suffering—even attachment to feeling a certain way (like happy), being attached to an outcome you want, or to objects, feelings, desires, etc. The Hindu tradition (yoga’s roots) describes the same concept, just in a different way.

From Yogapedia: https://www.yogapedia.com

A guna is an attribute of nature, according to Hindu philosophy. In Hinduism, there are three gunas that have always existed in the world, in both living and non-living things:

  • Tamas (darkness, destructive, death)
    • Rajas (energy, passion, birth)
    • Sattva (goodness, purity, light)

Here in our Western world, we are not taught to think this way. We tend to feel that if something goes wrong or we don’t feel well (mentally, physically, or spiritually), then something is wrong with us. Imagine if we were taught that both elation and depression are normal and to be expected? Neither will stay. Both are part of the experience of being alive. The more we attach to any experience (good or bad), the more we will “suffer”—suffering meaning anything from disappointment to despair.

I’m signed up for daily emails from Richard Rohr, a Franciscan priest who has written many books on spirituality. I recently finished Falling Upward, which was amazing. Much of it was about how we need to fall in order to learn and grow—how opposite things are complementary and part of life. I’ll share a quote from a recent meditation:

“If we are going to talk about light, then we must also talk about darkness, because they only have meaning in relation to one another. All things on earth are a mixture of darkness and light, and it is not good to pretend that they are totally separate!”

Understanding the Gunas is one of the many ways I am learning to accept life as it is. When I remember them during low moments, I can almost embrace them as part of the full experience of life. Not always—but more and more often.

They have helped me—and if you’ve read this and are willing to try, perhaps they can help you or someone you love too.

Peace & Namaste

Thanks for taking the time to read. I’d love to hear your thoughts!

Please feel free to leave a comment or subscribe for future updates.

On the passage of time

It still hurts after 10 years. The same exact pain at times. The same heart-wrenching squeeze that comes in waves while I’m experiencing grief. It feels like my heart is being rung out.

The first time I felt this so strongly was around this time of year 11 years ago when my mom was diagnosed with lung cancer. She died 10 years and 2 months ago. She was only 49. October 25th would have been her 60th birthday. My grandmother, who I was even closer with, passed away just 11 months later—also from lung cancer. She would have been 89 this year on November 21.

I miss them. Tonight, I’m especially missing them.

Them. Because they passed away so close together, we often refer to them as “them.” I don’t think about this often, but tonight I’m mourning and it’s on my mind. I was crying and having a hard time breathing in bed, so I got up and decided to pour it out—onto a keyboard instead of paper.

People who have lost someone close understand how grief can capture you by surprise. How it moves through your body. How, in those moments, it can feel like it will never let go.

They may also understand the strange comfort that can come when you feel the presence of the people you’ve lost. When I’m inconsolable, I feel them. Both of them. Always together, always comforting. I don’t know if it’s memory, energy, or something beyond what we understand—but I’m certain something about them helps me get through it.

Tonight I found myself thinking about who “we” are—the small group of people who still hold them together like this.

My brothers. My aunt. They understand immediately. I can tell them I had a dream, or that I’m having a hard night, and they just get it.

Then there’s John, my ex-husband. He was part of my life and my family when we were young, when my parents were still together. He knew them. He understood the dynamic—especially between my mom and grandmother. They were opposites. They annoyed each other, complained about each other, but loved each other deeply.

I remember one night soon after my grandmother passed. I was hysterically crying, and John said, “I bet when your mom saw grandma in the afterlife she said to her ‘So soon?’”— I stopped crying and started laughing. I still laugh about it today. It was exactly what she would have said.

I don’t talk to John much anymore, but I know if I needed to talk about them, he’d understand.

My father comes to mind too. He lives a bit in his own world, but he has moments where he reflects on them. Even though my parents were divorced, he’ll speak fondly of my mom and recall memories with my grandmother. Sometimes those conversations can shift in ways I don’t want them to, but the connection is still there.

My uncle. Maybe my kids, in a different way—but they didn’t fully know them like we did.

And that’s what hit me tonight.

How few people are left who truly knew them the way I did.

It made me think about time.

Thomas was supposed to come home this weekend. I had his room ready, stocked with his favorite foods. I was so excited. But work got in the way, and he couldn’t make it. I know I should just feel grateful he’s healthy and doing well—but I’m still sad.

Gabby is in her last year of high school. Soon she won’t be home every day either. Then there will be partners, new families, new traditions. Holidays will shift.

Up until now, I’ve had them for everything. Every holiday—big and small. I made a big deal out of all of it. Valentine’s Day, St. Patrick’s Day, Halloween—especially fall. Baking, decorating, pumpkin picking.

And now I can feel that chapter starting to close.

I always knew this would happen. I understood it intellectually. But tonight, I feel it.

My grandmother used to tell me to enjoy this time. To relax and take it in. I didn’t fully understand then.

I do now.

And I’ll probably understand it even more deeply 20 years from now.

We think we understand things before we actually do. We don’t.

We grow older. Our kids grow up. People leave our lives in different ways. Nothing stays the same.

The things we take for granted won’t always be here.

The world is impermanent.

Why do we think we can hold onto anything?

Maybe the real wisdom is understanding that change is inevitable—and that sadness has a place alongside happiness.

And maybe peace comes when we stop fighting that.

Time has given me space between moments of grief, but it hasn’t erased it.

Time has given me older children, but I don’t love them any less—or feel their distance any easier.

Time has given me more understanding, but often only after the moment has passed.

And time will keep moving.

Maybe this is a little too deep for some. Tonight, I feel deep.

I’m sad that this chapter of raising my kids is shifting.

And mostly, I just really miss my mom and grandma.

So tonight, before I try to sleep, I’ll think of John’s comment—

“So soon?”

And I’ll let myself smile.

Peace.

Thanks for taking the time to read. I’d love to hear your thoughts!

Please feel free to leave a comment or subscribe for future updates.