Seeing Something New in an Old Thought Part Two

The Softening Before Sukah Purvaka

I’ve been thinking more about sukha-pūrvaka.

At first I was thinking of it as approaching something with ease.

But maybe that’s not quite it.

Maybe it’s the softening that happens before the ease.

I see it in little things.

Ice cream doesn’t go from solid to dripping all at once. It softens first.

Irritation can soften before I let it go.

Someone who is going to apologize may soften their body before they say a word. You can see something happening in their face, their shoulders, the way they move toward you.

And a boat slows down before it reaches the dock.

It hasn’t stopped yet.

But something has changed.

That’s beginning to feel like sukha-pūrvaka to me.

And I’m seeing it in Sketch Stretching.

When I start a sketch, I don’t know where it is going. I make a mark and follow a connection. I notice something. I follow that. Sometimes I come up against something that feels like a blockage.

My first tendency might be to push through it.

But the sketch gives me another possibility.

I can stay with it.

I can look at it.

I can follow the feeling around it.

And something begins to soften.

Maybe I don’t even notice the softening at first. But eventually I’m no longer pushing against the same thing.

The door isn’t being forced open.

It’s beginning to open.

That’s what I’m beginning to see in Sketch Stretching.

The sketch isn’t necessarily solving something.

It is creating a way for something to soften.

And once it softens, there is room for something else to happen.

A new association.

A different feeling.

A different way of seeing.

Maybe even a little more happiness.

So perhaps sukha-pūrvaka isn’t another thing I need to practice.

It may be something I am already practicing when I Sketch Stretch.

The pencil slows me down.

The paper gives me somewhere to put the thought.

The hand keeps me connected to the body.

I follow instead of force.

And somewhere in that process, something softens.

The softening comes before the opening.

And the opening comes before I see what is on the other side.

Maybe that’s why the word feels useful to me now.

It gives a name to something I have experienced many times without having a name for it.

The boat is slowing down.

The ice cream is softening.

The irritation is loosening.

The person is beginning to apologize.

The door is beginning to open.

And I’m beginning to wonder if Sketch Stretching has been teaching me to notice that moment.

Not when everything is easy.

But when it begins to become easier.