On my most recent trip to India I fell more in love with Nandi. Nandi is the bull that is always, unwaveringly looking at Śiva. If you see Śiva Nandi will be there looking on, and it is customary for people to whisper their prayers or desires to Nandi because he will bring them to Śiva.
Nandi is the epitome of single-pointed focus because no matter what is happening his gaze is focused on Śiva. As I saw Nandi in many forms and many places throughout the incredible yātrā with my guru and saṅgha I was inspired and curious about my own focus and also lack thereof.
As I reflected on my own life and where my focus is at any given time it is rarely single-pointed. I might say my spiritual practice is my primary focus, but then I get caught up in making money, doom scrolling, defending my opinions, comparing myself to someone I think is doing “better” or “worse” than me, etc. How much of my focus is truly where I say it is?
As the crowds swirled around Nandi people were enamored by the architecture, taking selfies or having conversations. I was constantly drawn to Nandi’s stillness, silence, steadiness and unwavering gaze, but soon enough I would become entranced by a carving in the temple, a conversation would grip me and I too would desire that perfect picture.
My guru talks about taming the mind before we can train it, and Nandi is a beautiful example of a mind that is both tamed and trained. One thing I notice about Nandi is he is always sitting, which implies stillness. My guru also emphasizes the importance of stillness. To be able to simply sit still is a huge practice in itself! Try sitting absolutely still for 1 minute and you may find how difficult it is. I notice how often I want to fidget my fingers, adjust my clothing, scratch that itch, grab for something, etc. When we start to train the body to be still we are also training the mind. When I notice the urge to grab my phone and sit in the desire without moving I can feel the energy move through my body and dissipate. I can start to feel how there is a little discomfort that I want to get away from and I can do that by distracting myself with my phone. When I can sit in stillness I can be in a more intimate relationship with myself because I can start to observe when I leave myself through distraction.
I also love Nandi’s gaze. It is soft, sweet, loving and yet unwavering. There isn’t an intensity to his gaze. There is so much love. When I approach something I often do it from a place of intensity and drive, which feels quite the opposite of Nandi’s vibe. Even when I am practicing sitting still it can get rigid, tight and harsh. Then I give up and collapse. Nandi shows me that focus isn’t about gripping, it is actually about softening. This is paradoxical to the way I have learned about focus. Focus takes effort and discipline. This is true, but it can also be sweet and loving. I remember when I first met my dog many years ago and loved staring at him. There was no effort involved. It was pure joy to watch this being move about the world. I hear this from new parents too. The joy of love. So how do we transform hard discipline into sweet devotion? How can discipline happen because of desire and longing vs. should and force? As Nandi looks at Śiva it is not from an obligation. It is because there is nothing else in the world he would rather do.
There are parts of myself that I love and there are parts of myself that I don’t love, but Nandi doesn’t turn away from Śiva because Nandi loves Śiva regardless. What if I could love myself whether I am distracted or focused? I am able to still still or I am wiggling around? Nandi’s gaze shows me there is nothing to fix within me and I am loved just because I am.
What do you love more than anything in the world? What could you stare at for hours on end without ever getting bored? Could you turn that sweet, loving and devoted gaze on yourself? Can you sit still with yourself to be with the parts that you love and don’t love? If you can’t, can you sit with that too?
