To teach and learn
I can remember back to one of my first Yoga classes in a studio apartment of my teacher. There was a candle lit, only a few of us in class; those same few that got together for chanting and meditating together. The studio was by a schoolyard, in a relatively quiet place and it had a cozy, homey feel to it. It was there that I was introduced to these different shapes of which I didn’t know yet their latent potential to stir and spin wheels in me that hadn’t been greased in years. I was about 16 years old, in the start of high school, feeling divided from my body with a longing to return. I kept practicing. During my second year of college I stopped going. It wasn’t fulfilling me and I was ready to explore so I left, for Colorado, to farm. I can remember doing Yoga there, the stretches I knew from my practice before. I would meditate in the green house and be engulfed by the smell of holy basil. It filled the air, and still to this day the smell of that and tomatoes brings me right back to that land. Dry land. I stretched there, not only in my body, but in my potential, in who I thought I was. And yet I was still running, running from something I didn’t know would follow me wherever I went. I was running from me and I was always right around the next corner, there, to meet myself. I could only get so far. Upon my return back to Massachusetts, where I was born and raised, I decided to go to Yoga school. I was 20 years old and it was an immersive program. There, at Kripalu, I lived in a dorm room with 20 other female presenting folx and it was like a college experience I never got living at home. Except there, there was practice, lots of practice, and saunas and steam rooms. It was also here where I had to begin the process of facing myself straight on. It seemed inevitable. Some of what we were asked to do brought to the surface old unprocessed wounds that lived on under my skin and now were screaming for help. They needed my attention and I was learning how to turn inward more deeply. For years, I had a daily practice of my own. It was around that time, after leaving Kripalu, that I sat my first Vipassana. The sensations in my body from sitting for hours on end, but also those familiar ones, that feel like a squeeze at the throat, a constriction in the heart, a tinge in the side; they were all there sitting with me. They were all asking to be felt, so there could be some type of resolution and liberation to what had been stuck in place. It was a journey, and still is to this day. I was sitting, moving my body, breathing, chanting, all in a room in my parents house where they so graciously let me make my own room of prayer. It was apart from where I slept and I would go there to practice. To turn inward. To feel myself and attempt to create a spaciousness in my tissues, in my mind, in my heart. I think, then, I wasn’t as sure of what I was doing as hindsight supports me to see more clearly. I would go with others, to sing together and at times I would cry. Cry and cry. I wasn’t sure what was happening but there was a feeling of releasing. Did I understand? No. Did I want to? Yes. Was it necessary? Not really. It was happening, and that’s all I needed to know. Fast forward about 10 years as I write today sitting in a snow globe, feeling the safety in my body, the aliveness from toes to head, and the attention that is resting inside. Last year as this time I was in a 3 month Yoga intensive, and after having already practised for over 10 years, my relationship to Yoga was turned upsidedown – as both student and a teacher. For the first time I was consciously asking myself: what is this practice? What is my relationship to my body? What do I hope to get out of this? What are my expectations of Hatha? Sure, I was likely addressing these prior but not with awareness. Now, I was answering my own questions, in a deep pool of reflection. Many people think Yoga and think Asana. Posture, shape. That is an aspect of what Yoga is. For me, Yoga is a way of living life. It is a way to embody myself and become big to co-create with the force of her Shakti. To let myself be moved by Her, a willing dance partner. Yoga is moment to moment, in the choices I make, in the way I speak, to myself and others, in the way I conduct my life. It is freeing myself of limitations – good and bad, right and wrong, this and that, all the thought forms and personality aspects that aren’t really me. And yet, I still live in this world where there is apparently 2, duality, the paradox of life as suffering. At times, it feels so odd. And yet, how do we begin to live the practice so it isn’t just something we do but rather we be yogis and yoginis. Yes? We take it in. We emenate. Breathe by breathe. Can it cut through some of the divide? And as a teacher, as a student – what are the responsibilities? The expectations? We are all both, are we not? Teacher and student alike. Yasodhara Ashram, where I most recently completed a second Hatha certificate course following the 3 month program encourages the students to become independent. Is not a noble teacher one that is able to let there students go? To teach themselves, to discover, to be
Body Story
The body, what abides there? What does it have to offer? To teach? And what do we, as inhabitants, have to learn? What type of relationship with this vessel do we want to cultivate? Take a moment and see what’s happening in your body right now. Either close the eyes or keep them open; your choice. Start to attune to the periphery of your body; your edges where you and the world meet. Feel into the hands and feet, the touch of clothes or atmosphere, the felt sense of temperature, the felt sense of quality: What do you notice? Inwardly move to the legs and arms, to the buttocks and shoulders with a curious and compassionate attention inquiring on the level of sensation, whether gross or subtle. Slowly make way towards center. Feel the torso: the spine, back, abdomen and chest. The rhythm of the breathe, incoming, outgoing. The head and organs of perception. What do you sense? What becomes alive in the presence of your awareness? If it is the smallest hint of a sensation, how do you relate? What is your relationship with your body? If sensations are chaotic, or a cause of overwhelm, you might consider returning to the hands and feet – a place that tends to be more neutral in the body and re-discover that place of calm, perhaps asking the sensations to step outside of your body vessel as your ground into the present moment as best as you can. This is the start of a cleaning. The cleaning that comes with awareness to what is living on in the body. Taking steps little by little we begin to discover: our aches and pains, chronic and perhaps mechanical stores of tension, places gone numb with no sensation at all, the pulse of warmth and vibration, the undercurrent of an aliveness that fuels our very existence. It is all there, isn’t it? Within the sheath of skin is an array of opposites on the level of sensation, thought, word, emotion; we, as human beings, display the totality of potential in what is experienced and what is expressed. We can close down, and for very good reasons, we do. In the name of safety we go numb. We shut the doors and throw out the keys to certain aspects of ourselves. We divide….only welcoming a range of experience that we feel okay with to visit into this body house. The rest are deemed as unfamiliar guests, or perhaps unwanted and banned from entry entirely. In the name of safety; we do this. In the name of preservation, of our own sanity. Is there another way? How do we slowly welcome and meet straight on what has been swept under the rug, living behind closed doors? How is compassion and care generated and given to our current predicament right now, in body? We are exploring the relationship to the body/vessel/house. The various ways that it is experienced and the relationships that come from that. What is your body story? Your relationship to your body? If your body could tell you a secret, what might it be? If you could offer to your body a gift, what would you give?
Reflections on Lotus
Before entering into lotus pose I feel a stirring, a movement, a restlessness; wondering, what will come next? Will I blossom? Will I find fulfillment in my life and be able to give back? What purpose am I here for? This Divine Plan that I am a part of – whats going to come of it and when? It is the end of an old cycle and the start of a new; the time of transition, happening right here and now. I feel it in my bodies wake; something is happening that I have to yet see the culmination of; it isn’t the time to make visible what is being but has yet to come. The seeds have been sown and are now burrowed in soils embrace; I, the one who is impatient. But why? What’s the rush? This process has nothing to do with my worth or okay-ness; it is a process of life living itself through me. Can I remember that? Can I not take things as such personal jabs to my esteem and rather relax into this miracle unfolding? In that way, might I be a more capable handmaiden for these gifts? Capable in the sense of recognition: I play a part in this…that paradox of being important, of course, and totally not. There is a vision from Eagle to mediate the difference between that which wants to move and the stillness from which movement is revealed. Right now is the slowing time, the time where Earth is frozen over, when waters too are seeming to stop with sheets of ice; the time of hibernation, of pause. If growth were to happen now, the cold would only kill that which wants to live. The seeds are germinating and they must do so. These cycles are a part of the life death life rhythm that we are each, whether we embrace or resist, are intrinsically a part of too. At this time, what is dying in me? What is gestating, preparing to emerge? I can feel the pulse of something new, the sense of what is to come and yet has it to make an appearance. Do I trust it is there? I know it to be so; it is an experiential truth. I remember, life is birthed at the right time and not through force and ambition. The invitation now is to wait and be present throughout the process. It is the journey, so they say. Before growth, let the sediment settle. I am reminded of water. Of the lotus. How hard it can be to see to the deep when water has been shaken up. First things have to find there place then what is underneath will be exposed and the Path will become clear, not at all once but gradually, little by little. There is the light, always. All the shifts that have taken place need to re-organize in this body mind before they slowly lift towards the surface, the world outside there ready to receive. I have the time. So I sit, in lotus pose, with my feet crossed, both atop opposite thighs. It is as if when I enter the pose I am stuck. I put myself into a container; the feet are bound to one another, to the base, and that stillness that I knew I had needed is the only real option. My feet, wrapped around eachother and settled in my seat, hold a place for me to peer within by stopping my inclination to do, move, be somebody through action. Now, my action is stillness to attune to another kind of movement. Movement is always happening, at different levels of expressive tone. Sometimes, it is so very subtle, like small waves. Other times, it is almost difficult to not see what is so apparent. But if those big shifts happen repetitively turbulence is created. To give the time and space for resolution is like the seasons and what their teachings. Cycles, although blending into eachother, do have distinction.
The Depth of Asana
Yoga, a path with depth encouraging us to renounce limitations, is a noble path to embark upon. Where do we begin? Many of us start this journey learning the basic postures as a way to address the physical body, improving flexibility and strength. Others might look for tools to calm the mind, reduce worry and anxiety, and discover, at best, who they are and what gives their life meaning. What do these shapes that we create with our bodies really have to offer? Is there an innate wisdom and latent messages within each posture we assume, and if so, how do we contact that place? When we stand in Warrior pose, for instance, how do we become the warrior? What strength needs to be cultivated in our life to meet the challenges of a particular situation? This asana has a gift to give. We step our feet apart, lift our arms, stretching out from the shoulders, and look forward, off into the distance. Hinging at the knee we engage the legs, we settle down into our stance. We arrive, breathing, focusing with a soft gaze. Standing in Warrior 2 our strength increases. How can that strength be applied and integrated? Every asana contains a message and has a power more than meets the eye. The way we approach practice influences what will be received. All of the benefits are given to us, if we do our part. What does it take to do our part? Through dedication and perseverance we change, coming to understand what each pose mean to us, what they are here to teach. Through inquiry coupled with an ever-expanding awareness we might touch that “something more”. Even if Yoga is approached solely on the physical level we undoubtedly impact other aspects of the body-mind. Sometimes, we can sense this: thoughts normally running a mile per minute begin to slow down; we might have a better hold on emotions and more of a capacity to discriminate and apply the power of choice in how we respond to the moments of life. Perhaps other times, we wonder: is this really having an impact on the person I am becoming? How do I know that I am changing? Retreating into our shell, we sit. Weaving arms under legs, the head drops and neck releases towards the feet. Tortoise pose, an invitation to turn inwards. This can been seen in the shape of the body: we are no longer looking out but rather within. The back and inner legs stretch; breathe moving to impact the state tension that has been carried. Is the turtle tense? How do they move through the world? What can be learned from this ancient creature? Slowing down and resisting temptation there is a space to pause, to just be. We have the opportunity to withdraw and retreat, to inquire: how do I come back to my center? How do I navigate the waters of imagination, of fear, of desire? The body is perceptive, brilliant, intelligent. It takes in and is altered by thought, by word, by deed. As an alive system it balances many working parts contained within its wholeness harmoniously. The body, a spiritual tool for our evolution and development. Is there something more that happens on the mat? The turtle knows there is. The turtle has access to the depth of the ocean, a place of great mystery to us who only see the surface. How do we dive beyond the surface of our practice into this world of possibility, of potential? We lie in corpse pose, dropping into the omnipresent awareness and dying to the rest of the world. In the simplicity of the pose we return to that place within ourselves that knows how to rest into being without doing a thing. And yet we do not die. Awareness is a key to receive the innate intelligence within the body and connect with the force behind every movement we make on and off the mat. How do you unlock Yoga?
Creating Sacred Space
The Earth is sacred, alive, our Mother. Our bodies, a temple for the Divine to experience this life. All our relations whether they walk or fly or slither are embedded with the sacred, are mirror images of oneness having divided itself for the sake of playing, learning, evolution. How often is this remembered? How easy is it to slip into such forgetfulness that what was known, and still is somewhere, can hardly be recognized? It is like meeting a best friend from grade school as an elder and being unaware of who they truly are. That is what it’s like to forget. And yet that moment, when the gears set in motion and recall comes back, that is She!, it is undeniable, of course. It couldn’t be otherwise. We are beings made of Light and vibration, imbued with the Great Force of the Universe, a power to be revered. Joyfully, there could be celebration with this recognition of the limitless potentials called moments, our ability as creators to create, and the way we are filled to the brim with star stuff. There was a time when this wasn’t in question. There also came a time when this truth seemed to be forgotten, and continues to be forgotten in the moments of daily life. Perhaps, somewhere, it is still as luminous as ever. How would you know? How might I find out? The depth of this vastness is beyond my comprehension or my ability to explain in words. Maybe if I could go back to being an infant, warm, present, and undivided, I would again be that. Am I ever not that Light and vibration? Is it like the sun that gets covered over by clouds but is still there shining? Is there a place where the sun has no shadow? What might that place be like? Is it possible, that it could be here, on Earth? In brief, and fleeting moments, I feel as though I know: I am not this body, I am not this mind. It can be quite disorienting, but even more painful becomes believing that I am this body and this mind and all that comes along with it – the judgment, doubt, shame, blame, the indecision, fear, anxiety. All those Earthly things. And yet, I am here on Earth. That is a fact. A medial walker, moving between two worlds, the worlds of appearances, of the unmanifest and manifest, the world of invisibility and form. These worlds, this play, the creators, us – what is the responsibility here? How do we create a sacred space that acknowledges, reveres, and steps into the gracious opportunity to be a co-creator with the Divine? What might that look like? And how, will we know when it’s happening? It cannot just be a one time thing but a choice made again and again and again.