Tapas Anyone?
Does Your View Follow You Into Every Avenue of Your Life?
I’ve been contemplating something lately that I’ve had a hard time putting clearly into words, but I’m going to attempt it today.
It’s the idea that our philosophy — our view of life — must eventually permeate every avenue of our life.
What do I mean by that?
Well, we all have different avenues.
There is our family life.
Our work life.
Our friendships and relationships.
And the life we have with ourselves.
Sometimes the philosophy we live by works beautifully in one of those places… but falls short in another.
Let me outline three yogic principles that have guided me for many years.
Abhyāsa – consistent, dedicated effort.
Simply put: keep showing up. Continue the beneficial actions.
Tapas – not the delicious Spanish appetizers, but the inner fire that fuels transformation. Tapas is the work we do that burns away the things that obscure and hide the best parts of our nature.
This little light of mine, I’m going to let it shine.
And finally Vairāgya – the ability to release the outcome. To do the work, but let go of clinging to how things must turn out.
Practice.
The fire of refinement.
And releasing the outcome.
Now a little personal story.
When I first began practicing yoga, I jumped in with full force.
Daily practices.
Long practices.
Fiery practices.
I was determined to burn away all the things that had made life difficult up to that point.
But if I’m honest, I was very attached to the outcome.
I wanted to feel better immediately.
I wanted to change quickly.
I wanted to get rid of the suffering right now.
It was very much: do, do, do — let’s fix this immediately.
Over time though, something began to soften.
The practices continued, but with more grace and ease. I still showed up, but the fire became gentler. I continued to practice, but I became less and less concerned with forcing the results.
Great story, right?
Good boy. Yoga works. The end.
Except that life isn’t quite that simple.
Because we don’t have just one avenue of life — we have many.
The philosophy that was working so well internally eventually had to show up in my relationships as well. And that arc looked familiar: effort, heat, expectations… frustration… and eventually softening again.
But here is the real cautionary tale.
The avenue of my life that has been the most challenging — the one that creates the most stress, uncertainty, and unease — has been my professional life.
For about thirty years I’ve worked in the computer industry. And it’s a very different world today than when I started. The threats to security and data are enormous. A single mistake can cripple a business.
Carrying that kind of responsibility can weigh heavily.
Recently I had to deal with one of the most challenging aspects of my job — the threat of losing a client’s data.
I worked for hours on end for almost three weeks. Pushing hard, staying up late, overthinking every possible way we could be attacked again. It felt like a kind of digital PTSD.
And I noticed something familiar rising up in me.
The same mindset I had when I first started yoga years ago.
Push harder.
Push longer.
Get results now.
End the suffering.
Eventually we got the systems into a state of deep protection. But even then my mind would not let go.
What if something else happens?
What more can I do?
How do I make sure this never happens again?
And that’s when something humbling dawned on me.
In the very area of life that was causing the most stress, I had not fully applied the same principles that had transformed my inner life.
So I made a simple decision.
I would treat my work the same way I treat my yoga practice.
Consistent effort.
A steady fire to improve and refine the systems I care for.
And then letting go of the outcome.
Because when it comes to computers — and honestly, life — you can do everything right and still not know exactly how things will turn out.
What I discovered was something surprisingly peaceful.
When the philosophy that guides your inner life begins to permeate the most difficult areas of your life, things start to feel lighter.
You still care deeply.
You still work hard.
But you’re no longer crushed by the outcome.
You do the work.
You tend the fire.
And you release the result.
So I leave you with a simple reflection today.
What avenue of your life might be asking for deeper practice?
Where could you bring more Abhyāsa — consistent effort?
Where might Tapas — the refining fire — be needed?
And where might life be inviting you into Vairāgya — letting go of the outcome?
Because the real test of a philosophy is not where it works easily.
The real test is whether it follows you into every corner of your life.
ROAR with love,
Danny
The Emotional Driver
“Emotion Is the Note. You Are the Song.”
