What is equanimity?
Yoga teachers and practitioners often mention equanimity as a primary intention or result of a yoga practice. It evokes images of serenity, peace, calm, and like you have absolutely transcended the BS of the human condition. It’s alluring, right? I even lead a wellness retreat called A Return to Equanimity with a friend because, well, we all WANT to experience/live/BE equanimity. But how is it defined? How would you define it? Here’s how I define it and how the yogic and Buddhist canons describe it.
Defining Equanimity
When we think of equanimity, we might imagine peace and calm, like sitting under a tree with eyes closed and a smile while the world falls apart all around. But that’s not really it because equanimity is not inaction or indifference. It’s not a nonresponse at all. In fact, it’s actually our default approach as sentient creatures, but, over the years, the human experience often draws us away from it. Because of that and because the concept is truly so dang simple, an honest and accurate definition often eludes us, especially because, here in the West, we tend to inflate the meaning, symbolism, or result of our practice for something magical, blissful, and unattainable for the average person.
Equanimity is a quality of the heart. You may hear “heart” and think love, compassion, or joy. These aren’t misguided or wrong ideas about the energy of the heart, but they are incomplete. Anahata is the Sanskrit name of the heart chakra, or energy center, in the body. It translates to “unstruck,” and is our center for resilience and unwavering mental neutrality. It is not indifference! Equanimity means that we can face injustice with deep compassion and motivation to transform a situation from unjust to just, but we can approach it through a clear perspective, an “unstruck” place that does not reflect or become influenced by our grief, anger, or resentment.
Upeksha is another Sanskrit word that means “even-mindedness.” It’s described in the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali and is one of four attitudes that the practice of yoga can lead us to. In Buddhism, Upekkha (the Pali counterpart), is a state learned and practiced on the path to Nirvana. In short, when we experience equanimity, we are even, neutral, and balanced. It’s not extraordinary or magical. It’s just clear, “unstruck.”
Equanimity is a clear and balanced state of mind, an approach to all parts of life, and an unattached attitude toward emotions, things, and events. It is equal vision. Equanimity is soft and spacious; it is an a priori condition, rather than a reaction to an experience; and equanimity makes room for all states without judgment or clinging.
Cultivating Equanimity
So, how can we experience and be equanimity? Seems easy on the mat in a quiet yoga studio after a nourishing practice, but out in the world…not as easy, right?
Equanimity is made up of four ingredients that we can find in our mindfulness practices: presence, openness or availability, curiosity, and acceptance. When we combine these ingredients, the recipe results in a clearer lens, an open heart, and a neutral mindset. From here, we can operate with equanimity.
Yoga asana and mindfulness meditation can lead to presence, availability, curiosity, and acceptance. Try sitting quietly and taking a moment to contemplate the physical sensations in your body or your desires and aversions to specific circumstances in your life. Rather than fixating on one part of this practice (like your breath or an ache in your left hip), allow the practice to illuminate the larger picture: the impermanence of or subtle changes to the ache, the spaciousness in the notion that your present life circumstances will change because that’s life. Notice how the breath moves from inhale to exhale, full to empty. This is presence and availability.
In your asana practice, what happens if you allow yourself to be led completely by your intuition or the teacher without the judgment of your intellect or the conditioning of desire or dislike for and of certain postures or a “style” of practice? As you move, are you available to the moment or thinking about a meeting you have later in the day? Are you comfortable with not knowing what is next in the sequence of postures or the inevitability of Savasana at the end? This is curiosity and acceptance.
At the end of the practice, notice how your mind can know grief and resentment and also hope and acceptance. Notice how you can feel “better” but not “perfect,” how you can feel tired and satisfied. This is contentment.
Our practice - little by little, again and again - can help us clean our lens, open our heart, and cultivate equanimity. It doesn’t mean that we will be in a perpetual state of equanimity. It simply means that we know it is available to us, that it takes practice and consistency, and that it is simple and who we are.