Yoga Journeys

The rhythm of life

2011-06-05T11:13:00.000-07:00

Photo credit: Akuppa John Wigham./ Flickr Creative Commons

Yesterday I taught my final exam class for yoga teacher training. I've been working on it pretty seriously for over a month, agonizing over the sequence of poses, tinkering constantly with the playlist (trying to get Nomad's Follow the Sun to line up with my Reverse Warrior pose - it's the first song on the linked video "Turn your face to the sunshine/ and you won't see the shadows"), and practicing teaching the class to my mentor, classmates, and an empty room full of imaginary students. I've been using the room where I was scheduled to teach in order to become comfortable there and visualize my success. Little by little, I became confident and comfortable teaching my class. On Thursday, I was very happy with my teaching. I went into yesterday's workshop feeling ready to go, seeing myself as a yoga teacher.

I was the last of five students scheduled to teach yesterday. Just as the second class was winding down and we were moving into Savasana, loud music began blaring into our room from outside. After class, we looked outside and discovered that the car wash across the street had been converted into some kind of event stage for the Art Around Adams festival. Large speakers were pointed directly towards the studio window. We decided to move to the main studio, a much larger and less intimate space but better insulated for sound.

Two more classes went by without incident, and it was my turn to teach. I set up my room, playing some mood-setting music on my iPod. Everyone was tired but ready to push through with class. Then, just as I was beginning to teach, loud drumming started right outside the studio. I was completely fazed. Sound easily affects my concentration, with calming music assisting me and drum beats extremely distracting. Nevertheless, I'd been preparing for this moment and I was ready to teach. I began my class, doing my best to focus and create a calming atmosphere. I walked around, breathing a loud ujjayi breath. I tried turning my music off, but then the drums seemed at odds with what I was doing. I tried turning it up, but there was no competing. I ended up settling for my music fairly softly and the drums beating over the top of it all.

In spite of all this, the class went really well. It's always challenging doing something new, and stressful to take any exam, but I was really happy with how things went. At some point, the drums stopped, so my quiet meditative music was the only sound for Savasana and I was able to go around and do some nice adjustments and spread the lovely scent of lavender around the room.

However, there was still one last lesson to be learned. It wasn't until a couple of people suggested that I could have simply turned my music off and taught the class to the beat of the drums that I realized I had totally missed the gift I had been sent. For me, the drums were a distraction and "ruining" the mood I had chosen to set for the class, but for the students doing the class, the drums were an invigorating force at the end of a long and tiring day. I had completely missed that potential energy. All that planning and visualization was helpful, but in the end, there I was repeating an old pattern: clinging stubbornly to my plans, my version of how things were "supposed to be" - and fighting against the inexorable rhythm of life.

This class - my last class as a trainee teacher and my first class as a professional - taught me something I never expected. As I taught my first class in the role of a teacher, I also found myself in the role of a student, repeating an important lesson about life. I am not in control. Life has its own rhythms, and sometimes dancing to your own drummer is not the way to go if your inner drummer is in conflict with the rhythms around you.

Ironically, this lesson was already encapsulated in my class and it was I, the teacher, who needed to hear it. The class theme was "gratitude", and I ended with a quote from Melody Beattie:
"Gratitude unlocks the fullness of life. It turns what we have into enough, and more. It turns denial into acceptance, chaos to order, confusion to clarity. It can turn a meal into a feast, a house into a home, a stranger into a friend."

Gratitude unlocks the fullness of life. It turns what we have into enough, and more. It turns denial into acceptance, chaos to order, confusion to clarity.

What I had was live drumming right outside the studio, and I had forgotten to be grateful! What I had was enough and more. My gratitude in those first few moments of class could have turned "denial into acceptance, chaos to order, confusion to clarity." Instead, I suffered through fear and frustration. Now, as I work to let go of the story of how things happened or how things could have happened, I am realizing that not clinging to the past does not mean we fail to grasp its lessons. I hope that I will be able to carry this lesson with me into my work as a yoga teacher.

I don't think it's a coincidence that this was exactly the lesson I needed to grow as a person, a yogi, a teacher. I am very grateful for those drummers now.

Change is constant

2011-05-29T18:50:00.000-07:00

Photo credit: lululemon athletica/ Flickr Creative Commons

I was waiting for a bus the other day after a teacher training workshop when a woman came out of a nearby tattoo parlor. As she walked by me, I caught a glimpse of her brand new tattoo: change is constant. This isn't a new concept to me - I've written about impermanence here before, for example (follow the tag on this post) - but for whatever reason, I received the message in a new way. It was as though there were a footnote on her tattoo that said: and that means you, too.

Change is constant and that means you, too. Sometimes I have this crazy fear that I can't change, that I'll always be fighting the same battles and making the same mistakes, that I'll always be stuck in the same patterns of being. In fact, change is inevitable, and that means me, too. Everything changes. And that conviction that we're in some way an exception, that our identity is somehow permanent and unchanging? Well, what are the chances of that?

This is pretty liberating and empowering - because change may be imperceptibly slow sometimes, but it is constant. On a cellular level, we're changing all the time as new cells die and are replaced; we don't usually notice those changes happening, but they are. Perhaps in a similar way, elements of old mental/ emotional patterns die and are replaced regularly, and although we can't see the changes taking place most of the time, we aren't stuck: we have an incredible capacity for transformation. This is our birthright. It is constant and inevitable. It's important, therefore, to work for positive change - because change will happen regardless. Look within and make those changes count! Namaste.

The wisdom I once knew

2011-04-18T14:21:00.000-07:00

Yoga teacher training is giving me lots that I want to write about - and no time to write in. I hope these posts that are rattling around in my head will eventually make it here. Some of the things I've been learning seem new; other ideas are realizations that I've been reaching towards for some time but have only just found within my grasp. Still other ideas seem like things I knew once but thought I had forgotten.

Photo Credit: Tela Chhe/ Flickr Creative Commons

We all learned to walk once. From our positions on the floor, we were driven to grasp nearby objects and pull ourselves upright. In that position, we had to use our muscles in new ways, figuring out how to stabilize joints and stack our bones. Even then, with some measure of stability, we weren't satisfied. We had to walk, and then run - learning to keep it all together and balance in a constantly shifting world. We moved too fast, leaned too far, and fell - often, and sometimes painfully. We howled when we hit our heads on the corners of tables and scraped our hands and knees - but the next opportunity, we pulled ourselves upright and ran headlong into the next disaster, fearless, until we learned to feel our own center of balance and remain steady on our feet.

Photo Credit: Neeta Lind/ Flickr Creative Commons

Now, many years later, most of us don't remember how we learned to walk. We're blissfully unaware of the painful headlong falls, and we have no conscious memory of how we learned to balance on our feet. When it comes to balancing upside down - on your head or hands or forearms - it may seem like something completely new. As I try to understand the limits of my balance in inversions, however, I'm realizing that I have done this all before. I've already been through this process of challenging the force of gravity, of learning to stack all the bones in my body on top of each other, of finding the point of lightness and effortless balance in a seemingly impossible vertical position. Somewhere, in those deep hidden places in the body where forgotten memories go, I know how to learn this.

Back then, those hurtling falls didn't faze me for long. Now, when I reach too far with my legs and come crashing to the ground, I'm left with a lingering fear that sends me back to basics, just trying to straighten my legs into the air again. Somewhere deep inside, I need to connect with the toddler me - that little girl who wanted so badly to walk around, who had such incredible confidence to try again, who had not yet learned to dwell on past failures. In my practice, I'm seeking the simplicity of being of a child. I'm striving to bring in a little innocence to balance my wisdom, to infuse beginner's mind into these poses. I want to do them with all the knowledge I've gained from my previous attempts, but also with the openness that comes with trying something for the first time.

Surely part of the practice is to walk, run, dance, balance on your head, and love as though you've never been hurt, never fallen down, never cracked your head against the corner of a table. To be fully present through the falling and the getting back up, and then to be fully present in the next attempt - as though falling last time had nothing to do with what will happen this time - because it doesn't, in fact, as hard as that is to believe. Maybe that's all of the practice in fact, all the work there really is to do. I'm starting to think that it will be enough.

OK, Rumi, let's dance.

2011-03-22T09:29:00.000-07:00

Photo Credit: Jean-Pierre Dalbera/ Flickr Creative Commons

We're fools whether we dance or not, so we might as well dance.
~Japanese proverb

Let the beauty you love be what you do. There are a thousand ways to kneel and kiss the earth.
~ Rumi

Nathan over at Dangerous Harvests just made his second anniversary post. Happy blogiversary, Nathan! To celebrate, he posted his first post from the blog. It isn't my anniversary, but I thought I'd go back and look at my first post anyway. Here's a piece of it (from November 2, 2008):

If yogis discovered the secret of happiness thousands of years ago, why do we now still live in a culture of so much suffering?! And to put it more personally, since this is to be my personal journey, why do I still suffer so much? Why do I forget to practice in my daily life, when I know that it will not only make me happier and healthier, but also decrease suffering in the lives of those around me?

In June, I started a Masters in International Education at the SIT Graduate Institute in Vermont. I chose the school because I believe the SIT philosophy is highly compatible with my attempts to increase the practice of yoga in my daily life. In formulating my learning plan, I stated as my second learning objective "Explore ways to bring my career into harmony with my yoga practice." In fact, this is one of the key reasons why I am doing this degree - to give myself the training and the tools to adjust my working life to facilitate my practice - and yes, cheesy cheesy, to do more good in the world.

It's interesting to look back on because I don't feel that way any more. It's not that I don't suffer, but that the quality of my suffering has changed. Back then, I was suffering in the dark. Now, I feel like I can at least suffer with the light on. I have a consistent daily practice, not only of yoga and meditation on the mat or cushion, but also taking these practices into my life and applying them to running, eating, working, and personal relationships. Through this, I've not only physically transformed but I've begun to shine the flashlight of mindfulness into all sorts of dark corners.

In the beginning, this blog was about bringing my career into alignment with my yoga practice. I had forgotten that. Back then, I was working a challenging administrative job and struggling to practice yoga in the workplace. I was reluctant to admit that I was struggling so much because it wasn't the right place for me to be. It was a job that worked with my strengths and which brought out all the worst in me, too. I suffered in many ways at that time: emotionally, physically, mentally, spiritually. The suffering had to get really bad before I was really willing to look at the forces that were holding me there and ask myself: Why? Why fight? Why not just let go?

I was clearly looking for the light switch, even then. I'd started my Masters program because I was already seeking. I wrote those things in my learning plan and started this blog for a good reason. I've even had a Rumi quote up on my computer sidebar, probably since before I started this blog: Let the beauty you love be what you do. It took me all this time to really see it, to look Rumi in the eyes and reply, Yes. OK. I know why you are here. Let's dance.

When I started shining that flashlight around, mostly what I saw was fear. When I looked more closely, I realized that fear is always worse than the thing I fear. I know this is not a new concept, but the more I sit on my cushion in silence with my eyes closed, the more I have to make friends with it. I began to wonder if I ever had any other motivation for action in my life besides avoiding fear. I began to wonder what would happen if I did something for love. Would the world end? Would the boogieman in the corner come out and get me? Did it matter?

There's never any map for these journeys we take, or rather, I'd say there are many maps - the experiences of others who have taken their own journeys and lived to tell the tale - but they're cryptic and incomplete, and sometimes we flat out refuse to believe that they could really be telling us to leap off that cliff into the darkness. Over the past three years, I've been evolving. I feel like the same person, but when I look back to that first post, I know I am not. I'm teaching at Community College now, and it's scary and difficult and fulfilling. I just started Yoga Teacher Training this past weekend. I'm finally ready to take the necessary risks in order to make sure all the pieces of my life really fit. I've learned to feel gratitude for the fear and suffering, because I've realized that they were the map and directions. They were the flashlight. I'm ready, finally, to really love what I do.

Making choices in practice: limbs, branches, and paths

2011-03-05T11:15:00.000-08:00

Yoga texts and articles, ancient and modern, abound with metaphors for the choices we make in our practice. The eight components of Astanga Yoga are often referred to as the eight "limbs", while the different approaches we can take to practice are often called "branches" or "paths" of yoga. (Different sources list varying numbers of "branches" - raja, karma, bhakti, and jnana are usually included, and then many modern descriptions include hatha, tantra, kundalini, and various others). These metaphors obviously resonate with people because they have stuck around. The metaphor of the journey is one that I have always connected with personally, hence the name of this blog. My practice is not static, but evolving. It grows and changes, depending on my needs. The deeper I go, the more committed I am to practice, but also the more willing I am to take detours and walk different paths for a while.

I'm beginning a yoga teacher training program in less than two weeks, so I've been thinking a lot about my personal practice and what kind of a teacher I will be. It's definitely important to me to be flexible in my practice and to learn about different limbs/ branches/ paths/ [insert metaphor here] so that I will be aware of my choices when my needs change. It's also important to try different styles of yoga to find which you connect with most strongly. Any path can be a road in.

If yoga is a journey and there are many paths in the woods, I think these paths intersect in various places, so there's no need to pick just one. There have been times when reading and studying the philosophy of yoga has been how I've really been able to connect. Sometimes, I just want to do asana, and other times I want to meditate or chant or help others. I am grateful for all these choices because they allow me to remain engaged with my practice no matter what is going on in my life.

However, I also think it can be useful to explore the paths that seem a little darker and less inviting to you. You may decide not to stay on that path after all, or you may discover that it was something within you that was blocking your path and perhaps you were meant to walk it for a while after all. Sometimes it is exactly the practice that challenges us, the one we resist, that is the one we need the most. Sometimes, I think it's possible to use the concept of "different paths" to avoid exploring an aspect of practice that scares us or promises to be difficult.

After a long time practicing mostly off the mat, I am coming home to hatha yoga. I say coming home because, like many so-called Westerners (we really need to find a better term for that), hatha yoga is where I began. I must say it feels like home, and I'm happy to be practicing mostly hatha at the moment. That doesn't mean I'm sticking with one style of asana practice, though. Some days I do a lot of pranayama and meditation, and other days I just want to do a million vinyasas. I'm enjoying exploring different styles in my home practice and in the classes I attend. I think it makes me a better person, and I think it will make me a better teacher too.

On the other hand, I'm aware that this might just be a personal preference. Some people probably prefer to commit to a path and follow it deeper and deeper. There isn't any one "right" way to do it. Each yogi has to find - or make - his or her own road.

If you practice yoga, what has your path been? Have you focused on one or more limbs and not others? Have you picked a branch and gone way out, or are you swinging from branch to branch as you go along? Do you feel like you've found "your path"?

Putting yourself first

2011-02-22T10:39:00.000-08:00

Photo credit: spaceodissey/ Flickr Creative Commons

I think in our culture, we often believe that putting ourselves first is selfish, egotistical, wrong. This in spite of a lot of big talk about "looking out for number one." (Talk which is usually problematic in other ways, but I don't want to go there right now.) We give so little respect and value to our own needs, our own lives. We put the needs of our loved ones before our own, and we put the needs of our jobs: the needs of our superiors, our subordinates, our peers and our clients before our own. Maybe we realize that this is not working, and we try to put aside a portion of each day for self-care, or we try to assert our right to say no.

I've been thinking about this a lot because I've been on a journey, the last two years, of learning to say yes to myself. Like so many things, it's a little easier said than done. The how and when to put your own needs first is difficult. It's not that you want to ignore the needs of others. It's just that you need to be well and balanced yourself in order to truly give and support the others around you. Too few of us in this culture are well and balanced these days, in my opinion. I know this because when I meet someone who is, that person stands out.

I wanted to pass on a teaching from one of my teachers, Susan Marcus. (Susan has so much wisdom to share, and I'm excited to see her own studio, Studio Peace, coming into being. Check it out.) Last week in class, it seemed like everyone was hurting in one way or another. Susan took the opportunity to talk about how injury reminds us that we need to respect and care for our bodies. Then she said, "I often think that if everyone took care of themselves the way women do when they're pregnant, how much healthier we'd all be. Just think about what would happen if we all took as much responsibility for our own lives in our bodies as we do when we have another life within us."

I'm at the age where a large percentage of my friends are either pregnant or have just had a baby, so I've seen it happen. Women get pregnant, and they stop drinking so much coffee. They stop drinking alcohol and/or smoking. They start eating their fruits and vegetables, they take their supplements, and they start drinking enough water. They work less overtime and they're dedicated to making time for their yoga class.

Why are we willing to make profound life changes to protect the life of our child, but we are not willing to make the same changes to protect the body - the one and only body - we were given in this life? Why are we not willing to make those same changes for ourselves, when they improve our happiness and our sense of well-being? I'm saying "we" here because I'm just as guilty as the next person. Stop drinking coffee?

So I've been playing with this idea a little bit. There's this spark of divinity in this body. This body is all it has. How can I care for it? It makes it a little easier not to make excuses, a little easier to step onto my mat every day and eat my veggies and drink water and meditate. The life within me. The light within me. Ahimsa applies to me, too.

Reflections of our true nature

2011-02-12T13:34:00.000-08:00

Photo credit: Bryan Ray (black_listed/ Flickr Creative Commons)

"While we practice conscious breathing, our thinking will slow down, and we can give ourselves a real rest. Most of the time, we think too much, and mindful breathing helps us to be calm, relaxed and peaceful. It helps us stop thinking so much and stop being possessed by sorrows of the past and worries about the future. It enables us to be in touch with life, which is wonderful in the present moment."
- "Peace is Every Step" by Thich Nhat Hanh

As I mentioned in a post last month, I've been following Tricycle Magazine's Commit to Sit challenge for the past 27 days. As it draws to a close, I've been reflecting on the experience. I did my full-day meditation challenge yesterday and am finishing the experience with two days of the regular Week 4 program. The full day of meditation was... well, challenging for me. I've never meditated for longer than an hour at a time before. The experience ranged from pain, frustration and self-hatred to bliss, gratitude and insight. Towards the end of the second two-hour block, I rose to do walking meditation and I felt like I was gliding through each step in pure awareness.

In that moment, I had a new understanding of the ethical components of yogic and Buddhist practice. During the Commit to Sit program, I committed to the Five Precepts as best I could. These practices were familiar to me as they share a lot in common with the five yamas of yoga. I've always struggled to follow the yamas, feeling some of them were almost unattainable. The yamas are often translated as "restraints" or "abstinences" or even commandments or "thou shalt nots" (ugh!). I recently encountered an alternate translation in Nischala Joy Devi's The Secret Power of Yoga book, which is subtitled A woman's guide to the heart and spirit of the Yoga Sutras. Whether or not you agree that a heart-centered perspective is a purely feminine construct, it is interesting to read this refreshing and positive take on Patanjali's Yoga Sutras text.

Many traditional translations of this part of the sutras (II29-39) think about the yamas as restrictions to our behavior towards others (ahimsa = non-violence or non-harming; satya = truthfulness; asteya = non-stealing; brahmacharya = well, we can't agree on a translation for this one because we're afraid it might mean no sex! but commonly continence, sense-control, celibacy, or the like; aparigraha = non-hoarding, non-stealing, non-greed). Nischala Devi has a different take (p.p. 168-169):

"Often, to simplify the enormous breadth and depth of the Yamas and Niyamas, they are called the "Do's and Don'ts of Yoga" [sic] or sometimes the "Ten Commandments of Yoga." This is taking a highly refined and virtuous way of living expressed throughout the millennia and reducing it to a finger-shaking image... When observed on a subtler level, the Yamas and Niyamas seem to be more of a tribute to being, affirming our already Divine nature..."

"Knowing the importance of repeating a statement in the affirmative, I have chosen to translate (as much as I possibly could) using positive, life-affirming language... When words or phrases evoke fear, punishment, or denial of pleasure, they encroach on our spiritual practices and diminish rather than enhance the glory of our true nature."

Her translation of the yamas (reflections of our true nature) is:

Ahimsa: reverence, love, compassion for all
Satya: truthfulness, integrity
Astheya: generosity, honesty
Brahmacharya: balance and moderation of the vital life force
Aparigraha: awareness of abundance, fulfillment.

Doesn't that feel different?

Anyway, whatever translation you use, it seems clear enough that it's desirable to achieve compassion and reverence for all life, integrity, generosity, and a sense of fulfillment. But then you're going about your day and you yell at the driver in front of you, and then you gossip about someone at work, and then you decide not to share part of your lunch with a coworker who doesn't have any because you want it all for yourself.

So, how in the world do you achieve this stuff? What occurred to me yesterday in meditation is maybe you just slow down. We go through our lives so fast, we can barely see them happening to us, just like we walk so fast, we can't feel how our body is moving through the steps. Maybe you just slow down enough that you can see and feel what is happening. In that walking meditation yesterday, I felt that, at my core, I was calm and peaceful. Each step was smooth and steady and careful. From that place, I think the yamas would arise naturally and with ease. "Reflections of our true nature."

I know that this isn't a new concept, but experiencing it the way I did was new to me. Of course, slowing down that much is easier said than done. But it's a start. It's a piece of the puzzle, something concrete to move towards. It sounds easier than just love everyone and everything. I'll give it a try.

Chain reaction: Continuing to focus back

2011-02-10T12:28:00.000-08:00

Photo credit: Soham Basoham (soham_pablo/ Flickr Creative Commons)

I have a confession to make. For the first time in my life, I've had terrible back pain since some time last month. As a yogi, I couldn't help thinking This shouldn't be happening to me. I kept hoping it would just stop, but it didn't. In fact, as you might have guessed, it got worse until it was really affecting my quality of life and severely impeding my ability to sit in meditation. I couldn't figure out what was triggering it. I'd been traveling a lot during December and the first part of January, and the pain started some time after I returned home. I feared it was my return to running after taking some time off, or maybe it was my bed? I did more yoga, hoping I could work out the kinks, but my back continued to get worse. I deepened my inquiry into the back body. And then, I wrote my last blog post.

After reading my post, Kit Spahr, who blogs at Sometimes It's Art, wrote to tell me she's been engaged in a similar exploration of the back body. She turned me on to this post by Katy Bowman. I tried the suggested exercise and discovered, of course, that I'm a rib thruster. Katy provides some useful tips for correcting this alignment problem, and I started to consider these.

Then I started catching up on my Yoga Journals that had come around the holidays when I'd been too busy to read them. In the December 2010 magazine, the Anatomy column is by Roger Cole and is called "Easy Seat" (unfortunately not available online, but if you have the magazine, it starts on pg. 75). Cole talks about contracting the lower erector spinae muscles to correct misalignment and eliminate back pain in Baddha Konasana (Bound Angle Pose). When I read it, I had a sudden realization. Far from keeping my back healthy, my yoga was causing my back pain - and it had been exacerbated to its current level by poor alignment in seated meditation during my Commit to Sit program.

The next time I sat, I was able to follow the whole chain reaction in my spine. My hamstrings are tight from running, so it's hard for me to achieve the correct pelvic position in a crosslegged seated position (the top of my pelvis is tilted back). I've been adjusting for this by sitting up on blankets or a meditation cushion, which allows me me to tilt my pelvic into a neutral position, but it takes effort to hold it there so as I focus on relaxation or on the breath, I tend to slip and round the lower back again.

Very often in yoga class, an instruction is given in a crosslegged seated pose to "roll the shoulders up, back, and down." When I was less flexible in the upper body, this had the intended result of opening my chest and relaxing the shoulders down, but as my chest, back and shoulders became more flexible and my shoulder blades became more mobile, I began performing this action by thrusting my thoracic spine far forward and pushing the shoulder blades deep into the back.

Another common instruction is to "lift the chest/ sternum" (I mentioned this in my last post), which I achieved by thrusting my ribs forward. Add this to my sometimes rounded lumbar spine, and I've been putting a huge amount of stress on my thoracic spine to curve in ways it was never meant to. (Cole's article is really excellent and has a helpful way to explore the curves of the spine and the use of the erector spinae muscles using cat/ cow which I highly recommend.)

One way I can tell when I'm doing this is that belly breathing is difficult, even painful. For years, I've been having occasional difficulty with the three-part yogic breath; I now realize it is often hard when sitting but always easy when lying on my back. I'm not sure of the anatomical explanation for this, but sitting the way I have been (slightly rounding my lumbar spine and pushing the thoracic spine forward to compensate while thrusting the lower ribs out), breathing into the belly is painful. When I contract the muscles along the lumbar spine and pull my lower ribs back while focusing on flattening my shoulder blades onto the back instead of thrusting them into the back, I can suddenly breathe into the belly with ease.

Another instruction I've misunderstood is one often given in seated forward bends: lead with your chest. The idea of this instruction is to have students bend at the hips instead of rounding the spine to get further down. However, because I don't have the mobility in my pelvis but I do have a lot of flexibility in my upper back, I realize that I've been backbending in my forward bends, thrusting the chest way out and the ribs way forward. Focusing on keeping the lower ribs in as Cole describes in his article allows me to work on bending forward from the pelvis instead of pushing the chest forward.

I guess part of the problem is that instructions that were appropriate for me as an asana beginner became harmful to me as I developed more flexibility in my upper body while remaining relatively tight in my lower body. I had a complete misunderstanding of how good spinal alignment should feel in my body and had no idea that I was having any of these problems until my back started hurting. Now that I've recognized the problem, I can begin working to correct it but my muscles need to get used to working in these new ways and I get tired easily. My back is improving - but slowly. In the meantime, seated meditation is painful - unless I sit in Virasana, elevated on a block or cushion to protect my knees, in which case I can easily achieve the appropriate alignment of my pelvis (and therefore my back) and alleviate pain.

If you're a yoga teacher, do you give these types of instructions to your students? It might be useful to find out if any of them are having midback pain or struggling with belly breathing, and to explore whether this is a cause. Perhaps meditators with midback pain could benefit from the suggestion to try (modified) Virasana for meditation, as well as working on flexibility in the hamstrings and working with the alignment of the pelvis and thoracic spine. If anyone out there is having similar problems, I hope this helps you with your own exploration.

Everything has another side

2011-02-05T16:17:00.000-08:00

Me, as seen from the back

In truth, it matters less what we do in practice than how we do it and why we do it. The same posture, the same sequence, the same meditation with a different intention takes on an entirely new meaning and will have entirely different outcomes

~ Donna Farhi

In October, I took a workshop at the Ojai Yoga Crib with Laura Tyree. First of all, if you can get to the Crib, go. It has changed my life and continues to do so every year that I attend. (I think it's been six years now.) For that matter, if you get a chance to practice with Laura, do. Her wisdom and compassion (not to mention her beautiful voice!) will take you somewhere deep inside yourself - and wherever that place is, it is where you need to be.

In the workshop I took last October, Laura talked about how issues with her heart led her to explore her downward facing dog and consider how achieving a backbend in that pose was putting pressure on the heart. In many of the popular hatha yoga styles here, we do a lot of downward dogs, so this is a much repeated problem for many practitioners. As we get more flexible, this causes us to sway our backs in the pose, creating this backbend. She showed us how she was exploring a lift through the back between the shoulder blades. We practiced with a partner, having the partner place her hand on our backs so we could feel where the lift was happening.

When my partner put her hand on my back, I knew that I would always be able to find the right place to lift because it was in the exact location where I've had chronic back pain for years - upper mid-back, right between the shoulder blades. In that moment, I realized I had better pay more attention to my down dogs. Over the past few months, that realization has broadened into another: I had forgotten about my back entirely!

I love bhakti yoga and huge back bends and opening my heart to the sky with absolute abandon. However, I have very tight hamstrings from years of running and I do not love forward bends quite so much. I'm not tortured by them as much as I used to be, but when I do them, I'm usually focused on what my front body is doing. (And probably trying to make the pain in my back body go away by ignoring it. In case you didn't know, this doesn't work.) Now, I am reminded that there are at least two sides to every issue - even me!

I've started focusing on my back body all the time, not just in downward facing dog. I've been doing chakra meditation on the back body instead of the front. (So often teachers neglect to describe the chakra locations in terms of the back body, so I suspect I'm not the only one who has this problem.) I've discovered that pain relief often comes from directing my breath there. I've discovered that I can breathe into my kidneys as well as my belly, and into the space between my shoulder blades as well as my chest. I've discovered that this adds support, both in seated meditation and asana, and sometimes results in shifts in postures that feel really good and even relieve pain. I'm starting to feel how my lumbar spine (lower back) is overextending to compensate for the way I'm drawing my thoracic spine inward to get that exalted open-hearted feeling. Opening my heart center forward is killing my back - who knew?

Yesterday, I was looking for something entirely different in Judith Lasater's Yoga Body book, and I came across the following passage:

"One of the unfortunate actions that sometimes happens in asana practice is an over-flattening of the natural kyphosis [normal curvature of the spine]. Students are sometimes taught to lift the sternum with the intention of opening the chest, and they do so by bringing their thoracic spine into the body, thus flattening the curve. After years of practice, the spine loses some of its natural curve."

Bingo - that's me. The book suggests standing on a yoga mat near a doorway and holding onto the doorway with your arms at chest level and hands crossed at the wrist. Then you walk backward slowly and round the thoracic spine upward while moving the shoulder blades apart and dropping your head between your arms, allowing some of the muscle tension in this area to be stretched and loosened. I will certainly be trying this in the future, and paying a lot more attention to how I support backbends with the breath from the back side of the body - not to mention focusing on how I may be collapsing here in forward bends and all sorts of other issues I've never considered before.

If I wanted to get philosophical here, I could explore the idea that the back represents my past, or talk about the side of anything that lies in shadow... but for once, I want to stay on the mat with this one. When I'm on the mat, I'm on the mat - both the front and the back sides of me. The more I practice asana, the more I realize there's always something I've forgotten to be present with in the pose; there's always a part of the body I've given preference to and another that's been lost from my conscious awareness. But the body has its own intelligence and if we know how to listen, it will let us know what has been forgotten. One thing is for sure: in the future, I'll be thinking a lot more about what those chronic achy bits are trying to tell me.

The best time to practice is right now

2011-01-28T09:31:00.000-08:00

Yoga is the perfect opportunity to be curious about who you are. ~ Jason Crandell

For those wounded by civilization, yoga is the most healing salve. ~ Terri Guillemets

The deeper I go into practice, the more I become aware of how complicated I make life sometimes. There are all these layers of the mind that peel away. It reminds me of the way the experience of the asanas changes on a physical level. For the first few dozen or even hundred downward facing dogs, the experience is pretty much holding your breath and looking forward to coming down. And then suddenly, one day you actually feel what it means to inwardly rotate the thighs and spread the hip bones and all this space opens up in the pose. And it will change your world, that feeling. See if it doesn't.

Like this, too, in the mind. At first, learning to breathe through and experience difficult emotions without acting, I thought I was learning to deal with the present. (Side note: when I say that it sounds as if I have already learned to breathe through and experience difficult emotions without acting. I can assure you, I haven't. That's why they call it "practice.") Anyhow, I'm starting to realize that a strong emotional reaction is almost never about the present. It's a sure sign that I'm holding a past wound up as evidence in a present situation - probably holding it against someone who had nothing to do with the original pain in the first place. Take a close look and see if this isn't true. And it will change your world, that understanding.

I started this post out thinking that I was going to write about breathing through reactions in the present and then boom! Insight. Look out - you never know when it's coming. Originally, I was going to explore my reaction to a harassing comment left here, but now I see I don't have to. That comment, in the present, means nothing. Who knows why people do these things? His problem is not my problem. The pain and uncertainty and anger it triggered - that's old stuff, really old stuff. And the illusion of ego. Right now, in the present, there's just clarity and a sense of compassion.

The content of this post may have evolved, but I can keep the title because the time is now. Peel away all those layers of history, and inside is the jewel. It is all these illusions that are complicated. The present is incredibly simple. I wonder what is behind the next layer?

Protect the state of no-intent

2011-01-27T08:22:00.000-08:00

Photo credit: mollyollyoxenfree/Flickr Creative Commons

Yesterday I came across an article called "What Happened to Downtime? The Extinction of Deep Thinking and Sacred Space". The author, Scott Belsky, writes about how we are losing our moments of isolation and distraction-free thought. We are forgetting how to unplug and connect in with something else: ourselves, our thoughts, our intuition, and our dreams. It's an excellent article and I'll let it speak for itself. What's interesting to me is that Patanjali saw this coming.

There's no arguing with the fact that the phenomenon Belsky addresses in his article is visible all around us. It's interesting that the very word connected has come to refer to being online - a state I would argue is actually in many cases disconnection from what is, from the self and the Self. I, too, am concerned - even frightened - about the changes that are happening in our culture as we become more and more accustomed to being constantly plugged in, available, and awash in "information". 'm certainly not suggesting that we should all unplug everything and go live in an isolated mountain cave for the next ten years. I have already written here about some of the benefits I think can be found on the internet. The trick (as is so often true) is finding the balance.

In his article, Belsky astutely notes that the instincts that lead us to seek "constant connection" have been part of human nature since the beginning. I can see how, in the dark jungle nights, the drive to find and connect with others was a matter of life and death. But now, does our attachment to constant positive feedback on our Facebook posts or having large numbers of blog followers really serve us? Does it serve our community? Does it make us happy? I think the answer to these questions is clearly no.

The Apple i-Tunes site boasts "everything you need to be entertained", and yet like the cravings we had in the old days, this hunger for amusement and distraction never stops. Patanjali certainly did not have any Apple devices beginning with "i", but he did talk about the causes of suffering (the kleshas, sometimes translated as afflictions or obstacles) in the Yoga Sutras. In Chip Hartranft's translation (which I found in Stephen Cope's The Wisdom of Yoga), they are "not seeing things as they are, the sense of 'I,' attachment, aversion, and clinging to life." I plead guilty.

Really, it is a long chain reaction of the kleshas that leads us to give up what Belsky calls "our sacred space." On the surface, this behavior looks most like attachment, raga in Sanskrit, but I think if I had to pick just one klesha that drives me towards a state of constant connection, it would be the flip side of the coin: dvesha, aversion. Belsky saw this too: "Space is scary," he says. What myriad of fears are we fleeing from online? With this constant flow of information, what evils do we plan to avert? What demons do we seek domination over? In our online communities, are we still seeking to drive out our fear of what waits in the dark jungle?

Bless Patanjali (or whoever wrote the Yoga Sutras). With great compassion, he did not just leave us with the knowledge of our afflictions, but with concrete tools to overcome them: the practice of yoga. "Suffering that has not yet arisen can be prevented," he tells us. "The preventable cause of all this suffering is the apparent indivisibility of pure awareness and what it regards... When the components of yoga are practiced, impurities dwindle; then the light of understanding can shine forth, illuminating the way to discriminative awareness."

Although it's hard to find a definitive statistic, I think it's safe to say that millions of Americans are now taking up yoga. I don't think this is a coincidence. We instinctively know something is missing from our lives, even if we don't know what it is. Whether we know it or not, yoga is providing many of us with avenues to many of Belsky's suggestions for preserving sacred space. Even if you never chant "om" or read the sutras, even if you just go to class to sweat, the truth is that yoga classes everywhere are providing people with sacred space to unplug and perhaps turn off some of those persistent, nagging thoughts and worries, maybe even to become more self-aware... and if we're lucky, to fall into that increasingly elusive "state of no-intent". And perhaps this is one of the things that draws us, almost inexplicably sometimes, back to our mats again and again and again.

Commit

2011-01-22T13:54:00.000-08:00

"Each moment is a chance for us to make peace with the world, to make peace possible for the world, to make happiness possible for the world."
~ Thich Nhat Hanh

Photo credit: Lisa Stout (kspsycho83 - Flickr Creative Commons)

I've decided to greet 2011 by making a commitment I've been considering for a long time. (No, I'm not getting married! But I am making a promise that may just change my life.) I'm undertaking Tricycle Magazine's 28-day meditation challenge known as "Commit to Sit." Starting January 17th, for 28 days I'm commiting to the Five Precepts and following Tricycle's meditation program.

There are a lot of paths on the journey of yoga. There are the four paths (or six paths, or even more, depending on how you look at it), and there's the eight-fold path of Patanjali (or the eight limbs of yoga, as they are sometimes called). There are many ways to practice, and different practices appeal to different people - but the more yoga I do, the more convinced I become that the meditation piece is key. At least, for my journey.

So I'm making a commitment. Given, it's kind of a baby commitment - just 28 days - but my commitment to practice is much deeper than that. I practice for life - and because one should never commit to anything without careful thought, I've been considering what it means to "commit to sit". Princeton University's WordNet links these ideas (among others) with the word commit:

give, dedicate, consecrate, devote (give entirely to a specific person, activity, or cause)
entrust, trust, confide (confer a trust upon)
invest (make an investment)
practice (engage in or perform)

When I commit to sit, I do all these things. I consistently and fully engage in the practice I've chosen. I make an investment - of my time, of my energy, of my Self. In doing so, I'm putting my trust in the practice - not only that I will benefit but that we will all benefit, that this practice can help bring peace and happiness to our world. I dedicate myself to it completely. I like the word devote here because of its double meaning. Not only devote yourself to practice but practice with devotion.

Devotion. Because in the end, it's all about love.

Being present on the journey, releasing the destination

2010-08-25T14:08:00.000-07:00

Today it became obvious that someone has a problem with me. Now I think most people encounter difficult relationships (or difficult patches in good relationships) from time to time. My self-talk in these moments tends to oscillate between, This is totally not my fault. There's nothing I can do. This person has her own issues, and, I'm a horrible person. I've ruined another relationship. It's all my fault. If only I'd..., I could have prevented this. Most of the time (and probably in this case), it's somewhere in between the two extremes. But also, placing blame is beside the point.

"To practice is to use all that arises within us for the growth of understanding, compassion, and freedom."
~ Jack Kornfield

So there is the difficulty itself, and then there is my response to the difficulty. I sat this afternoon in meditation, watching the thoughts surrounding this relationship swirl around and recognizing that they resemble other thoughts that often come up for me in meditation. I'm reading A Path With Heart, and I tried to follow some of Kornfield's suggestions for exploring what he calls insistent visitors. Kornfield explains, "When any experience of body, heart or mind keeps repeating in consciousness, it is a signal that this visitor is asking for a deeper and fuller attention... We must recognize that this is its way of asking us to give it more attention, to understand it more clearly. This process involves investigation, acceptance, understanding, and forgiveness."

So that is the journey. I started to explore the physical sensations, feelings, etc. associated with these thoughts. I sat there, trying to experience all of this, trying to understand it further. And suddenly, I heard this little voice under all that practice. It said, Do you understand it yet? If you can just understand it, you can fix this... and then you won't have these problems any more."

That kind of stopped me in my tracks. Wow. Is that where I think I'm going? Is that what I've been practicing for all this time? So I won't have any more difficulties? So people will love me? I asked myself these questions, and whatever had spoken inside me shrugged and said, Yep.

OK then. Now we have a problem. Even going as far as enlightenment, assuming this state exists, is no guarantee of being loved by all beings. It is not a get-out-of-jail-free card. It does not exempt one from all future hardships. It certainly doesn't pay the rent. But more importantly, here is a deeper, more insidious version of the story "It's all my fault. If only I'd..., I could have prevented this."

So I guess now my practice is to learn to be present on the path, not to arrive at what I perceive to be the destination, but to truly experience what the path is. To fully experience what surprises I might encounter along the way. To truly seek understanding, compassion, and freedom as they exist everywhere on the journey and not just at the destination. To go deeper down the rabbit hole and see what illusions and attachments are hiding in the next layer down.

Darn it, says that little voice. I really thought we were getting somewhere. I was sure that universal admiration was just around the corner. That would have been way easier.

All I can do is shrug and say, Yep.

Permanent Changes

2010-05-25T18:08:00.000-07:00

I just finished presenting my Masters project at our final seminar. My project involved designing an innovative pre-college program for adult international students, based at an ESL school. I won't go into all the details, but I will say that it involves using yoga, meditation, breath awareness, and mindfulness to combat stress related to school and culture shock. Wow. When I thought of it, I thought someone should be doing this. Suddenly I am the one doing this. I am the perfect person to be doing this. My whole life has led me to it. Exciting, scary, amazing, surreal.

I was not nervous during the presentation. I felt mindful. After, many of the comments said that I had both a calm and engaging presence. I was deliberate and authentic. I spoke from the heart.

Recently, I heard my classroom presence described as "zen". Calm, soothing, zen. I've been hearing this a lot lately.

The thing is, I'm pretty sure I didn't hear these words being used to describe me a few short years ago. I'm pretty sure then it was things like intense and emotional and passionate that came out. OK, I guess I still am those things but also I have this new dimension, this calm woman with the soothing voice and the poise and the precise speech. Where did she come from?

What has changed? I meditate twice a day now. And so ~ she was in there all along.

Deep changes. Now I stay more connected to what is, cling a little less to myself. I am afraid less. I am upset less by change than I used to be. Not all the time, I am not saying I am anywhere yet, I am not saying I have this down. I am just saying ~ people seem to describe me differently than they used to.

As part of my research, I looked at Transformative Learning Theory, originally described by Jack Mezirow in 1978 (coincidentally the year of my birth) and which has been studied extensively ever since. This theory suggests that when we encounter a situation that does not fit with what we believe about the world, we are disoriented. This may inspire us to make a permanent and irreversible change in the way we see things, and this in turn will change our actions, our words, our relationships with others. This is not a surface change - it is a change to our beliefs, our values, our worldview at the deepest level.

And isn't this what happens on the yoga mat, on the meditation cushion, when we take our practice out into the world? Disorientation... and then maybe, something shifting inside. Something moving over and permanently making room. Making the heart a little more expansive.

I am told that for academic work, we must connect theory to practice and practice to theory. Practice. I once understood the practice of education and the practice of yoga to be different. Now I think I understand - it is all the same practice. My heart smiles.

At the core of practice

2010-05-03T16:02:00.000-07:00

The muscle you need isn't what you think it is.

I first learned this lesson as a runner. When you're exhausted and you think you can't run any more, the muscles that carry you through are not in the legs. It's your upper body - arms and shoulders - that will keep you moving. When I started doing yoga, I thought that arm strength was needed for all sorts of poses, from plank to arm balances, when the key muscles are in fact in the core. Inversions? Yep, there are those abdominals again. Having trouble balancing? Try some ujjayi pranayama. Don't even get me started on mula bandha.

What about the balance between effort and relaxation? Sometimes the key to reaching further or doing something you have never done before is not to try harder but to let go. To stop pushing so hard, or maybe not to care so much. To find somewhere in the body or mind where you can surrender.

How do we know if we are doing the right thing to get where we want to be? I'm not sure there's any single right answer to this question. Remain curious. See what arises. Don't assume that you know what is needed. Be willing to open in any direction. Be willing to be surprised.

Give yourself permission

2010-04-04T11:07:00.000-07:00

And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our fear, our presence automatically liberates others.
~ Marianne Williamson

One of the hats I wear is that of ESL teacher. Last week in class, my students were struggling with a difficult listening exercise, and I found myself saying I give you permission to be wrong. I wonder if that shifted anyone's world the way it shifted mine. I give you permission to be wrong. How often do we explicitly receive or grant ourselves this permission? It's true that we are often told that it is OK to make mistakes as long as we learn from them, but in fact I think the overarching lesson of our society is that to be wrong is a terrible thing.

Giving yourself permission to be wrong is the first step down a path to unknown discoveries. It is the first step to learning, exploring, discovering and growing as a person. By not only walking that path fearlessly but also explicitly giving others the permission to be wrong, we can give the world a great gift. I know that when I offered this permission to my students I really meant it and so I would like to learn to receive this permission - from others, if it's granted, and from myself. I can balance on my head and bind in Side Angle, but I don't think I've ever really given myself permission to be wrong, to shine my light without reservations, to start down that path with the unknown destination. I am still new to this practice, still learning to take my first steps.

The warrior within

2010-03-31T15:18:00.001-07:00

Birdwings
Your grief for what you've lost lifts a mirror
up to where you're bravely working.
Expecting the worst, you look, and instead,
here's the joyful face you've been wanting to see.
Your hand opens and closes and opens and closes.
If it were always a fist or always stretched open,
you would be paralyzed.
Your deepest presence is in every small contracting and expanding,
the two as beautifully balanced and coordinated
as bird wings.

~ Rumi

I've been thinking about how it is sometimes helpful to find things that allow you to realize your power and grace, to connect with the light within. On the other hand, it can be detrimental if you identify your power and light too strongly with those things. I was thinking about this first with regards to running. Training for a marathon made me feel invincible: strong, courageous, capable, joyful - but when I became injured and couldn't run, I lost not only the activity itself but also my strength, courage and joy. In another example, a woman might feel like a goddess when she puts on an evening gown, but she might fail to notice that same goddess within herself when she's wearing old sweatpants or is naked. A yogi might feel power and courage when standing in a warrior pose but not when entering into a difficult work negotiation.

I suppose this issue is really about impermanence again. Though these things have the power to open our eyes to the potential that lies within us, they fade in and out of our lives. They cannot be depended upon, and we cannot hold onto them no matter how we try. Knees can be injured, an evening gown can be torn, our bodies age and change shape, and we cannot always stand in warrior pose. The paradox is that by experiencing them fully and letting them go, we can somehow retain their power and grace, whereas by clinging to them we seem to lose everything.

For myself, I am working on finding the warrior within, even when I'm not on the mat. Especially when I'm not on the mat. Awakening is really about what Rumi says so beautifully: learning to see your deepest presence in every small contracting and expanding, in every inhale and exhale, in every moment. It is an amazing gift to come into yourself fully, but it is a gift we might not appreciate if we didn't fade in and out of this knowing, this being present. It is a gift we can find around every corner, each expansion and contraction of the breath in the body, of the mind, of the spirit, another opportunity to go deep.

Photo credit: Flickr Creative Commons

Just breathe

2010-03-29T15:47:00.000-07:00

The other day I found myself saying, If I could teach everyone in the world one thing, it would be how to find their own breath. I think that of all the things I've learned in my years of doing yoga, of all the practices I've been given, this is the most powerful. This one simple thing: to remember to seek my breath and then learn to observe it, to deepen it or to hold it, to count it, to follow it or send it deliberately through the body... This is the key to all of the other practices for me. I truly believe that if all people learned to be aware of their own breath, the world would be a better place.

You don't have to "buy into" the system of yoga to access this practice. You don't have to believe in chakras or worship Ganesha. You don't have to be in a studio or own a yoga mat - and nobody has to know you are doing this practice if you don't want them to. Since we took our first breath, this simple action of moving air in and out of our bodies has been part of our connection to this earth: our greatest gift, our birthright. We all do it without being aware of it - but with awareness, the breath can be the key to calming the mind, coping with stress and anxiety, navigating grief and anger, or just getting to sleep at night.

There are periods of my life when this is my only practice. Sometimes I simply follow my breath and let go of my thoughts. This works well on the bus, at my desk, before eating - any time I need a moment of quiet. Other times, I deepen my breathing or even sigh and feel the tension melt away. These practices and the three-part yogic breath have helped me release anxiety and go to sleep at night, transforming me from an inveterate insomniac to a good sleeper. The breath of joy energizes me on a sleepy afternoon better than coffee and without keeping me up into the night. Of course, learning to use the breath can also transform the experience of asana, helping release muscles, concentrate the mind, consolidate balance, and more.

In January, I did a daily pranayama, or breath practice including some of the techniques mentioned above and others, including two commonly taught pranayama techniques: nadi sodhana, or alternate nostril breathing, which really enhances my meditation, especially if I'm feeling anxious about something; and kapalabhati, the skull-shining breath, which is another very invigorating practice. I've faded this more formal practice out, but want to return to it as part of my meditation practice since I found it very beneficial.

If you're interested in deepening your relationship with your breath, I highly recommend the book breath: the essence of yoga by Sandra Sabatini. Not only does she give lots of ideas for practice, but the book is basically poetry about the breath - a beautiful, reflective, resonant practice. I leave you with some of her words, because she says it much, much better than I can.

don't push, don't pull (p. 63)

allow the exhalation to travel out of the body
without leaving anything behind
only emptiness
a clean inside
don't be excited, don't be enthusiastic,
just be present, in here
and let the exhalation really move,
truly move out of the lungs

the movements created by the exhalation
are so subtle
you cannot DO them
you can only accept them, receive them, welcome them...
the rest is not in your hands
you can create a space
and then what comes in is a gift

What does it mean to "do yoga"?

2010-03-21T11:35:00.000-07:00

You cannot do yoga. Yoga is your natural state. What you can do are yoga exercises, which may reveal to you where you are resisting your natural state.
~ Sharon Gannon

In theory, practice and theory are the same. In practice they are not.
~Yogi Berra

Recently I was reading Lulu's post entitled "Can Anyone Really Say What Spirituality Is?" over at her Oceans and Avocados blog, and then I surfed over (as one tends to do these days) to the Eco Yogini post that inspired it. They got me to thinking about how my own view of yoga is similar and different to theirs, and also a little bit about both my practice and my research of late. Eco Yogini describes the point of yoga as being spirituality and discusses the differences she feels between her spirituality and what is traditionally taught in yoga. I guess I am coming to see the point as Sharon Gannon describes it in the quote at the beginning of this post. Yoga is a set of tools that we can use to reveal something about ourselves and how we relate to the world. That can be spiritual - it is for me - but it is also deeply personal, emotional, and it can be both a mental and physical journey too.

Lulu poses the questions: Who decides what spirituality/ zen/ yoga are? and What if the definitions don't work for you? These are important questions. There is a vast range of beliefs and practices that have sprung up out of every spiritual tradition, including yoga, and I think this is indicative of the fact that every set of tools does not lead every person to the same destination. What makes intuitive sense to one person, another person may be unable to connect to. When one person follows the practices of her teacher, she may discover an entirely new insight and there we have another school of practice. I am amused to be quoting Yogi Berra here but he makes an excellent point here in a way only he could: theory and practice are not the same thing, and one never replaces the other. The Buddha said this in another way: Doubt everything. Find your own light. He didn't want anyone to take his teachings as the Gospel, but rather for each to do his own practice and figure out what it is that he has inside.

Many people think of yoga as the practice of asana or postures, as a way to lose weight and stay in shape, or as a way to reduce stress. Patanjali said that Yoga is to still the patterns of consciousness [so that] pure awareness can abide in its very nature. The full system of yoga has eight limbs and is a fully formed way of living including both ethics and lifestyle practices that go far beyond asana. For my personal practice, this is very important. In the past two years, I have had periods of time where I've focused intensely on asana and this has had tremendous physical, emotional, mental and spiritual benefits. However, I have also had periods where I've focused more intensely on pranayama (controlling the breath) or meditation or various ethical principles. Each of these practices has also had intense physical, emotional, mental and spiritual outcomes for me. I very passionately would defend the idea that these are no less "doing yoga" than asana practice is, and in fact simply doing asana does not equal "doing yoga" for me.

However, right now I'm doing research and designing curriculum to bring some of these yogic practices - asana, pranayama, meditation - into educational programs to help international students manage stress related to studying in a foreign country. Through this work - and through reading about people's experiences in blogs such as those I've mentioned here - I am slowly becoming less of a purist. To me, the benefits of any one of these practices are so profound that to do it, even in isolation, can deeply transform a person's experience of a difficult situation. So who am I to look down on someone who doesn't follow the "whole system"? If a person won't do yoga because their religious beliefs prohibit it, who am I to withhold the secret of the three part breath from them? If someone goes to yoga class to work out and it makes them feel better, who am I to insist that they get spiritual? Meditation by any other name is still meditation. If I don't formally sit in meditation but I do take a moment on the bus to let my thoughts settle and follow my breath, who are you to judge my practice?

I know that not everyone will agree with me. There was a time when I might not have agreed. But these days, I'm thinking of ways to bring the benefits of yoga to more people. And if that involves teaching "stress management" or "deep breathing" or "quiet time" then so be it. The world will be a better place if more people connect with their breath.

Namaste.

Taking root

2010-03-20T13:34:00.000-07:00

Among the many definitions of the noun root at dictionary.com:
The usually underground portion of a plant that lacks buds, leaves, or nodes and serves as support, draws minerals and water from the surrounding soil, and sometimes stores food
A base or support
The condition of being settled and of belonging to a particular place or society (often used in the plural)
An essential part or element; the basic core
A primary source; an origin

In discussions of physical asana practice, you will often hear the phrase "root to rise." The basic idea is to create a firm foundation for the pose (usually by grounding your feet) and send energy down into the earth through that foundation. By aligning your body correctly above this foundation, you allow a counter-flow of energy to move upwards and lift your body lightly, without effort. This allows you to practice asana with what Patanjali described in the yoga sutras as "steadiness and ease."

This sense of rooting to rise is important in balancing postures. In vrksasana, or tree pose, it is easy to visualize this principle of rooting down and growing upwards through the image of the tree. One way to challenge the balance in this pose is to close the eyes, relying on instinct and the internal senses rather than the visual representation of the external environment in order to achieve balance. This requires a little bit of trust also. Of course, poses of all kinds can allow you to practice achieving a sense of lightness through the use of this principle.

Because of the multiple definitions of root(s), the idea of rooting to rise lends itself as a metaphor for off-the-mat practices. For example, root can refer to one's source or origin, so grounding yourself firmly in the past can allow you to move easily into the future. Learning to trust the instincts rather than visual feedback in poses such as vrksasana can also have lessons for how we achieve balance in our lives off the mat.

We use the phrase "returning to one's roots" to describe the process of going back to where you came from, both physically and ideologically. In many ways, I feel like I've gone back to my roots in the last year and a half. Returning to your roots does not necessarily mean regressing. Rather it is a process of integrating elements of your history and experience into who you are now. It can mean simply honoring parts of yourself that you've cast aside and re-evaluating what role they can play in the present moment. Maybe they no longer serve you, in which case they need only an acknowledgment, some gratitude for the role they played in your journey. Or maybe, looking back you will find that your past still holds you up. If we deny our pasts, we will always lack a solid foundation and when we are required to operate on intuition, we will lack the stability needed to stand firm. Only by building on the past can we truly find balance. It is your history that gives you the energy and anchor you need to grow above the canopy and wave your leaves in the sunlight.

Accepting limitations

2010-03-07T11:48:00.000-08:00

“Through practice, I’ve come to see that the deepest source of my misery is not wanting things to be the way they are. Not wanting myself to be the way I am. Not wanting the world to be the way it is. Not wanting others to be the way they are. Whenever I’m suffering, I find this ‘war with reality’ to be at the heart of the problem.” -- Stephen Cope

“These days, my practice is teaching me to embrace imperfection: to have compassion for all the ways things haven’t turned out as I planned, in my body and in my life – for the ways things keep falling apart, and failing, and breaking down. It’s less about fixing things, and more about learning to be present for exactly what is.” --Anne Cushman

Once again, I've been gone from this blog for a while. I've been practicing out in the world. I've been writing, but not about yoga. I've been going down different avenues, most of them very internal. Once again, I feel like it's time to come back here and see what there is to be said, explicitly, about practice.

Since the New Year, I've been practicing meditation and pranayama more intensely. I've been reading a lot about yoga philosophy and mindfulness in daily life, and my asana practice has dropped to the side. I've also started training for a marathon. As I've been increasing my weekly mileage, I've been exploring the meditative possibilities of running - how it feels to connect with the body and the breath, to use yogic practices like sending the breath into areas of discomfort and using mindfulness with mental habits such as fear of failure and the desire to give up.

Approximately three weeks ago, I started getting some minor nagging knee pain during runs. It was so negligible that I put it out of my mind and thought I just needed to stretch more and rest my legs. However, on February 22 I completed a 10-mile run and I ended it with severe pain in my knees which worsened over the course of the afternoon and evening. I soon realized that I had a serious overuse injury that was going to require an absolute halt to training until I could move pain free.

I was devastated. I had invested all my identity in my running and had come to rely on it for a sense of purpose and power in my life. At first, I wanted to give up on everything and crawl into bed and never come out. But then all the meditation practice I've been doing kicked in. Instead, I was determined to listen to my body until it spoke to me. I gathered as much information as I could about my condition, and I asked my knees what they needed. At first, they just wanted me to stop moving, but then as the pain subsided, I began to be able to identify specific areas of difficulty and how they were affected by the way I moved my body.

I held back. I watched all my thoughts and practiced letting them go, whatever came up: a sense of failure, a sense of desperation, a competitive urge. When my knees asked for it, I got on my yoga mat and discovered that my body knew which areas to work and stretch to give my knees the freedom of movement they required. Yesterday, I woke up and my body shouted, "RUN ME!" At first, I doubted it, but when I took to the road, I discovered that I could run 4 miles without pain. Not only that, but I was present in every step. I felt the impact of each movement; I felt the chain of energy of each impact with the road.

As soon as we are formed, our body begins to be affected by being in the world. Like the tree trunk in the picture accompanying this post, we are worn by the business of living and by our contact with those living around us. We are not perfect, we are not invincible, we cannot do whatever we want. We cannot take on everything. We like to think we can, but our bodies let us know... and if we don't listen, they shout louder. If we fight it, if we ignore our bodies, we end up in pain. What I have learned these past two weeks is that the pain is not here to punish us. The pain is our teacher. It is here to remind us to listen and to find what it is that we need. Come back into your body. Ask it what it has to tell you today. And then listen. Whether you like what it has to say or not.

Backsliding

2009-10-03T15:39:00.000-07:00

"Disease, dullness, doubt, carelessness, laziness, sensuality, false perception, failure to reach firm ground and slipping from the ground gained - these distractions of the mind-stuff are the obstacles. Accompaniments to the mental distractions include distress, despair, trembling of the body and disturbed breathing."

-- Patanjali, Yoga Sutras I:30-31

Even once you have begun to practice yoga and have experienced the amazing effects it can have on your life, there is still the tendency to backslide. Patanjali was well aware of this problem and acknowledged it in the Yoga Sutras. In the past month or so, I have come up against most, if not all, of the mental distractions he described... and their negative effects. When the backsliding happens, I tend to fall off the wagon hard: eating badly, skipping asana practice and other physical exercise, indulging stress and anxiety, and lashing out. I guess if it happened to Patanjali, it can happen to anyone!

To the degree to which practicing yoga regularly can transform your experience of daily life, not doing yoga is like a slow poison, eating away at your happiness. Suddenly you feel dull and lifeless: mentally, emotionally and physically. Luckily, there are signs which wake us up and remind us to practice: pain, despair, distress in the body and breathing. Even more luckily, the ancient yogis determined a number of techniques that can help us get back on track. Through meditation, pranayama, and asana practice, we can return our mind to a calm state. Patanjali suggests that wee can also "cultivate attitudes of friendliness toward the happy, compassion toward the unhappy, delight toward the virtuous and disregard toward the wicked."

Patricia Walden and Jarvis Chen suggest that one can use "tapas (discipline), svadhyaya (self-study), and Isvara-pranidhana (surrender) to overcome the obstacles." They also quote the Bhagavad Gita, which says that "No effort on the path is ever lost." This is one of the most comforting aspects of yoga for me. You can fall off the wagon a few times - everyone does - but you always have a choice to practice in the present moment, and it is your choice right now that matters. Sometimes the real world is not that forgiving. You can make mistakes in the real world that can alienate others or close doors forever. But the practice of yoga is forgiving because what counts is your willingness to continue to practice right now.

Sometimes when you can't see the road clearly it is easy to lose your way, or to take a turn too quickly and end up in a ditch. But maybe, just maybe, the next time you see the "blind drive" sign, you might remember and slow down a little, or stop the car and get out and walk. You can't undo the last slide, but you can hope that your previous effort was not lost. It will be easier to get back on track again, and to avoid pitfalls in the future, because you practiced.

Releasing your Expectations

2009-09-18T12:26:00.000-07:00

September 18, 2009
Finding Joy in Life's Surprises
Releasing Your Expectations
As we endeavor to find personal fulfillment and realize our individual ideals, we naturally form emotional attachments to those outcomes we hope will come to pass. These expectations can serve as a source of stability, allowing us to draft plans based on our visions of the future, but they can also limit our potential for happiness by blinding us to equally satisfying yet unexpected outcomes. Instead of taking pleasure in the surprising circumstances unfolding around us, we mourn for the anticipation left unfulfilled. When we think of letting go of our expectations, we may find ourselves at the mercy of a small inner voice that admonishes us to strive for specific goals, even if they continually elude us. However, the opposite of expectation is not pessimism. We can retain our optimism and free ourselves from the need to focus on specific probabilities by opening our hearts and minds to a wide variety of possible outcomes.

When we expect a situation, event, or confrontation to unfold in a certain way, it becomes more difficult to enjoy the surprises that have the potential to become profound blessings. Likewise, we may feel that we failed to meet our inner objectives because we were unable to bring about the desired results through our choices and actions. Consider, though, that we are all at the mercy of the universal flow, and our best intentions are often thwarted by fate. As you grow increasingly open to unforeseen outcomes, you will be more apt to look for and recognize the positive elements of your new circumstances. This receptivity to the unexpected can serve you well when you are called upon to compromise with others, your life plans seem to go awry, or the world moves forward in an unanticipated manner by granting you the flexibility to see the positive aspects of almost any outcome.

The further you distance yourself from your expectations, the more exhilarating your life will become. Though a situation in which you find yourself may not correspond to your initial wants, needs, or goals, ask yourself how you can make the most of it and then do your best to adapt. Your life’s journey will likely take many unpredicted and astonishing twists because you are willing to release your expectations.

From http://www.dailyom.com/articles/2009/20282.html.

Fear of falling

2009-09-11T18:05:00.000-07:00

"Death is not the biggest fear we have; our biggest fear is taking the risk to be alive -- the risk to be alive and express what we really are."
-- Don Miguel Ruiz

"You gain strength, courage, and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face. You must do the thing which you think you cannot do."
-- Eleanor Roosevelt

Arm balances and inversions are classic ways to work with the emotion of fear in hatha yoga. I've recently been re-visiting both after years of avoidance. These poses raise in me, as for many people, a sense of impossible challenge - both in terms of strength and skill. I was content with my sun salutations, but recently I've been encouraging myself to confront my fears and work on these postures. I've learned a lot in particular from bakasana (crane pose) and salamba sirsasana (headstand) in recent weeks. Both poses evoke fear in me - but that has come about in different ways for each pose - and in both poses I have recently begun to overcome my fear of falling.

I was introduced to bakasana several years ago by a teacher I liked and trusted. I had been pursuing a lot of gentle and restorative yoga during that period, which was helping me cope with a stressful job change. As I returned to more faster, flow-based asana, I discovered that I had built a lot of strength and flexibility working in the gentler traditions. When this teacher demonstrated bakasana, I believed her assertion that I could accomplish this pose. Like a child who has not yet learned that the world holds dangers, I went into the pose innocently and fearlessly. I soon lifted into the beginner variation of this pose, feet lifted but arms not yet straight, and I loved how it felt to balance there.

So where did my fear of this pose come from? In researching for this post, I found this about arm balances on Mark Stephens' web page: "They involve fear and ego while bringing about self-confidence and humility." I was about to experience the ego and humility part of things. Eager to show off this new arm balance one day, I attempted it at home without warming up, went into it too quickly, held it briefly, and then crashed hard onto the bridge of my nose. It hurt! I was wearing glasses at the time, which bent quite badly but luckily could be repaired. My ego and my innocent fearlessness, however, took more permanent damage and for the next two years or more I was unable to lift even one foot off the ground in this pose.

Headstand is different. Inversions terrify me (with the exception of shoulder stand, which I think I went into early enough in my practice that it didn't occur to me to be scared). Of course I can't do that, I tell myself. I'll fall and/or smash my head on the ground! Whenever headstand has come up in class, I've done the preparatory exercises, which were scary enough. Working with my fear in the preparatory poses was hard; it never occurred to me to actually try to kick up into the full pose.

Several weeks ago, I was practicing at home and I just kicked up into headstand at the wall. I have no idea what made me do it. There's no question that I had the ability to do this all along. I could tell that my alignment was good in the pose; my weight was in my arms, and I was comfortable there. All the fear just melted away, and since I've been able to continue working in the pose. It has done wonders for my self-confidence!

Bakasana is harder. I wonder if this is because my body has a painful memory to go along with the fear. I am just beginning to trust the strength of my arms again, my ability to know how the weight of my body should be distributed. It takes me a long time to find the courage, but I'm finally able to lift my feet off the ground again. I hope that one day I'll be able to straighten the arms.

I'm starting to recognize how often these two types of fear come up in other aspects of my life. Sometimes we're afraid that we'll fall (or fail) because of a previous experience; sometimes we're just afraid because of what lurks in our imagination. It's important to acknowledge that fear is a legitimate response to many things. After all, falling heavily on your head or neck is dangerous. Having your heart broken is devastating. Losing your job can put you in dire financial straits. The list goes on and on. But fear is so often paralyzing, and it can prevent us from experiencing our true potential, from continuing to learn and grow. We have to learn to assess our abilities and strength; to know when to go further; to have faith in our own resources and in those who support and encourage us; and to know what is and is not a serious consequence. Whether it's an inversion or love, the results of that trust can be exhilarating.

Let yourself take flight.

Namaste.

Love is powerful stuff

2009-09-10T19:03:00.000-07:00

"If you want others to be happy, practice compassion. If you want to be happy, practice compassion."
-- The Dalai Lama

"I vow to offer joy to one person in the morning and to help relieve the grief of one person in the afternoon."
-- Thich Nhat Hanh

This morning, I was early for an appointment and stopped at a cafe. I was reading about compassion in The Joy of Living. As I walked to my appointment, I was doing a casual version of a loving-kindness meditation. Last night in yoga class, we had worked on backbends, all heart opening postures. In savasana, I had experienced a momentary breakthrough to a very calm place of connection with everything. So as I walked, I was remembering this moment and thinking about what I had been reading. I began to practice focusing on my heart while thinking about someone I love, and then visualized that love and openness radiating out to all the world around me.

I paused to wait for traffic at a crosswalk. I imagine I had a smile on my face as I waited there. An elderly man walking by stopped and stared at me and then said, in an odd tone of voice, "Thank you."

I looked at him. He must have realized it was somewhat strange because he explained, "I was having a depressing morning, and then I saw you standing there, and I don't know why but you changed my perspective somehow. Thank you."

You can be skeptical about his intentions if you want, but that gave me a chill - the sense that this man had actually received the love I had been sending. Love is powerful stuff, and it's contagious. And I have to warn you, the primary symptom is happiness. Look out - you might catch it!

Who am I kidding?! We all want happiness. Well, here's some loving kindness. Pass it on.

All phenomena proceed from the mind

2009-09-03T18:51:00.000-07:00

I'm currently reading The Joy of Living: Unlocking the Secret and Science of Happiness by Yongey Mingyur Rinpoche. (Thanks Stephanie. xx)

Here is a video of Mingyur Rinpoche teaching. The analogy of the watch is one he talks about in the book.

Today I was struck by his description of one of the Buddha's teachings. In it, a young man comes to a great master seeking a profound teaching. The master agrees to share one - after the young man has a cup of tea. As he's about to drink, the tea transforms into a beautiful lake. The young man stands looking at the lake, and a girl appears. They fall in love at first sight and he goes home with her. Her parents also like him, and the two get married and have two children.

In his teens, their son falls ill and dies, and their daughter is killed by a tiger shortly thereafter. Overcome with grief, the man's wife drowns herself in the lake. Her mourning parents stop eating and starve to death. Having lost everything, the young man goes to the lake to drown himself. As he's about to throw himself in, he suddenly finds himself back in the master's house, holding the cup of tea.

Though he had lived an entire lifetime, harly an instant had passed; the cup was still warm in his hands and the tea was still hot.

He looked across the table at the teacher, who nodded, saying, "Now you see. All phenomena proceed from the mind, which is emptiness. They do not truly exist except in the mind, but they are not nothingness. There is your profound teaching."

As I read the teacher's words, I felt a kind of liberation as a whole lot of fear fell away. I'm still not entirely sure that I know why, but as someone who has despaired after loss, this story gave me an incredible feeling of space and hope. Doesn't this story speak to something we all fear - losing everyone we love? This unspeakable pain... it is definitely not nothingness. But our experience of it arises in the mind, sinks back into the mind. And most dangerous of all is the fear of pain that has not happened. Sometimes we make that into something so solid, so real.

All phenomena proceed from the mind, which is emptiness.

Meditation teachers often use the analogy of the mind as the sky, and thoughts as clouds that arise from it and pass through it but are not permanent. (I've also heard the analogy of leaves on a stream, and I particularly like the sense of movement I get from that image.) You can sit and watch those thoughts arise, drift across your mind, and float away without attaching to them. Sit and watch the fear of incredible loss with identifying with it.

All phenomena proceed from the mind, which is emptiness.
Happiness is our birthright.
We all have monkey mind. Watch it chatter. Let it go on and on.
Let the big sky of the Self be still.

I am the mover of the tree of the universe.

2009-08-30T11:15:00.000-07:00

"I am the mover of the tree of the universe. My fame rises high like a mountain peak. My root is the Supremely Pure Brahman. I am the unstained essence of the Self, like the nectar of immortality that resides in the sun. I am the brightest treasure. I am the shining wisdom. I am immortal and undecaying."
-- From the Upanishads

Mirrors

2009-08-28T18:01:00.000-07:00

I practice now not so much with ambition as with gratitude. And I ask myself frequently, ‘How can I express kindness right now?’ whether I am in a headstand or washing dishes.
-- Judith Lasater

Many people think of yoga as a workout, but in the yoga sutras, Patanjali described eight limbs of yoga, of which only one was physical poses. The eight limbs are:

Yama - yoga ethics, ways of treating the world
Niyama - principles of self-discipline and spiritual practice, ways of treating yourself
Asana - physical poses
Pranayama - breath control
Pratyahara - withdrawal from the sensory world, inward focus
Dharana- concentration
Dyana- meditation, focus
Samadhi - transcendence, enlightenment

Of course, like any other ancient sacred text, this is open to many variations in translation and interpretation. But my point is that the full system of yoga is much more than just a workout.

I am devoted to yoga. There's no question that I have been practicing constantly. My practice has been helping me to grow, to be happier, to manage stress better, to maybe be more compassionate in my interactions with the world. To let go of what I do not need to carry. Over the past few months, I have been working mostly with the first, second and fourth limbs.

In the past two weeks, I've returned to a more regular asana practice and feel like I'm ready to experience it in a new way. I've been making some discoveries, however, about the gap between how I see myself experiencing asana and my actual experience. For instance, I've begun attending a new studio, which I love except for one thing - the mirrors along the wall of the main room. For the past few years, I've been practicing yoga in rooms without mirrors, learning to experience the poses from the inside. Confronted with the mirrors, I can't help looking at myself. And suddenly, that judgmental voice that I thought I had exorcised comes back and says she doesn't like the way I look. And then I'm consumed by this voice. I'm suddenly just battling my self-hatred.

Next week, I'll set up away from the mirror. But that's not the point. My point is that there's still practice to be done. And the tricky thing is not judging myself for judging myself, not hating myself for hating myself. To observe the thoughts passing through without identifying with them, attaching to them. Without letting them take me over.

Here's another one. Last week I did my first headstands (by the wall). I've never been competitive with asana, and I've always had a fear of inversions, so getting upside down is a new experience for me. I learned something unexpected from all this: that the phrase I've never been competitive with asana is not truthful. It's how I would like to see myself, it's the yogini I want to be. The truth is, I was proud of getting up into headstand and I boasted about it all over the internet - and the deep motivation for that was to be praised. I was hungry for others to validate my achievement.

This became really obvious when a friend commented that she was surprised that I hadn't done a headstand before, since I always talk about how important yoga is to me and she's been doing headstands herself, without the wall. Now, I realize there's a chance my friend will read this post, and if she does, I hope she will understand that I do not write about this with any malice, but simply to examine my own reaction to her comment. Because my initial reaction was angry, defensive, indignant. At first, I wanted to reply, all holier-than-thou about how yoga was more than a physical practice to me and it wasn't a contest. Ironic, right?

If I look at my reaction more deeply, I realize that she challenged the core of my identity. I also realize that I am still clinging to all the self-judgments that are floating around in my brain. I see that I am holding so tightly to these notions of myself that I am almost willing to violate all the principles I profess to be defending.

So I did not reply to this comment, until this blog post that is. Is that progress? Maybe. It's not as easy as it sounds, to be a good person for the right reasons. Not because you want praise and validation for doing what's right. Not because it fits with your self-image. But because it really flows from the heart.

One of my teachers starts every class by suggesting that we release our expectations. I think that's a good goal to strive for. I am grateful to my friend for her comments. Like a mirror, she held my image up to me, and it was not what I expected to see.

Requesting a favor

2009-08-05T09:02:00.001-07:00

I'm currently working on my MA in International Education (IE). One of my personal goals for this program has been to find a way to integrate my yoga with my IE background. I'm excited that I am finally conceptualizing a way to do this through my final project. My initial idea is to create a program that will integrate yoga techniques with a view to helping students cope with stress from culture shock and exams in an international education project. As this develops, I may decide to do a research study instead of designing a program; I'm not yet sure what final form this project will take.

For the time being, I'm doing a small study with American college students for one of my classes in order to begin to explore some of these ideas. The aim of the study is to investigate how college students use techniques and practices learned in yoga classes outside of class in order to cope with stressful situations. There's lots of research that suggests that yoga does have both short-term and long-term effects on stress (something which yogis know intuitively) but little to no work has been done on how students use specific practices such as pranayama. This is something I've become very interested in in my own practice and would love to explore formally.

For my current study, all I require is college students who also study yoga - preferably at their college but I would also accept participants who study yoga off-campus. Participants will simply have to respond to a two-page questionnaire, which should take no more than ten minutes. I'm looking for students who study in the US, although they do not have to be Americans. I would consider participants who study in Canada. I'm having great difficulty finding participants because it's summer, and my study is in danger of being a total failure. Please help!

I'm hoping someone will see this post who teaches at a college, studies at a college, or otherwise has contacts with people who would fit my participant requirements. Please e-mail me at dragonflyspirit35@gmail.com if you think you can help.

Tremendous confidence

2009-07-27T19:24:00.000-07:00

Life has taken me away from this blog for a while - which overall is a very good thing, since life is much more important than blogging! What brings me back is a mantra I've been considering recently, something that one of my teachers says: Have tremendous confidence that you can. She usually says this right before we do something the mind warns is impossible, like standing on our heads. I love this mantra because often confidence (or lack thereof) is the only thing standing between me and what I want. I love it because the phrase tremendous confidence acknowledges how challenging it can be to believe, how much effort is needed to act on faith. I love it because I can feel the difference it makes in my body, in my mind, in my breath.

Recently, I viewed myself in a video from Jason Crandell's workshop at the Ojai Yoga Crib in 2007:

It's amazing to watch myself practice as I was two years ago. Almost from the beginning, I've loved Vrksasana (Tree Pose) and have felt at home in it. Ardha Chandrasana (Half Moon Pose) was a whole different story. Around the time of this video, I was referring to this pose as "my nemesis." The video features me falling in Ardha Chandrasana... on both sides. I'm struck by a couple of things when I see this video. First of all, by how different I now feel in my body when I do Ardha Chandrasana - sensations of ease, grace, lightness. And secondly, by the fact that in this video, it is visibly clear that I had learned to take myself into a posture in which I knew I would probably fall, to practice with joy in the face of great challenge. But I had not yet learned to have tremendous confidence that I could do the pose without falling, in spite of past history and rational or irrational fears.

I feel myself sometimes at this same crossroads in my life off the mat: willing to face challenge with a smile, but at the same time, lacking the confidence to just act without fear. In trying to break old patterns, whether it's falling in Ardha Chandrasana or holding your truth back in a relationship, sometimes you can spend too much time examining the pattern - and the more you look at it, the more it repeats itself. Sometimes the key might be to forget about the pattern, forget that you have ever been in a similar situation before, tap into that tremendous confidence, and step into the pose. With grace. And breath. Breath never hurts either.

When I see myself falling in 2007 and then feel myself lifting into Ardha Chandrasana in 2009, it gives me hope. Maybe the things that seem challenging now in my life will be second nature to me in two years. On second thoughts, I'll drop the "maybe." The things that seem challenging now in my life will be second nature to me in two years. I have tremendous confidence that I can.

Retreat and renewal

2009-06-06T16:15:00.000-07:00

In a few short hours I'm heading east. My first stop will be the Kripalu Center for Yoga and Health. I'll be there for about five days on the Retreat and Renewal program. I'm looking forward to a lot of yoga, meditation, learning, eating healthy, and relaxing in the outdoors. I'm particularly happy to see that I can close my retreat with a kirtan session.

I have been a bit surprised to note my anxiety about being "unplugged" for these five days. It is my intention to turn off my cell phone and my computer until I leave Kripalu. I have become so used to being consistently available for work and school online and by phone. I'm amazed that I am so worried about not being in touch with my regular world. Of course, at the same time I'm excited about the opportunity to just be. No internet connection, no cell phone connection, but plenty of connection to the heart and the universe I live in.

See you all in a week. Namaste.

Be happy

2009-06-02T22:43:00.000-07:00

You will never be happy if you continue to search for what happiness consists of. You will never live if you are looking for the meaning of life.
-- Albert Camus

You can never get enough of what you don't need to make you happy.
-- Eric Hoffer

Happiness is a choice that requires effort at times.
-- Aeschylus

I'm probably too tired to be blogging right now, but I've been thinking about how I keep returning to the same struggle: to be happy with what I have. There are many blessings in my life, and no reason to keep looking around the next corner for something that is missing. There is always something missing, but happiness only exists in the present moment. I am trying to just allow myself to be here now with what is, not in the past or the future, but right here. I have all that I need.

Letting go of the past

2009-05-31T11:13:00.000-07:00

"Do not seek to have everything that happens as you wish, but wish for everything to happen as it actually does happen, and your life will be serene."
-- Epictetus

"Our deepest fears are like dragons guarding our deepest treasure."
--Rainier Maria Rilke

This morning in class, we worked on Utthita Hasta Padangustasana (Extended Hang-to-Big-Toe Pose). I know the lovely lady on the Yoga Journal site has a big smile on her face, but this is one of those poses that pushes all my buttons and makes me lose my cool. Between sides, Nikole asked us to let go of our struggles on the first side and start the pose on the second side with a fresh and open mind. She said, "We spend so much time living in the past, don't we? Even the things we worry about happening in the future are just things that happened to us in the past. Just let it go."

Fear is a useful thing when you're being chased by a bear. It's much less so when you're trying to balance on one leg with your foot in the air or considering changing your job or moving to a new city. And there's a fine line between learning from past experience (arguably good) and assuming that because things did not go the best way possible last time you tried something that it will be so again in the future (arguably bad). The question is how to know when fear serves to protect us, and when it holds us back from reaching great treasures.

Sipping the rainwater

2009-05-30T09:44:00.000-07:00

Just because you can’t drink all that falls
doesn’t mean you give up taking sips
of rainwater. If the nut
of the mystery can’t be held,
at least let me touch the shell.
-- Rumi

Today is a rare misty day in San Diego. This almost-rain makes me nostalgic for the forests of the Pacific Northwest. I want to put on some gortex and go sit under a big fir and look at the ocean. Thinking about rain led me to this Rumi poem. This life is such a mystery, but one we should dive into with our entire beings, even though we cannot see or comprehend all that there is. We don't have much choice, really. We are part of it all. We can close our eyes and our ears and our minds to the unknown, or we can open our hearts and try to hold a sense of it: Life! Without fear, try to taste what you can.

Rumi also wrote:

Do you pay regular visits to yourself?
Don't argue or answer rationally.
Let us die,
and dying, reply.

The mystery is within us as well as outside. I'm not even sure there is an inside and an outside. Yoga and meditation take me to that place where the two meet. So do the tops of mountains, and the forest, and the ocean. So does wild weather: the wind and the rain. Poetry. Music. That moment on a run where thoughts end and you become part of the trail, part of the world.

I think that Rumi means that in the moment of death, if we have regularly lived life from the heart, we will accept this too. The final mystery. The last merge. And that our readiness to connect cannot be argued rationally but can only be known in that moment. I have no idea what it means to die, but maybe I am starting to understand what it means to live. To feel the nutshell, rough under my hand. To turn my face to the sky and taste the rain.

Making decisions

2009-05-29T17:46:00.000-07:00

"Let yourself be silently drawn by the stronger pull of what you really love."
-- Rumi

So this theme has been recurring in my life about the decision-making process. It's an impossible process really; every issue has multiple sides and there's always so much unknown. In the end, there's nothing for it but to turn inward and see what is in the heart, to commit to a choice and the consequences of that choice, no matter what those may be.

I'm someone who could agonize over something as unimportant as a menu for hours if I thought people would put up with it. So often, when asked by my dining companions what I'm going to order I'll say, "I'll see what comes out of my mouth." It's not unusual that what I ask for in that moment is not at all the dish I thought I had decided on.

It's odd that a menu can cause me so much anguish, but at work on a daily basis I make quick, sometimes ruthless decisions without hardly a thought. That's not to say I take workplace decisions lightly, but I think that in that context so many of the contributing factors are simply ingrained; I have a wealth of experience that gives me a pretty good idea who these decisions are going to turn out. Add to that the fact that it is my job, my responsibility, to make these calls. People are relying on me. A similar force to that which makes me finally choose a dish from the menu when the server comes to the table, the need to follow procedure and hold up my end of the deal.

In this article from Seeker Magazine, Susan Kramer talks about the idea that yoga practice can help us become aware of tension in our bodies as we make a decision. Paying attention to the sensations in the torso can help you to become aware of when considering a course of action brings increased stress and when an alternative creates a sense of relaxation. In other words, the physical body may communicate to us when we are making a decision that goes against our instincts. It's good to have tools!

I think there is more to this than just tension in the body, but maybe I'm wrong. For me, the hardest decisions are those that could hurt other people and those which have a lot of unknown elements, as well as those where the results don't really matter (such as ordering a meal). That's probably pretty typical. Sometimes I can get paralyzed in these situations, completely bogged down in a state of inaction. All options generate tension. But yoga offers us a solution: get quiet, connect with the breath, turn inward... and then act. (Yes, Erich, I hear you. "Googling the Internet of Infinite Mind" again.)

I've said here before that I believe what happens on the mat is just practice for what happens off the mat, and this is another example. If you have a home practice and you create your own sequences, there's only one way to decide what pose to flow into next, how long to hold it, and what adjustments to make. You guessed it. Get quiet, connect with the breath, turn inward... and move. From the core, from the heart, from the energy within. I think any creative process is like this: music, writing, art. You might know a lot about the mechanics of yoga, music, writing or painting - but when it comes down to the art of it, decisions are not made with the head but rather with the heart, or maybe by a higher power. Sometimes it's as though the poems or music or asanas write themselves.

If you are not used to listening to your instincts, it can be difficult to trust yourself to make decisions from the heart. If your logical mind is arguing one way and your heart another, it takes a great deal of faith to go with your instincts. This reminds me of something I was told when I was about 15 (by a boy I had a crush on incidentally - you'll see why.) He said, "If you flip a coin and then do the opposite of what it tells you, you'll know that's what you really wanted to do all along."

Flip a coin. And then do what you really wanted to do all along. You know what that is.

Satya - To tell the whole truth and nothing but the truth

2009-05-25T17:42:00.000-07:00

Recently, I've been thinking a lot about satya, or truthfulness, one of the five yamas (ethical restraints) proposed by Patanjali. The concept is deceptively simply - be truthful in your words and actions. But in reality, it is an extremely difficult precept to follow.

For one thing, satya comes into direct conflict with the restraint of ahimsa, or non-harming. The use of the word ahimsa is an interesting one. Yoga does not simply ask us to be kind to others, it asks us specifically to restrain from causing harm. That is a much broader and more difficult practice. When it comes to satya, the trick is to tell the truth without causing harm to others - or to ourselves. Another challenge is that satya includes not only our words, but also our actions. We must always act in such a way that our behavior expresses our true thoughts and intentions (and don't forget ahimsa.)

Perhaps the most difficult thing of all is the fact that so many of us spend so much time being dishonest with ourselves. It's very difficult to know if your words and actions are not truthful when you are not even consciously aware of your own truth, what you really think and feel in any given situation. For many of us, the fictional stories we tell ourselves about who we are and what we want have become such an integral part of the fabric of our being that we are unable to recognize the lies we tell on a daily basis. The tricky thing about truthfulness is that it refers to the absolute truth - so the embroidery and exaggeration that we may be used to using, all of the fish stories and half-truths and white lies that have become second nature to us - these too are not satya. Just because something closely resembles the truth does not make it true.

I admit it - lies perform some very important functions in my daily existence: creating my desired fictional sense of self, preventing hurt to myself and others, avoiding uncomfortable situations, etc. The thought of trying to unlearn these behaviors is pretty daunting. I'm relatively determined - but still, overwhelmed. For one thing, speaking the truth might mean that all of those lovely defense mechanisms would go away, leaving me vulnerable to those classic demons What Might Happen, and worse, What People Might Think. I'm a pretty private person (which you might not know from this blog, but blogging is not real life), and I'm also a little bit introverted by nature so the thought of speaking my truth on a daily basis is way up there with skydiving on my list of terrors. (I'm also pretty afraid of heights.) But I've done a pretty good job of doing things that terrify me, and I'm not totally ruling skydiving out of my future either. Speaking the truth to strangers is a pretty good practice.

An interesting system of speaking truthfully to others without causing harm is Marshall Rosenberg's Non-Violent Communication (NVC), which I think I've mentioned here before. I've dabbled in NVC and it's one of those practices that I believe in but have trouble implementing regularly in life. For one thing, it goes against our entire ingrained culture of expected communications. The idea is basically founded on the expression of universal and specific emotions which result from universal needs. It's a very non-judgmental way of communicating the truth without blame.

The tricky thing is that when the processes of lying, exaggeration, embellishment, and unauthentic action are ingrained, how do you become mindful of the process in order to stop it? I believe that some yogis will even take a vow of silence in order to facilitate the process of awareness of the thought patterns that lead to dishonest and/or harmful speech. Unfortunately my work will not exactly allow me to do this. I'm trying to just work with awareness, but it's a long slow process. I don't exactly have or easy answers on this one.

I'm half-Japanese and have a little Japanese cultural influence, and I think this is something that causes me particular challenges in this area. So much of Japanese culture is based on creating smooth and harmonious social relationships, and communication patterns tend to be very indirect. I've noticed that if someone asks me the right questions, I'm often able to speak truthfully, but if not, I have a tendency to leave the truth implied or completely unsaid. I've been accused of expecting others to read my mind, and there's probably some truth in that. I also sometimes act the way others want or expect me to, rather than in a truthful way. I've noticed that the result can be that my needs are not met in my relationships with the other people in my life or that the relationships are not completely authentic - and sometimes things build up to a point where the truth comes out suddenly in an unpleasant and hurtful way. I don't intend to mislead anyone ever; very often I am not even aware of the truth myself.

So this all sounds really awful - but it's honest. And don't get me wrong - I'm not beating myself up over it. I think it's a pretty common experience - and great practice. Adopting the practice of satya is like unravelling an enormous knot. Something that takes patience - but which I happen to be pretty good at. We'll see if the skill transfers. Like everything else, satya comes back to mindfulness, back to the breath, to the present moment, to tapping into instinct and figuring out what the truth even is.

Like living itself, satya takes a big dose of courage. I'm giving myself a big pat on the back for even trying. Maybe one of these lifetimes, I'll get it right.

More on the online community

2009-05-24T00:03:00.000-07:00

On March 17, I posted some affirmations here. I'm pleased to report that I've made some progress towards many of the things which I named as making me feel alive. I'm actively seeking connections with people who can support me in these endeavors. One tool which I've found useful is this website. In their FAQ, they describe the site as follows:

People have known for years that making a list of goals is the best way to achieve them. But most of us never get around to making a list. 43 Things is great for that! Make a list on 43 Things and see what changes happen in your life. Best of all it’s a way of connecting with other enthusiasts interested in everything from watching a space shuttle launch to grow my own vegetables. So the next time someone asks you, “what do you do?” you can answer with confidence, “I am doing 43 things!”

Basically, once you create an account, you use the site to list goals. If others share the same goal, you can access a page for that goal, see who else is doing it, and see who has completed it. Those who have completed the goal can write about how they did it, share resources they used to help them, and let others know if they felt it was worth it and why.

Also, while you are working on the goals, you can write entries about your progress. Others can then comment on your entries or can cheer on your goals or entries - and you can cheer them on in return. This is such a simply concept, but since I joined the site about a week and a half ago, I've made some really noticeable progress on many of those goals I listed back on March 17 and did not do anything about for two months. I think this is due in part to the support of the (unknown) online community.

I am a list maker by nature and by nurture, so this site works really well for me.

Totems

2009-05-10T12:11:00.000-07:00

I recently talked in this blog about being open to messages from the world around us. Sometimes these messages take the form of animals that come into our lives and seem more meaningful than chance encounters. This is akin to the idea of a totem in shamanistic traditions, a guardian animal or spirit that watches over an individual, family or tribe. Whether or not you believe in the existence of totems, I think that it is worth considering what we can learn from the creatures that come into our lives.

Some of you know already why I call myself "dragonfly". When I lived in Japan, I had a significant encounter with dragonflies one fall day in the mountains. At that time of year, the dragonflies are always around - but this day I had a spiritual experience that was particularly significant to me, and when the dragonflies appeared, I had the distinct sense that they were there to guide me forward in my life. They danced around me in the air with such joy, and I felt drawn to their energy. It was much, much later that I read about the significance of the dragonfly totem. This source looks at dragonflies a bit more scientifically, and this one is a bit more metaphorical. Common elements of the dragonfly totem are:

Change and transformation
Seeing through illusion; seeing things from different angles

Learning about this amazed me because I had already decided that the dragonflies appeared to me that day to teach me: to reveal some truths and to guide me through a significant personal transformation. Ever since the dragonflies have been with me, there's no question that I have been through a pretty major metamorphosis. (I know that many, many people, especially women, are drawn to dragonflies, and normally I try to avoid popular symbolism. ;-) However, the dragonfly experience was so significant and personal to me that its popularity does not dissuade me. Given the symbolism of the dragonfly, it does not surprise me that many people rely on its energy, as transformation and true seeing are key goals of this life on earth.)

In the last few days, I've been visited by a different creature. Each time I leave my apartment, there is a hummingbird sitting outside my door. When it sees me, it flies up, hovers in front of me intently, and then takes off. I tried to tell myself that it's a coincidence, but I can't help but feel that the hummingbird has been waiting for me. I tried to take a picture of it, but it declined to be photographed, so here instead is the plant where it has been sitting:

This view is literally one step outside my door!

This bird was waiting for me so many times that I became curious about whether it was trying to tell me something, so I looked up hummingbird totems. Wow! Among other things, hummingbirds are associated with:

Renewal and resurrection
Awakening to the beauty of the present moment, to joy, to the five senses
Achieving balance
Independence and courage

There is no question that these four things summarize where I am on my journey right now. Hello, hummingbird. Thank you for reminding me that I have everything I need right now, to rise up and hover in this moment, in this moment, in this moment, joyful and open.

Words to live by

2009-05-02T13:19:00.000-07:00

In October, at the end of a 6+ year relationship, I knew there were things I had to remember if I was to survive. I wrote them on blue Post-Its and stuck them all over my apartment. I have since taken many of them down, but two remain. When I put them up, they were just words - but I knew they were the keys to recovery and that I would need to believe them and live them in order to find meaning in life again. After seven months of looking at them every day, I know they are the reasons why I am filled with peace and joy on this Saturday morning.

This one is by my front door. I look at it every time I leave or come home. It's also in front of the only space big enough to do yoga in my apartment.

This one is in the kitchen.

Trust and celebrate. These are the words that help me through. (These, and Stephanie's email on my kitchen cupboard with Rilke's quote: "For all that is unresolved, try to love the questions themselves." Stephanie, your emails and blog have kept me going through some dark days. I am so blessed to know you. Namaste.)

Waiting for a Sign

2009-04-24T19:25:00.000-07:00

If you let it, the universe leads you. Sometimes, it's hard to let it ~ not because I don't want to but because I'm clinging on to something futile. And because over the years, I've forgotten how to listen. Like everything else, it takes practice to connect, be still, and wait for the answers to come. Erich Schiffmann calls it "Googling the Internet of Infinite Mind." (Gotta love Erich.)

Because words are so important to me, I think the universe helps me out in times of particular denseness by putting things in plain English. One example of this took place when I was living and teaching English in Japan. I was in the midst of a particularly unpleasant work situation - an unethical and possibly slightly insane boss was making things difficult and my coworkers were quitting rapidly. In spite of my deep commitment to my students and remaining coworkers, I was growing more and more uncomfortable with my boss' behavior and the effect it was having on our work environment and our ability to provide consistent quality classes. I was only 23 and had never encountered a situation like this before.

One day, I was walking from the train station to the school along my usual route, which took me into an underpass under the main road. As I came down the stairs, I could see that the underpass was completely empty. Then a lone male figure entered the underpass from the other side and walked towards me. He was wearing a bright yellow T-shirt with large black lettering that said, in English, "QUIT YOUR JOB."

He stopped me in my tracks. The message couldn't have been clearer.

Or another example: last Wednesday was my birthday. Wednesday is not a great day for birthday celebrations anyway, and with everything else going on in my life (and my friends' lives), I ended up celebrating my birthday as I've been spending much of my personal time: alone. I had a divine (pun intended) vegetarian lunch at Jyoti-Bihanga and was feeling rather reflective as I considered all the changes in my life over the past year. I was deep in my past when I heard the voice of another diner ring out, clear as a bell. "Where are you going from here?" she asked. I was so sure that she was talking to me that I turned around.

Where am I going from here? Of course I have no idea. But if I get really still and wait, I'm pretty sure the universe will let me know.

Healing Those Who Are Broken

2009-04-13T21:01:00.000-07:00

At the conclusion of this evening's yoga class, my teacher Joshua Graner told us that he has been doing some work with the US military teaching yoga to veterans and soldiers with PTSD. Problems with PTSD and other disorders have reached crisis levels, and the military, not knowing what else to do, is paying for clinical studies using yoga, acupuncture and other treatments from Eastern medical traditions. Click here for a recent article on the subject. While the writer is skeptical about some of the treatments the military is trying (I'm trying not to be offended by his use of the term "wild-sounding" to refer to some of the techniques authorized), he does support yoga for vets. Click here for a Yoga Journal article on yoga as treatment for PTSD. Joshua is a great person to be doing this work. Not only is he an amazing teacher and healer, but he started his career as an army medic. I'm excited to see the military taking these steps to find healing for those who have been traumatized by battle - maybe some day we will actually be teaching peace, love, and mindfulness to prevent war itself.

A Virtual Sangha?

2009-04-11T13:08:00.000-07:00

To practice right mindfulness we need the right environment, and that environment is our Sangha. Without a Sangha, we are very weak. In a society where everyone is rushing, everyone is being carried away by their habit energies, practice is very difficult. That is why our Sangha is our salvation. The Sangha where everyone is practicing mindful walking, mindful speaking, mindful eating seems to be the only chance for us to succeed in ending the vicious cycle.

And what is the Sangha? The Sangha is a community of people who agree with each other that if we do not practice right mindfulness, we will lose all the beautiful things in our soul and all around us. People in the Sangha standing near us, practicing with us, support us so that we are not pulled away from the present moment."
-- Thich Nhat Hanh, from Friends on the Path: Living Spiritual Communities in A Lifetime of Peace edited by Jennifer Schwamm Willis (p. 280)

It is so important to have a community of people who support your practice. Waking up is painful - changing habits you have followed for your whole life is not easy. I fail more than I succeed; time and time again I lost track of the practice. I often long for more of a community to practice with, especially at work. I have friends who practice yoga and meditation, but few I see regularly. I go to yoga classes for the sense of community support, but don't see the other students outside of class, and most of the people I see during the day do not follow the same practices. I know that there are lots of yogis and meditators in San Diego, and that I can go out and find them. But my life is consumed by my work and my studies, and I have another year to go at least before I obtain my MA. It is all I can do just to get all the work done, but I am concerned by the fact that there will always be excuses like this and I really do feel like the more yoga there is in my life, the better I feel.

I don't think it is for everyone to drop everything and go live in an ashram or other practice community. I want to practice engagement in my work, not leave my work behind. Sometimes, I do question my career choice. I wonder if I shouldn't be teaching yoga. But I'm halfway through an expensive degree - and in fact, I'm excited about what I do. I still hope that International Education can contribute positively to the world.

And besides: I'm worried about the illusion behind the idea that changing my career will make my life better. I hear this too much in the world: If I was just doing something different, if I could just find Mr. Right, if I lived somewhere different, I would be happier. I'm suspicious of it. There's lots of stuff to work with, whatever I'm doing, and I suspect that the path will be much the same, no matter which fork I take.

So there's still the question of community - How do I find one? Do I need to? I'm not sure what the answers are, but I do know that the internet has brought an interesting dimension to this search. I hear a lot about the evils of the internet - and I'll be the first to admit that I spend way too much time on it, I allow the internet to bring me out of the present moment every day, to steal attention from the breath, to lull me out of reality and to dull my attention. But like any tool, the internet is not inherently evil, and one gift it has brought me is a kind of virtual sangha. Through this blog, I have discovered a wide-ranging blogging community of like-minded folks - and I thank you for reading, for commenting, for supporting my practice. I hope that I am supporting yours. In the absence of a warm, human, local community, the virtual sangha may be the next best thing.

Now here's the rub: blogging, reading blogs, and commenting is not really practice. Getting practice ideas from the internet is only useful if you follow it up with the actual practice. Talking about yoga and meditation is not at all the same as doing yoga and meditation. I would hate to quit the internet cold turkey - but I would like to learn how to use the internet more constructively and less as a distraction. I'm grateful for and excited about this community, but I'm curious about ways the internet can be a better tool to support my practice in the real world, to maximize the benefits and minimize the negative influence it brings to my life.

I'm putting it to the commmunity. Any ideas?

Yoga Poems

2009-04-10T08:38:00.000-07:00

I've been wanting to write the poetry I find in yoga. I did a quick search to see who else is doing this, and found Yoga Poems: Lines to Unfold By by Leza Lowitz. Here's a sample:

Virabhadrasana II
Warrior II

Here there is nothing to fight
except willfulness.
Some lean too far
into the past.
Others stretch way out
into the future.
The true warrior
stays in the
moment,
burning deeper
into whatever comes,
or sometimes with
even more difficulty,
what doesn't.

It's not earthshattering poetry, but I like it. Might be worth checking out the whole collection. Might be worth starting a collection of my own.

Bus meditations

2009-04-05T14:15:00.000-07:00

I stubbornly continue to ride public transportation rather than buying a car. I am repeatedly told that it is not possible to survive in Southern California without a car. What people mean when they say this is: It's not easy to live in Southern California without a car. We are so used to hyperbole in our culture, so used to hearing anything that requires the slightest effort or patience referred to as impossible, we have begun to believe it.

It is ABSOLUTELY possibly to live in San Diego without a car. That's not to say it's easy, but I believe that we can only change the world through our own actions. We cannot be responsible for the actions of others, but by acting with integrity ourselves, we can inspire others to follow suit, we can create movements of many individuals acting with integrity. Peace is possible only through enough individuals acting peacefully. We cannot change someone into a peaceful person, we can only change ourselves. The April page of my 2009 Thich Nhat Hanh calendar bears this quote:

My actions are the ground on which I stand.

So I choose not to eat meat most of the time because I do not wish to support financially to the evils of the American meat industry, and I choose not to own a car largely because I see many benefits to choosing public transportation including:

Reduced cost to me
Reduced cost to the environment
Reduced traffic
More exercise (I walk a lot)
Controlled consumption (I think twice before going to the store and I only buy what I can carry)
Opportunities to engage with the realities of my community, to practice yoga on a daily basis out in the world

To be completely honest, there are other factors which speak less to my good moral character such as the fact that I am totally intimidated by the whole car shopping experience.

Call me crazy, but I am getting along fine without a car. Given, the public transportation system in San Diego is appalling and getting worse, carrying on a fine California tradition of overreliance on private motor vehicles. However, if everyone keeps driving cars rather than riding transit, there will be no motivation to change the system - so I have persisted over nearly five years. It does limit where I can live and where I can shop, but not necessarily in a bad way. There are a few things that I regret not being able to do, but every few months I rent a car and take care of a lot of these chores. I rely on friends for rides and sometimes I feel guilty about that.

Anyway, I wanted to address my last point in the above list (opportunities to engage with the realities of my community, to practice yoga on a daily basis out in the world) because I think it's an aspect of riding public transportation which is not usually discussed. A friend recently reminded me about the red light meditation, which got me thinking about bus meditations. For example:

The waiting for the bus meditation - see the red light meditation (link above). Unlike the red light meditation, though, the waiting for the bus meditation is tricky because it can go on for a pretty long time and you never know when the bus is going to arrive. By nature, monkey mind wants to go back to thoughts of When is the bus coming? Where is the bus? Why is it late? I'm so hot/ cold/ tired/ bored. My feet hurt. etc. What a gift, to have a built-in exercise of bringing yourself back to the body, the breath, the present moment. (By the way, when will the bus come? When you are ready for it!) I also like to do tadasana and pranayama at the bus stop.
Slowing down - In our world, we are always going, going, going nowhere fast. What a gift, to have pauses built into your day! When you are waiting for a bus, there is nothing to do that will make the bus come faster. There is nothing to do but exist at the bus stop. When you are on the bus, there is nothing you can do to arrive at your destination faster. (By the way, there is really nothing you can do when you're driving either - but people usually try and it's usually dangerous!) So you can experience complete freedom to allow things to unfold as they must and there is this amazing opportunity to just sit, open the heart, slow the mind, focus on the breath. You also have an opportunity to just experience how you are feeling going into your day, or in the evening, how your day has affected you. So often we don't give ourselves a chance to connect.
Loving kindness meditation and/or compassion - On public transportation, you are in the midst of humanity. You see a lot of suffering. People cry on the bus - I have cried on the bus. People laugh, people sleep, people stare blankly out the window. People hobble in physical pain, they are destitute, they are ill, they are drunk or high. People suffer from mental illness, and people are angry, with or without good reason. People criticize strangers. People are selfish and they are generous. People express sympathy, they reach out to help others for no particular reason other than that it is right. Sometimes, particularly if one is fortunate, there is a tendancy to isolate oneself from those who are less fortunate, from how things are in the world. (Is this, in fact, the reason why many people are so glued to their cars? Avoidance?) On the bus, you see it all. Sometimes, it is all I can do to open my heart to it all and keep breathing. What better place to experience the same-ness of all people, to practice loving the world?

Leave the car at home. What practices do you come up with? Ride the bus. Open your heart.

More on suffering - I get it!

2009-04-03T14:26:00.000-07:00

OK, I wrote that last post and I still didn't feel like I was "getting" what I was writing about. I was writing about my pain and what causes it, but I wasn't really understanding how to work with it. I guess I was mostly writing about my faith that the pain was there to help me wake up because lots of yogis say so!

I'm still reading Stephen Cope, and this morning I read something that helped me "get" it.

It is important to understand that in the yogic view, the phenomenal world is not seen in itself as unreal. It is just seen as the tip of the iceburg. Our delusion is not that we think of the gross phenomenal world as real, but that we miss the hidden depths that underlie it. We miss its interiority. And thereby, we reamin oblivious of our deep and subtle connectedness to the whole realm of mind and matter.

... The goal... is not to disengage from the phenomenal world, but to turn to embrace it more and more deeply - to discover its hidden depths. And in order to do that, paradoxicaly, we do not reject the vicissitudes of the embodied life. We do not reject suffering. Rather, we turn and go thorugh the doorway of suffering. We turn to embrace our neuroses, our conflicts, our difficult bodies and minds, and we let them be the bridge to a fuller life. Our task is not to free ourselves from the world, but to fully embrace the world - to embrace the real.

OK, now that is something I can work with. I've experienced this paradox before - when you open yourself to the pain, it diminishes. Over the past couple of weeks, I've actually been admitting to people - and most of all, to myself - that I'm in pain: talking about it, exposing it to the air, experiencing it fully and seeing how it felt. Today, for the first time in ages, I feel like myself again.

Aha! It's interesting to me that I used a phrase at the end of my last post about "the path opening inwards" but I only just realized what I meant. The yoga was there, in my heart, all along.

Suffering

2009-04-01T16:51:00.000-07:00

He who suffers much will know much.
-- Greek Proverb

The most authentic thing about us is our capacity to create, to overcome, to endure, to transform, to love and to be greater than our suffering.
-- Ben Okri

I've been sitting on this blog post for a long time, trying to find my way into it. It's hard to write about suffering, but I've experienced so much loss and change in the past year that it's getting so I can't write about anything else. Yoga philosophy refers to five kleshas, or afflictions that cause our suffering. This article is a discussion of the kleshas in the context of difficult losses, including suggestions for practices that work with the kleshas. In it, Bo Forbes provides the following useful description:

AVIDYA: The inability to see things for what they are; this causes you to mistake transient, ego-related matters for permanent, soul-related ones.
ASMITA: The tendency to overidentify with your ego; this keeps you from connecting with your soul.
RAGA: The flame of desire that causes addiction to pleasure; this discourages you from leaving your comfort zone for more evolved territory.
DVESHA: The aversion to pain; this creates a quicksand-like cycle of misery and self-hatred that sucks you under and suffocates your will to evolve.
ABHINIVESHA: The fear of death or a clinging to life; this dilutes your focus and interferes with your ability to experience the spiritual freedom that is the goal of yoga.

I've been reading Stephen Cope's book Yoga and the Quest for the True Self. In it, Cope describes four erroneous beliefs that underlie the delusion of the kleshas (p. 64):

The belief in the permanence of objects
The belief in the ultimate reality of the body
The belief that our state of suffering is really happiness
The belief that our bodies, minds and feelings are our true Self

So here we are again: loss shatters our belief in permanence and forces us to examine our delusions. It awakens us to the nature of our suffering and drives us in the search to realize the full potential of our being. Cope suggests that pain, loss, and disappointment can be key motivators in leading people to release their attachments to past, future and sense of self, and to progress in their spiritual practice.

He also quotes Bhagwan S. Rajneesh's commentary on the Yoga Sutras:

Yoga means that now there is no hope, now there is no future... Total despair is needed... A moment comes to every human being when he feels total hopelessness. Absolute meaninglessness happens to him. When he becomes aware that whatsoever he is doing is useless, wheresoever he is going, he is going to nowhere, all life is meaningless - suddenly hopes drop, future drops, and for the first time you are in tune with the present, for the first time you are face to face with reality... When you are not moving into the future, not moving into the past, then you start moving within yourself - because your being is here and now. You are present here and now.
You can enter this reality.

So with each disappointment, with each departed friend, with the end of love, with each death, I am trying to find my way into yoga, into the here and now. I am suffering, but I feel the path opening inward and I have a lot of faith.

Affirmations

2009-03-17T14:10:00.000-07:00

I used to have a shirt that said "Make up your mind to be happy." I believe happiness is a choice that I sometimes forget to make. Here's what I know about what it means to me. (Try this yourself.)

When I ____, I feel truly alive... I am completely myself, and can allow myself to grow into who I want to be!

1) Travel.

2) Do yoga.

3) Spend time in nature.

4) Write.

5) Spend time with close friends.

6) Walk/ hike/ run.

7) Create beauty.

8) Work for the good of others.

9) Am part of a community.

10) Take care of my body, challenge my mind, nurture and express what is in my heart.

Therefore, I want to:

1) Take an extended trip and visit my friends all over the world.

2) Go on a yoga and/or meditation retreat.

3) Take a yoga teacher training course.

4) Explore career options.

5) Live in a new city/ country.

6) Write and publish more.

7) Get out in the wilderness.

8) Volunteer in another country.

9) Eat better all the time.

10) Run more and start racing again.

11) Cultivate friendships with people who have similar interests and goals.

12) Buy a new camera and take amazing pictures.

To make this happen, I need to:TAKE THE FIRST STEP!

I will live the life I've dreamed of, with joy and humility, every day.

Set Yourself Free: Letting Go of Perfection

2009-03-11T12:37:00.000-07:00

"It is good to remember that one of our goals in life is to not be perfect. We often lose track of this aspiration. When we make mistakes, we think that we are failing or not measuring up. But if life is about experimenting, experiencing, and learning, then to be imperfect is a prerequisite. Life becomes much more interesting once we let go of our quest for perfection and aspire for imperfection instead.

This doesn’t mean that we don’t strive to be our best. We simply accept that there is no such thing as perfection—especially in life. All living things are in a ceaseless state of movement. Even as you read this, your hair is growing, your cells are dying and being reborn, and your blood is moving through your veins. Your life changes more than it stays the same. Perfection may happen in a moment, but it will not last because it is an impermanent state. Trying to hold on to perfection or forcing it to happen causes frustration and unhappiness.

In spite of this, many of us are in the habit of trying to be perfect. One way to nudge ourselves out of this tendency is to look at our lives and notice that no one is judging us to see whether or not we are perfect. Sometimes, perfectionism is a holdover from our childhood—an ideal we inherited from a demanding parent. We are adults now, and we can choose to let go of the need to perform for someone else’s approval. Similarly, we can choose to experience the universe as a loving place where we are free to be imperfect. Once we realize this, we can begin to take ourselves less seriously and have more fun. Imperfection is inherent to being human. By embracing your imperfections, you embrace yourself."

From http://www.dailyom.com/articles/2009/17597.html - March 11, 2009

Compassion starts with yourself

2009-03-07T10:38:00.000-08:00

If your compassion does not include yourself, it is incomplete.
-- Jack Kornfield

Sometimes I write things here just to remind myself of what I know but have forgotten. Practicing loving kindness towards myself is a big one. I'm quite sure that babies don't lie there and say to themselves, "Oh no, I wet my pants again. I am a horrible person!" So when does all this negative self-talk start, and where does it come from?

Yesterday I taught a teacher training workshop on classroom management. If you talk to teachers about their problem students and the issues that come up in their classrooms again and again, the emotions that come up can be powerful. As a teacher, student after student, year after year, is pushing your buttons. That one cell phone user is carrying the baggage of all previous in-class cell phone users. No wonder it is a high burnout profession! We all need therapy.

I guess any job is the same though. As a manager, I catch myself reacting inappropriately and all out of proportion because of that proverbial last straw. Because over the years, I've heard the same thing again and again so many times that I've lost my ability to see it for what it is. The student standing in front of me has no idea that he is the 300th student to wait until after the deadline to ask to change classes, but I react as though this particular student has done this 300 times. And then, I beat myself up for it. I'm angry at this student, therefore I'm a horrible person. Thus begins the self-flagellation.

In the workshop, we discussed the myth that teachers are not human. Sometimes we complain about the lack of empathy others show towards us. Students often seem oblivious to the fact that we might have our own concerns. We might be sick or heartbroken, we might be waiting for the results of serious medical tests or have a family member who has just passed away. We may suffer from insomnia or have debts we can't pay. But if we don't deliver impeccable service at every moment, we become a Bad Teacher.

It's easy to blame the student for this state of affairs, but the fact of the matter is that things are rarely one person's fault. I think that we - teachers, managers, professionals - often perpetuate the myth that we are not human. We present the hardened, professional, infallible front. We hide our weakness, afraid to be culled from the herd and put out of our misery. Because of this, we might think we are the only ones having this particular problem. We might start to think that we are less than human!

The practice of yoga is very forgiving. We all suffer and we all contribute to the suffering of others - we are not perfect! However, we have a choice, something that can be learned: we can have compassion for the imperfections of ourselves and others. I'm not saying this is easy. There's a reason why it's called practice. Sometimes, when I am gentle with myself and open my heart to my own suffering, I learn that situations are not as bad as I imagined them to be!

I encouraged the teachers to try a practice that I myself have been working on. Whenever tension arises, stop and ask yourself why. Why does this student make me so angry? What are my issues surrounding this situation? And then Why is the student acting the way he is? What is really going on? Marshall Rosenberg's system of Non-Violent Communication has a lot to say about how this kind of thinking, considering universal needs and how they contribute to emotions, can remove tension and build peace.

When I remember this practice (which is only some of the time), I find that the tension in the situation usually goes away. At best, there are these moments of insight and connection that take the breath away. At worst, the problem simply becomes a non-issue. Either way, everybody wins. I don't think this practice is possible unless we can learn to see ourselves kindly and with great compassion. When I can fully experience my own suffering with tenderness, I am filled with compassion for all other beings who are also suffering.

To quote Saul David Raye's opening words in a workshop I took with him at the Ojai Yoga Crib in 2007:

It is not easy being a divine soul in a body on Planet Earth in the year 2007.

Have compassion for yourself. It is difficult exisiting the way we do. Open your heart, see yourself and let yourself be seen.

Namaste, friends. The divine in me sees the divine in you.

Why do I do this?

2009-02-28T11:39:00.000-08:00

A photographer gets people to pose for him. A yoga instructor gets people to pose for themselves. ~T. Guillemets

I am often amused to note how teachings often come at me from all sides, again and again until I notice them. It is comforting to feel that I will continue to have opportunities to learn until I get it right. For example, I stumbled across the above quote this morning, and I also read this blog entry, and suddenly my mind was off, making connections between recent events and thinking about motivation in teaching.

Sometimes it is hard to take the ego out of teaching. In my day job, I manage a staff of ESL teachers. I believe that a teacher is there to motivate, support and empower students to learn for themselves, whether it be yoga, English, math, or patience that is being taught. A good teacher acts completely in service of something much greater than herself. However, I suspect that a lot of teachers, myself included, are guilty of teaching for themselves, at least some of the time. Sometimes I observe a teacher, and I see ego holding forth in front of a captive audience, enjoying the attention. Sometimes I step back and look at myself and see the same thing. Sometimes we forget the students are even there, except to admire me, me, me. Their successes are there to make us feel good, their failures plunge us into the depths of self-loathing.

Sometimes students say things like, "You are the best teacher I've ever had," and we get that warm feeling inside. There we go again, attaching that comment to our image of ourselves, attaching to that image. Positive feedback is like junk food - once you've had a little, there's that craving eating away at you again. You get one compliment, and then you look for more reinforcement ~ how many students are coming to class, for instance, how do they react when you speak to them? Suddenly, you're teaching just to get more of that, and not for your students at all.

The same thing can happen just in asana practice. Have you ever had someone compliment you on a pose? Then suddenly, you are practicing for the compliment. Suddenly, instead of being in the pose noticing how you feel, you are standing outside trying to see how cool you look.

Or blogging, for instance. Why am I doing this? I am documenting my learning, sure, trying to assimilate teachings I receive from everywhere... but I could do that in a private journal, so why here? Why in a public forum? I am amused to observe how discouraged I become when I don't receive any comments. Suddenly, the little girl in me is stamping her foot, screaming, "Nobody listens to me!" Conversely, when I do receive feedback, I get that glowing feeling. When I see that email in my inbox ___ has commented on your post I feel like a child opening a present.

Hello ego!

Of course, it is not all ego. In this public forum, I have the opportunity to inspire others (as the quote and blog I opened with inspired me) to take a new step in their own journeys. And of course, I have witnesses ~ which helps me to stay the path rather than forgetting about my own realizations.

It turns out that teaching, like everything else, is an opportunity to practice. No surprise here. This article is a great opening discussion about the delicate balance of the ego in yoga teaching. I think the concepts here can be extended to other types of teaching, and even beyond into everything we do.

Why am I doing this? This question is worth considering from time to time. Also, one of my teachers always uses the phrase Where can you let go? throughout her classes. In every pose, in every moment, there is something that does not serve us that can be released, there is something that can be given and something that can be given up.

There is of course much, much more that can be said about ego. Swami Krishnananda takes a stab at it here. I particularly like this part:

The ego is trying to practise yoga. Oh, what a pity! The ego cannot practise yoga, because the ego is to be destroyed in yoga. So how can it practise yoga? Here we have a strange difficulty, and it has to be overcome with a strange technique; that is yoga itself. Yogena yogo jñātavya yogo yogātpravartate (Y.B. III.6), says the Yoga Bhashya. Yoga is achieved by yoga itself; there is no other means. This is what yoga tells us.

Ahhhh, you've got me, Swami Krishnananda. What a pity! And back to the practice I go.

Guest House

2009-02-21T17:43:00.000-08:00

This being human is a guest house.

Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,

some momentary awareness comes

as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!

Even if they are a crowd of sorrows,

who violently sweep your house

empty of its furniture,

still treat each guest honorably.

He may be clearing you out

for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice,

meet them at the door laughing,

and invite them in.

Be grateful for whoever comes,

because each has been sent

as a guide from beyond.

-- Rumi

Staying Grounded

2009-02-21T10:01:00.000-08:00

Here is the Daily Om again from February 13. (Sometimes I send these things to myself and then forget about them for a few days until they surface again in my inbox, delicious!)

STAYING CONSCIOUS
Staying Grounded in a Big City or Busy World
1. Live simply and live deliberately. By choosing not to get caught up in the details of this fast-paced world, you are doing your part to slow down. You will also discover that you have more time to enjoy being alive.
2. Stay in touch with yourself. Soul searching, meditation, and journaling are just a few of the many activities you can take part in to stay aware and learn as much as you can about your emotions, reactions, likes, dislikes, dreams, and fears. Having a solid sense of self gives you a firm foundation for living in this world.
3. Support or teach others as often as you can. This can help you form connections with people while also giving you an opportunity to make the world a better place.
4. Consciously choose what you will allow into your being. The media bombards us
with visions of hate, war, and pain. Be judicious about what you read, watch, and listen to.
5. Acknowledge the beauty that resides around you. Whether you live in a sprawling metropolis or a stereotypical suburb, there are natural and man-made wonders just waiting to be discovered by you.
6. Nurture your ties to your tribe. If you don’t have one, create a community that you can belong to. Modern life can be isolating. When you have a tribe, you have a circle that you are a part of. Its members – loved ones, friends, or neighbors - can be a source of support, caring, guidance, and companionship.
7. See the larger picture. Remember that the way that you choose to live is not the only way to live. Widen your perspective by exploring other modes of being through research, travel, and discussion.
8. Embrace the challenges that life presents to you, and challenge yourself often. After a time, even the most exciting jobs or lifestyles can seem routine. Never stop assimilating new knowledge about whatever you are doing, and your life will never seem dull.
9. Move your body. In this busy world, it can be easy to live a sedentary life. Movement reacquaints us with our bodies and connects us to the earth in a visceral way. It also restores our vitality.
10. Make time for stillness, silence, and solitude. The world can be noisy, and we are subject to all kinds of noises nearly every waking hour. We are also often "on the go" and unable to relax. Being alone in a peaceful place and making time for quiet can help you stay in touch with yourself.

I came back from my last trip a month ago feeling incredibly grounded, but it didn't take long for me to start feeling disconnected and uneasy again. I have lived in the city for years now and I kind of like it ~ until I spend some time away and I realize how insane the pace is. These ideas for staying grounded are important. The blog helps. The yoga practice helps. The meditation helps.

But somehow, so often, I feel that most of the day passes me by, in a blur. I like living in the city, or at least I have come to like it. But recently I feel like the city might be stealing my soul. It doesn't help that most of my tribe has departed in the past couple of years. Perhaps it is time for me too to depart, to seek new surroundings. But this too, I want to do slowly and deliberately and right.

I don't have any answers, not today, just many questions. And a list of practices that could be helpful, if I can find the dedication to follow them.

Anything is possible

2009-02-19T20:02:00.000-08:00

If you don't know ODE Magazine, I highly recommend it as a source of positive, inspiring news. Last night I was looking through the January/February 2009 issue and I saw this article. The quote accompanying the story reminded me of my last post. "Without impermanence, nothing is possible." "When you have nothing, anything is possible." Hmmmm. This makes me think of my recent stay in a poor Panamanian village, where the people had very little in the way of money or possessions but were rich in joy and community. What does it mean to be happy, to be free?

Impermanence

2009-02-16T12:10:00.000-08:00

If we are not empty, we become a block of matter. We cannot breathe, we cannot think. To be empty means to be alive, to breathe in and to breathe out. We cannot be alive if we are not empty. Emptiness is impermanence, it is change. We should not complain about impermanence, because without impermanence, nothing is possible.

-- Thich Nhat Hanh

The Buddha's Five Remembrances

I am of the nature to grow old. There is no way to escape growing old.

I am of the nature to have ill health. There is no way to escape ill health.

I am of the nature to die. There is no way to escape death.

All that is dear to me and everyone I love are of the nature to change. There is no way to escape being separated from them.

My actions are my only true belongings. I cannot escape the consequences of my actions. My actions are the ground upon which I stand.

Oddly enough, watching Planet Earth makes me think about impermanence. The life that animals live on this earth can be brutal, and yet they seem peaceful. For us humans, living so close to death is terrifying. We spend our lives trying to deny change, illness and death. For many animals, brushes with death are a daily occurrence and yet they seem to accept them in a way we have not. Perhaps in distancing ourselves from death, we have done the human race a disservice. I'm not sure. It is difficult to judge without being able to get inside an animal's head somehow.

Talking with a friend recently about the death of someone she knew, I thought of the five remembrances (above). We spend much of our time putting these five things out of our mind. This is the root of all of our grief, the realization that our illusion of permanence is just that, an illusion, a mere fairy tale. I will probably spend the rest of my life trying to come to terms with these five things. This is heavy stuff. You can't just snap your fingers and be OK with it.

Shortly after my long-term relationship ended last fall, I took a workshop with Laura Tyree at the Ojai Yoga Crib. The theme of last year's Crib was the Queen of Hearts "GROW". How appropriate for me. The Crib is always appropriate, always exactly what I need. The universe is an amazing place.

Laura asked me two questions about my break-up: (1) What good has come of it, what have I learned from it? It has deepened my practice, and (2) What do I fear? Loneliness. Then she said, "When you feel that loneliness, turn into it. It is a divine loneliness. We are all seeking God."

Hmmm... I take "God" in a non-denominational way here to mean universality, the interconnectedness of all beings in this universe. And indeed, perhaps this is what we are all seeking. I have been thinking about Laura's words a lot, about how if you sink into the loneliness and stay present in it, you might find what it is that connects all of us. You might find the essence of what it means to be truly alive.

As I am making my way towards the other side of grief, it occurs to me that Thich Nhat Hanh is right (as usual), in his gently humorous way. I love this line: "We should not complain about impermanence, because without impermanence, nothing is possible." Without old age, illness, death, loss and change, nothing is possible. I am trying to sit with this knowledge, over and over. I am considering seeking out the loneliness and dancing with it, just to see what happens.

Sloth

2009-02-08T13:25:00.000-08:00

I had breakfast with a friend this morning and we were discussing our yoga practices and how we have both been practicing less than we would like. This is something that happens to me again and again. The asana practice, and also the other limbs of yoga, contribute positively to my life; I feel well in every way when I am practicing regularly. And yet... And yet, over and over in my life, there are times when I fall out of practice, when I stop practicing asana and meditation and pranayama, when I stop living consciously in the world.

The outcome of this lack of practice is always negative, not only for myself but for those around me. Frankly, when I am not practicing, I don't much like the person I become. I am haunted by ghosts of depression, anger and impatience. I treat others without compassion. I treat myself without compassion. I lack energy and joy in my daily life.

So the big question is: why, if I understand that my life is better in every way when I practice, do I ever stop?! My friend had some different insights into why this is the case in her life. In my case, I think it is most simply defined as sloth. My use of this term in the context of yoga practice is borrowed from Donna Farhi's Bringing Yoga to Life. She describes this problem as follows:

The sloth is a bearlike creature giving to hanging upside down and moving so slowly that algae gives its brown coat a green tinge. [see image] Of the nine obstacles to the yogic path listed in the Yoga-Sutra, four can be attributed in some way to the effects of dullness, laziness, and inertia. Sloth makes it almost impossible to establish a firm ground for practice, and even if we are able to do so, sloth may prevent us from sustaining any ground we have gained. Most of us have a sense of what's good for us. This knowledge of the medicine we need bypasses the central dilemma: How are we going to get to the medicine cabinet? (pg. 163)

Of course, spiritual seekers of many faiths have been aware of the danger of sloth for a very long time. It is one of the seven deadly sins; Thomas Aquinas described it as "sluggishness of the mind which neglects to begin good... [it] is evil in its effect, if it so oppresses man as to draw him away entirely from good deeds." What is this sense of inertia that causes us to spend our energy unwisely and keeps us from pursuing a path of joy and good deeds? And how do we combat it?

Farhi suggests that a common solution in many traditions is the contemplation of death. Awareness that our lives could end at any moment can help to open the heart and connect with life fully. It is the lack of awareness of our interconnectedness that allows us to live our lives carelessly and without attention to the practice. If we can realize that all this will one day pass, every moment becomes a opportunity to connect with what is eternal and precious. If we can honestly consider the reality of our own death, we will be forced to consider what is truly important, what gives meaning to our lives here on earth, and what leads us to happiness.

This practice sounds deceptively easy. It isn't. For whatever reason, I persist over and over in cutting myself off from joy. It is very easy to sit here in front of my computer and type these words of commitment, very hard to interrupt my habitual numbness and teach myself to be present. Having a community helps, and this is why I spend the money to go to yoga class or attend conferences, to find this inspiration. And this is why I am writing this blog.

In the yoga sutras, Patanjali says that "The wise see suffering in all experience... But suffering that has not yet arisen can be prevented. The preventable cause of all this suffering is the apparent indivisibility of pure awareness and what it regards" (2.15- 2.17). This is good news: future suffering can be prevented, and there is a way to do this, there are specific practices we can follow (yoga!). We can detach ourselves from our suffering and from the material world, realize that all of that is not who we are, and abide in pure awareness.

And yet here I go again, journeying through the world, grasping so fiercely at everything and perpetuating my own suffering - and when I suffer, I contribute to the suffering of others. Trying to find a path that will allow me to maintain awareness, so that I can let the world go with each exhale. Beginning this practice, again and again. I don't think I have the answers to the question of what causes sloth and how to overcome it, but I am willing to listen to any suggestions I can find.

Farhi has some parting words of wisdom:

When inertia and joylessness is our primary coloring, it is helpful to envisage some moment in our life when we felt infused with vitality and happiness, even if all we can conjure up is a single instant... Vividly contemplate the details of this experience... Then, as you consider your present situation, allow a creative solution to suggest itself to you.

Yoga teaches us that the way to joy is through joy. When we get a taste of this delightful state of equanimity, there is really nothing left to choose. When we are wedded to life it will seem ridiculous to use our energies for anything but strengthening that marriage. When we make a commitment to this inner relationship, life chooses us and we become instruments for fulfilling its purpose. (pg. 174)

Amen.

Man up a tree

2009-02-04T21:25:00.000-08:00

Recently, I discovered this blog, in which there has been a lot recently about a zen koan about a man up a tree. The Dalai Grandma outlines the story like this:

The basic idea is, You are hanging from a tree by your mouth. You can't reach a branch with your hands or feet. Someone comes by and asks you to tell him about Zen. You have a dilemma: if you speak, you fall and die. If you don't, you are abandoning your responsibility to others. What do you do?

The man's dilemma spoke to me too, so I have been following the blog carefully. The Dalai Grandma's final post on the koan is here. The part that caught my attention was this in particular:

The thought came as an image while I was carefully steering through the parking lot at the health club, where people seemed likely today to get in wrecks. I visualized a man hanging from a tree, hanging by his mouth, remember, in his dilemma, and then I saw the grass just a few inches under him. Aha, I thought. The koan cleverly omits to say how high in the tree he is. So, no problem. Just let go and fall out of the dilemma. Land on the nice soft grass. Sometimes we make our dilemma so convoluted that this is the only way to handle it.

She also makes reference to a John Burroughs quote: leap and the net will appear.

In addition to the obvious, the leap of faith I talked about in a previous post, this whole recurring theme has really made me think about how I tend to complicate everything, trying to make everything mean something. Sometimes I get so caught up in it all that it takes the mental equivalent of a slap in the face to wake me up.

Buddhist teacher Pema Chodron talks about this in her book Start Where You Are.

...interruptions themselves - surprises, unexpected events, bolts out of the blue - can awaken us to the experience of both absolute and relative bodhichitta, to the open, spacious quality of our minds and the warmth of our hearts.

This is the slogan about surprises as gifts. These surprises can be pleasant or unpleasant; the main point is that they can stop our minds. You're walking along and a snowball hits you on the side of your head. It stops your mind. (p. 78)

The surprise that can wake you up can be something very small. For example, recently I was carrying on at length about something in my own mind when a friend said to me, "Look the situation is very simple" and proceeded to summarize my situation in a couple of sentences. His words stopped me like that snowball in the side of my head. At first, I was offended by the logic. No, my situation is not simple, I protested to myself. But the honest truth was that my situation was simple, I just didn't want to see it. Like in the Dalai Grandma's interpretation of the Man in the Tree koan, I could just let go of the branch and fall to the ground.

Sometimes we need friends who can wake us up like this. People who see the world in different terms and are able to shake you out of your habitual way of seeing. This week I am trying to see the world as simple and logical. To accept things as they are, and not to make things mean more than they do. I am also trying to find the patience to sit with my dilemmas, as one sits with a koan. And to embrace the surprises, even the unpleasant ones.

And to trust that the universe will give me what I need. Including, when I'm ready to leap, a net.

Inspiring others

2009-01-30T14:11:00.000-08:00

I subscribe to a daily newsletter, the Daily Om. Today's entry is here:

Expanding Their Vision
Nine Ways To Help Others Awaken to Consciousness
1. Living by your values allows you to become a positive source of inspiration for others. Don’t hide – express yourself and embrace life without reservation. By simply being yourself, you can help the people in your life see how one person can make a difference by being a living example of consciousness.
2. When you communicate your views, do so casually and in a nondogmatic manner. Allow the people you speak with to ask questions. Offer only as much information as they are ready to hear.
3. Igniting the spark of consciousness can be as easy as giving someone a gift. A favorite book, a medicine bag, or a beautiful gemstone can pique your loved ones’ curiosity and prompt them to begin an exploration of the soul.
4. Teaching a friend, relative, or colleague to meditate or chant can put them on
the path to consciousness while simultaneously reducing their stress levels.
5. Others may want to know more about living consciously but are unsure of how to
begin. Starting a discussion group – even a virtual one – can help you reach out to individuals that are eager to learn.
6. By recognizing and acknowledging the inherent value in everyone you encounter, you can teach them how to value others. Sometimes, the easiest way to encourage people – even challenging ones - to respect others is to respect them first.
7. Invite people from your personal and professional lives to join you in attending a ceremony or ritual. The experience may touch them in a profound way or introduce them to a new spiritual path.
8. Casually point out the interconnectedness of all living beings using concrete, everyday examples. Many people are unaware of how their actions affect the world and are intrigued when they learn of the power they hold.
9. Introduce your loved ones to conscious living in a lighthearted and enjoyable way. Serve delicious organic recipes at gatherings, volunteer as a group, and show them how wonderful it can feel to be truly aware and connected to the universe.
[from dailyom.com January 30, 2009]

I think there is an important difference between trying to convert others to your way of thinking and trying to inspire. I would never force yoga on anyone; however, it has had such a positive influence on my life and I would love to share it with as many people as possible. I myself am constantly being re-inspired by those who simply live their beliefs. Inspirational leadership is so important, and I hope I can learn to live my life in a way that inspires peace in others.

Inspire is an interesting word. Originally it meant to breathe in and had the sense of bringing something into the mind, often by divine agency. Perhaps this offers interesting insight into why we are so inspired by those who simply live out their values rather than pushing them on others. We can absorb their passion and their ideals simply by breathing them in!

The leap of faith

2009-01-28T19:50:00.000-08:00

Saul David Raye is a yogi with a beautiful, peaceful and compassionate soul. The few classes I have been privileged to take with him have always been exactly what I needed at the time. His newsletter arrived in my inbox today, and once again, really spoke to me:

"I recently read somewhere a wonderful quote that really touched me. I have tried to relocate the source but have not been able to as of yet. It was something like this "sometimes the only next possible step is a leap of faith!" In my own life this seems to be all that is happening; whatever I know, whatever I have believed to be true is no longer working. When I make choices from my heart, from the inner wisdom and creativity that is in each of us at every moment, the results are amazing. The energy we set in motion when we are resonating at the frequency of our hearts is truly miraculous. Blessings along the path you walk...and to the leap of faith that you are being asked to make in your life right now!"

How did he know? :) My life, too, is demanding of me a leap of faith. I feel myself in one of those moments that define a life and cause it to branch off in a new direction, if I have the courage to make the right choice from the heart.

Once again, there is a parallel on the mat. From my asana practice, I am reminded of the lessons of Urdhva Dhanurasana, known in English as wheel pose or upward-facing bow. This pose for me brings a feeling of joy, even elation, and a rush of energy. Indeed, one of its uses can be to reduce depression. Being comfortable in the pose can feel incredibly uplifting. However, the pose is a challenging one, and has posed some particular difficulties because of my ongoing wrist issues, and because it is a fairly deep backbend. It requires a good warm up, and some strength and flexibility.

However, the main challenge of Urdhva Dhanurasana for me has been mental. Coming into the pose from a supine position requires an initial push to come to the crown of the head, and another push to straighten the arms. Although I have done this pose successfully many times, and it is one of my very favorite poses to do, I have also many times failed to find the strength - or perhaps the commitment - to come all the way up into the pose. Every time before the initial push I feel a great sense of apprehension and fear. It is very difficult for me to commit my energy and breath to lifting into the backbend. I have been doing this pose for several years, but it still requires each time a leap of faith to attempt it.

And the rewards are great. In this pose, with the heart open to the sky, the spirit soars.

I feel myself, in my life off the mat, lying supine, placing my hands on the floor above the shoulders. Taking some deep breaths.

May we all have the courage to take the only possible next step.

Namaste.

Alignment

2009-01-22T16:04:00.000-08:00

I know I have said before here that what happens on the mat is often a microcosm of what happens off the mat. I have been reminded of this connection again recently. Take, for example, the notion of alignment. If you are new to asana practice and you have a good teacher, you will probably hear her saying things that you don't understand or simply can't do. There may be nagging questions that recur every practice - "What does she mean, lift the palms?! I can't do that." "Spiral the inner thighs outward?" "Push into the feet and lift your hips towards the sky?! My hamstrings are screaming. What does he mean, push into the feet?" When you first start practicing, you may not be aware of your body and it can be hard to figure out whether everything is lined up correctly, and tension in the body can prevent the right alignment from occurring without modifications.

If you continue to practice with patience, one day something will be a little bit different. Perhaps you do a different sequence of poses to warm up, or maybe you practice at a different time of day, have been doing more yoga, or are simply ready. Alignment is one of those things in life that you might wonder if you're experiencing when you don't have it right, but when you get it, you know. It's also one of those feelings that can be very hard to put into words. When the principles of alignment are applied correctly, energy flows freely through the body and you can find ease in the pose. The body feels both lighter and more grounded. The spirit is joyful.

I know I have written in this blog about a teacher who talked about balancing the past and the future. His class focused on opposing forces: energy both rooting or grounding behind (into the past) and reaching forward (into the future). The grounding of energy allowed a lightness and freedom, allowing the forward energy to flow freely. It is important that this process does not involve clinging to the past or grasping for the future. The body remains balanced between opposing forces, firmly in the present.

Recently, I experienced this phenomenon off the mat. After months of struggling with life, experiencing the emotional equivalent of tight hamstrings, I had an encounter that left me with a very distinct sense of grounding into my past. As I considered this over the coming days, I suddenly experienced the sense of alignment, of my life path falling into place ~ and of a sudden freedom to reach into my future unrestrained. The sensation was very similar to that I have experienced when finding the right alignment in a pose - the same lightness of being, the sense of balance and grace. While both past and future are essential to this experience, the ultimate result has little to do with either ~ it is rather a sense of being completely present and in the right place.

I wonder if I had not been familiar with this experience on the mat, would I have recognized it off the mat? Would I have overly fixated on the past or the future and missed the opportunity to be fully aware of where I am?

Gateway to Compassion

2008-12-02T09:03:00.000-08:00

I had an interesting article in my inbox this morning. Its theme is related, I think, to some issues I have written about here before. To loosely paraphrase, it talks about valuing and fully experiencing your own feelings as a gateway to compassion. I think this is a nice counterpart to the question of aparigraha, letting go. Paradoxically, it is sometimes harder to let our feelings go because we repress them and refuse to fully experience them, or because we belittle them and somehow do not think we have the right to feel so strongly about what may seem to be relatively minor issues. However, many yogis have found - and this holds true in my experience as well - that by fully experiencing a negative emotion without repression or judgment, that emotion then lessens and becomes more bearable. In addition, remaining open and compassionate to ourselves and our own pain, allows us to approach the world with a heart that is open and loving in the face of suffering. The Buddha said, "Life is suffering," but he also offered an alternative. And the beautiful thing about suffering is that it is universal, it is what brings all beings together in mutual understanding.

This is kind of an accidental blog entry for me! I hope it gives you something to think about.

Namaste.

Wild Yoga Photos

2008-11-28T12:36:00.001-08:00

I hope to be back blogging just as soon as I get all these other looming deadlines out of the way. In the meantime, check out these inspirational photos by Andrew and Clara Woodburn of Yoga Warrior in South Africa. Clara's story is a pretty inspirational one too. Thanks to Clara for sharing her journey!

Aparigraha/ balance the two efforts

2008-11-14T19:14:00.000-08:00

Aparigraha, often translated as non-grasping, is the fifth of the yamas (ethical practices listed by Patanjali). "Grasping" here refers to clinging or attachment: to people, possessions, dreams, ideas, expectations. You can read an interesting perspective on the practice of aparigraha here. The trick, as described by this writer, is not to reject yourself or others, but rather to experience fully without clinging to your experiences or your perceptions of them.

Those who know me personally know that I have suffered some loss recently, including the death of my grandmother, the departure of friends, and the end of a long-term relationship. Grief and sadness are pretty normal in these situations. Grief and sadness pass with time; however, I think that loss can be a gateway to long-term suffering if we choose to cling too much to the past or to our expectations of the future. The ability to let go and trust the flow of life is essential to happiness and inner peace. Clinging to the way things were could make you miss a beautiful future opportunity. The same goes for clinging to the way things "are supposed to be".

This is always a difficult precept to apply. "Letting go" is different from not caring or pushing away. In Awake at Work, Michael Carroll introduces a slogan that he calls "balance the two efforts". This means to balance "the effort to get somewhere with that of being where we are completely," which he suggests makes up "the core competency of being awake at work" (p. 31). This seems to me to be closely tied to the practice of aparigraha. By letting go, we are suspending our self-talk and personal stories to simply observe what is happening, allowing us to be "available to our immediate circumstances" (p. 28). This gives us the alertness and access to our own instincts which is essential to optimal job performance. This concept of letting go of thoughts and opening to grace and awareness is probably very familiar to performers and Olympic athletes, but maybe less familiar to the average working person. Nonetheless, it is an essential skill for all of us.

In my own work, I definitely struggle with this concept on a daily basis. I am responsible for so many different things, and the day sometimes flies by as a serious of crises and loose ends. When I have a student in tears at my desk, angry letters from agents in my email, piles of documents demanding attention in my inbox, a deadline for exam entries looming, missing paperwork, and a pile of school assignments waiting for me at home, it is extremely difficult to let go and just be. I often find that an entire day has passed without me taking the time to quiet my thoughts and observe my instincts before taking action.

Carroll suggests that when we let go, "irritations that we may easily dismiss - the predictably late report, the sullen receptionist, the unresponsive customer - become reminders to pay attention" (p. 30). Indeed, I find that the times that I do remember to let go and give something my full attention, I am usually invited to do so because someone else's crisis is greater than my own. Sometimes, another person's pain or frustration jolts me out of my thoughts to a place where I can listen to them, observe, and react from a place of compassion. At these moments, I find that I have the skill to deal with incredibly difficult situations with finesse ~ and it is almost like another force is steering me, choosing the words to say and the actions to take. At these moments, I love what I do.

I would like to learn to respond to my own crises with equal compassion. Again, Carroll suggests sitting meditation. My own practice made it two days after my last post before it got buried in the rush to do, do, do. I need to begin again today.

It seems like the International Education field is in need of people who know how to let go and pay attention. When working with other cultures and language barriers, instinct and compassion are essential to diffuse tension and avoid conflict and misunderstanding. We need to develop a sixth sense and look below the surface of our daily interactions. Maybe everyone does. When I take the time to slow down, I communicate better and I attain better results.

I have also noticed that I have a tendency to cling to my past experiences with people, and respond to them from a place where assumptions are made according to past baggage. The worst is when I judge an interaction based on previous experiences with other people from the same culture. Sometimes I am surprised to find that a person is not speaking from the point of view I expected. I would like to work on letting go of conflicts, insults and misunderstandings that occur in the workplace, and allowing each individual situation and interaction to unfold independently of past experience.

Balance the two efforts. Let go. Meditate. Just be.

"Tonight we are going to work on balancing our past and our future"

2008-11-10T21:01:00.000-08:00

Tonight's yoga class was with Joshua Graner; he studies Taoist Yoga among other traditions, and has a really unique teaching style. He focuses on the connection between asana and life, philosophy, and fine details of alignment that help to find what is sometimes translated as "steadiness and ease" (from Patanjali's Yoga Sutra 2.46). I have only studied with Joshua three times so far, but each time I felt that I broke through somewhere new in poses I have been doing for years. Each class has a theme, usually metaphorical, bringing together what happens on and off the mat (echoes of what I wrote about yesterday!). Today Joshua walked in and said, "Tonight we are going to work on balancing our past and our future." I almost giggled. It's quite the ambitious project for an hour-long class! :-) But I feel incredibly alive, aware and present at the moment, so maybe it worked.

Practicing at work

2008-11-09T16:54:00.000-08:00

Awake at Work by Michael Carroll offers, as its subtitle puts it, "35 practical Buddhist principles for discovering clarity and balance in the midst of work's chaos". Sounds pretty good, right? Of all the things that go on in my life, work is when I feel the least yogic. So often at work, I find myself goaded into gossip and malice. I become frustrated and lose track of my center. I speak without thinking.

Carroll suggests that this is precisely the reason why work is the perfect environment to cultivate one's practice. Of his own working life, he says "The daily grind, the successes and failures, the hard work and stress, all gradually unfolded as a profound teaching. And central to that teaching was the realization that the spiritual path is nothing other than living our very life, fully and confidently, in the immediate moment... Work becomes our spiritual journey when our destination is no longer just becoming more successful or more wealthy or getting a paycheck, promotion, or job security, but when we also work to resolve a most fundamental question: Can we be at home in our lives - can we be open, honest, and at ease under all circumstances, moment by moment?" He goes on to acknowledge that work is frustrating for many people because it is something that we cannot control, that inevitably unfolds in its own way, messy and complicated. However, he suggests that if we stop treating work's problems as obstacles, but rather as invitations to wake up and pay attention, we can find "a profound sense of freedom and fulfillment in our jobs." I want that!

Carroll proposes a couple of practices for cultivating mindfulness at work. The first is to develop a regular mindfulness practice; he suggests daily sitting meditation practice. I have always had good intentions regarding the development of meditation practice; however, this hasn't ever turned into an actual practice for me. Life ~ as it likes to do ~ keeps reminding me. In my last post, I talked about how every moment is a good moment to begin again. It is clear to me that a regular meditation practice will help me to move forward with my practice at work. I even wrote it into my learning plan for school. I guess now's the time! We'll see how that goes.

The second practice is the contemplation of slogans, adapted by Carroll for the modern workplace from those used in lojong, a Tibetan Buddhist spiritual practice. I'll be referencing Carroll's slogans as I explore them in this blog and in my own life.

Again, we'll see how that goes... :-)

On and off the mat

2008-11-09T15:17:00.000-08:00

Some of you may be familiar with The Holographic Universe in which Michael Talbot asserts that the Universe could be a hologram. Whether or not you buy into that idea, the ideas laid out in this book are engaging. One of the features of a hologram is that the entire image can be reconstructed from a fragment. Talbot gives examples of this in the real world; for example, the concept in acupuncture that the entire body can be mapped on the human ear.

I think that asana practice is holographic in this sense. From any moment of her practice on the mat, a yogi can reconstruct all the processes that take place in her daily life off the mat: all the patterns of self-talk, of holding and letting go, of ego, of resistance, of pushing too far, of denial, of connection, etc., etc. Not only that, but a breakthrough on the mat can translate into a breakthrough off the mat.

Like anything else in life, one can practice asana without being present. One can work without being present, eat without being present, talk without being present. The effects of this lack of mindfulness in asana practice can range from injury to simply not experiencing the maximum benefits of the poses. The same goes for not being present in life. Sometimes the effect is simply less joy, less appreciation, less benefit. Other times, you end up hurting yourself or someone else.
The effects of being present can be astounding. On the mat, the yogi can discover endless variations and directions in which to take the pose. There is always another level, a new discovery. Sometimes, on or off the mat, being present can result in absolute joy and peace where before there was discomfort.

Lately, with everything going on in my life, I've been finding it hard to be present. This morning, I brought my lack of mindfulness onto my yoga mat with me. It was hard to focus, hard to find the right alignment in poses I practice all the time with ease. It was time to back off and treat myself gently and kindly. This week too, I want to maintain this patience with myself. This has not been an easy fall for me, and sometimes I deserve not to push so hard. Today was a day for child's pose instead of the 100th downward facing dog. Today is also a day to nap a little and blog a little, even though my schoolwork needs to get done.

The beautiful thing about a yoga or meditation practice is that it is so incredibly forgiving and compassionate. In meditation or asana practice, the mind wanders and wanders and wanders. And yet, any moment is a good moment to begin again, fresh, from the beginning. In yoga and meditation and life, one is always beginning again. And that's OK. When you are present, the focus is not on the past, how you failed to hold attention, nor is it on the future, whether you will fail again. In fact, infinitely holding your attention is not the practice. Beginning again is the practice. We all begin again and again: it's never too late.

Tomorrow is Monday and at work, I will forget to be present. I can pretty much guarantee it. What a glorious opportunity to practice!

Everything is connected

2008-11-03T21:07:00.000-08:00

If you've heard Erich Schiffmann speak recently, you know about the Internet of the Mind analogy. If not, you can listen to him here. (Erich is awesome!) To summarize, Erich talks about the idea of our mind as being like a personal computer, with limited capacity. However by "getting online" we can open to what he calls the "Internet of Infinite Mind".

I find this is easiest to do through asana practice (physical poses). Asana was originally developed to prepare the mind for meditation, and however it works - it does work! Walking home from class tonight after a particularly good asana class where we focused on the concept of "rooting to rise", I was suddenly aware of everything and totally dialed in to whatever it is that connects us... I suddenly remembered the first time I came to San Diego, over 5 years ago, with my boyfriend at the time; we drove down the 805 freeway and came off the off-ramp right next to the apartment where I now live. I probably looked right out the passenger window at the building I now call home - my first real glimpse of a San Diego neighborhood. At the time, of course, I had no idea that I would ever live in that apartment by myself - but here I am. I am who I am and where I am because that moment happened, and all the moments in between happened. And standing outside my building in the dark like an idiot, I felt the concrete reality of this moment and that moment both occurring. Back then, I had no idea I would stand here now... but the moments are connected, inevitably, and somehow I can feel the Infinite holds both these experiences, and more, simultaneous and equal. And somehow I can feel how powerful the flow of life is, and in this moment, surrender. Every moment exists, and doesn't exist, like a drop of water merging into a lake. Every moment is a chance to connect and begin again. Just like on the mat, I root to rise. (I think this concept needs a whole separate post. It was an amazing class and I'm still processing it.)

The question is how to hold this sense of connection after stepping off the mat. I think the answer is: practice. If I can train myself more often during my day to breathe deep and open my mind, it will get easier to operate from this place of connection. And in International Education, where we operate often from different cultures, different sets of communicative norms and expectations, we need this. We need to dial in to the Infinite that connects all of us so that it is harder for us to create the Other - and harder for us to obsess about the Self.

Last time I heard him speak, Erich suggested that if you connect to the Infinite, you will discover for yourself all the teachings of yoga. For him, the main practice should be this connection. The other precepts, the ethical behavior and the guides to practice will rise from it. As my teacher Nikole humorously put it, there's more than one way to skin a cat in yoga. :-) I like thinking about yoga philosophy. But I also think it's true that the Universe is its own guide.

This week at work, my practice will be connection. Making decisions from that place where the Infinite runs through me. Especially, speaking and reacting from that place. These days, I'm so busy that I forget to really connect with the people who sit at my desk or talk to me on the phone. This week, I will try to Google the Internet of Mind as much as I Google the Internet. I am amused to realize that part of my mind wants to reject Erich's talks when I hear him - oh, I've heard this before, say something new. But then I realize I haven't been doing it.

Thank you, Infinite Internet of Mind, for letting Erich know I need to hear it again. Thank you Erich, for listening. :-)

Elections

2008-11-03T17:59:00.000-08:00

Tomorrow is Election Day! This is an excellent opportunity to practice. I plan to be at my local polling place before 7 a.m. Normally, I believe that one's vote is a private matter and not to be discussed. However, I am happy to publicly cast my vote tomorrow for Barack Obama, a Presidential Candidate who seems to embody many of the principles of yoga. From reading Barack's writing, I sense a striving to cause as little harm as possible through his actions (ahimsa) and to speak and act truthfully (satya), as well as a desire to really serve others. If he is even half as good as he seems, the whole world would be better off with him as President.

Here in California, there are a number of key measures on the ballot which relate to some basic human and animal rights. I am looking forward to voting to give all beings a better chance at freedom! (A small ironic aside - when I was looking for a succinct and beautiful description of ahimsa to link to above, I got to a dictionary site on which the advertisement banner said "Yes on Prop 8" - the California Proposition which would ban gay marriage. On the ahimsa page - really?! I'm sure it was just a random coincidence - the universe is often quite amusing! I did not find a satisfying article, so look for more information on ahimsa and satya in later posts.)

Whether or not you agree with my points of view, if you are a registered voter in the US (or any country) I urge you to vote. It is important to take action and speak clearly on these crucial issues that are on the table in this, and in any election. We can only be responsible for our own actions, but if each of us acts responsible, we have the power to change everything. Please go out and vote to the best of your ability from a place of peace, good-will and clarity.

Although I feel it is very important to vote with conviction, I am trying very hard to practice aparigraha - non-grasping or letting go - this election season. There will be more about this concept in a later post. (It is a pretty intense practice!!!) If tomorrow's results are not as I hope, I will need to let go of my expectation and continue to exist peacefully in the new reality. Once again, I can only be responsible for my own actions and reactions. It is hard to practice compassion for people whose actions and beliefs seem to cause widespread pain and suffering. And yet we are all beings doing our very best to live on this earth in the way we think is right. Every one of us suffers, and harms others from that place of suffering.

I am off to yoga class tonight, where I will dedicate my practice to John McCain, Sarah Palin, and those who will vote against me tomorrow. :-) Oh yeah, and George W. I've been trying to practice compassion for him for years. It's pretty deep and powerful stuff!

lokah samastah sukhino bhavantu ~ may all beings in all worlds be happy and free

om shanti ~ peace to all ~ goodnight

Embarking on the journey

2008-11-02T07:58:00.000-08:00

So many people in the Western world think of yoga as asana practice, the practice of postures or poses. In other words: exercise, a way to lose weight and get fit. What many people don't know about yoga - and what may seem wildly impossible - is that yogis have known the secret of happiness for thousands of years. Patanjali's Yoga Sutras, written some time around the second century (although the date of origin is disputed), describe a system that can lead the practitioner away from suffering. Put more simply, in the words of my teacher Lanita Varshell, "life is better when you're doing yoga". The sutras described practices that were already in use at the time, so who knows how long we have had this knowledge!

If yogis discovered the secret of happiness thousands of years ago, why do we now still live in a culture of so much suffering?! And to put it more personally, since this is to be my personal journey, why do I still suffer so much? Why do I forget to practice in my daily life, when I know that it will not only make me happier and healthier, but also decrease suffering in the lives of those around me?

In June, I started a Masters in International Education at the SIT Graduate Institute in Vermont. I chose the school because I believe the SIT philosophy is highly compatible with my attempts to increase the practice of yoga in my daily life. In formulating my learning plan, I stated as my second learning objective "Explore ways to bring my career into harmony with my yoga practice." In fact, this is one of the key reasons why I am doing this degree - to give myself the training and the tools to adjust my working life to facilitate my practice - and yes, cheesy cheesy, to do more good in the world.

Under learning methods, I listed things like:

Identify key concepts of yoga philosophy and list potential ways to utilize these concepts within the field of IE
Keep a journal to track my reflections on the challenges and successes related to the process of integrating these concepts
Practice asana and/or meditation for at least 30 minutes daily

Yesterday was November 1, and I find my yoga practice is as spotty as ever and I have done very few of the things listed in my learning plan. I decided that having witnesses to my journey could be an important component in motivating me to persevere. And there is an added bonus - by sharing my journey, maybe some of you will decide to come with me down the path of yoga. Sometimes we will walk, sometimes dance, sometimes crawl but I hope we will learn to travel with awareness.

Thank you for witnessing me. And walk with me for a while. Namaste.

I'm off to yoga class!