Fear of Devotion
By Theresa Shay
This is the second piece in a series about the relationship with the guru. Read Part 1 here.
When I travel with Kaliji in Europe, I keep a little book by my side to write down new German vocabulary useful for discussing yoga. The word that captured my attention this year was die Hingabe. I heard this noun more than once in the translation of Kaliji’s teachings. In my little book, I have it listed as both “dedication” and “devotion.” The related verb hingeben, formed from hin, to/toward, and geben, to give, translates as “give up, lay down, sacrifice.” As I think about my journey with the concept of a guru, hingeben plays a part.
When I started yoga, I not only held back from the guru scene, I resisted it. I was unable to “give to” the guru and express devotion, even though I was definitely dedicated to the practice. I did not trust that devotion to another person would yield anything positive. While those around me would lay down at times before the teacher, offering a bow known as a pranam in Sanskrit, my neck stuck up into the sky, stiff and uncomfortable. I wasn’t trying to make a point. Rather, I simply could not bend, or “give to” surrendering.
When a guru walked into the room, people often stood. At this point, my legs would freeze, cementing my rear end to my yoga pillow. Then I was stuck too low, staring at knees and feet, wondering what the guru thought of me for sitting down amidst a crowd of respectfully standing students.
In those days, my mind was extremely active. I worried that to bow down or stand up as signals of devotion or even acknowledgement, meant I would lose myself. I feared it would be the first step toward no longer following my inner guidance. I would become a blind sheep led off the edge of the cliff to death.
Those who have been trained to “use your mind” have unconsciously learned to be wary of devotion. It’s acceptable to be devoted to a cause, devoted to your work, devoted to your children. But devotion to a teacher or spiritual guide raises eyebrows and red flags in Western culture.
In the church I grew up in, even expressions of devotion to God were cautious. We didn’t bow low and we didn’t kneel at all. When we went to church with my grandmother, we would kneel during mass like Grandma did. However, at our home church, no one kneeled until the bishop uttered a proclamation requiring it.
The fastest way to accelerate people’s distance from devotion is to issue a decree requiring it.
This is what sets devotion to a guru apart.
A true guru expects nothing and requires nothing of the devotee. They simply witness and hold their place, at hOMe in their own heart. The have quieted their own mind so deeply that they need nothing from others. They have grounded the ego in Presence, leaving desires and attachments behind.
This solid posture opens up a clear path that the students can walk themselves. Bit by bit, presence quiets skepticism; focus releases hesitations; and love overwhelms fear - not by pushing concerns aside or burying them from active reflection, but by drawing us closer to the cosmic energy that reveals infinite truth. The guru points to the source and shows the student how to open the spigot. Love fills the well until it overflows.
Like a massive river that comes to the edge, with no choice on its journey to the ocean but to tumble into the unseen, so devotion is.
For me, the trickle of love inside gradually became a waterfall. Over I went.
I have been taught, by listening to the wisdom the guru speaks, to hear the wisdom the Divine sends directly to me. This is heard not through the broadcasts of resistance and doubt, but through the vibration of connection and dedication. My devotion is to that path, which the guru has already tread, her hand extended in welcome.
I bow with overwhelming gratitude because my guru’s way of being in life serves as a powerful example that I can meet life calmly, quietly, powerfully and with an internal connection to something much bigger than myself. Trusting this is exactly what I want to give over to, move in harmony with, and lay down before.
I rest with my head on the earth, the light of my crown shining into the life to which I am devoted, and shining on my teacher whose wisdom has lit me up. Surrendered in gratitude, I become the river of Hingabe, completely and utterly “given to” that which is beyond me and also deeply, truly within me. I have lost nothing. I have found my Self.
Theresa Shay is the founding director of TriYoga of Central Pennsylvania, where she teaches weekly yoga and meditation online and trains others to teach TriYoga®. Each week, she shares wisdom cultivated from decades of TriYoga study and practice.
Learn more about her here. Theresa can be reached at Theresa@PennsylvaniaYoga.com. Find her on Instagram @theresa_of_triyoga for more inspiration and light.