Trouble In Paradise: Separate Will or Best Intention?

One of the first challenges in opening the mind is releasing the grip on "I, me, mine." Once this begins to take hold, it seems to me that clinging to tit-for-tat and ego-based judgments loses the light and leaves us in darkness when we act and choose our actions. Seeking out the center from which all beings move and breathe gives support to the wide variety of choices and decisions that conditions in the moment allow. There is something troublesome to me emerging from three of the most basic tenants of the Western moral codes. Take the following admonitions and chew on them a while.

Do unto others as you would have others do unto you.
Is your behavior always to be based upon your own expectations? Subject to the push and pull of what you have experienced (the past) and wishes for (the future)? Must I remain separate from "the other" with judgments of what I expect from you and what I am willing to do? Must "I" be at the center of every thought and act? Can we not act to improve the conditions of others beyond our expectations for our self?

An eye for an eye.
Where is compassion in exacting the same price upon others that has been exacted upon us? How can we avoid mutual destruction in this scenario?  Cause, condition, and fatalism play all the cards here. Where is basic goodness, or integrity of intention? Is justice a process of administering equal harm? This is not urging that we offer our eyes for the sake of seeing clearly on behalf of the self or anyone else. Can we see that what is an eye for one is an ear for another?

Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.
Here the power rests in conditioning, circumstance, conceptual teachings, and institutional structure. Who is describing this divine decision-maker and the realities of the exemplary setting? How does one see the context of shared human experience and the ongoing connections among living beings if subject to an unnamed authority in a place set aside? Is this a surrendering of the grasping, clutching, suffering individual will to what sustains their freedom of choice and their well-being? Doesn't abdication from our decision for right action leave us estranged from our own intention? Cannot our intention create the complete range of possibilities here on earth, without withholding our responsibility for that intention?

These axioms all seem to separate the action of an individual from the wellbeing of others, including the individual self. Underlying them all  is a power struggle of ego against the range of possible choices. They all seem set to limit options. Where is the integration of a communal framework for trust, choice, emotional safety or common purpose? Where is the development of intention without the grip of judgment?

I believe that we are not separate from one another as living beings.
We cannot thrive as separate entities. We can feel our suffering and our self interest are not in isolation. We experience life as part of a common human experience, shared in some real (and vast) ways by all living beings. Think of us all breathing in and breathing out: single celled organisms, plant life and all life forms in the oceans exchange oxygen and carbon dioxide. We all come into our present format and leave that format. If we each act on our best intention in the moment, we can move within our strengths, from our deepest sources of meanings, and take a simpler course. Our action becomes a compassionate act, taking others and  basic goodness as part of who we are. When conditions change, our best intention accommodates that, without denigrating the self or "the other."

Given that momentary circumstance and reactivity are always part of our decision making, our intentions and choices, this moment has an effect on those decisions and choices. What benefit is there to separating ourselves to measure and judge whether what I do or say to you is what I want you to do or say to me? (Is this a way of intimating fundamental respect?) How does exacting a conditioned causal behavior on another who is already in a different causal condition, improve my own or our mutual state? What purpose is there in my prostrating myself before another's will (especially a will that is a creation of massive hierarchies in other times and conditions), rather than working to see my own nature as part of common strand where my compassionate act might support mutuality?

All that is solid melts into breath

The breath has a way of discovering space, just as the air itself seems to find the smallest crack or most enormous canyon. It has been seeming to me lately that my practice and my teaching are growing from this discovery. Directly. My ability to notice the breath, or be aware of it, has encouraged an internal investigation among all my own cells... and this branches out into everything I do.

So when I take a yoga class, I follow directions, just like my students do in my classes. Yet what I experience is my breath slipping under my shoulder blades, no matter whether the teacher says "lift your breastbone" or "press into your heels" or "reach for the ceiling." In some cases there are other sensations, the pulling and twisting, the pressures, and collapses of interior spaces or bones, or muscles, or ideas. I walk on the sidewalk feeling signals from all the points of the body, full of reactive chatter, and the breath quietly expands beneath my ribs, swinging my pelvis just a little this way, and releases my throat as my pelvis quietly swings just a little that way on the exhale...

I am beginning to understand something.
It starts with noticing.
Expands into observing and alertness around what I notice.
Then I sort and contemplate the rising ideas and reactions, eventually letting them all slip out on the exhale.

And I begin to notice that I am understanding something.
This expands into examination and inquiry into what I notice.
Eventually I release what I think I understand and experience my breath quietly slipping between the hairs in my nostrils.

When I can no longer enable my breath to investigate and expand my awareness, I believe I'll be ready to leave this body and try something else.

And so, as usual, I bow to that which sustains me. Om Namo Bhagavate Vasudevaya.

Song of The Open Field

photo: jesse r meredith

Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing,
there is a field. I'll meet you there.

When the soul lies down in that grass,
the world is too full to talk about.
Ideas, language, even the phrase each other
doesn't make any sense. -- Rumi


The analytic mind has its place. The fullness of sensory lushness has its place too. Experience, that instant recording of sense and intellect, combines in giving us a history, a sense of our self, a place to stand from which we can define and evaluate all that constantly shifts around us. Yet even deeper below these aspects there is an ancient urge to inhale and exhale, to shield oneself from harm, to test the truth as perceived. Much in our human experience rests in the responses of this ancient center of the brain and neurology. Call it fight or flight, or anything you want, if not ruled by it, we must consciously recognize it and work beyond its impulses.

I love this poem of Rumi's (Sufi mystic poet) that so simply steps beyond these limitations of mind's self-absorption. Recently I acquired a Tibetan singing bowl, and even with my totally rudimentary skills, the song it sings goes so deep. This vibrational quality resides in music of all times and places, and can be held in the simple tone poem of "OM." In my classes I sometimes say that it is present in all things and we hear it when it rises to the surface, but it works the other way too. Even without vocalizing, just being present, this vibration can reach deep into the being quality without getting stuck on words, meanings, separations of self or other.

Devotional chanting is not something that makes everyone comfortable, kind of like singing in a church choir is not for everyone. There is an uncanny feeling of self awareness when sound emits from your own throat and joins almost indistinguishably from ambient sound. Self begins to separate and merge along with the sound itself. This can happen even without vocalizing. Silent "OM" is often more wide open than even that which we speak.

Meditation can be an invitation to be in that place, that field Rumi refers to, where the dualistic right/wrong, me/you cease to exist. Even being there for one second as you read Rumi's words, even one second in that field can change everything else.

Looking for Answers

finding what is in me,
gratitude for the discoveries,
space for the questions,
breath for the inquiry.

answers no longer exist -
the process is revealed.
it all comes down to more space
for the questions, the discoveries,
and the breath.

Bring it to the mat, and let it go

There are so many reasons why there isn't enough time to practice, or to get to even that 15 minute meditation practice or maybe even to cook your own vegetables rather than just order out or make that phone call. But all these reasons can be brought right along with you to the mat or the cushion, that's right, just bring 'em along. Left hip feeling cranky? Didn't sleep well? Have to be somewhere else later? Spent a little too much time on the computer? Feel low energy now? Didn't finish something for work that needs doing? Hungry? Can't seem to think clearly about what's next, even what to eat or what to do?

Whatever it is, plop it down with you in a comfortable cross-legged position -- or some other posture that allows you to breathe fully and relax your spine in a fairly effortless spacious alignment. This won't take long, and if you allow yourself to fully participate in the moment, you may find it clarifies you, energizes you, relaxes you, and may even help you get something done that you hadn't thought would fit into this day.

Cushion and perhaps elevate your sitting bones, and let yourself arrive on the mat/cushion. Let go of your knees, they won't slide away, prop them up if your inner groin flexors are feeling too tight. Just relax your tailbone slightly and feel your deep abdominal muscles gently pull inward and up towards your spine. Let go of the idea that you need to use a lot of muscular effort here, and give yourself a chance to feel that natural cycle of energy, that inner balance that keeps you able to sit up. Allow yourself to notice your inhale, just notice where it is and any texture to it. Exhaling, let go a bit of that tension in your shoulders. Maybe let your jaw hang a little looser. Notice this inhale, and see if it is responding to your attention. Perhaps softening your belly and letting the breath fill in, gradually pulling in those deep muscles at the base of the exhale to really empty out any stale breath. Feel your spine in your neck elongate as your shoulders relax. No need to rush. Let the inhales and exhales take their time. If you find you naturally pause at the beginnings or ends of breathing in and out, well, allow that to be interesting.

You are already well on your way to resolving your conflicts, cultivating your attentiveness, focusing your energy, and lifting your spirits. You can move your body along with the breath and take a little Asana practice - warming up your spine, moving your shoulder and hip joints, loosening and re-connecting the energy channels all the way to your toes, and wrapping around your skull. Or, you can continue to sit, letting the breath quiet, allowing the mind to focus on a single point, perhaps the sound of Om, or turn your inner gaze to a particular point like the part of your forehead between your eyebrows, or hold another object in mind like a blooming lotus flower. Another strategy is to simply clear the mind by labeling whatever arises in it -- calling a thought "thinking," labeling any emotions that arise "feeling," etc. without attaching. Even 15 minutes of moving through a short Asana practice or a sitting meditation will do so much to bring you into this moment, reducing all the layers of reaction and emotion attached to your excuses for not going to the mat.

Any one can be convinced that they are too busy to give themselves what they need. It need not be you. Come on, bring your excuses along and do a little yoga.

The Unforeseen: Water Rising Fast

The story of the rising river in Arkansas is deeply moving. Campers sleeping in the woods woke to the fierce imperative of the water, washing away concrete pads, tents, trucks, people and trees. Some survived with ingenuity, some with sheer physical feats, some inexplicably through letting go into the moving world. Many did not survive.

I react as I hear the reporting on NPR. Park personnel and meteorologists knew there was potential for bad weather but no one “saw this coming.”

The ongoing unfolding of events and effects in the Gulf Coastal region from the sudden outpouring of oil and gases from deep in the earth has evoked a lot of pain and suffering. No one saw this one coming either, though the actions of the humans involved would seemed to include some perfunctory projections and measures to handle the unforeseen. The unforeseen includes a continuous change in the composition of the ocean affecting all the life in it, as oxygen is reduced throughout the sea with dispersal of gas by microbial action that releases CO2. How do I accept this awareness without it sending me plummeting into despair?

September 11, 2001 was “unforeseen.” I watched the deep dark plume cross the bluest of blue skies over my head, chanting for peace in the souls traveling there, unconsciously as a way of finding out whether I was still breathing. The effects of human choices and actions are often unforeseen. I think of all the news that streams at me from all over the world. A flood in Nashville, economic collapse in Greece, daily terror in Palestine and Afghanistan, struggles below the surface everywhere, and signs above ground.

Unforeseen. We cannot know enough to see how everything will play out or to be ready for any and all consequences. Maybe I can open my mind beyond the dualistic, understanding that the flood and the gases, the campers and the oil-coated pelicans are all part of one world. This is part of the flow of events and our actions and reactions will continue as the flow. We have choices about that.

Krishna says to Arjuna:
You have a right to your actions.
But never to your actions’ fruits.
Act for the action’s sake.
And do not be attached to inaction. [Gita 2.47]

Self-possessed, resolute, act
Without any thought of results,
Open to success or failure.
This equanimity is yoga. [Gita 2.48]

The teenage girl who chose to hang on to a tree in the rushing waters, in spite of the severe pain and injury she suffered chafing against the bark, saved her own life. She will recover and carry the scars of her survival and her losses. The ocean has many mechanisms with which “to hang on to the tree,” so to speak, but there will be losses, and scars. The people living on the shores have choices too, how to use their resources, where to put their energies. W cannot know what is coming, nor the full effects of resultant and changing conditions.

Must I remain attached to my reactivity? Will sorrow and attachment to the idea of a right answer weigh me down and sink me like a stone in the rushing water? Can I detach and cultivate consciousness so that all the possibilities remain, including that the water may throw me onto shore? This too is unforeseen.

I lean into my yoga. Saying “Om Namo Bhagavate Vasudevaya,” I breathe the ache in my wrist and my heart. Saying “May I release in to that which sustains me,” I sense the open space where possibilities spread like the rising water. Perhaps sinking, floating, hanging on, or tossed on shore, the way will open if I inhale and I exhale.

Recognizing grace in the unforeseen. The wind in my ears, I am reminded that the human voice is but a natural and impermanent part of the world. Let go and find myself here. Now.

Authentic Connection

Fear is mostly what holds us back from most things. Letting ourselves share the places that are uninhibited, unprotected, perhaps even unknown, requires that we set that fear aside or see through it.

This morning I chanted Om Namo Bhagavate Vasudevaya (may I surrender to that which sustains me) at the close of my practice and meditation and found myself letting go into that space where edges vanish. When I checked in later on the computer, there was a deeply moving entry by a friend who is exploring anatomy using a human cadaver. She has been profoundly changed to realize that the body is the mechanism given us in order that we might experience the breath and energy that surrounds us at all times. Her poetic exploration and her need to expose her experience to the light and breath of her sadhana (yogic community) touch me beyond words.

We do not live alone. Our individual bodies are but our way of experiencing that which is truly universal. Sea turtles share cellular structures, cats and halibut share nuclear proteins, and the intricate branching of my own arteries and veins are alive in you too. Whoever you are on the outside, your heart functions to the same purpose as that of the hummingbird, at a different speed.

Being Some Nobody

It is lovely to be nobody.

Breathing in the coolness of the evening.
Scanning the horizon as the sun sinks below the hill.
Wiping the mud from my shoes.
Turning my gaze in the direction of the calling bird.
Feeling the smoothness of the yogurt against my throat.
Stretching the muscles in the arch of my foot.
Watching the man I love kneeling on his kneepads planting onions.
Listening to the slow constancy of the creek down the way.
Straining to distinguish the sounds of the owls in the night.
Cuddling the fuzziness and heat of the cat in the dark.
Giving up all hope of finishing a task on this day.
Finding the soft resistance of the mattress below my hip bone.
Cherishing the depth of my own breath.

It is lovely to be nobody.

This might be the morning I rise in the dark to see the moon shine.
This might be the day I begin with savasana at sunrise.
This might be the day I plant the rest of the onions.
Perhaps there is more than this.
Perhaps there is no more than this.
No matter where I am, I am just here.
No matter who I am, I am just nobody.
How lovely! Free to be, entirely free.

Boiling the Water

Sometimes in yoga a teacher will speak about finding your edge, or pushing to your edge. This has, at times, raised my hackles, since I do not think of a yoga practice like a competitive sport where one has to continuously try to get beyond where one has been before. But then, as I think (say or write) this, I realize that it happens all the time in yoga! What keeps us up in headstand?

The big difference is that in yoga finding our edge is a process of discovering that which is sustaining the effort and releasing into that support rather than pushing past something. Sometimes, as with headstand, there can be fear that might be "pushed past" yet the joy of yoga is finding the core strength that makes the inverted lift feel light and allows the breath to continue to flow comfortably. This is not the result of pushing past the fear, but rather of seeing it and letting it go. What's the worst that can happen? One attempt, two attempts, many many attempts only lead to that frantic quality of reaching for a goal. Preparing for strength, for balance, focusing on the breath and alignment, the inversion begins to rise on its own.

I was boiling water for tea and realized that there is something to this idea of an edge in practice. Like reaching the exact temperature at which water boils, each of us in any given moment has that specific temperature at which the impurities or impediments can be released and the kettle of the self begins to sing. Avoidance and resistance are part of our human nature, and so in any practice there will be moments when you will need to find a little encouragement in order to stick with it, to breathe more consciously using Ujjayi pranayama (ocean sounding breath) or even Kapalabhati to maintain your focus while your legs shake, or your heart wavers. We know it takes a consistent application of continuous heat to get that water to boil. It can be the same in our yoga practice, then let your kettle sing!

Catching & Tossing That Emotional Curve Ball

Yesterday I was hit by the curve ball of my old emotional patterns. My equanimity was gone. I felt as though I was alone in a sailboat doing everything I could just to keep from capsizing. This is a pattern that kicks in when I am judged negatively about behaviors that seem to be part of my nature. So it was a deep exercise in my practice of non-attachment, non-judgment, witness consciousness, self-acceptance, and breath.

I turned to contemplation to help me as I felt myself spiraling down into the abyss. I wrote a poem that it was a hard day to be me. Then went out to weed in the garden. I used my energy to observe, nourish, clarify and act without too much analysis. Then I took a half hour for pranayama practice -- beginning with dirgha 3-part breathing very deliberately sprawled on the floor, arms outstretched, bringing my awareness into my entire body. Breathing in, I was breathing in. Breathing out, I exhaled Om Namo Bhagavate Vasudevaya (May I Surrender to That Which Sustains Me). I felt as though I was pinned to the surface of the earth by its slow rotation as it revolved around the sun. Then I sat up for several rounds of kapalabhati breathing, using all the bandha locks between sequences. Phew. Centered after that, I weeded some more. This was a case of going on ahead and continuing to be active in the world, rather than curl up into that pattern of negativity and erasure. Gently extracting the weeds and placing them in the composting heap to return to the earth transformed. This was engaging and comforting. I, too, will return to the earth transformed. I, too, am just a speck of organic dust or pollen or breath.

Sitting on a stone wall, I closed my eyes, opening my heart to the waves, using "just" on the inhale and "this" on the exhale to pinpoint my attention. All the while, I was feeling the heat of the sun on my left shoulder, the coolness of the breeze from the valley on my face, the solidity of the stone beneath me, the softness of the air drawing in and out of me. All this was there this moment, this moment, this moment.

I began to feel grateful to the person who threw all the cold water on me, smiling as I realized that without being thrown back into that pattern again of questioning my basic being and worthlessness, I would not be gaining this strength in my practice. Finding that I truly can trust that being is all there is for me, that I can see judgment is an external spin that reflects the mind of the one who judges, that everything is conditional until I get beyond the conditional mind, and that I can get there... It was a quiet day. There were meals made and shared, chores done.

This morning I woke up feeling love in the inhale and joy in the exhale. It amazed me that I could so simply and happily be waking up. Then I remembered my feelings from yesterday and the incident that drew them out. I saw all this like a stagnant pool next to where I lay. Oh yes, I could go dip a foot or dunk my whole self in that pool, but I could also just stay on the path and see where the next footfall will land as it lands.

Ask Me About Bliss -It is Just This

This is the season of renewal and also of paying attention to the deepest darkest moments from which we emerge into the light. A friend spoke of Jesus wandering in the desert, of his offering of his own mortality and how, when suffering the ignorance of others he asks for their forgiveness. Perhaps his return, his rising from the grave, expresses the immortality of the compassionate soul. In seders around tables loaded with ceremonial foods, families gather to remember such a journey through hardship and ignorance. Perhaps their survival relied upon losing themselves and surrendering to divine will.

For me, every muddy rut, each leaf bud, the scuttling clouds in the sky as well as the crowds on the paused Q train represent the compassionate truth of being. Without judgment of value or worth, I feel deeply moved by the inhale of the person next to me. In each breath cycle I find that my students continue to reach beyond themselves as they seek their inner truths. Can there be more than this? The broken heart, the struggling body, the pain of loss, the fear of pain, the terror of injustice are all part of our human condition, yet we breathe in. And as we breathe out we find our feet, or perhaps our hands, maybe our knees or our sitting bones, or even our entire spine, supporting us upon an earth that revolves and spins. Our cells drink in the oxygen and hydrogen along with all the particles and poisons, our hearts beat within the arching cathedral of ribs, safe and protected.

We cannot separate out the dark from the light; we can open ourselves to an awareness that within the dark are the lustrous seeds that grow in the dark until they reach the light. Within that darkness are other nutrients that soften and expand the seed, encourage roots, promote the seeking energy that becomes visible above the surface of the earth as the tiniest green shoot pokes through.

The breath swaying the body from side to side in Ardha Chandrasana (standing half moon pose), hands held above the head in a loose Anjali Mudra, the body expresses the hope, the eternal possibilities, the blossoming of being. Inhaling - just, Exhaling - this. Just - This. Ask me about bliss and I say, "Just - This."

Spring

Drawing deep from the well, melted snow
Warming from the inside out, earth's core
Softening on the outside, sun's heat

The engine of the world is eternal
Human stories woven like a lace doily
Feet gently printing in the sands of time
Indentations slowly erased by the wind

Plant the peas
Observe the details
Find the center of the world
in the unfurling of your own breath

Feeling the Connection

Many a day my practice is a solitary behavior in a specific place where I can find the physical space to lay myself out. Those whose idea of me is "the official yoga teacher" would laugh out loud to see me wedged between two beds in a handstand, or propped up against the cellar door exploring scorpion. My family might find me zoned out at the end of practice in a supine twist in the middle of the living room floor. There is no reason to resist warrior in the kitchen, where the floor is clear; where the view of my own heart is as good as it is anywhere. I lost my attachment to the mat early in my exploration of yoga, finding that waiting for the mat and the private quiet space would just leave me waiting rather than practicing.

Classes bring the body into a space with other bodies. There is a wonderful confluence of influence in this. Following the intention to do yoga brings you to the class, and the class structure provides you with the breath of others around you, as well as the guidance, encouragement and support of the teacher. There is a commitment to be present. Watching over all the varieties of student I see one yearning among them all, to be and to be fully. Even without knowing what that is, or how that might feel, there is this possibility palpable in the room. By the time we find savasana, the sense of being fills the space, however large, however small.

By myself, on a mat between this and that furniture with barely enough clearance to extend one leg fully sideways, I have this same connection to the breath of all living beings, to the open space of the moment. Making the connection is all it takes.

The first stage is exactly the same no matter where I am: allow myself to be present. I seek my foundation. Just noticing where my body touches the earth helps draw my attention inward and releases me -- surrenders my will -- to that which sustains me. (Om Namo Bhagavate Vasudevaya) Perhaps it is my sitting bones below me and the gentle pressure I feel on my ankle bones that enables me to let go of my earthly weight into the earthly support in Sukhasana (Easy Pose - crossed legs on the floor). My tailbone melts a bit, muladhara (root chakra) drawing energy like roots from the earth itself. This loosens the lower back and my spine rises in a natural curve that has evolved over thousands of years to find full expression right here in my own body. (Om Namo Bhagavate Vasudevaya)

This inhale draws the ocean up through me in a wave of oxygen and as I exhale my shoulders rest more lightly atop my ribcage, the weight of my arms gently moving out and away towards my hands resting on thighs (or perhaps fingers gently on either side of me on the floor -- or cupped in my lap), just as my knees gently drift away from my hips. By now I am in the room, I am on the mat, I am in the breath, I am in this moment fully. If the cat rubs against my knee, I smile or perhaps stroke the last inches of tail as it passes, and feel the lightness of being right here, right now. This is not a closed posture, one where the gates are all shut tight to protect the experience. This is a wide open space where everything can exist at the same moment. It has taken me years and barely a few moments to be here, now. (Om Namo Bhagavate Vasudevaya)

I find this is the same if I am flat on the floor, or with elevated knees, or in Tadasana (standing mountain pose) waiting for a light to turn green on the street. This connection to the present, this awakening of awareness, this being present with the breath itself is not bound up in yoga mats and classes, nor even in "yoga practice" per se. You can find this connection in a crowded subway, feeling the essential quality of presence among others there, (Om Namo Bhagavate Vasudevaya) or alone waiting for the bus by the side of the road. The breath and the being will connect you to all living beings, once you are here, there is no other moment, no other place. Just this. (Surrender to that which sustains me = Om Namo Bhagavate Vasudevaya.)

When you feel you are lost or when you feel full of being, try inhaling "just" and exhaling "this." No pre-existing conditions are required to be present, just this - setting aside attachments and judgments, allowing yourself freedom. Oh sure, the yoga asanas make this easier in that they open awareness and energy channels, take the body into healthier and more supported ways of being, draw awareness to patterns that can then be more easily released... all good! Yet that connection to being is always there in this inhale, and this exhale. Just this.