Recently I heard a This American Life segment featuring a man who couldn't decide on a couch.
I related to this "problem." We recently bought our first couch. Not a futon, not a loveseat...a real couch. Much more money than ever before spent on any furnishing. Much more space occupied by this hulking object. A lot of options to consider. I could relate. I wanted something more special for my money than I had ever gotten in any single object before. (Except my iPhone.) I almost got a blue couch, that's how special and unusual I wanted it to be.
But this guy couldn't decide for about fifteen years.
The segment compared his sofa indecision--his endless magazine perusals, specialist referrals, and returns--to his dating indecision. He was a man without a couch and without a significant other, with dreams of the perfect mate and the perfect lounge space, neither of which had come along just yet.
Which made me think about how we each choose any of the people or objects to whom we offer our time and our space. At a certain point in the research and in the dreaming, we may find someone or something that seems absolutely perfect. We must have it, or die trying. Usually these ones feel a little out of reach.
Or we may find someone or something that seems to work well enough, and is within reach. The couch man seemed to fear that anything he could actually have in his living room wouldn't be all that great. He feared "settling."
But regardless--whether we "settle" for what is within reach or "strive" for something a bit beyond--there hopefully comes the point at which we have the person or the couch in our living room. Whether we did or did not think it was possible, it is here, now. The honeymoon commences.
And as the sheen of newness is dulled, as wear and tear accrues, we have a choice. An even more crucial turning point than the original decision!
We can think that we know all there is to know about this loved one, that he/she/it has become familiar.
Or we can choose to stay aware of the mystery that remains. The ways in which the loved one will surprise us and support us in new and unfamiliar ways as they change over time.
This is actually a lot easier to see with a human being than with a couch, if only we open our eyes!
Dedicate a practice to a loved one who surprises you. Or dedicate it to cultivating the ability to SEE how that loved one can surprise you, can still have mysteries hidden within, and aspects you haven't yet noticed.
13 October 2011
05 October 2011
Sacred
What do you do to make your time on the mat special?
At the very least, you create a space you will practice within: you lay down a mat. You may also light a candle, play music, or scent the room with incense or essential oils. You may begin by settling your body into a particular posture, bringing to mind an intention, chanting a mantra, or starting ujjayi breathing.
Some combination of these elements helps set your yoga practice apart from the rest of the day. These sensory cues and actions allow us to let go of the concerns we've been carrying for hours, weeks, years...and focus on what's right here and now. And that's a lot, but that's not all that these things do. They also remind us that what is happening right here and now, and what we are about to do, is special. Sacred.
So today note the ways you have of centering yourself and initiating your yoga practice. The yogis have handed us a cornucopia of methods for noticing the present moment and realizing how special, how precious it is. Carry that through your entire practice: this down dog--the 24, 297th down dog I have done--is unique and divine. This little shoulder twinge that makes me modify my twists--that too is precious--just as is this feeling of relief and expansive joy that I feel in this chest opener.
Now here's the tricky part: How do we leave our mat, leave the yoga class, and initiate yet another chapter of special and sacred, when we have to do mundane repetitive things like drive home, fold clothes, wait in line, pay bills, attend a meeting? How do we internally light a candle to remind ourselves to continue to realize what is sacred in each and every mundane moment of our lives?
Because that's what the yogis tell us, through the years. There is no real separation of sacred/not sacred. Our perception that some things are sacred and others are profane, ordinary, taboo, or boring is...just not accurate. It's useful, sometimes, to remind ourselves of how sacred things CAN be, even in our limited current perception...but it's not accurate. It's just useful for jump-starting our awareness of how incredibly special everything is.
What reminds YOU? How do you keep the sacred in sight when the mundane overwhelms?
At the very least, you create a space you will practice within: you lay down a mat. You may also light a candle, play music, or scent the room with incense or essential oils. You may begin by settling your body into a particular posture, bringing to mind an intention, chanting a mantra, or starting ujjayi breathing.
Some combination of these elements helps set your yoga practice apart from the rest of the day. These sensory cues and actions allow us to let go of the concerns we've been carrying for hours, weeks, years...and focus on what's right here and now. And that's a lot, but that's not all that these things do. They also remind us that what is happening right here and now, and what we are about to do, is special. Sacred.
So today note the ways you have of centering yourself and initiating your yoga practice. The yogis have handed us a cornucopia of methods for noticing the present moment and realizing how special, how precious it is. Carry that through your entire practice: this down dog--the 24, 297th down dog I have done--is unique and divine. This little shoulder twinge that makes me modify my twists--that too is precious--just as is this feeling of relief and expansive joy that I feel in this chest opener.
Now here's the tricky part: How do we leave our mat, leave the yoga class, and initiate yet another chapter of special and sacred, when we have to do mundane repetitive things like drive home, fold clothes, wait in line, pay bills, attend a meeting? How do we internally light a candle to remind ourselves to continue to realize what is sacred in each and every mundane moment of our lives?
Because that's what the yogis tell us, through the years. There is no real separation of sacred/not sacred. Our perception that some things are sacred and others are profane, ordinary, taboo, or boring is...just not accurate. It's useful, sometimes, to remind ourselves of how sacred things CAN be, even in our limited current perception...but it's not accurate. It's just useful for jump-starting our awareness of how incredibly special everything is.
What reminds YOU? How do you keep the sacred in sight when the mundane overwhelms?
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