The Call of Yoga

I find it interesting how in the more busy, chaotic times ,particularly during the holiday season, I search for opportunities to escape with meditation and yoga. My house was not perfectly clean or decorated for Christmas , nor did I get to bake the numerous batches of holiday cookies I had planned , nor did I get all the specials and sales at the stores I wanted. But I was able to enjoy more peace and harmony with my family and I know my kids and husband appreciated this. I have to say that taking that one hour a day several times a week and working on meditation has helped me to focus and appreciate more on what really matters in my life. On those days when I had skipped yoga sessions, my body ached and I found it more challenging to be focused, patient, appreciative and sometimes even more loving.

So now when I know a particular hectic week is coming up, I try to schedule events and appointments around yoga.

I was not there but I was

Today I decided to go swimming instead of going to the 12:15 Wed. class with L.L. No swimming did I do because there was no water in the pool. The Yoga class had already started so I decided to do some other exercises instead. I really wanted to go into the hot tub after all of the shovelling, but that was closed also. I did manage to spend some time in the sauna which was most relaxing. I then went upstairs to wait for my wife. The Yoga class had probably just started to meditate, so I decided to sit down outside of the door and do the same. I was amazed how quickly I was able to get into the meditative state. I could not hear voices or music, but I felt as though there were no walls separating me from the class. I ended my meditation when I heard the three chimes. This sound did pass through the walls. I could just about make out the sounds of the three ohms, and I joined in on my own. Only I could hear myself, but that was just fine.

I can't do that

The other day during Yoga class I could not help but to notice a young woman who was in front of me. I had not seen her before in our class. After a few poses, it was clear to me that she was very accomplished in her Yoga skills. The most dramatic pose was one in which she placed her leg behind her head. I could not help thinking that no matter how much I practiced, I would never be able to do that. At the end of class I complimented her on her extraordinary abilities. After that I spent a lot of time thinking about what I might be able to do with more intense practice. I have found that I practice Yoga in waves. I might do a lot of Yoga for several weeks or months, and then I might slow down for any number of reasons. After one of these periods of less Yoga activity, I have found that it takes several sessions to get back to where I might have been. That is sort of where I am now.

I don't think that I want to be able to place my foot behind my head, nor do a head stand for my inversion. Nor do I think that I will ever do a full Vee pose with my legs going out at 180 degrees as do most of the instructors (and the person who I described above.) I do think that I derive a lot of positiveness with what I can do. I am constantly trying to stretch just a little more during certain poses. I guess this goes with the idea of trying to improve my abilities. What I really want is to have a sense of satisfaction and internal pease at the conclusion of each session regardless of who is in front of, behind, or next to me.

Listening to Robert Thurman

Yesterday I was listening to Robert Thurman on hayhouseradio.com. Here are some gems that fell from his lips:
Nirvana is blownawayness.
Selflessness is the creative side of you that does not give in to the self that has internalized fear and despair; it is the door to the heart.
Wisdom is the doorway to compassion.
Be open. Be willing to be surprised.
In the Burmese meditation tradition, you offer loving kindness to yourself, and then work your way out to extend loving compassion to your friends, relatives, neutral people, difficult people, and to all beings. You breathe in and breathe out as you focus on this loving compassion exercise--may all beings be safe; may all beings be happy.

Plow pose

Several days ago I found that I could not bend to the extent that I normally do during plow pose. This is easy for me to measure because when I am doing this position, my feet will touch the floor. Pushing harder only caused pain, and I am not sure of how much pain one should create in order to get the most out of a Yoga session. So my feet did not touch while doing this pose. Several days later, I found that my body was at ease during the entire session. The positions were relaxing and I found myself going into them with ease, confidence and strength. The inversion was shoulder stand which was followed by plow pose. My feet easily touched the floor with little or no pain. I guess that all of the leafs that I raked up during the interval between these two classes made me more flexible or maybe just more tolerant to pain.

ardha chandrasana

In Friday's yoga class as well as in today's, I felt very comfortable doing ardha chandrasana (half-moon). Ah, as my right leg planted itself firmly, my left leg went up easily, my left hip turned outward slightly, my left hand went straight up. I felt more like a bird in flight than a half moon suspended in the sky.
I felt light. I could have stood like that for ages. It felt so comfortable.
Women, it is great pose to do especially if your period is delayed. After all, our cycles are governed by the moon!

What time is it?

It is 11:36 AM on Friday November 5. About an hour ago I returned from a most refreshing Yoga class led by Linda. The first thing that I did after getting into my house was to put on my watch. Next I set the microwave to 39 seconds to heat the milk for my coffee latte. I then phoned friends to make dinner plans. We will meet at 5:45 tonight. It can't be 5:30 because that is too early for them, and I have to feed the dogs at 5:15 and then let them out. So 5:30 is a good......

I now make it a standard practice to remove my watch when I practice Yoga. Time is something that I am constantly aware of with just a few exceptions. Yoga class is one of those exceptions. Yoga is when I can be with myself, and time is something that I do not want to be aware of nor measure during my practice. Most of the time I look at my watch to see not what time it is, but rather to know one of two things: how long it will be until something that I am doing will end, or how much time do I have until the next thing that I have to do. One of the great things about Yoga is that I can be in the moment of the class without thinking about the million and one other things going on in my life. Doing this is not always easy, and it does take a lot of practice. In our age of multi-tasking, and constantly being aware of the time, I feel that the time spent away from the awareness of the time is most valuable.
It is now 11: 50

Downward dog

Yesterday at Yoga we were asked to do the downward facing dog pose. I immediately got into the pose without looking at the instructor or anyone else to see if I was doing it correctly. It was so relaxing and familiar to me. I thought back to when I first started practicing Yoga which was many years ago, and the instructor (probably Linda) demonstrated downward dog. We were told that this was a relaxing and refreshing pose. I could barely get my heals to touch the mat. Everything hurt, and I thought, 'how could this be relaxing?' I looked at the people next to me to see how my downward dog attempt compared to their pose... not too good.

We live in a world of constant change some of which is positive, and some of which is not. The downward dog pose does not change. People have been doing this pose the same way for countless years. For me there is a beauty to this. Going into this pose during my practice now represents a comfortable, relaxing and familiar place. It may have taken me several years of Yoga, but now I find that I am refreshed and happy to be in this pose.
And a happy Adho Mukha Svanasana to you.

There is a wonderful meditation class that I think everyone in our Yoga class would enjoy. It takes place at the Bates House which is near the Emma Clark Library in Setauket. The class meets on Thursdays from 10:00Am to 11:00Am. It also meets from 7:00PM-8:00PM, but I have never been to the later session. Joe Edley leads these very relaxing classes which are free and are open to the public. Participants use Yoga mats, chairs and towels to sit on. My choice is a Yoga mat. For more information, go to:
http://www.frankmelvillepark.org

note: I also posted this under the comments section of my last post, but I thought more people might see it here.
Rich

Sunday sub

This past Sunday I went to our Yoga class which is usually lead by a most competent Yoga intructor. She was not present, and the class was lead by a substitute. I assumed that the class would be just another class, but I was pleasantly surprised because the instructor taught the class in such a positive way. As a retired middle school teacher, the word substitute conjures up a less than positive image. It is not that a public school substitute does not try, it is just that middle school students are often less than easy to work with. It is so different in a Yoga class because there are usually no middle school aged children present. I like everyone else in the class attends because we want to, not because we have to. The Yoga instructor has the advantage of being able to teach the class without interruption. This particular class was important for me because I had been away from Yoga for several weeks. I could have done Yoga on the cruise ship, but I was too busy taking in the Greek Isles as well as the food.

I measure success in a number of ways. I felt that the class was a success for me because I was able to get into the flow of my practice very quickly with the expert directions of our substitute instructor. I had no muscular ill effects after the practice. After the class, I had to wait in line to thank the instructor because several members of the class were also doing this.

It is nice to know that people will perform a task at their best even if they are "just subbing"

difficult people

Wayne Dyer, the TV guru, jokes, "Relatives are the most difficult people." It is a challenge to deal with them even if you are not living with them. Spiritualists, from Thich Naht Hanh to Pema Chodron, state that the difficult people you encounter are there to challenge you in your spiritual practice. In other words, what is the point to your spiritual practice if you can't practice it on these difficult people? Thich Naht Hahn speaks from his experience of speaking with the enemies who oppressed and killed his fellow monks during the American war in Vietnam. Pema Chodron left a difficult marriage and years later, when she was deep into her life as a Buddhist nun, communicated with her ex-husband. The Dalai Lama continues to speak out against the oppression of Tibet (from where he and his fellow monks had to flee in 1959) by the Chinese governement, but he is able to say that he loves the Chinese, including the government officials who are carrying out their terribly oppressive policies on the inhabitants of Tibet. How is this possible?
I realize as I look at myself, I find it impossible to talk to someone who has been mean to me. As I am deepening my yogic practice--bhakti, hatha, and karma--I am thinking I need to practice the art of communicating with difficult people, even relatives who have been far from civil to me and my children. When I expressed this to a friend, he said I was on the right track. He said, "Look at nations who have been at war with each other because they simply stick to their positions. Once warring nations begin talking, then there is a chance for each side to air out their positions, their differences, and reach some kind of compromise." I too had been thinking about this analogy between differences of opinion between people and differences between nations.  If I continue to be locked in my position, then there will only be a stalemate. Do I really want that? Or, do I want to achieve a spiritually advanced position of reaching beyond the anger and bitterness caused by differences? Someone opposed to this way of thinking might say that I am simply giving in to the other side and am forgetting the terrible wrong done to me. My response is that this is too simplistic and does not address the question that is at the heart of any spiritual practice: how do you communicate with another despite the other person being difficult? If the other person is violent, physically or emotionally, of course you must think of your safety first. But as time elapses, isn't there a possibility for civil discourse?

arriving and leaving

I was telling a friend about two losses in our family, and she said, "It was time to leave, so they left. Philosophically, it is easier to see that, but we still miss them." I began thinking about the way we use language to describe the appearances and disappearances of people or animals. We generally use words like "birth" and "death." Both these words assert a definite beginning and an end. But my friend's word "leaving" stayed with me. Arriving and leaving offer the sense of coming and going. They give us the sense that there is no border between the here and the there. We appear out of nowhere or somewhere and leave to nowhere or somewhere (depending on our faith). We are like passengers on a train, getting off at the stop called Planet Earth, and taking off one day on a train to another destination. But the leave taking seems to have the suggestion of return; it is more like an au revoir than the goodbye that death suggests. Death gives the feeling of all the memories, imagination, and aspirations coming to a grinding halt. Whereas, leaving gives the feeling of those memories, imagination, and aspirations of the one who has left still lingering. The other side of the tracks is vaguely visible through the mist. The images of the departed lean into our dreams as if they have never left. They sometimes come back in the birth of a new family member, a friend, an angel. The mist lifts, thickens, or thins; it becomes part of our world, veiling and unveiling itself.

renovation

Have you ever experienced getting your home renovated, if not the entire house, perhaps a room? Well, home renovation is a time of disarray; dust, noise, clutter, and loss of personal space are its hallmarks. When I had my kitchen refurbished over the summer, I pretty much lost much of my valuable summer time meant for relaxation and soaking in the wonders of sea and sand or hiking in the woods perfumed by lilac. I lost the silence, the cleanliness, and the homeliness that are important for creative thought. The dust, the microwaved food, the piles that got higher in the adjacent rooms, made me feel I was in a war zone. The open architecture of the house did not allow for doors to be locked shut. The prospect of a haven became a chimera.
But, of course, all renovations, hopefully, come to an end. Ours did too. And then began the arduous task of cleaning up and putting things in their respective places. As I began to do this, my cheerfulness returned. It felt wonderful to bring order out of chaos, create a clean space, fill it with the required material and trash junk.
Renovation is a great metaphor for the making or remaking of the spirit. I observed my transition from despair to relief, from deprivation of beauty to finding beauty. And it does not have to be such a huge undertaking as a renovation to experience this. Emptying out the refrigerator, cleaning, and putting back the essential usable items and trashing the rest gives us the comforting and satisfying feeling that we get when we have cleaned out an old issue that has nagged us and have begun to have a fresh perception about this issue. Clutter and renewal, I guess, is the stuff of life.

present tense

A cool September wind blows through my yard as I open the door to let my dog out. I take a few gulps of this fresh morning air.
Thoughts are in heavy traffic the first few minutes of my meditation practice before they disperse, but not entirely.
The fall sun is spectacular. It is a Midas lighting everything it touches, the floor, the bamboo carpet, the orchids by the window, the slats, walls, pictures, and all.
Trees and plants are making an ocean sound.
Shadows dance on the lawn.
Where are the birds this morning?
Steven links emptiness to Leonard Cohen's song about love.
I love this sentence by Barbara Stoller Miller: "The aim of yoga is to eliminate the control that material nature exerts over the human spirit, to rediscover through introspective practice what the poet T.S. Eliot called the "still point of the turning world."
I carry this sentence in me as I begin my day.

Yoga Sutra #2: citta vrtti nirodha

When Patanjali wrote this sutra, he must have experienced the basic human need to quiet the mind.  Even the machinery around us, although they are inanimate, need to be shut off for a bit, so they last. Although he must have been surrounded by less noise pollution, the frenzy of daily living must not have been alien to him even in 3rd century A.D. He must have sighed, and in that sigh he must have felt the slow quieting down of the body and the mind. And this first epiphany of how vrtti (movement)  of citta (thought) can indeed be nirodh (controlled) must have made him utter this sutra, the lynchpin of the entire philosophy in Yoga Sutra.
When I begin my yoga practice for the day with adhamukhasvanasana, my legs are stiff and my hands begin to feel tired. But as the turnings of my thought are quieted into the breathing, then each time I come into this asana, the limbs feel lighter and lighter, the back gets straighter, and my asana looks as effortless as my dog makes it seem. Breathing is the key to get the monkey mind tethered.  Once quieted, for half hour or so, then the world looks newer and we feel glorious.
Patanjali found this jewel of peacability lies within us.

What are the things in life that make you joyous?

Things that make me joyous:
Waking up at dawn and listening to the silence, watching the sky change color.
Meditating with my dog in the early hours.
Sipping tea and reading a book.
Admiring the alabaster orchid blossoms blooming in the window.
Listening to classical music.
Going for walks in the woods and stopping now and then to make a painting with my portable watercolor paints set.
Practicing music.
Listening to the full-bellied laughter of my family.
Relaxing in the down dog asana.
Relaxing in shavasana.
Watching the moon rise among the maple leaves outside my bedroom window.
Eating pani puri, relishing each round liquid filled puri melt in my mouth.
Handling greens at the supermarket.
Dangling my feet in a swift, cool brook.
Traveling to interesting places around the world.
Walking barefoot on the cold marble floor of the temple.
Circumambulating the shrine 3 times.
Getting lost in the sound of the ocean among the leaves.
Walking on the beach, my heels digging into wet sand.
Sitting on my favorite rock on the beach and watching the rippling water and the arctic terns.
Enjoying the comfort of pranayama.
Putting words on paper.
Following a thought.
Savoring a word.
Playing scrabble.
Dressing up to attend a concert.
Stretching out in bed and surrendering to sleep.
Talking to the goddess.
Reciting the names of the goddess.
Watching the birds come and go.
Musing.

blood pressure

I made a remarkable discovery some years back.  During one of my visits to the doctor, my blood pressure was average but higher than it was during previous readings. At the time, I was just beginning to practice meditation. I was working on taking slower and longer inhales and exhales, making them as effortless as possible.  For several months I continued with my meditaion practice every morning as soon as I woke up. My dog sat by me and meditated along with me. Ultimately, at a subsequent visit to the doctor, my blood pressure was remarkable lower than it had ever been, but within an acceptable range. What I had read merely in theory I was experiencing in reality. Longer and slower breaths calm the mind; I could visualize the blood running like a steady brook into the heart and out; there was no sudden rush making my heart beat faster. The heart beat like a steady African drum, the beats mysterious and far enough apart. And when I came out of my meditation and proceeded with my day, I could focus clearly on any task at hand, whether it was solving a complicated family issue or unraveling a puzzle in a poem.

bhakti yoga

People in the United States ask me if I have been doing hatha yoga since I was little. The question comes out of the assumption that since yoga is an ancient Indian practice, most Indians must be familiar with it as part of their daily life. I wish this were so, but the reality is quite different. When I was growing up in India, I never saw anyone practice hatha yoga. I used to occasionally see one of my uncles stand on his head whenever I peeped into his room early in the morning during my visits. But I put that down to his weirdness. 

Years later, when I had my first baby, I came upon a friend who was offering yoga lessons and I thought it might be a good idea for me to practice with her and get my body back into shape. I enjoyed the body-mind connection that is so intrinsic to yoga, for it helped me with any postpartum depression I might have had. Now that I look back on my childhood and adoloscent years, I realize that my family instilled yoga in us--a yoga that is central to Hinduism, called bhakti yoga.  Bhakti translates as devotion. But the English word does not capture all of what bhakti means. Bhakti is a devotion to the divine that involves surrender and transcendence of self. It aims toward a total embrace of the divine other.

Now as I practice yoga everyday, I realize how essential bhakti is in hatha yoga.  Without bhakti, hatha yoga is simply a set of physical exercises (as we see some teachers teach yoga in the West). For example, if I am doing an asana and I feel after a while that my limbs and my breathing and my mind are so coordinated that I make no effort but the asana does me rather than me doing the asana, then that is the experience of bhakti.  The body and the mind have surrendered to this other. We usually get a glimmer of this experience. Imagine if this glimmer got brighter and longer and stayed with us, we would reach nirvana /bliss.

Earl's approach

In the last few days, TV channels have been abuzz with news about Hurricane Earl's approach. Long Island, we are told, is bracing itself to face Earl's rage. But our class this morning seemed unperturbed by the weather reports, much less the calamities brought on by nature or humans alike. What a great metaphor, I thought to myself as I sat up after shavasana (corpse pose): the yogi undisturbed by the buffetting winds!
Now as I sit here by the living room window in an equanimity brought on by my morning's practice, I note that the "hurricane" is a weak rain. It is soothing to listen to the dripping leaves and the flowing gutter. Perhaps the storm is gathering strength further below us and the worst is yet to come. But the yogis know what to do. 

balance

Last night during my yoga practice, I discovered that while standing in tadasana (mountain), I can ground my legs if I drop my tail bone ever so slightly so my pubic bone lifts. In this stance, I can lift one knee, or stand in Vrikshasana (tree), or  in Nataraja asana (king dancer) and not lose my balance. So I stood firmly grounded on my left foot and lifted my right knee and played around with my arms in different positions, and never lost my balance! It was so amazing to me that an infinitesimal change can result in a picture-perfect pose. Later, while getting ready for bed, I did my tree pose in my pajamas in the middle of my bedroom and felt totally centered.  I noted that despite my pajamas' silky texture, I did not flail about and fall! Now I can get into a tree pose anywhere--in my office, in the grocery store, in the airport. This is the best pose when you have to deal with queues!

Stop and enjoy the present moment

Stop and enjoy the present moment, advises Thich Nhat Hanh, the Vietnamese Buddhist monk. As I am getting ready for my semester, I am taking this advice seriously. Why? Because my job demands so much of me. I am expected to be on my feet attending to a million things. When I feel overwhelmed, I try to breathe and simply focus on the breathing. This helps to center me. Right now, I am enjoying writing this string of sentences about stopping and enjoying the moment.  When I think about the present moment, the moment and the item in it is all there is. Everything outside of this moment fades away. We call this attention. I have been trying to practice this attention in each thing I do. But it is hard sometimes when there is a to-do list beckoning me to hurry in different directions. I try to still this "hurrying" mind and state, "That can wait. We need to breathe right now and take in the present moment and enjoy it." I try to keep saying that to the maverick mind and get it lie down like a dog that has given up begging for tidbits. But, let's see how my current week fares and if I am able to continue to practice attending to the here and the now and enjoying this feeling of being fully in the present.

ardha chandrasana

I enjoyed transitioning from trikonasana (triangle) to ardha chandrasana (half moon) today. My body felt light, my knees did not lock, nor did they bend like they used to.  Looking up at my hand, I felt I was really gazing up at the moon. This pose felt normal today.