I like it, but I don't want it.

Last Friday, I went with a friend to a Buddhist meditation class. The topic was the Five Hindrances, one of which is sensual desire. The teacher told a story about a young, ascetic monk. A group of young nurses came for a course at the monastery, and the young monk's teacher asked him to attend. So imagine, please, this young, ascetic monk in a room full of hot Thai nurses.

When they were done with the class, the teacher asked the young monk, "So how was it being with all the hot Thai nurses?" (Or something to that effect.) The young monk replied, "I like it, but I do not want it."

On the car ride to the class, my friend and I were discussing our partying days, when a night out was thrilling and exciting, and we never knew what chaos was about to descend. We loved it. Neither of us drinks anymore, and we were pondering the lack of thrill in our lives. Fulfillment, sometimes; thrill, almost never. Even though I still love the idea of chaos and parties and not knowing what might happen next, I no longer desire it. I like it, but I don't want it.

You may remember reading about all my intentions post-break up. I was going to practice everyday, eat only non-processed food, write in the morning, and ride my bike instead of drive. I have gotten to my mat just about everyday since then, but the other things, not so much.

I spend a lot of time berating myself for lacking discipline. I was the smart kid in class who never did her homework. I'm the person who can't say no to another cookie. I buy stuff I don't need, and sometimes don't particularly want, and then find myself broke and stressed about money a week later. My entire life I have given in to what feels good in the moment, not what is healthy and sustainable in the long run.  I have always given into sensual desire.

But this might not be entirely true. I quit drinking (and alcohol was my best friend). I quit nicotine after a fifteen-year, pack-a-day smoking habit. And it's been years. I quit cocaine and weed and one night stands and driving without insurance. To some degree, I have grown up.

When people point this out, I usually shrug. Taking credit for it seems inappropriate. Not smoking and not drinking, in particular, are big deals in my life, yet paradoxically they're not big deals. It's not that quitting was easy. It wasn't. It was painful and messy and it took a long, long time. It wasn't easy, but it became, at some point, perfectly clear that those things had to go.

I have to say that sometimes I still enjoy the smell of a freshly lit cigarette. The idea of a cold beer and a shot of tequila at the end of a stressful day can be appealing. I like them, but I do not want them.

The clarity that enabled me to break those addictions is a direct result of my yoga practice. There is real causation. One followed the other. And again, it's not that yoga made it easy (although it did relieve some of the discomfort), it's that the practice of yoga brought clarity. I simply knew what I had to do, and I did it. Willpower was unnecessary.

But there's fine tuning to be done, for sure. There are the cookies and the shopping and the love of the comfort of my car. Discipline based solely on willpower doesn't work for me. It's not sustainable. According to the research, we have a limited amount of willpower and it gets diminished all the time. We may be able to say no to the cookie, but later in the day, we will not be able to say no to the new yoga pants. Or vice versa.  (If this is a topic that interests you, definitely read the book, Willpower: Rediscovering the Greatest Human Strength. NYT review here.)

What I'm learning (and forgetting and relearning) is that 100% of my willpower has to be dedicated to getting my body on the mat. When I do that, I get clarity. I'm able to say more often, "I like it, but I do not want it."

So I'll get to my mat, today at least, and have faith in what Pattabhi Jois told us, "Practice and all is coming."