Love + Contentment = Gratitude

When asked, "How do I love myself?," Thich Nhat Hanh began with these words: "You breathe in. This is an act of love." Can you allow yourself to believe this? Can you begin turning towards yourself with love simply by breathing in? There is a depth of acceptance and compassion here that melts my heart. 

When we practice yoga,  we include the idea of not harming our self.  Can we accept the radical practice of contentment - being fine with what is so -- not falling into the wanting/needing/regreting/envying? Can we see that this inhale is the resource that sustain us, and through which we are free to release ourselves from the patterns of thought and action that harm us and others? This simple breath in -- this inhale -- can be enough to bring us a feeling that in this moment we have what we need. (Try this when confronting the issues of overeating over the holidays!) 

Thanksgiving is a pleasant moment to stop a few minutes and acknowledge the wonder of the body in which we experience life. It is the ground for all our opportunities for adventure and inquiry that being a human being allows us, no matter what we own or what we look like, who we are with or what we eat! The essential quality of breathing in is such a gift to the self - the living body! And with each inhale there is the release into the exhale, the letting go of the gripping, the fear, the worry over whatever it might be that limits your sense of being fully happy with who you are right in this moment. 

May your next few weeks of shorter days and longer nights, be exhilarating! Enjoy the cold winds and the contrasting warmth of an interior life. Allow each inhale to bring you happiness and each exhale to express gratitude for that. Take a few minutes now -- and later -- to breathe in love towards yourself - giving yourself what you need; and breathe out all that you no longer need - allowing yourself to accept what is so and feel content.

I feel grateful for this breath, for the breath we share. As I recenty told one student struggling with the uncertain outcome of another round of chemotherapy, "Even when I am sleeping, I am sharing the breath with you." That comforts us both.

Explore your ability to turn towards yourself with love in this very next inhale -- and allow your exhale to feel sweet. Enable your sense of contentment! These two principles are part of the underlying core of yoga practice. Not to harm, Ahimsa, is one of the Yamas (social disciplines), and to accept contentment, Santosha, is one of the Niyamas (inner disciplines). The Yamas and Niyamas are part of the Eight Limbs of Yoga as described in Patanjali's Sutras. Fertilize the seeds of gratitude, "Breathing in Love, Breathing out Contentment."

Not Knowing What Matters: And It Doesn't

A state of mind can color everything it sees. The same is true for a yoga practice. When I study a particular sutra, or focus in on one of the eight limbs, let's say picking a Yama or Niyama, or work my way through time with a particular breathing practice, it changes so many other experiences. The value of doing this mindfully is just like any study, or evaluative process: it enables a deeper view that can reveal more than the superficial experience.

At the same time, my asana practice has its own trajectory that combines some unforeseeable physical imperative with whatever is in my mind. Even if I start out thinking that I am going to focus on a particular asana, as I did with triangle pose, Trkonasana, the practice takes me in and out of a folding and unfolding and turns out to be an insightful play of how the limbs support the spine. Oh sure, I did some Trkonasana too, and certainly found it integrated into this profound inquiry, but this was part of the unfolding line built on a foundation that revealed itself as I practiced. Perhaps the idea of Trkonasana was the spark that evoked the fire of this inquiry. The intention created the exploration and led into the unknown.  Perhaps if I had simply explored Trkonasana, I would have met all my foregone conclusions, confirming some settings that I had already put in place.

So here I am, looking at intention and the mind, watching experience and integration of meaning, and wondering why it would make any difference which comes first. Is this just another chicken and the egg question?

There is a formal quality to an inquiry premised on a particular aspect of mind. There is a deeply spiritual quality in an inquiry that is rooted in the unforeseen.  I make no pretense of knowing what matters here, and feel more and more strongly that it doesn't matter at all what anyone "thinks" is important.  It turns out to be just thinking after all.  The experience of being present, learning how to open awareness, accepting whatever is so, and letting go of the judging of every little thing only deepens.  But one moment it is the methodical and intellectual inquiry that draws us and another it is the movement of the beating heart that shifts the mind. Can I say definitively that it was my intention to investigate Trkonasana that provoked the inquiry that actually happened in my practice? I cannot, yet I also feel the sweet yoking of intention and inquiry, even if I have no way to substantiate it.

Deconstructing a Flood of Words: Using the Yamas

Imagine meeting a friend and as you are standing there, the friend begins handing you one thing after another. The first thing you take with one hand and keep making eye contact with your friend. You can hold this thing easily in one hand. The friend immediately hands you something else, a handful of small things. You put the other object in the crook of your elbow and take the handful carefully in one hand. The friend then hands you a large awkward object and places it across your outstretched forearms. Another object follows immediately that is sloshing in a container. You stand still while your friend continues to pack every possible crack and balance point with one after another thing.

How many times have you had a "conversation" that felt like this?

Words are mental objects. They represent ideas, carry the kernel of reactive emotions. Words can literally transform the inner landscape with visual information, and can reconfigure a thought process by eliminating or adding elements.

Speech is a powerful way to communicate, yet words are often used without any idea of their actual impact.

There are moments when each of us suddenly feels the weight of our words. Awareness is intense in those moments when the call for clarity is great, or when the emotional impact of each word is evident. We feel it when each word is painful; we feel it when words reassure. Words can bring fear, excitement, calm, joy, anger, confusion, clarity.

Teaching yoga requires specificity in language when directing other bodies, when inviting the minds of others to focus, when suggesting visual or emotional constructs. It is one sided, directive-suggestive-instructive talk. This is a collectively agreed upon inequality. When this kind of inequality occurs among people in typical conversations, it implies the same tacit agreement, and can be very uncomfortable for the listener, and sometimes leaves an unpleasant feeling afterward for the talker too. For some, this kind of one-sided hand-over-the-stuff talking is a challenge to compete, or sets up a verbal jousting match. The listener might make an effort to break the cycle or show equal fortitude, or feel a need to claim some equal worthiness for attention. The deep need to be "right" or "have the last word" can easily arise.

The person who storms you with object after object probably does not realize that you cannot hold on to all of it. It is likely they cannot see that this transfer doesn't afford you any opportunity to make any use of the objects. It may be that the intent is not to gain your understanding, but simply a desire that you take all this stuff to lighten their load. The odd part is that the objects actually remain in the custody of the person who gave them, even as they weigh you down. It seems those same objects can be handed over again and again. Perhaps they are not the actual load, but simply represent the burden being felt.

Taking stock of the deeper layer of communication can help slow this flood and might actually help shift that burden through awareness. If the friend (or you) are lonely, it may be a desire to feel a shared experience of life that provokes the stream of words in one direction. Perhaps a sense of isolation creates an urgency in having another person confirm the stream of experiences or reactions. Perhaps it is uncertainty that pushes a person (or you) to such an effort to be convincing, taking each point and covering every detail of the subject just to be sure and reinforce this version of them. Sometimes it is a deep need to be appreciated, or acknowledged, that prompts a person to disclose too much of what they know, or how they feel or how they arrived at their conclusion.

Kindness and respect can stem this flood. Allowing the undercurrent to rise to the top can be as simple as saying, "It must be hard to go through all this on your own," or "It is interesting to hear how you think about this, and I can tell you have thought a lot about it;" "There are many who would react the way you reacted." This stops the flow of details and returns to the core of the communication. It is also sometimes useful to simply say,"I am interested in what you are saying, but cannot absorb all these details. Can you tell me the part you really want me to know?" You can even ask, "Do you want me to respond to this, or are you simply telling me so that I will know about this too?"

These kinds of responses come directly from an investigation of the yogic principles of the Yamas (one of the eight limbs of yoga as outlined by Patanjali from centuries ago).

The Yamas are yogic principles of outward and inward behaviors. Each of the outward principles relate to the concepts of how we function, and interact. Taking on any one of these will lead to the others. Ahimsa - non-violence - applies to being kind, refraining from the domination games, being patient with yourself and others, and practicing compassion in speech as well as action. Satya - truth - again relates to the deepest awareness rather than the surface feedback. Being kind in the truth you express will enliven and enrich, rather than dominate and degrade others. Asteya - non-stealing - is a practice of respecting the energy and time of others as well as your own, not simply refraining from taking objects, but also making unnecessary demands of others. Brahmacharya - restraint - the source of celibacy practices and also of relinquishing overindulgence and repression, embracing moderation and respecting the divine in all beings. Aparigraha - non-possessiveness - is the cultivation of non-attachment, honoring of the many strands that weave the fabric of life without dictating or grasping, making space for the self and others to simplify rather than vie for control.

Starting with any one of the Yamas as an investigation is like having a walking stick for uneven terrain. Everywhere you go, whatever you may do or experience, let the Yama you choose help you feel the structure below that supports you on the path.

Back to Basics

Everything is part of everything else, but when starting a yoga or meditation practice, it does help to narrow it down a little bit. Keeping some basic ideas in mind can invite a more relaxed attitude as we begin a new journey.

For me, yoga has a simple set of principles to begin: breath, alignment, awareness, kindness, curiosity.

Traditionally, the eight principles of yoga, in plain terms, include our relationships to the world around us (yamas) and to the self (niyamas), alignment (asana), breath (pranayama), concentration (cultivating awareness), withdrawal of the senses (developing non-attachment), meditation (interacting beyond dualistic understanding), and the integration of being beyond a separate self (bliss).

Let's be satisfied with whichever part of all this we can hold in our awareness. Start with the basics:
• paying attention to the breath, when you remember; and return to paying attention to the breath when you realize you have forgotten.
• attend to your alignment -- the way your bones stack to transfer weight to the earth and support your movements; and when you realize you have forgotten about your alignment, simply attend to the effects of that and make adjustments.
• cultivate awareness, allowing your breath to lead you in and out of your sensations, reactions, emotions, and postures. Let your mind help you by focusing one one thing at a time, developing the ability to focus by accepting that the lens slips and requires readjustment.
• be kind when you find you have shifted into remembering, replaying events, hollering at yourself, projecting possibilities, wishing things were different, going over things that take your attention away from right now. Just smile a little at your human nature and cultivate awareness of any pattern that might emerge in your internal ways of operating.
• take an interest, be curious, about how your body works, how your mind works, how your interactions and reactions rise and fall away.

Any and all of this will lead to all the rest of this, without you having to make a list or keep a chart or memorize Sanskrit names or learn physiology. Let the names become generalized, in fact, when you notice that you are drifting out of this moment, name the drift -- "drifting" -- or a bit more specifically "worrying" or "dreaming" -- and come on back to NOW. You can do this on a yoga mat. You can do this right at your desk, this minute. Or brushing your teeth.

May all the hoopla over 2011 simply open the path as you make your way.

Making choices: pruning & oil spills

The catastrophe of oil spilling into the gulf waters has brought a lot of attention to the choices we make, the risks we are willing to take to fulfill our desires, and how we see responsibility for the outcomes.

Oddly enough, pruning involves these same aspects. The action involves cutting into a living thing in order to suit a desired purpose, taking risks on behalf of that living thing and in committing our energies, in so doing. Sometimes it is hard to tell the winter die-back from the not-quite-juiced-yet early spring twigs. Sometimes the growth that is stimulated by cutting off the ends of things can result in a skipped year of blooming, an invigoration of the remaining plant, or an overly exuberant growth spurt out of proportion to the supporting stems. Cutting can open a plant to infection from a variety of bacteria or insects. And so, convincing ourselves that it is for the health of the plant or for beauty of form or an increase in output, gardeners prune the shrubs, fruit trees, roses and other perennials and live with the results. Sometimes the outcome is not what we expect, losing the plant, thwarting the intended result, or requiring a more intense or vigilant effort -- an even deeper involvement -- in order to get what we want, deal with the difference, or salvage the situation.

Our desires for energy, car and plane travel, long-distance shipping, constantly increased electronic connectivity, more packaged products and profits in all its forms, in addition to a seeming proclivity to deny the role our choices play in the problems from which we suffer, all seem to boil down to that same equation: the choices we make, the risks we are willing to take to fulfill our desires and how we see responsibility for the results. A couple things seem clear, we don't usually consider widely enough the ramifications of our choices, nor do we find it easy to recognize the depth of self-centered desire embedded in those choices. In terms of gardening, though, I think we are likely to be aware that we make these choices in order to serve our purposes, in other words, to bend the plant to our desires even if we don't think through fully what fuels those desires or might result from them.

Perhaps it is helpful to think about pruning, starting with recognition that the world in which we live is, in essence, living organisms and inter-dependent systems that are not separated by names or our ways of making distinctions among them. Like choosing to plant something in a spot that is not conducive to the culture it requires, first we must recognize that we are not in charge of everything nor do we know all there is to know when it comes right down to it. Then, either we must take responsibility and make the deep commitment to ensure that the culture is appropriate so that the plant will prosper, or we must look again at our motives for putting it in that spot, and reconsider our desires in light of the risks we cause. The life of the plant hangs in the balance, as does our desired outcome.

The role we play is part of the natural process of living organisms in this earthly context. Elephants and beavers reorganize the natural habitat to suit their purposes, and suffer the wider ramifications without taking responsibility for changing the habitat for others or displacing other species of flora and fauna. Humans have the ability to see this especially now that we do have hundreds of years of experiences and research to draw upon. As if holding those pruning shears in hand, we have the ability to see our choices, and act in the interests of the plant's health rather than in service of our ever-changing desires for larger fruit or bigger blooms.

Tapas -the Niyama of Heat, Cleansing & Discipline

Tapas may mean small amounts of amazingly delicious foods to some, or heat and effort to others, but to a yoga practice Tapas is one of the observances, one of five Niyamas, and part of the underlying structure of the practice. What does this mean? It represents the cleansing qualities of heat in the body, an openness to being beyond what might seem to be one's limitations, and the commitment to the discipline of our practice. It is a particularly delicious idea for the middle of winter, the way that we can build heat within us, sustain our practice with the integrity of our commitment, and find new space, understanding and peace as we burn off the impurities and lean more deeply into what is available to us. It is a way of guiding our exploration on the mat in the context of transformation and changes our sense of ourselves off the mat. If you haven't run into yourself blocking and weaving on the mat before, you will now. Recognizing and breathing through those obstacles in yourself, you can access what lies beyond them in your practice and in your life.

The pieces of the puzzle of yoga are called the eight limbs or the eight-fold path, representing principles and stages of being. The Asana practice is one of these limbs, as is Pranayama, the breath practice. The abstinences (Yamas) and observances (Niyamas) represent two of the limbs. Sensory withdrawal and the interior qualities of the mind is Pratyahara, single-pointed focus and concentration is Dharana. Meditation and being one with contemplative nature is Dhyana and the identification with the infinite that is bliss or nirvana is Samadhi. That's the eight fold path, short version! Patanjali, the ancient sage, describes the practices and stages of yoga in detail in his Yoga Sutras. There are many translations from the Sanskrit out there if you want to go deeper.

The cold wind, the blowing snow flurries seem to encourage beginning with Tapas. Shake off the lethargy, reignite your inner fires, give yourself a few more minutes to call out the heat of the sun in your own asana practice! Perhaps it is through a moving meditation in honor of your spine or the sun, perhaps it is through a layer of Kapalabhati breathing in Utkatasana (chair/fierce pose) or in a backbend like Ustrasana (camel) or Setu Bhandasana (Bridge), or just in taking on the challenge of making space for ten minutes of meditation morning and evening, you can raise the heat, raise the internal bar, observe the barriers you find as you allow them to become transparent and eventually burn away in the heat of your own prana (life energy). This is not competitive, nor is it aggressive energy. Discover the depth of your own quiet pool of strength in the middle of a cold winter day.

The two limbs of the Yamas and Niyamas each have five concepts, yet they all lead to one another. It really doesn't matter which one you begin to explore, you will find your way through them all eventually. Tapas leads to purity (Saucha) and truth (Satya), cannot really exist without letting go of gripping (Aparigrapha) or leaving be that which is not really yours (Asteya); must be nonviolent at its core (Ahimsa), observing of the true self (Svadhyaya), evolving a deep and abiding contentment (Santosha), connecting to the divine and eternal (Ishvarapranidhana) and even provoking a sense of conservation of deep energy and restraint (Bramacharya). These are the rest of the abstinences and observances. See if you can feel out which are abstinences that direct your relational behaviors, and those which are observances that apply to your internal structures. Tapas is one of the latter. (You can also revisit my blog entry from 12/25/2009 "Yamas & Niyamas: One Thing Leads to Another" to help sort this out.)

In Patanjali's Sutras he specifies that there are obstacles in the path of a yoga practitioner. Perhaps you can imagine that you see these obstacles in your path and step over some of them, yet you stub your toe on another. To take them on, try investigating Tapas, allowing your inner heat to sweat out illness, your breath to cleanse a negative attitude and recharge. As you practice Tapas, you may stop feeling sorry for yourself, or doubting your abilities. Perhaps your tendency to distraction or impatience will release into the fires of holding a pose or staying in meditation. Stay with it, let the puppy off the lease and wait til she comes back to lie down by the door. False concepts of self, like arrogance or its partner insecurity, will let go as you find the breath can support you as you actually are. In order to focus the mind, open to the fullness that is emptiness in meditation, and become one with your own essential nature and life energy, something has to change from just sitting in your chair wondering what you will have for the next meal, or figuring out when you have to leave in order to get to the next yoga class.

What is it like to throw yourself into the practice without judgment? Can you identify the tendency towards measuring and assessment and let that go? Allow yourself to go deeper, opening beyond the dualistic messages of can and cannot into the realm of being? Put yourself willfully into the practice (Tapas!) and once in it, surrender.

One thing leads to another - Yamas & Niyamas

This inhale leads directly to this exhale, doesn't it? And as long as the heart is beating, it seems this exhale gives way to this inhale...

When I first began studying the underlying principles of yoga practice, I read of the Yamas and Niyamas, and then when I was working on my teaching certification we went over all of this again. It felt totally new to me! Somehow I seem to continue revisiting these concepts endlessly and feel they are vibrant, startling, and inextricable from each other. My mind and heart cannot separate one from another in the sense that "not grasping" (Aparigraha) draws from and provides for "contentment" (Santosha) and "truth" (Satya) releasing the illusions and facing realities leads directly to and from "purity" (Saucha) the clarity of clean living and selflessness. Each one, regardless of whether it represents a social behavior or an internal structure leads directly to and from all the others. The breath reminds me of this in a most visceral way! Oh sure, we can try to hold our breath, and even practice the withholding or holding of breath, but what happens after that is the return of the inhale and the exhale...our human nature, our present moment.

The Yamas and Niyamas are considered to be two steps of the Eight-fold Path of Yoga. Some would say "the first two steps" but, since I have this enmeshed feeling about the practices, I cannot truthfully separate any of the steps into that kind of a sequential order! For now, I'd like to introduce you to these basic delineations without any sense of hierarchy, and encourage you to take any one that strikes you close to heart, and turn it over and around and let yourself play at digesting it for as long as it intrigues you, letting it lead you to another one. Or, like the way yeast stretches the dough into connected living strands, just leave the sponge rising and see how all the parts connect and stretch into and from each other.

The Yamas are considered abstinences, that from which we refrain by deepening our commitments to practices that heal and develop our openness to the grace within us. These practices enable us to meet each other's gaze with full presence, and represent a kind of social contract. They are traditional to most spiritual practices: non-violence/Ahimsa, truth/Satya, non-stealing/Asteya, chastity/Brahmacharya, non-possession/Aparigraha.

The Niyamas are often thought of as observances, that with which we regulate our basic structure in order to meet our own gaze fully and that of the divine with equinimity and ease: purity/Saucha, contentment/santosha, discipline/tapa, self-study/Svadhyaya, devotion to divinity/Ishvara Pradnidhana.

A wonderful attribute of these practices is that there is nothing but the inquiry itself, no dogma that must be overlaid upon them, no finicky archaic quality of language or costume that attends them. In fact, there is truly nothing that stands between you and this exploration. It is fun to look at human musings from all time periods (and all spiritual practices) spanning thousands of human years, but it is not necessary to your experience. Just like comparing a variety of dictionary definitions, this kind of intellectual study can be fun too, and of course you can start with the definition that arises in you from your own experience or original spiritual orientation.

Many of us modern types have issues with the niyamas, just the idea of discipline or chastity, or purity can raise hackles, but when you lean back and just taste and sample, knead and let rise, these concepts are deeply enriching and supportive! I'm not advocating anything having to do with perfection or rules, rather sincere openness and release into your true nature. We tend to standardize and codify ideas about possessiveness or truth, and I encourage you to let all that internalized dogma go so you can really feel the connections of desire and need and illusion and free yourself of the traps that so easily catch us. Not so easily done, I admit. And speaking for myself, even recognizing my own internalized assumptions has been an on-going revelation!

Just inhale and see what happens. Exhale and let it go fully until your body asks for the breath, or until your breath just takes care of itself. There is enormous wisdom within you if you are willing to explore! Let the next breath lead you on the ancient and vibrant path of your own footsteps!