Sankalpa: Listening for What Is Already Within

For the past couple of weeks, sankalpa has been the theme woven through my classes—often translated in iRest® as heartfelt desire: that which gives our lives a sense of meaning, purpose, and value.

Purpose is an ancient human inquiry. What matters to me? What gives my life meaning? What feels worth giving my time and energy to?

And perhaps just as interesting: How do I know when I’m moving toward what matters—and when I’ve moved away from it?

Maybe the body knows more than we realize.

What happens in your body when you are engaged in something that feels meaningful? What do you notice when you are living in a way that feels true to you? And what happens when something feels out of alignment—when you find yourself moving through life on autopilot, disconnected, or simply not quite yourself?

In the yogic teachings, sankalpa is not so much a goal to accomplish as a way of being. It isn't something we necessarily think our way into. Rather, we become quiet enough to feel what is already there. It is less about deciding who we should become and more about listening for what is already alive within us.

There is also the idea of vikalpa—that which takes us away from ourselves. Perhaps we all recognize those times: when the demands, expectations, habits, and momentum of life become louder than our own inner knowing. We can lose our sense of direction without realizing we've wandered.

This is one reason I value practices like yoga, LPF, Tai Chi and iRest. They give us a place to pause the constant doing, planning and thinking of daily life. A place to listen inward. To remember.

I often think of sankalpa as an inner compass. The compass doesn't disappear when we lose our way. We may simply need to pause long enough to notice where we're facing.

This is part of what I hope Strength & Grace can offer: a welcoming place to step out of the busy doing and thinking of daily life, reconnect with yourself, and remember something of your own innate strength, grace, peace, vitality and inspiration.

So perhaps the inquiry isn't, “What should my purpose be?”

Maybe it is simply:

What makes me feel more alive?

What feels meaningful to me?

When do I feel most like myself?

What might I be moving toward?

And what might be quietly asking me to turn back toward myself?

There may not be an immediate answer. And perhaps there doesn't need to be.

Sometimes the practice is opening to the question, and simply becoming quiet enough to listen.

“Who looks outside, dreams; who looks inside, awakens.”

— Carl Jung