A few months ago, I saw a man in a construction-logoed pick-up truck stopped at a red light in my village. His arm dangled out the driver's side window, and from his hand waved a long string of what I was pretty sure were mala beads. He looked like he was actively engaged in japa yoga--the repetition of mantra with mala beads, working each bead with the fingers as the mantra is repeated 108 times.
This was not an Indian construction worker; it was a older white guy. I was astonished and pleased to see an act of devotion being performed in an everyday locale, and by an unlikely demographic. How wonderful to have some evidence that any unlikely driver passing through might be repeating the name of the divine or counting blessings or giving thanks as s/he waits at the stoplight!
As I drove on, though, the suspicious part of my mind took over... it DID seem a little ostentatious, hanging the beads out the window like that...perhaps he WANTED someone to see his mala beads. Perhaps he was really just trying to pick up yoga chicks!
Well, yes. Maybe. Maybe not. Once you've been practicing yoga in America for some time, you realize you will find a good amount of ordinary humanity in each yoga community, just as you find it in yourself. It is easy to hold yogis--students, teachers, dabblers--in some higher regard, and then become jaded and disillusioned when they do not all turn out to be already enlightened. Or even just already teaching exactly the way you want them to.
Maybe the hardest thing we are confronting right now as a loosely interwoven aggregate of yoga communities in America is the sense that we each have the "right" way to teach/practice yoga. This sense is supported by the late-capitalist imperative to emphasize what makes each school or style of yoga unique, and for each teacher to "brand" him- or herself in a distinct way. The sheer number of teachers in most places provides each of us with an incredible array of CHOICES in how to practice yoga, which is wonderful--there is a method for everyone, right where there are, right now. Gentle, vigorous, therapeutic, chatty, spartan, juicy, intellectual, emotional, filled with metaphor, anatomically precise, visually demonstrated, verbally cued, set to a soundtrack, basking in silence, prop-heavy, prop-free, paced quickly, paced slowly...you name it.
Find a teacher who can teach you as you are, right now--it may take many trial classes to find him or her! And then, once you are well established in your practice, branch out, try the ones that are maybe SO NOT RIGHT FOR YOU, because they will sometimes teach you even more.
And here's the hard part, for me, at least: let go of needing to evaluate why they are so not right for you. Let go of wanting to warn people away from them (unless you feel you need to give a gentle warning because you fear for people's safety in those classes....see, I told you it was hard for me). Let go of yoga-jadedness...the way we think we can tell so much about a person just from observing him or her from the outside. How s/he will teach, what his or her intentions are, what style of yoga s/he prefers. Why the mala beads are hanging out in full view.
This intention is for the next time we each take class: Assume the best about each person you encounter. Assume they have the highest intentions towards you and everyone else around you. The teacher, the students, the fly on the wall.
I'll be right there with you. Go, mala man, go!
19 December 2010
01 November 2010
untying the knot
"...the ego is the confusion or the knotting together that occurs between pure consciousness...and the content of consciousness."
Richard Freeman reminds us that pure consciousness is like the open blue sky, and the content of it (thoughts and feelings) is like clouds moving across that sky.
"In our minds knots are created when we confuse pure consciousness with the products of our mind, and this confusion is the source of the ego, which within the yogic tradition is considered to be an imaginary sense of our separation from the fabric of the universe."
"We have to practice in such a way that we allow insight into the union of the body and mind, the inhale and the exhale, the twist and the countertwist, so that we experience our own merging into what we naturally perceive as our background--all that we see as separate from ourselves...our practice becomes a constant offering of the sacred knot of the ego back into its own root."
In your practice today, offer the knot of your ego back into what we think of as the background, the open blue sky, pure consciousness. Let go of the products of consciousness as they arise--thoughts, feelings, sensations--knowing that those are not separate from that pure consciousness that we all share. Watch how the borders of each thought, each movement, each feeling, are porous--one morphs right into the next. And watch for the space between, that openness that when we take time to notice it, can be so refreshing.
Richard Freeman reminds us that pure consciousness is like the open blue sky, and the content of it (thoughts and feelings) is like clouds moving across that sky.
"In our minds knots are created when we confuse pure consciousness with the products of our mind, and this confusion is the source of the ego, which within the yogic tradition is considered to be an imaginary sense of our separation from the fabric of the universe."
"We have to practice in such a way that we allow insight into the union of the body and mind, the inhale and the exhale, the twist and the countertwist, so that we experience our own merging into what we naturally perceive as our background--all that we see as separate from ourselves...our practice becomes a constant offering of the sacred knot of the ego back into its own root."
In your practice today, offer the knot of your ego back into what we think of as the background, the open blue sky, pure consciousness. Let go of the products of consciousness as they arise--thoughts, feelings, sensations--knowing that those are not separate from that pure consciousness that we all share. Watch how the borders of each thought, each movement, each feeling, are porous--one morphs right into the next. And watch for the space between, that openness that when we take time to notice it, can be so refreshing.
21 October 2010
What's the most useful thing you've got?
From the many things you do in your yoga practice, consider what is most useful to you. By that I mean: What helps you feel less fragmented, more unified as a self AND more connected to others?
Focus on that today. Maybe it is breathing consciously, with or without a formal yogic technique. Maybe it is moving your body, or maybe it is sitting still. Maybe it is voicing your love aloud in words or in song, or maybe it is basking in silence.
Maybe you find it helpful to read or hear the ideas that have been passed along to us about HOW THINGS REALLY ARE (metaphysics) or HOW WE CAN ACT TOWARDS ONE ANOTHER AND OURSELVES (ethics). Yes, we can consider philosophy just another tool in our toolbox of yoga. It may be one you don't care for (I just never seem to use the socket wrench; it's just too dang complicated-looking). Or maybe it's a tool you really find handy for helping you put yourself together and connect yourself to others. (In my case, that would be the allen wrench or the hammer.)
The point is, it's another tool, just like the "physical" practices of hatha yoga. We often categorize it as "theory," separate from what we do on the mat or cushion, which is "practice." But there are many differences and disagreements within yogic, Buddhist, and Western philosophies...and this is because they're all using language to describe something beyond language. They are approximations of HOW THINGS ARE and HOW WE SHOULD ACT. And thus, they're just more tools for us to wield in our efforts to dismantle the walls we've built to avoid seeing that we're irrevocably, joyously, NOT separate from each other.
So whatever it is in your toolbox that works best for you, use it today for some time, however brief. (For me, it is the breath and the nondualism it reveals and reinforces.) If you practice using it daily, you'll remember to pull it out when things are really tough and you need it most, when you and those around you seem to be flying apart.
Focus on that today. Maybe it is breathing consciously, with or without a formal yogic technique. Maybe it is moving your body, or maybe it is sitting still. Maybe it is voicing your love aloud in words or in song, or maybe it is basking in silence.
Maybe you find it helpful to read or hear the ideas that have been passed along to us about HOW THINGS REALLY ARE (metaphysics) or HOW WE CAN ACT TOWARDS ONE ANOTHER AND OURSELVES (ethics). Yes, we can consider philosophy just another tool in our toolbox of yoga. It may be one you don't care for (I just never seem to use the socket wrench; it's just too dang complicated-looking). Or maybe it's a tool you really find handy for helping you put yourself together and connect yourself to others. (In my case, that would be the allen wrench or the hammer.)
The point is, it's another tool, just like the "physical" practices of hatha yoga. We often categorize it as "theory," separate from what we do on the mat or cushion, which is "practice." But there are many differences and disagreements within yogic, Buddhist, and Western philosophies...and this is because they're all using language to describe something beyond language. They are approximations of HOW THINGS ARE and HOW WE SHOULD ACT. And thus, they're just more tools for us to wield in our efforts to dismantle the walls we've built to avoid seeing that we're irrevocably, joyously, NOT separate from each other.
So whatever it is in your toolbox that works best for you, use it today for some time, however brief. (For me, it is the breath and the nondualism it reveals and reinforces.) If you practice using it daily, you'll remember to pull it out when things are really tough and you need it most, when you and those around you seem to be flying apart.
21 September 2010
Yoga as a science; yoga as an art.
I often hear and read that yoga is a science. I agree. It is a set of methods that has been passed along for countless numbers of people to try out and see what happens. It's a series of experiments for each of us to engage in.
But in the Western scientific method, the idea is to control enough variables each time that every person who does the experiment will get the same results. (Well, at least it was until quantum mechanics explained how that will break down at the smallest level...but it still holds true at the macro level.) Scientists only have to keep doing the experiment in order to see if in fact they will NOT get the same results--the idea is that we seek to DISPROVE the hypothesis, and if we can't, then we'll call it a theory.
In yoga, we don't have to believe in the hypothesis or theory that explains what will happen when we develop a daily practice--whether it is postures(asana), breathing practices (pranayama), cleansing practices (kriya), concentration techniques (dharana), meditation (dhyana), chanting (bhakti), or another path.
Those hypotheses do exist. Some of the yogic texts tell you what will happen, and others tell you why and describe the true nature of the universe. But you don't have to know about them, agree with them, or seek to disprove them in order to do your own yogic experiments. And you don't have to have the same experience as your fellow yogi scientist. So the analogy only takes us so far.
Which leads me to the other way to think about our practice: yoga as an art.
It's a set of techniques, like you'd learn in order to paint or sculpt or design a house. You learn the techniques, you learn the rules, and then you get to play with them, respecting the lineage you come from and also making it your own.
In this way, we can make our practice something we craft, a thing of beauty, that we offer up to the world. To the other people in the room with us. To the other living beings that benefit when we are calmer and more flexible. To something bigger than ourselves.
Both approaches are good ways to think of our practice.
Some days, we inquire. What will happen if I do this?
Some days, we create. Here is this, I made it, for You.
But in the Western scientific method, the idea is to control enough variables each time that every person who does the experiment will get the same results. (Well, at least it was until quantum mechanics explained how that will break down at the smallest level...but it still holds true at the macro level.) Scientists only have to keep doing the experiment in order to see if in fact they will NOT get the same results--the idea is that we seek to DISPROVE the hypothesis, and if we can't, then we'll call it a theory.
In yoga, we don't have to believe in the hypothesis or theory that explains what will happen when we develop a daily practice--whether it is postures(asana), breathing practices (pranayama), cleansing practices (kriya), concentration techniques (dharana), meditation (dhyana), chanting (bhakti), or another path.
Those hypotheses do exist. Some of the yogic texts tell you what will happen, and others tell you why and describe the true nature of the universe. But you don't have to know about them, agree with them, or seek to disprove them in order to do your own yogic experiments. And you don't have to have the same experience as your fellow yogi scientist. So the analogy only takes us so far.
Which leads me to the other way to think about our practice: yoga as an art.
It's a set of techniques, like you'd learn in order to paint or sculpt or design a house. You learn the techniques, you learn the rules, and then you get to play with them, respecting the lineage you come from and also making it your own.
In this way, we can make our practice something we craft, a thing of beauty, that we offer up to the world. To the other people in the room with us. To the other living beings that benefit when we are calmer and more flexible. To something bigger than ourselves.
Both approaches are good ways to think of our practice.
Some days, we inquire. What will happen if I do this?
Some days, we create. Here is this, I made it, for You.
11 September 2010
No need to improve. You are that.
So you've noticed that you're breathing more fully, or you're regaining range of motion in your hips, or you're able to stand on one foot for longer, or you're sleeping better, or all of the above.
Or maybe you've noticed that it's THAT chick who is sticking Tree (Vrkshasana) and Headstand (Shirsasana), and today you are decidedly NOT.
Whether you are feeling encouraged or discouraged, remember that this yoga thing is not about self-improvement. It is about Self-realization.
Yes, your small-s "self" will improve. But not necessarily in the ways we expect or desire. The set of physical sensations, thoughts, emotions, and whatnot that makes up your individual self changes a LOT because you practice yoga.
But just go back to the old yogic texts when you need a reminder--and I so often do--that it's not really about that. Patanjali's Yoga Sutras devote a whole chapter to outlining all the siddhis--abilities--that may come about from a regular, intense, devoted yoga practice. Then the chapter ends with a warning: Don't let these newfound skills distract you from the real goal. What's the goal of yoga? The same as the process of yoga:
Remember the Self. Wake up to the realization that even though it seems like I'm just a small-s self wandering this earth bumping into other small-s selves, we're really all a part of something bigger. This is what the Upanishads call the Self (with a big S).
I prefer the verbs "realize" and "remember" because the yogic texts, and our own yoga practices, constantly show us that it's not a process of acquiring new information. This is something we know already, deep down, and we let ourselves forget it in the rush of getting things done. In fact, as amazing as the process of childhood and adolescent development is, it is really a process of building up a small-s self and creating a shell of personality (preferences, differences, opinions, divisions) around our basic, deep-down similarities and connections.
Once we do this successfully, we have a few choices. We can just keep shoring up the line of defense of that isolated self with more and more likes and dislikes, more rigid opinions, and so on...or we can begin to OBSERVE the process by which we do this and not be entirely threatened when we realize that the small-s self isn't all there is.
So whether you balance masterfully or tip over and laugh today, whether your hips ache in tightness or open lightly like flower petals to the sun, just remember what Uddalaka teaches his son in the Chandogya Upanishad. He tells his son to put salt in a cup of water and bring it to him.
"Where is that salt?" the father asks.
"I do not see it," the son replies.
"Sip here. How does it taste?"
"Salty."
"And here?"
Salty."
"And there?"
"I taste salt everywhere."
"It IS everywhere, though we see it not. Just so, dear one, the Self is everywhere, within all things, though we see it not. You are that."
You are that, dear ones. Tat tvam asi. You are already that which you seek. The Self, or whatever you prefer to name it.
So is everyone else. Now can we remember that as we leave our mats?
(The Chandogya Upanishad excerpt is adapted from Chapter VI of Eknath Easwaran's translation, a lovely one, loose for the sake of poetry and clarity.)
Or maybe you've noticed that it's THAT chick who is sticking Tree (Vrkshasana) and Headstand (Shirsasana), and today you are decidedly NOT.
Whether you are feeling encouraged or discouraged, remember that this yoga thing is not about self-improvement. It is about Self-realization.
Yes, your small-s "self" will improve. But not necessarily in the ways we expect or desire. The set of physical sensations, thoughts, emotions, and whatnot that makes up your individual self changes a LOT because you practice yoga.
But just go back to the old yogic texts when you need a reminder--and I so often do--that it's not really about that. Patanjali's Yoga Sutras devote a whole chapter to outlining all the siddhis--abilities--that may come about from a regular, intense, devoted yoga practice. Then the chapter ends with a warning: Don't let these newfound skills distract you from the real goal. What's the goal of yoga? The same as the process of yoga:
Remember the Self. Wake up to the realization that even though it seems like I'm just a small-s self wandering this earth bumping into other small-s selves, we're really all a part of something bigger. This is what the Upanishads call the Self (with a big S).
I prefer the verbs "realize" and "remember" because the yogic texts, and our own yoga practices, constantly show us that it's not a process of acquiring new information. This is something we know already, deep down, and we let ourselves forget it in the rush of getting things done. In fact, as amazing as the process of childhood and adolescent development is, it is really a process of building up a small-s self and creating a shell of personality (preferences, differences, opinions, divisions) around our basic, deep-down similarities and connections.
Once we do this successfully, we have a few choices. We can just keep shoring up the line of defense of that isolated self with more and more likes and dislikes, more rigid opinions, and so on...or we can begin to OBSERVE the process by which we do this and not be entirely threatened when we realize that the small-s self isn't all there is.
So whether you balance masterfully or tip over and laugh today, whether your hips ache in tightness or open lightly like flower petals to the sun, just remember what Uddalaka teaches his son in the Chandogya Upanishad. He tells his son to put salt in a cup of water and bring it to him.
"Where is that salt?" the father asks.
"I do not see it," the son replies.
"Sip here. How does it taste?"
"Salty."
"And here?"
Salty."
"And there?"
"I taste salt everywhere."
"It IS everywhere, though we see it not. Just so, dear one, the Self is everywhere, within all things, though we see it not. You are that."
You are that, dear ones. Tat tvam asi. You are already that which you seek. The Self, or whatever you prefer to name it.
So is everyone else. Now can we remember that as we leave our mats?
(The Chandogya Upanishad excerpt is adapted from Chapter VI of Eknath Easwaran's translation, a lovely one, loose for the sake of poetry and clarity.)
02 September 2010
Where is my guru?
Sometimes I have dreams in which my teacher Sharon looks like someone else, or even changes into someone else. Once she suddenly turned into my mother-in-law. Another time she had short blond hair, like a good friend of mine.
I think this is my mind's not-so-subtle way of reminding me that my teacher, my guru, is in everyone. People I get along with, people I don't, people I barely know. Friends, strangers, family, animals...those in my past, those in my present, and those I have yet to meet. The teacher is in all situations--beginnings, middles, and ends.
This is also Sharon's lovely interpretation of the "guru brahma" chant, and if you think you've never heard it, listen closely the next time you hear the George Harrison song "My Sweet Lord." It's in the background. You can read her full interpretation in the book Jivamukti Yoga.
The "guru" is the teacher who removes the darkness, the "goo," the muck that coats our windows and prevents us from seeing clearly. Sometimes we think it's just one person, but it can be everywhere if we are ready for it.
Dedicate your practice today to seeing the guru in EVERYTHING...your tight muscle, your injured joint, your fantastic capacity to balance, the tailgater behind you, the delicious lunch, the spilled tea, the smile on a stranger's face.
I may not understand what is being taught at each moment, but I can open myself to the possibility of the darkness being removed, so that I am ready to see more clearly how things actually are. Whether I am taking a class with my teacher Sharon, or talking with my mother-in-law, or seeing an old friend, or looking in my rearview mirror.
I think this is my mind's not-so-subtle way of reminding me that my teacher, my guru, is in everyone. People I get along with, people I don't, people I barely know. Friends, strangers, family, animals...those in my past, those in my present, and those I have yet to meet. The teacher is in all situations--beginnings, middles, and ends.
This is also Sharon's lovely interpretation of the "guru brahma" chant, and if you think you've never heard it, listen closely the next time you hear the George Harrison song "My Sweet Lord." It's in the background. You can read her full interpretation in the book Jivamukti Yoga.
The "guru" is the teacher who removes the darkness, the "goo," the muck that coats our windows and prevents us from seeing clearly. Sometimes we think it's just one person, but it can be everywhere if we are ready for it.
Dedicate your practice today to seeing the guru in EVERYTHING...your tight muscle, your injured joint, your fantastic capacity to balance, the tailgater behind you, the delicious lunch, the spilled tea, the smile on a stranger's face.
I may not understand what is being taught at each moment, but I can open myself to the possibility of the darkness being removed, so that I am ready to see more clearly how things actually are. Whether I am taking a class with my teacher Sharon, or talking with my mother-in-law, or seeing an old friend, or looking in my rearview mirror.
25 August 2010
Preparing Myself
"For one human being to love another: that is perhaps the most difficult task of all...the work for which all other work is but preparation." (Rilke, as quoted by Jack Kornfield in A Path with Heart)
As you practice today, remember that no matter how hard it gets, it is nothing compared to staying calm in the face of a frustrating interaction, remaining loving when someone close to you pushes your buttons, and being kind even toward those who seem to wish us harm.
Do the work that prepares you for that most difficult task. Embrace the challenges and obstacles on your mat so you can be ready for the challenges to loving and showing that love. Take a long shavasana at the end to let it all sink in, so you rise from your practice knowing that you are ready for the task and the privilege of loving others.
(I highly recommend Kornfield's book, by the way, if you'd like to read further.)
As you practice today, remember that no matter how hard it gets, it is nothing compared to staying calm in the face of a frustrating interaction, remaining loving when someone close to you pushes your buttons, and being kind even toward those who seem to wish us harm.
Do the work that prepares you for that most difficult task. Embrace the challenges and obstacles on your mat so you can be ready for the challenges to loving and showing that love. Take a long shavasana at the end to let it all sink in, so you rise from your practice knowing that you are ready for the task and the privilege of loving others.
(I highly recommend Kornfield's book, by the way, if you'd like to read further.)
17 August 2010
We are what we repeatedly do.
"Excellence is an art won by training and habituation. We do not act rightly because we have virtue or excellence, but we rather have those because we have acted rightly. We are what we repeatedly do. Excellence, then, is not an act but a habit."
I don't usually put much stock in Aristotle, who was deeply and unfailingly dualistic in his view of the world and has helped embed our western world in that way of thinking for centuries. But this quote strikes me as quite yogic.
Practice one or more of the techniques of yoga--asana (posture), pranayama (breath and energy expansion), bhakti (devotional chanting and acts), dhyana (meditation), karma (service), or some other-- and soon we realize excellence.
Not necessarily a perfect backbend or a divine voice or an entirely still mind, although these will come with time, I hear.
But excellence in ways that creep up on us without us forcing them: we can be a little kinder, we feel less grasping for things we don't have and more gratitude for those we do, we stay calmer in the face of disruption.
This is because we practice these difficult things, little by little, even when we seem to just be bending and breathing on the mat. (And the bending and breathing help prepare the body for these broader changes as they bring to an optimal state all its systems: nervous, digestive, muscular, cardiovascular, endocrine, and so on.)
Aristotle was saying something quite in line with the yogis: It's not all about genetic gifts, and it's not about what you believe or think. It's about what you DO.
Do your best, each time, with what you have. Such a cliche, but so true. And if it is something you wish to excel in, do it over and over and over. The yogis were talking about daily, committed, intense practice. (They weren't talking about a six-week workshop and then a video once in a while.)
As the Gita reminds us: Put forth effort and let go of your attachment to results. And then do it again. And again. And again....
I don't usually put much stock in Aristotle, who was deeply and unfailingly dualistic in his view of the world and has helped embed our western world in that way of thinking for centuries. But this quote strikes me as quite yogic.
Practice one or more of the techniques of yoga--asana (posture), pranayama (breath and energy expansion), bhakti (devotional chanting and acts), dhyana (meditation), karma (service), or some other-- and soon we realize excellence.
Not necessarily a perfect backbend or a divine voice or an entirely still mind, although these will come with time, I hear.
But excellence in ways that creep up on us without us forcing them: we can be a little kinder, we feel less grasping for things we don't have and more gratitude for those we do, we stay calmer in the face of disruption.
This is because we practice these difficult things, little by little, even when we seem to just be bending and breathing on the mat. (And the bending and breathing help prepare the body for these broader changes as they bring to an optimal state all its systems: nervous, digestive, muscular, cardiovascular, endocrine, and so on.)
Aristotle was saying something quite in line with the yogis: It's not all about genetic gifts, and it's not about what you believe or think. It's about what you DO.
Do your best, each time, with what you have. Such a cliche, but so true. And if it is something you wish to excel in, do it over and over and over. The yogis were talking about daily, committed, intense practice. (They weren't talking about a six-week workshop and then a video once in a while.)
As the Gita reminds us: Put forth effort and let go of your attachment to results. And then do it again. And again. And again....
10 August 2010
Get a grip. Then let go of it.
"If you let go a little, you will have a little peace. If you let go a lot, you will have even more peace." (Achaan Chah)
Where do you feel yourself holding on, maybe even gripping tight? I feel it in my hip flexors--the fronts of my hips-- and in my lower back. Maybe you feel it in your jaw, or in your shoulders, or in your pelvic floor. Maybe you feel it most in your mind, holding on to a goal or an idea of how things 'should' be.
Chah is speaking in the Buddhist tradition, but the yogis have their own way of saying the same thing. They claim that the best way to catch a monkey in the jungle is to simply put out a jar of treats with a narrow neck. When the monkey finds it, he will thrust his open hand into the jar, grasp the treats, and try to pull his fist out. The narrow neck will prevent him from extricating himself. He will try like anything to free himself with his fist grasping the prize, and remain stuck no matter how hard he tries...because he is unwilling to let go.
I don't know if this is true of real monkeys; the yogis are talking about the monkey mind. And there the story holds true, at least in my experience.
In your practice today, watch for what you're grasping, gripping, holding. Maybe you notice a relationship between what you're mentally grasping and someplace you are physically tightening--but that's not necessary. Just noticing either the mental OR the physical holding gives us an entry point for letting go of it. That's the beauty of raja and hatha yoga.
Notice the tightening. If it's physical, you can even exaggerate it to really make it conscious and volitional (this is the PNF or "resistance" method I teach sometimes, for those of you who have learned it). If it's mental, do that, too! Focus on it, let it really percolate up.
Then let it go.
Where do you feel yourself holding on, maybe even gripping tight? I feel it in my hip flexors--the fronts of my hips-- and in my lower back. Maybe you feel it in your jaw, or in your shoulders, or in your pelvic floor. Maybe you feel it most in your mind, holding on to a goal or an idea of how things 'should' be.
Chah is speaking in the Buddhist tradition, but the yogis have their own way of saying the same thing. They claim that the best way to catch a monkey in the jungle is to simply put out a jar of treats with a narrow neck. When the monkey finds it, he will thrust his open hand into the jar, grasp the treats, and try to pull his fist out. The narrow neck will prevent him from extricating himself. He will try like anything to free himself with his fist grasping the prize, and remain stuck no matter how hard he tries...because he is unwilling to let go.
I don't know if this is true of real monkeys; the yogis are talking about the monkey mind. And there the story holds true, at least in my experience.
In your practice today, watch for what you're grasping, gripping, holding. Maybe you notice a relationship between what you're mentally grasping and someplace you are physically tightening--but that's not necessary. Just noticing either the mental OR the physical holding gives us an entry point for letting go of it. That's the beauty of raja and hatha yoga.
Notice the tightening. If it's physical, you can even exaggerate it to really make it conscious and volitional (this is the PNF or "resistance" method I teach sometimes, for those of you who have learned it). If it's mental, do that, too! Focus on it, let it really percolate up.
Then let it go.
07 August 2010
Top down or bottom up
Next time you have a chance, read some of the Hatha Yoga Pradipika (Bihar School of Yoga translation has the best commentary). Or read a book by Georg Feuerstein to get a sense of earlier hatha yoga techniques and the influence of tantra on yoga and Buddhism.
In the wake of the Yoga Journal controversy about their ads, it's good to remember the fuller picture of yoga practices. It is, after all, a practice that focuses on the bodily practices so that the student can realize nonduality; that is, really GET the way that the body is not separate from the mind, nor from other bodies, nor from other material things.
I am all for a discussion of why YJ needs to reconsider their editorial (both text and image) emphasis on asana and why the relationship between editorial and advertising sales is increasingly twisted in most magazines, including YJ.
But to say that Kathryn Budig's photographs in Toesox ads are just more "naked women" and say they are not "about the celebration of the beauty of the human body or the beauty of the poses" seems misguided to me. The photos show a woman in motion who is strong and focused, not waifish or pouting or staring blankly or any of the typical "I am a sexual object" indicators.
And if we consider the many techniques of hatha yoga, we find many that are far more salacious and eyebrow-raising than naked asana practice. For instance, there's going into a river to draw the water up into one's anus, hold it there, and then expel it. There's having ritualized sex. There's meditating on corpses in a burial ground.
There are lots of practices, especially the ones from the "left-handed" tantric schools, that encourage the practitioner to shake herself out of ordinary consciousness by doing something forbidden, exotic, unusual. It can help to wake us up.
AND there are many others that encourage the student to shake herself out of ordinary consciousness by doing the mundane and ordinary. That is, by practicing the same thing OVER and OVER again. And finding the freshness in it even though it is, on the face of it, very familiar.
You may remember this argument from the movie My Dinner with Andre.
I think the two approaches work beautifully together. A yoga practice of asana (moving and holding postures) and pranayama (breathing consciously) and pratyahara (turning senses inward) and dhyana (concentrating) can do BOTH.
Sometimes I take a class and it blows my mind. The teacher gets me to do things I'd never think I could do. I move and breathe steadily until I let go of everything but just this breath, just this moment. I am alert and calm and totally focused. They usually have to exhaust me and get me right to the edge for this to happen. They have to remind me of my true Self, which is bigger than the little one I usually identify with, and threatens to dissolve little-self.
Other times my practice is so familiar I can feel myself starting to get bored and I have to work to make what is so familiar fresh. I have to make an effort to notice what is different about this easy inhale from the last one, this Warrior B from yesterday's. This is another way to wake up.
So in today's practice, your intention might be to make way for either of these to occur...either the huge unusual event that shifts your perspective suddenly, or the gradual changes that take place when we apply ourselves to a regular, ordinary practice and notice what happens over time.
Top down or bottom up? I'll meet you in that middle path.
In the wake of the Yoga Journal controversy about their ads, it's good to remember the fuller picture of yoga practices. It is, after all, a practice that focuses on the bodily practices so that the student can realize nonduality; that is, really GET the way that the body is not separate from the mind, nor from other bodies, nor from other material things.
I am all for a discussion of why YJ needs to reconsider their editorial (both text and image) emphasis on asana and why the relationship between editorial and advertising sales is increasingly twisted in most magazines, including YJ.
But to say that Kathryn Budig's photographs in Toesox ads are just more "naked women" and say they are not "about the celebration of the beauty of the human body or the beauty of the poses" seems misguided to me. The photos show a woman in motion who is strong and focused, not waifish or pouting or staring blankly or any of the typical "I am a sexual object" indicators.
And if we consider the many techniques of hatha yoga, we find many that are far more salacious and eyebrow-raising than naked asana practice. For instance, there's going into a river to draw the water up into one's anus, hold it there, and then expel it. There's having ritualized sex. There's meditating on corpses in a burial ground.
There are lots of practices, especially the ones from the "left-handed" tantric schools, that encourage the practitioner to shake herself out of ordinary consciousness by doing something forbidden, exotic, unusual. It can help to wake us up.
AND there are many others that encourage the student to shake herself out of ordinary consciousness by doing the mundane and ordinary. That is, by practicing the same thing OVER and OVER again. And finding the freshness in it even though it is, on the face of it, very familiar.
You may remember this argument from the movie My Dinner with Andre.
I think the two approaches work beautifully together. A yoga practice of asana (moving and holding postures) and pranayama (breathing consciously) and pratyahara (turning senses inward) and dhyana (concentrating) can do BOTH.
Sometimes I take a class and it blows my mind. The teacher gets me to do things I'd never think I could do. I move and breathe steadily until I let go of everything but just this breath, just this moment. I am alert and calm and totally focused. They usually have to exhaust me and get me right to the edge for this to happen. They have to remind me of my true Self, which is bigger than the little one I usually identify with, and threatens to dissolve little-self.
Other times my practice is so familiar I can feel myself starting to get bored and I have to work to make what is so familiar fresh. I have to make an effort to notice what is different about this easy inhale from the last one, this Warrior B from yesterday's. This is another way to wake up.
So in today's practice, your intention might be to make way for either of these to occur...either the huge unusual event that shifts your perspective suddenly, or the gradual changes that take place when we apply ourselves to a regular, ordinary practice and notice what happens over time.
Top down or bottom up? I'll meet you in that middle path.
03 August 2010
Liberté, équanimité, fraternité!
Tonight in class I'll be teaching a lot of twisting, sidebending, and inverting postures. So I've been thinking about what we need to do to get into each of those positions.
It's pretty basic: to enter any yoga posture safely, we need to find a neutral posture and even breath first.
But NEUTRAL is not the same thing as HABITUAL. Our habitual posture and breathing is often far from neutral.
This is where ujjayi samavrtti pranayama and bandhas come in. They help us create a steady breath with equal-length inhalations and exhalations, plus find neutral pelvis and a long, tall spine, as we begin each movement.
Then we can twist safely. We can sidebend without crunching. We can invert without compression.
It's tempting to think that we can wring ourselves into position with muscle and force, and once we get there start to breathe fully again and maybe "fix" the areas we've tensed up...but it will always feel better when we remember to work the equanimity in our breath and the neutral spine with space between the vertebrae FIRST.
In our everyday lives, we can find equanimity before putting ourselves in positions that could cause strain. We find "neutral" so that we can enter a difficult situation and still breathe...so that we can emerge from a place of constriction even stronger, even more spacious than before. As the systems of the body--respiratory, skeletal, muscular, circulatory, etc.--find a calm, steady state, so can the mind.
So, as many teachers have pointed out: Find the Tadasana (Mountain) in every posture. Even breathing, neutral pelvis, tall spine. In today's practice, focus on that FIRST, before any movement to twist, side bend, invert, back bend, or forward bend. So what if you don't grab your toe or wrist or get into some extreme new variation of a posture? Explore equanimity--it might be the most extreme thing you do today!
It's pretty basic: to enter any yoga posture safely, we need to find a neutral posture and even breath first.
But NEUTRAL is not the same thing as HABITUAL. Our habitual posture and breathing is often far from neutral.
This is where ujjayi samavrtti pranayama and bandhas come in. They help us create a steady breath with equal-length inhalations and exhalations, plus find neutral pelvis and a long, tall spine, as we begin each movement.
Then we can twist safely. We can sidebend without crunching. We can invert without compression.
It's tempting to think that we can wring ourselves into position with muscle and force, and once we get there start to breathe fully again and maybe "fix" the areas we've tensed up...but it will always feel better when we remember to work the equanimity in our breath and the neutral spine with space between the vertebrae FIRST.
In our everyday lives, we can find equanimity before putting ourselves in positions that could cause strain. We find "neutral" so that we can enter a difficult situation and still breathe...so that we can emerge from a place of constriction even stronger, even more spacious than before. As the systems of the body--respiratory, skeletal, muscular, circulatory, etc.--find a calm, steady state, so can the mind.
So, as many teachers have pointed out: Find the Tadasana (Mountain) in every posture. Even breathing, neutral pelvis, tall spine. In today's practice, focus on that FIRST, before any movement to twist, side bend, invert, back bend, or forward bend. So what if you don't grab your toe or wrist or get into some extreme new variation of a posture? Explore equanimity--it might be the most extreme thing you do today!
27 July 2010
The Real Thing
Seen the big NYT Magazine article on Anusara yoga this weekend?
One of the main themes was whether American schools of yoga are "authentic" or not. This article focused on the founder of Anusara, John Friend, and how he trained with yoga masters like BKS Iyengar and then broke away to form his own "brand" of yoga, which has become extremely popular in America.
I think the writer did a fair job of explaining in a few words what Anusara classes emphasize that makes them distinct from other major American styles.
She also quoted John Friend in ways that make him seem spectacularly grandiose, and she consistently framed the story as one of yoga as a business--a very big business.
My experience with Friend is limited to a large workshop, which he taught as an advanced Anusara vinyasa flow, making his way around the 100+ students and giving individual adjustments aplenty along with his assistants. It was a great class, as are so many of the Anusara classes and workshops I attend, with teachers like Shalini Latour, Irena Miller, Marni Task, Ami Hirschstein, Betsey Downing, Geri Bleier, and Todd Norian. I highly recommend all of them, and I take their classes whenever I can.
Of course, I've also wound up in some classes with Anusara-trained or -inspired teachers who use the Anusara terms as shortcuts to say something that is never made clear, and the classes wind up feeling hollow and filled with jargon. That can happen with any style.
(I've come to think that really, there are much bigger differences among yoga teachers than among yoga styles. If you're looking for a teacher who teaches like your favorite yoga teacher does, then you need to look far and wide, because taking classes in the same tradition, school or style of yoga won't always get you there. There's a LOT of divergence within one style of yoga!)
But I digress. Generally, American media report upon 1) health claims and/or documented benefits of doing yoga and 2) the commercialization of yoga in America (unusual fusions of yoga and other activities, how masses of people have quit their jobs to become yoga teachers, how many people do yoga now, how some yoga teachers have become "brands" of their own, how some teachers have tried to copyright their yoga posture sequences, etc.).
I don't blame journalists for avoiding experiential stories. How do you put into words what the regular practice of yoga feels like or how it affects the rest of your life? As soon as you do, you sound like an infomercial for Yoga, Inc., and you know you haven't even done justice to what it actually is/does! It doesn't make for a neutral and unbiased story.
My point, which I am slowly coming around to, is this: Discussions of authenticity vs. commercialization are interesting. For yoga, for music (did my favorite band "sell out"?), for the feminist movement (remember "is it feminist to wear lipstick"?), for lots of things.
But eventually, we have to be our own Charlie Brown and just go for our own spindly Christmas tree, regardless of what metal and plastic offerings are around us, bright and shiny and winking their seductive lights.
Yes, we could buy the calfskin yoga mat bag or the diamond-encrusted OM pendant. (I'm not making those up.)
Or we can joke about those who do. Or bitch about how anyone could do that to yoga, make it so obviously and excessively about image or material possessions.
Either way, we each have to come back to the spindly Christmas tree of our own yoga practice. Sometimes it feels droopy and sad, sometimes it perks up and feels strong and green and full of life...particularly when we're surrounded by those who care.
Most of the time it just IS. And the doing of the practice allows us to feel how it IS.
WE are what make our yoga practice authentic. Whether we pay for a class, practice in the yard, wear fancy togs, or throw on a T-shirt. Whether we focus on re-aligning our spine, or flowing with the breath, or what the air feels like on our skin.
I'll admit it: I've once or twice gotten myself to the mat with an intention no higher than, "I need to do this so I'll look better in the mirror." Those have not been my most inspired practices. And if that had been my intention every day, my practice would have been empty; I probably wouldn't have stuck with it very long. It's essentially a way to pump up the ego, make it believe it is a freestanding unit of body/mind, separate from everything and everyone else. That intention, to improve the individual self, can wind up separating you from others. Luckily, the techniques of yoga are designed to get you to pay close enough attention that you realize that separation is an illusion, and your intentions change as a result of what you notice (not because you force yourself to change).
When my focus is some (small or large) part of the interconnectedness of all things, that is when the practice feels authentic. That is when my body sings with feeling as I move. That is when I end with a sense that everything will be okay; no, it already is okay, and I am a part of that. I can do the right thing, because I can see more clearly.
So wear your fanciest pants or leave your pajamas on...practice with someone from India or someone from America...enjoy the silence or play Depeche Mode's "Enjoy the Silence"...just bring yourself and your highest intention today, and the practice will flow through you, and there will be no question that it is authentic.
One of the main themes was whether American schools of yoga are "authentic" or not. This article focused on the founder of Anusara, John Friend, and how he trained with yoga masters like BKS Iyengar and then broke away to form his own "brand" of yoga, which has become extremely popular in America.
I think the writer did a fair job of explaining in a few words what Anusara classes emphasize that makes them distinct from other major American styles.
She also quoted John Friend in ways that make him seem spectacularly grandiose, and she consistently framed the story as one of yoga as a business--a very big business.
My experience with Friend is limited to a large workshop, which he taught as an advanced Anusara vinyasa flow, making his way around the 100+ students and giving individual adjustments aplenty along with his assistants. It was a great class, as are so many of the Anusara classes and workshops I attend, with teachers like Shalini Latour, Irena Miller, Marni Task, Ami Hirschstein, Betsey Downing, Geri Bleier, and Todd Norian. I highly recommend all of them, and I take their classes whenever I can.
Of course, I've also wound up in some classes with Anusara-trained or -inspired teachers who use the Anusara terms as shortcuts to say something that is never made clear, and the classes wind up feeling hollow and filled with jargon. That can happen with any style.
(I've come to think that really, there are much bigger differences among yoga teachers than among yoga styles. If you're looking for a teacher who teaches like your favorite yoga teacher does, then you need to look far and wide, because taking classes in the same tradition, school or style of yoga won't always get you there. There's a LOT of divergence within one style of yoga!)
But I digress. Generally, American media report upon 1) health claims and/or documented benefits of doing yoga and 2) the commercialization of yoga in America (unusual fusions of yoga and other activities, how masses of people have quit their jobs to become yoga teachers, how many people do yoga now, how some yoga teachers have become "brands" of their own, how some teachers have tried to copyright their yoga posture sequences, etc.).
I don't blame journalists for avoiding experiential stories. How do you put into words what the regular practice of yoga feels like or how it affects the rest of your life? As soon as you do, you sound like an infomercial for Yoga, Inc., and you know you haven't even done justice to what it actually is/does! It doesn't make for a neutral and unbiased story.
My point, which I am slowly coming around to, is this: Discussions of authenticity vs. commercialization are interesting. For yoga, for music (did my favorite band "sell out"?), for the feminist movement (remember "is it feminist to wear lipstick"?), for lots of things.
But eventually, we have to be our own Charlie Brown and just go for our own spindly Christmas tree, regardless of what metal and plastic offerings are around us, bright and shiny and winking their seductive lights.
Yes, we could buy the calfskin yoga mat bag or the diamond-encrusted OM pendant. (I'm not making those up.)
Or we can joke about those who do. Or bitch about how anyone could do that to yoga, make it so obviously and excessively about image or material possessions.
Either way, we each have to come back to the spindly Christmas tree of our own yoga practice. Sometimes it feels droopy and sad, sometimes it perks up and feels strong and green and full of life...particularly when we're surrounded by those who care.
Most of the time it just IS. And the doing of the practice allows us to feel how it IS.
WE are what make our yoga practice authentic. Whether we pay for a class, practice in the yard, wear fancy togs, or throw on a T-shirt. Whether we focus on re-aligning our spine, or flowing with the breath, or what the air feels like on our skin.
I'll admit it: I've once or twice gotten myself to the mat with an intention no higher than, "I need to do this so I'll look better in the mirror." Those have not been my most inspired practices. And if that had been my intention every day, my practice would have been empty; I probably wouldn't have stuck with it very long. It's essentially a way to pump up the ego, make it believe it is a freestanding unit of body/mind, separate from everything and everyone else. That intention, to improve the individual self, can wind up separating you from others. Luckily, the techniques of yoga are designed to get you to pay close enough attention that you realize that separation is an illusion, and your intentions change as a result of what you notice (not because you force yourself to change).
When my focus is some (small or large) part of the interconnectedness of all things, that is when the practice feels authentic. That is when my body sings with feeling as I move. That is when I end with a sense that everything will be okay; no, it already is okay, and I am a part of that. I can do the right thing, because I can see more clearly.
So wear your fanciest pants or leave your pajamas on...practice with someone from India or someone from America...enjoy the silence or play Depeche Mode's "Enjoy the Silence"...just bring yourself and your highest intention today, and the practice will flow through you, and there will be no question that it is authentic.
23 July 2010
You'll never know unless you...
ask.
When you practice today, let your intention be an inquiry into the state of things. There is so much we don't notice...so formulate a question about how things are in your body, or in your mind, or in your emotions, right now. Let that be your focus.
I've practiced with inquiries such as:
How do I feel when I encounter a new and difficult situation?
Where does my mind go when it gets bored?
What happens when I breathe deeper into my lower back?
How do I feel when I go about 70% into each posture, instead of 100%?
So ask the question today. And tell us how it goes!
When you practice today, let your intention be an inquiry into the state of things. There is so much we don't notice...so formulate a question about how things are in your body, or in your mind, or in your emotions, right now. Let that be your focus.
I've practiced with inquiries such as:
How do I feel when I encounter a new and difficult situation?
Where does my mind go when it gets bored?
What happens when I breathe deeper into my lower back?
How do I feel when I go about 70% into each posture, instead of 100%?
So ask the question today. And tell us how it goes!
19 July 2010
Levity. Lightness. Levitation.
Lately I have been playing with different methods of transportation in my practice. Hovering my foot above the ground before I lunge, jumping, floating by piking my legs up, floating by curling my knees in...and, as a by-product of all this, sometimes plopping down unexpectedly.
I'm doing this not because it's going to lead me any faster to awakening than regular stepping and walking will. I do it because it's fun, and because I couldn't do it for most of two recent pregnancies, it's especially fun again now!
And that's been my simple intention for the last few practices: let it be fun.
I have a tendency to turn everything into work. I have an infant and a toddler now. It is sometimes fun. It is also a lot of work. The planning for, acquisition of, preparation of, and cleanup of every meal and beverage, and the resulting bodily outputs, takes up most of the day. Which is fine if you can do it without a two-year-old getting angry that you're not entertaining him at the same time. The rest of the time is filled with admonitions about what to do and what not to do, plus some questions and comments to try to educationally convey what the heck is going on around us.
Clearly, the best way to turn a surly two-year-old into a cooperative one in any situation where something must be done is to make it FUN.
Yes, piggyback rides and horsing around on the floor is out-and-out fun. But how do I let the "work" time with them be fun, too? That's what I am exploring in my yoga practice lately. How do I let the ordinary, repetitive, mundane activities of the day be light?
Whether I am paying bills, strapping a bored and resistant little boy into a car seat, or sitting at a desk trying to meet a deadline: If I had never done this before, how would this moment feel? If I didn't think I'd ever have the opportunity to do this, how would it feel to do it?
Sometimes we work therapeutically on the mat...sometimes gently...sometimes we're just there to have fun! Can that happen whether we are floating through the air, or resting in child (Balasana)? Trying a fancy new posture, or repeating an old standby?
I'm doing this not because it's going to lead me any faster to awakening than regular stepping and walking will. I do it because it's fun, and because I couldn't do it for most of two recent pregnancies, it's especially fun again now!
And that's been my simple intention for the last few practices: let it be fun.
I have a tendency to turn everything into work. I have an infant and a toddler now. It is sometimes fun. It is also a lot of work. The planning for, acquisition of, preparation of, and cleanup of every meal and beverage, and the resulting bodily outputs, takes up most of the day. Which is fine if you can do it without a two-year-old getting angry that you're not entertaining him at the same time. The rest of the time is filled with admonitions about what to do and what not to do, plus some questions and comments to try to educationally convey what the heck is going on around us.
Clearly, the best way to turn a surly two-year-old into a cooperative one in any situation where something must be done is to make it FUN.
Yes, piggyback rides and horsing around on the floor is out-and-out fun. But how do I let the "work" time with them be fun, too? That's what I am exploring in my yoga practice lately. How do I let the ordinary, repetitive, mundane activities of the day be light?
Whether I am paying bills, strapping a bored and resistant little boy into a car seat, or sitting at a desk trying to meet a deadline: If I had never done this before, how would this moment feel? If I didn't think I'd ever have the opportunity to do this, how would it feel to do it?
Sometimes we work therapeutically on the mat...sometimes gently...sometimes we're just there to have fun! Can that happen whether we are floating through the air, or resting in child (Balasana)? Trying a fancy new posture, or repeating an old standby?
07 July 2010
Not sure how to say it...but I know it happens.
I used to scoff at heart metaphors. "Open your heart," I'd say. "What the **** does that mean?" Metaphors are supposed to explain something new by referring to something more familiar. So I'm supposed to know what my "heart" feels like in order to understand compassion and empathy for others? I can find my heart rate. Is that good enough?
I was pretty stuck in my mind. Still am. But I understand now what the metaphors are trying to convey, because I've felt a lot more there, literally, in the area of my heart. It's funny how certain emotions are felt as physical sensations pretty much all the way up along the central line of the body--some things we feel strongly in the gut, others in the heart area, some in the throat, others in the head. Deep emotions sometimes, but rarely, manifest in the arms and legs.
Yoga explains this by using the model of chakras. Now, I emphasize that this is a MODEL, a way of describing, not a concrete representation of reality, because I don't believe that chakras are "things" that we can find along the spine, as they are often pictured. Rather, the model of the chakras provides a useful way to talk about how certain emotional, physical, and psychological issues are so often bound up together in ourselves and in others.
And this is something I have felt in my own body, and heard from students about, too. A woman recently told me about her mother's death a decade ago. She said that whenever she wanted to hold back tears during that time, say, at work, she'd tighten her left hip flexor. That would bury the emotion so she could avoid expressing her grief at that moment.
Of course, that grief did not disappear--it became tension in the front of her hip that she then had to work out, physically and/or emotionally. She had the awareness to watch it happen and know what to do. Lots of our emotions get stored as physical tension when we bottle them up.
In my own case, I have noticed how when I am anxious or worried, my left lower back tightens. Even with little things--I can feel it tighten as I pour windshield wiper fluid into my car and get concerned about spilling it. (So I wonder how much is happening there when I'm worried about how my son's speech is developing!)
And almost all of us can feel our shoulders hunch--forward and up--when we brace ourselves for bad news, stressful events, cold wintry days, driving in poor visibility...all kinds of situations in which we try to protect ourselves from what's happening. We're closing ourselves off, defensively.
Western psychology doesn't yet have a well-developed way to deal with that interconnection of thought, emotion, and physical sensation. But yoga does. More importantly, yoga offers the practices that allow us to EXPLORE those connections on our own and notice them for ourselves.
So stop reading and do your practice. Today, focus on opening your heart area. Literally. Do this:
--Where you are right now, draw your shoulderblades toward your spine and toward your tailbone. As you do this, feel the top of your upper arm bone move securely into the shoulder socket and back towards the wall behind you.
--Notice how this makes you feel. Proud? Open to what happens next? Vulnerable? Something totally different?
--Now make sure you haven't overarched your lower back as you did this. If you feel your low back get tense or your tailbone jutting out behind you, then draw your lowest front ribs in toward your spine and lift your lowest back ribs up a little. Let your tailbone descend toward the floor as you lift your front hip points by engaging your lower abdomen. Can you maintain the open heart as you do this?
--Breathe fully into your torso. Collarbones and upper back; ribcage front, sides, and back; and navel and lower back. Notice which areas "give."
See if you can do this for the next 15 minutes where you are right now...at a desk, lying in bed, waiting in a line with your iPhone, whatever. If you lose some part of this alignment, re-establish it.
Then when you get to your mat, begin each movement with the steps outlined above. This will seat the arm bones properly in the shoulder and stretch the pectoralis muscles. It will strengthen the rhomboids, middle trapezius, latissimus, and serratus muscles. It will strengthen your transversus (deep) and rectus (superficial) abdominal muscles and teach them to engage lightly for good posture all the time. It will help maintain normal spinal curves instead of reinforcing the excessive thoracic curve ('widow's hump') that develops from hunching those shoulders forward and up....
And it may even open your heart.
I was pretty stuck in my mind. Still am. But I understand now what the metaphors are trying to convey, because I've felt a lot more there, literally, in the area of my heart. It's funny how certain emotions are felt as physical sensations pretty much all the way up along the central line of the body--some things we feel strongly in the gut, others in the heart area, some in the throat, others in the head. Deep emotions sometimes, but rarely, manifest in the arms and legs.
Yoga explains this by using the model of chakras. Now, I emphasize that this is a MODEL, a way of describing, not a concrete representation of reality, because I don't believe that chakras are "things" that we can find along the spine, as they are often pictured. Rather, the model of the chakras provides a useful way to talk about how certain emotional, physical, and psychological issues are so often bound up together in ourselves and in others.
And this is something I have felt in my own body, and heard from students about, too. A woman recently told me about her mother's death a decade ago. She said that whenever she wanted to hold back tears during that time, say, at work, she'd tighten her left hip flexor. That would bury the emotion so she could avoid expressing her grief at that moment.
Of course, that grief did not disappear--it became tension in the front of her hip that she then had to work out, physically and/or emotionally. She had the awareness to watch it happen and know what to do. Lots of our emotions get stored as physical tension when we bottle them up.
In my own case, I have noticed how when I am anxious or worried, my left lower back tightens. Even with little things--I can feel it tighten as I pour windshield wiper fluid into my car and get concerned about spilling it. (So I wonder how much is happening there when I'm worried about how my son's speech is developing!)
And almost all of us can feel our shoulders hunch--forward and up--when we brace ourselves for bad news, stressful events, cold wintry days, driving in poor visibility...all kinds of situations in which we try to protect ourselves from what's happening. We're closing ourselves off, defensively.
Western psychology doesn't yet have a well-developed way to deal with that interconnection of thought, emotion, and physical sensation. But yoga does. More importantly, yoga offers the practices that allow us to EXPLORE those connections on our own and notice them for ourselves.
So stop reading and do your practice. Today, focus on opening your heart area. Literally. Do this:
--Where you are right now, draw your shoulderblades toward your spine and toward your tailbone. As you do this, feel the top of your upper arm bone move securely into the shoulder socket and back towards the wall behind you.
--Notice how this makes you feel. Proud? Open to what happens next? Vulnerable? Something totally different?
--Now make sure you haven't overarched your lower back as you did this. If you feel your low back get tense or your tailbone jutting out behind you, then draw your lowest front ribs in toward your spine and lift your lowest back ribs up a little. Let your tailbone descend toward the floor as you lift your front hip points by engaging your lower abdomen. Can you maintain the open heart as you do this?
--Breathe fully into your torso. Collarbones and upper back; ribcage front, sides, and back; and navel and lower back. Notice which areas "give."
See if you can do this for the next 15 minutes where you are right now...at a desk, lying in bed, waiting in a line with your iPhone, whatever. If you lose some part of this alignment, re-establish it.
Then when you get to your mat, begin each movement with the steps outlined above. This will seat the arm bones properly in the shoulder and stretch the pectoralis muscles. It will strengthen the rhomboids, middle trapezius, latissimus, and serratus muscles. It will strengthen your transversus (deep) and rectus (superficial) abdominal muscles and teach them to engage lightly for good posture all the time. It will help maintain normal spinal curves instead of reinforcing the excessive thoracic curve ('widow's hump') that develops from hunching those shoulders forward and up....
And it may even open your heart.
29 June 2010
Happy In(ter)dependence Day!
"The whole trend of modern civilization is towards external freedom. Free expression of opinion, free association...and freedom to pursue a vocation according to one's merits are essentially needed for making life fruitful and happy."
"But external freedom, in the last analysis, is egocentric, and should not miss its spiritual counterpart in internal freedom. Inner freedom consists in the conquest of lust, anger, greed, attachment, pride, and sloth. A happy blending of reason and love can alone bring about this freedom and give meaning to all forms of external freedom."
--Swami Avyaktananda
We celebrate each year how our founders fought for external freedoms. These freedoms, as the swami says, are crucial, and they have been defended and extended through the words and actions of many patriots since those first American ones we celebrate. We all benefit from these freedoms.
Inner freedom (moksha, in Sanskrit), on the other hand, each of us must establish on our own. And while effort and passionate discipline (tapas) are a big component of finding that freedom, so is surrender (ishvara pranidhana). Giving ourselves up to something larger than our own individual selves. God, if that is your parlance, or the universal consciousness, or just all living beings. Yogic texts leave it up to you to conceptualize that bigger thing (ishvara is the most abstract, generic term Sanskrit has for something divine and large, and that's the word used in Patanjali's Yoga Sutras, even though there are hundreds of other Sanskrit words and names for the divine that could have been used).
But surrender is harder to do than fighting, especially inside. In your practice today, can you begin from an attitude of surrender? Give up. Then practice anyway.
"The ultimate attainment is already ours, but the experience of it comes to us only when we are in a state of complete surrender. In case, "surrender" means the surrender of everything--every effort, desire, thought of attainment....The person who can do this becomes a fountain of consciousness."
--Swami Chetanananda
Throughout your practice, when you encounter resistance--physical, mental, whatever--ask yourself: What am I holding onto here?
"But external freedom, in the last analysis, is egocentric, and should not miss its spiritual counterpart in internal freedom. Inner freedom consists in the conquest of lust, anger, greed, attachment, pride, and sloth. A happy blending of reason and love can alone bring about this freedom and give meaning to all forms of external freedom."
--Swami Avyaktananda
We celebrate each year how our founders fought for external freedoms. These freedoms, as the swami says, are crucial, and they have been defended and extended through the words and actions of many patriots since those first American ones we celebrate. We all benefit from these freedoms.
Inner freedom (moksha, in Sanskrit), on the other hand, each of us must establish on our own. And while effort and passionate discipline (tapas) are a big component of finding that freedom, so is surrender (ishvara pranidhana). Giving ourselves up to something larger than our own individual selves. God, if that is your parlance, or the universal consciousness, or just all living beings. Yogic texts leave it up to you to conceptualize that bigger thing (ishvara is the most abstract, generic term Sanskrit has for something divine and large, and that's the word used in Patanjali's Yoga Sutras, even though there are hundreds of other Sanskrit words and names for the divine that could have been used).
But surrender is harder to do than fighting, especially inside. In your practice today, can you begin from an attitude of surrender? Give up. Then practice anyway.
"The ultimate attainment is already ours, but the experience of it comes to us only when we are in a state of complete surrender. In case, "surrender" means the surrender of everything--every effort, desire, thought of attainment....The person who can do this becomes a fountain of consciousness."
--Swami Chetanananda
Throughout your practice, when you encounter resistance--physical, mental, whatever--ask yourself: What am I holding onto here?
23 June 2010
Zoning In
When I stay in a hotel, or otherwise have access to unfettered television, it sucks me in. My attention becomes focused on something very much NOT of the here and now. This is not to say that TV is bad; it is just to agree with the many people who have described what happens as "zoning out." This may be why lots of people say they use TV to relax. It allows you to forget about your own here-and-now for a while.
But to me it feels like anything but relaxing. A long bout of television watching leaves me feeling much like I've chewed some gum way past any flavor payoff, and my jaw aches from the mastication. Research backs this up--watching TV keeps your sympathetic nervous system active. That's the part responsible for fight-or-flight reactions. But don't we all have enough situations in which we're already responding that way?
My yoga practice, on the other hand, gives me so many tools for zoning IN. The breath is the key one. When I focus only and exclusively on this full, smooth ujjayi inhale...this complete, slow ujjayi exhale...and I let the movements be secondary to my breathing...that's when I can zone IN on what's happening right here and now.
And that's good practice for staying attentive to the here-and-now off my mat, too. Many people would say that the vigorous type of vinyasa yoga I practice on my mat isn't very relaxing. Yet it prepares me to relax in so many ways.
It prepares me to relax, let go, and stay with what's happening when things are difficult (in my fifth straight balancing pose on my right leg, which is starting to quiver and shake). It prepares me to relax when I lie back for savasana at the end of class. And it prepares me to relax when I have to confront someone about a situation in which I'm not comfortable.
To start your yoga practice today, experiment with your ujjayi breath. (If you don't know what that is, find an experienced yoga teacher to show you.)
-Sit comfortably.
-See what it is like to make the inhales longer than the exhales. Do this for about 10 breaths.
-Now reverse it: make the exhales longer. Do this for about 20 breaths.
-Now make the inhales and exhales equal. (Use a metronome if you have one, or else just mentally count.) Do this for the rest of your practice. (Easy to say, hard to do.)
If you don't usually emphasize equal breathing during your yoga practice, this can be quite an eye-opener. We often shorten the inhales whenever things get difficult, and we often let the breath get shallow and quick when things get vigorous. Smooth it out. Zone in. Stay with what is happening here and now. If a posture is too intense to zone in, then back out of it physically until you can really stay with it mentally.
Doing this, you are practicing samavrtti ujjayi pranayama (equal-parts victorious breath) to develop pratyahara (sensory withdrawal). We withdraw the senses temporarily from outside stimuli to focus on what's happening inside for a while. We don't turn them off...we just turn them inward. And like turning on a microscope to see what's happening in a boring old drop of water, we can be surprised by how much is really going on in there!
But to me it feels like anything but relaxing. A long bout of television watching leaves me feeling much like I've chewed some gum way past any flavor payoff, and my jaw aches from the mastication. Research backs this up--watching TV keeps your sympathetic nervous system active. That's the part responsible for fight-or-flight reactions. But don't we all have enough situations in which we're already responding that way?
My yoga practice, on the other hand, gives me so many tools for zoning IN. The breath is the key one. When I focus only and exclusively on this full, smooth ujjayi inhale...this complete, slow ujjayi exhale...and I let the movements be secondary to my breathing...that's when I can zone IN on what's happening right here and now.
And that's good practice for staying attentive to the here-and-now off my mat, too. Many people would say that the vigorous type of vinyasa yoga I practice on my mat isn't very relaxing. Yet it prepares me to relax in so many ways.
It prepares me to relax, let go, and stay with what's happening when things are difficult (in my fifth straight balancing pose on my right leg, which is starting to quiver and shake). It prepares me to relax when I lie back for savasana at the end of class. And it prepares me to relax when I have to confront someone about a situation in which I'm not comfortable.
To start your yoga practice today, experiment with your ujjayi breath. (If you don't know what that is, find an experienced yoga teacher to show you.)
-Sit comfortably.
-See what it is like to make the inhales longer than the exhales. Do this for about 10 breaths.
-Now reverse it: make the exhales longer. Do this for about 20 breaths.
-Now make the inhales and exhales equal. (Use a metronome if you have one, or else just mentally count.) Do this for the rest of your practice. (Easy to say, hard to do.)
If you don't usually emphasize equal breathing during your yoga practice, this can be quite an eye-opener. We often shorten the inhales whenever things get difficult, and we often let the breath get shallow and quick when things get vigorous. Smooth it out. Zone in. Stay with what is happening here and now. If a posture is too intense to zone in, then back out of it physically until you can really stay with it mentally.
Doing this, you are practicing samavrtti ujjayi pranayama (equal-parts victorious breath) to develop pratyahara (sensory withdrawal). We withdraw the senses temporarily from outside stimuli to focus on what's happening inside for a while. We don't turn them off...we just turn them inward. And like turning on a microscope to see what's happening in a boring old drop of water, we can be surprised by how much is really going on in there!
16 June 2010
Playing in the Mud
It's an oft-used metaphor in yoga: the lotus, symbol of beauty and perfection, rises from mud. Not from perfect mounds of colored mulch, nor from pretty clay pots, but from the stuff that sank to the bottom of the water and collected there. The muck.
This is what we are faced with when we explore the yogic and buddhist concept of awakening. From what does our blossoming awareness come? From the muck! From the drudgery of everyday life, from the conflict, the messiness of it all.
That's the trap AND the release. Samsara (the wheel of life) IS nirvana (awakening, freedom from that wheel's repetition), as buddhism says. A regular practice of yoga asana (postures) and pranayama (breath and energy techniques) shows us this, whether or not we even purposely delve into the other limbs of yoga or the philosophies that sprang up around them!
When we confront the tightness, the weirdness, the asymmetry, the tenderness of the body each day, we sometimes feel trapped in this body, with its limitations. Why am I stuck in a body that can't do lotus/won't balance/creaks when it moves/is too big to bind a twist/is too small to hold itself up on its hands/betrays me in so many ways?
If we stick with it and are both gentle (ahimsa!) and passionately, willingly disciplined (tapas!) with ourselves, we see that it is in those limitations, in those weaknesses, in those gaps we perceive in ourselves, that the illumination occurs. The learning, the awakening. Nothing has to change. It's already there in the muck.
It's true in our minds, too. When they swirl like eddies of dirty water, all we have to do is watch. The dirt might settle, the water become clear. Or it might not. Either way, when we observe, we have a chance to notice how FULL each breath, each repetitive thought, each restricted movement is. The lotus is already there, in the mud, even if we don't see the petals on the surface of the water.
Let's play in the mud. What are the muddiest, messiest parts of your yoga practice? Hip opening? Transitions (like jumping back or stepping forward)? Seated meditation?
Can you observe these points today and watch for the beauty, the light, even in the parts that feel the muckiest?
(Playlist suggestion: Leonard Cohen's "Anthem". He reminds us in his lyrics: "Forget your perfect offering. There is a crack in everything. That's how the light gets in.")
This is what we are faced with when we explore the yogic and buddhist concept of awakening. From what does our blossoming awareness come? From the muck! From the drudgery of everyday life, from the conflict, the messiness of it all.
That's the trap AND the release. Samsara (the wheel of life) IS nirvana (awakening, freedom from that wheel's repetition), as buddhism says. A regular practice of yoga asana (postures) and pranayama (breath and energy techniques) shows us this, whether or not we even purposely delve into the other limbs of yoga or the philosophies that sprang up around them!
When we confront the tightness, the weirdness, the asymmetry, the tenderness of the body each day, we sometimes feel trapped in this body, with its limitations. Why am I stuck in a body that can't do lotus/won't balance/creaks when it moves/is too big to bind a twist/is too small to hold itself up on its hands/betrays me in so many ways?
If we stick with it and are both gentle (ahimsa!) and passionately, willingly disciplined (tapas!) with ourselves, we see that it is in those limitations, in those weaknesses, in those gaps we perceive in ourselves, that the illumination occurs. The learning, the awakening. Nothing has to change. It's already there in the muck.
It's true in our minds, too. When they swirl like eddies of dirty water, all we have to do is watch. The dirt might settle, the water become clear. Or it might not. Either way, when we observe, we have a chance to notice how FULL each breath, each repetitive thought, each restricted movement is. The lotus is already there, in the mud, even if we don't see the petals on the surface of the water.
Let's play in the mud. What are the muddiest, messiest parts of your yoga practice? Hip opening? Transitions (like jumping back or stepping forward)? Seated meditation?
Can you observe these points today and watch for the beauty, the light, even in the parts that feel the muckiest?
(Playlist suggestion: Leonard Cohen's "Anthem". He reminds us in his lyrics: "Forget your perfect offering. There is a crack in everything. That's how the light gets in.")
15 June 2010
You Look Fabulous. How Do You Feel?
Notice the moments you focus on how things look in your practice--toenails, clothing, mat, veins, the person in front of you, the teacher's outfit, even how your pose looks from the outside. Each time you find yourself caught in a thought about how things look, turn your awareness to how you feel. Notice the movement of your breath again. Notice the areas that feel open and any that feel tight or closed. Create actions that respond to those sensations rather than any observations or judgments of how things look. Rest your eyes on one point and let your vision become peripheral...not the center of your awareness. Or close your eyes.
Looking and being looked at are not bad things. At certain points in the process of learning yoga postures, they may be quite helpful--for instance, using a mirror or looking directly at a body part to see what it's doing and how it is aligned. Yet an overemphasis on vision can dull our other senses, and often we're already letting vision be our dominant sense throughout the day. So for your practice today, let go of how things look. Bring your attention back to how they feel.
Looking and being looked at are not bad things. At certain points in the process of learning yoga postures, they may be quite helpful--for instance, using a mirror or looking directly at a body part to see what it's doing and how it is aligned. Yet an overemphasis on vision can dull our other senses, and often we're already letting vision be our dominant sense throughout the day. So for your practice today, let go of how things look. Bring your attention back to how they feel.
11 June 2010
What Do You Worship?
In the words of my favorite writer...
"In the day-to day trenches of adult life, there is actually no such thing as atheism. There is no such thing as not worshiping. Everybody worships. The only choice we get is what to worship. And the compelling reason for maybe choosing some sort of god or spiritual-type thing to worship — be it JC or Allah, be it YHWH or the Wiccan Mother Goddess, or the Four Noble Truths, or some inviolable set of ethical principles — is that pretty much anything else you worship will eat you alive.
"If you worship money and things, if they are where you tap real meaning in life, then you will never have enough. Never feel you have enough..."
"Worship your body and beauty and sexual allure and you will always feel ugly. And when time and age start showing, you will die a million deaths before they finally grieve you."
"Worship power, you will end up feeling weak and afraid, and you will need ever more power over others to numb you to your own fear. Worship your intellect, being seen as smart, you will end up feeling stupid, a fraud, always on the verge of being found out.
"But the insidious thing about these forms of worship is not that they’re evil or sinful, it’s that they’re unconscious. They are default settings. They’re the kind of worship you just gradually slip into, day after day, getting more and more selective about what you see and how you measure value without ever being fully aware that that’s what you’re doing."
"And the so-called real world will not discourage you from operating on your default settings, because the so-called real world of men and money and power hums merrily along in a pool of fear and anger and frustration and craving and worship of self. Our own present culture has harnessed these forces in ways that have yielded extraordinary wealth and comfort and personal freedom."
"The freedom all to be lords of our tiny skull-sized kingdoms, alone at the center of all creation."
"This kind of freedom has much to recommend it. But of course there are all different kinds of freedom, and the kind that is most precious you will not hear much talked about in the great outside world of wanting and achieving and displaying. The really important kind of freedom involves attention and awareness and discipline, and effort and being able truly to care about other people and to sacrifice for them over and over in myriad petty little unsexy ways every day."
"That is real freedom."
Consider what you worship by default. What do your words, thoughts, and deeds reveal is most important to you? Is this leading you to freedom? If you choose your HIGHEST intention today for your yoga practice on the mat, what will it be? And when you leave the mat...what will your intention be? What will you worship as you go about your day today, with your thoughts, words, and actions?
(To read the rest of David Foster Wallace's speech, see "This is Water," available online or in book form. When the man who is now my husband asked me what I'd suggest to learn about yoga, I didn't tell him to get a book about postures...I told him to read this speech and take a class.)
"In the day-to day trenches of adult life, there is actually no such thing as atheism. There is no such thing as not worshiping. Everybody worships. The only choice we get is what to worship. And the compelling reason for maybe choosing some sort of god or spiritual-type thing to worship — be it JC or Allah, be it YHWH or the Wiccan Mother Goddess, or the Four Noble Truths, or some inviolable set of ethical principles — is that pretty much anything else you worship will eat you alive.
"If you worship money and things, if they are where you tap real meaning in life, then you will never have enough. Never feel you have enough..."
"Worship your body and beauty and sexual allure and you will always feel ugly. And when time and age start showing, you will die a million deaths before they finally grieve you."
"Worship power, you will end up feeling weak and afraid, and you will need ever more power over others to numb you to your own fear. Worship your intellect, being seen as smart, you will end up feeling stupid, a fraud, always on the verge of being found out.
"But the insidious thing about these forms of worship is not that they’re evil or sinful, it’s that they’re unconscious. They are default settings. They’re the kind of worship you just gradually slip into, day after day, getting more and more selective about what you see and how you measure value without ever being fully aware that that’s what you’re doing."
"And the so-called real world will not discourage you from operating on your default settings, because the so-called real world of men and money and power hums merrily along in a pool of fear and anger and frustration and craving and worship of self. Our own present culture has harnessed these forces in ways that have yielded extraordinary wealth and comfort and personal freedom."
"The freedom all to be lords of our tiny skull-sized kingdoms, alone at the center of all creation."
"This kind of freedom has much to recommend it. But of course there are all different kinds of freedom, and the kind that is most precious you will not hear much talked about in the great outside world of wanting and achieving and displaying. The really important kind of freedom involves attention and awareness and discipline, and effort and being able truly to care about other people and to sacrifice for them over and over in myriad petty little unsexy ways every day."
"That is real freedom."
Consider what you worship by default. What do your words, thoughts, and deeds reveal is most important to you? Is this leading you to freedom? If you choose your HIGHEST intention today for your yoga practice on the mat, what will it be? And when you leave the mat...what will your intention be? What will you worship as you go about your day today, with your thoughts, words, and actions?
(To read the rest of David Foster Wallace's speech, see "This is Water," available online or in book form. When the man who is now my husband asked me what I'd suggest to learn about yoga, I didn't tell him to get a book about postures...I told him to read this speech and take a class.)
31 May 2010
Yoga Strong
What do you need strength for this week? As you practice today, focus on developing strength in each movement and posture. Let go of the impulse to focus on muscular flexibility, especially if that is your usual inclination. Which areas tend to stay disengaged as you practice, until you bring full attention to them and isolate them? What do you need to do to wake them up? If you don't know, talk to your yoga teacher for some ideas. If you already know, then do it. Do it in a class, even if it means modifying the postures being cued by the teacher, or do it on your own at home, making up a sequence that challenges your weaker areas. Do it even if it means doing the postures sloppily, falling out of them, or not doing them as "deeply" as you usually do. Do it even if it means not going all the way into some poses so that your muscles stay engaged evenly. Wake up the parts of your body that are unconscious, underdeveloped.
For example, if your hip flexors (muscles on the fronts of your thighs and pelvis) and back muscles are stronger and tend to do your "core" work for you, find the movements that require you to engage your abdominals and hip extensors (muscles on the backs of your thighs and pelvis) instead. You may need to take your navasana (boat posture) lower to the ground. You may need to pull your lowest front ribs toward your front hip points in each down dog. You may need to stop piking each time you jump forward or back, and instead curl into a little ball. Your yoga teachers can show you many ways to integrate your efforts to strengthen a weaker area to bring balance to your body so that it works more fully as a whole.
And let your yoga practice help you develop the strength you need off the mat. You can do things without relying on those parts of yourself that usually "take over" to "get things done." For instance: If you rely on your organizational skills to get things done, wake up your spontaneity. If your interpersonal talents are strong, take some time to be alone and wake up your introspective abilities.
Most people are beginning to realize that yoga isn't all about stretching. You've known it for a while, I suspect. So today bring your focus to waking up those less-used, unconscious areas with mental awareness and muscular effort. If you notice something new, share it with us here!
For example, if your hip flexors (muscles on the fronts of your thighs and pelvis) and back muscles are stronger and tend to do your "core" work for you, find the movements that require you to engage your abdominals and hip extensors (muscles on the backs of your thighs and pelvis) instead. You may need to take your navasana (boat posture) lower to the ground. You may need to pull your lowest front ribs toward your front hip points in each down dog. You may need to stop piking each time you jump forward or back, and instead curl into a little ball. Your yoga teachers can show you many ways to integrate your efforts to strengthen a weaker area to bring balance to your body so that it works more fully as a whole.
And let your yoga practice help you develop the strength you need off the mat. You can do things without relying on those parts of yourself that usually "take over" to "get things done." For instance: If you rely on your organizational skills to get things done, wake up your spontaneity. If your interpersonal talents are strong, take some time to be alone and wake up your introspective abilities.
Most people are beginning to realize that yoga isn't all about stretching. You've known it for a while, I suspect. So today bring your focus to waking up those less-used, unconscious areas with mental awareness and muscular effort. If you notice something new, share it with us here!
21 May 2010
Past in Present
Can you remember what motivated you to take your first yoga class? Now what motivated you to practice this week? In today's practice, honor that which has brought you to this point in your practice--the people, situations, efforts, and accidents that have culminated in each breath you take...each movement you make...right now. The good, the bad, the ugly...the beautiful.
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