We continue our reflection on Yoga Sūtra 2.17 today. We were prepared to move on, but something kept pulling us back to take another look. There’s a deep-rooted tendency within us—a misidentification of the seer (drashtṛ) with the seen (dṛśya)—that deserves more attention. In Sāṅkhya philosophy, this confusion manifests as mistaking Prakṛti (the material world, the ever-changing reality) for Puruṣa (pure consciousness, the unchanging witness within us). We struggle to recognize our capital-S Self, our deepest essence beyond the shifting roles, relationships, and experiences of life.
Yesterday, we explored the importance of being mindful of our thoughts, emotions, experiences, and attachments to status or possessions. Today, let's apply that same inquiry to our relationships. Consider the devastation of communities like those in Jasper, where wildfires have destroyed homes, leaving people not only physically displaced but mentally and emotionally shaken. In such moments, people often ask: Who am I without my home? My community? My identity as a resident of this place? The suffering is not just about the loss of material security but also about the profound disorientation that comes when we attach our sense of self to external circumstances.
Now, let’s take this further. Who am I without my relationships? This is a complex but crucial question. If the quality of our relationships determines the quality of our lives, then how do we navigate love and connection without losing ourselves? Can we love without clinging to a specific outcome? Can we act in relationships from a place of authenticity rather than out of societal or familial expectations?
Understanding these dynamics takes security, self-awareness, and time spent in silence. This is why meditation, contemplation, and solitude are so important—they give us the space to untangle ourselves from these attachments. Are we acting out of conditioned expectations—from our partner, culture, or family of origin? Or are we acting from our own true nature?
A line from the movie Jerry Maguire comes to mind—when Tom Cruise’s character tells Renée Zellweger’s character, "You complete me." As romantic as it sounds, I don’t think Patañjali would approve. If we are looking for another person to "complete" us, we are missing the essence of what it means to be whole within ourselves.
So today, take this into your workshop. Observe your relationships. Notice where you might be holding on too tightly. Reflect on how you can love fully while remaining anchored in your own Puruṣa—your unshaken, eternal Self.