Asana & Mind: Twisting as a State not an Action

Don't we imagine that the goal is to twist as far as we possibly can? Of course we all begin with striving and measuring how we think we do in relation to images in our mind or presented by the bodies next to us. The next stage is our effort to identify what is happening and how it happens  and in doing that we get attached to the specifics like pressing into the thumb and index finger in downward facing dog or focusing on drawing the left ribs towards the back body or towards the ceiling in a spinal twist. But these are not the goals nor are they really the pivotal mechanisms in that down dog or spinal twist, warrior or headstand. We can only find our way once we see where it is in our self that yearns and overworks, where our energy disconnects or pools, and how our judging mind blocks our path and builds our habitual patterns. Yes, there is a building of familiarity with how the body works, and our own body in particular, but the twist is more about opening the mind, than seeing the room behind you.

Beginning,  we open our attention to new places in the body and experience our own efforts with both wariness and awareness. Once we feel the outer edge of that foot in a standing pose and discover the internal shift it takes to feel the inner heel at the same time, we can stop focusing on that and begin to follow the line up the body, balancing the pelvis between the legs, then drawing the energy up the legs and in towards the pelvis and then moving our awareness from place to place, adjusting the fulcrum of our attention and effort. In  beginning we must activate an acuity of attention and forge a balance in our awareness and effort.

Then we let that go. We are not perfecting a particular pressure of foot or angle of hip. We are not drawing the ribs around the body to create torque in the spine and a sore ribcage. More effort is not the goal nor does it produce bliss. Even worse than our habitual patterns might be replacing them with over efforting and rigid assumptions. In this process we can learn about inquiry, about our actions, our urgencies, and our minds.

Effort is required of the mind to observe and attend to the body in any moment.  Effort is also required in the body to bring the mind into an alert and informed state. It is at this point that spaciousness and ease can enter the practice. The equation shifts when we allow the body to relax into a posture of supported effort and the mind to release judging and adjusting that effort and begin to explore being in a pose. It is this quality of being that opens the box of possibilities.

It is this moment that may be missed  if our practice requires constant  motion and use of effort to keep going. though we may burn through resistance of one kind we may be catering to habitual patterns of resistance too. We can build muscular and cardiovascular strength and cultivate intimacy when we let go of the constant physical negotiation for deeper, harder, or really just more.  In the silence of being in a pose, we find our breath, we can use the mind to soften the fierceness of the body. By opening ease in the midst of all the effort we begin a new adventure of adeptly holding a posture without continuing to "work" on it. Then the work is in the energy, breath, and awareness, supported by mindful conscious alignment of bone and muscle.

At a certain point in the twist it is important to let go of the act of twisting and experience the support and clarity of being twisted.

Doing What You Are Doing, Step Into Being Who You Are

Acting with clarity and without judgment reflects a constancy of self, an acceptance of best intention, an ability to engage with what is right there to be done with good will. Even unpleasant tasks or what might seem insignificant situations are sustaining if we are not jamming our own switchboards the whole time with judgments and confusion.

When turning clear energy toward a task, there is a sense of flow to it. This could be organizing a meeting, in a cooking or writing project, teaching or taking a yoga class, working through a tax filing, accompanying someone on a task they must do, anything really. This attribute of engagement is not judgmental, this is not a conflicted state.

If I am not resisting what I am doing, there is very little separation between what I am doing and who I am. Quite a difference when there is resistance. The mind chatters about all that is not as it should be, makes constant recommendations about this task, other tasks, other people's actions or choices, what else I could be doing, should be doing, cannot be doing, and generally gets in the way of feeling satisfied with how the time was spent or with the task itself. This takes energy too, and just like physical friction from resistance, it burns up some of the energy turned toward the task itself. Wastes energy. Pulls the action in other directions, and in a very real way separates you from who you are by spinning a web of illusion around your action.

"I did the best I could," is a statement that reflects whatever judgment is in your mind about the task. It can be said with derision, with humility, with sorrow, with pride, with any kind of emotion, really.  The statement is infused with judgment. There could be an unspoken sense of "under the circumstances" that holds a form of apology, or excuse, or blame, or self-judgment. There might be a subtext that describes a wish to have accomplished more, or the idea that someone else would have done more or better.

When you put your undivided attention into a task it isn't about "best" of anything, it is what it is. It can be a big shift to be comfortable with doing what you are doing, and not ranking what you are doing.
This is authentic action, what could be called, "right action." Full on engagement with an open mind, not a judging mind. The way this feels is not compromised by mixed internal messages and scattered judgments of the self or others now or in the past tense. This is being present in the moment, as Thich Nhat Hahn says so simply, "wash the dishes to wash the dishes."

Doing what you are doing without internal conflict releases energy towards the task that otherwise gets subverted into judgments and resistance. Doing what you are doing builds the muscles of mindfulness that keep you present in the moment in which you are actually living. Doing what you are doing literally turns everyday life into a moving meditation, of focused attention and open possibilities of being who you are.

Present Moment: abiding with uncertainty

Each moment crosses all the boundaries of time and space. It's a little bit like stage fright, this feeling of not knowing what will happen and caring very much about doing my best. Living with that can heighten anxiety, complacency, hyperactivity; creating a spiral of uselessness and unworthiness. In any moment, what have you done? what have you done? (How will you be measured? valued? seen?)

Acknowledging this anxiety allows me to unravel how much I worry about what others think of me, trace my need for usefulness, and at the same time see how constantly I judge myself. It is not that hard, once opening that up, to begin simplifying. Literally,  I return my energy to the universe like a borrowed library book. This reinforces my responsibility to fully engage and use that energy, knowing it is endless and recycled.

My deepest happiness comes from drawing on the authentic in myself, and when that is my source of action, I feel that I do less harm. Not waiting for anything, just being in it thoroughly, whatever it is, in this moment -  a definition of effortless being, even with physical or mental effort in the action itself. (There is a moment at waking from sleep as the mind and body reintroduce themselves, yet all the while "being" is ceaseless, and seamless. This is not a mechanical arrangement of breath and heart beat, but a deeper cultivation of awareness.)

This authenticity comes from a well of basic goodness in me, and serves as a protection even with my pockets of ignorance. (Ignorance is like a blind spot where I have yet to learn to see, from which I operate on assumptions and projections, creating illusion and taking it as truth. It seems a certain amount of this is inevitable, yet I keep working on finding the edge of it.)

Uncertainty is possibility. Uncertainty is acknowledging fear of the unknown. Uncertainty is curiosity writ large. Uncertainty is not ignorance. Uncertainty is balancing in the moment, abiding.

Satisfaction seems to imply judgment, as in being enough, measured against something else and easily deflated.  It is contentment (Santosha) that implies acceptance with gratitude of whatever we have or do not have. This is not mere semantics, it is the practice of abiding with uncertainty.

Energy, Choices & Self Interest

Goals, action and intention all use our energy and help us fill our days, along with their shadows of anxiety, confusion and judgment.  Every time we do anything, from putting butter on toast to signing a contract for a job, we choose how we will spend this moment and many to come, knowingly or innocent of our motives. Usually there are some indicators that help us act in what we believe to be our self interest, to take on work that is worthwhile because of our training, or the paycheck or other benefit, whatever it may be that we think we want or need.  Perhaps it is the choice for taste over cholesterol level (butter on toast), or it can be social connection over isolation, or cleanliness over dirtiness, going to class or watching TV, there are many moments of choice that involve our energy and our identity and self concept in subtle and obvious ways.

It is hard to get away from the fact that self interest can be at the core of spiritual practice. In some ways it is an act on behalf of the self that drives a person towards some understanding greater than that of the first layer of self interest: those actions that take care of the basics of food, shelter, perhaps on behalf family and a wider layer of friends. Perhaps a connection to spiritual ideas can help further these more practical concerns, once a person believes that there may be something beyond the small isolated self to be considered. Self interest is definitely part of praying for a particular outcome or even giving donations of time or money to help promote the community in which one lives or to help lessen the suffering of those around us. We can use our energy to feel better about ourselves through helping others, and to feel better on behalf of others for having used our energy this way.

The next level of spiritual action could be turning one's life more fully over to spiritual practices from a deep desire to improve one's future condition as in "going to heaven" or improving "karma" for the next life. Some would say this is self-less behavior, but I see self-interest here too. Even in this matter it is a choice of how one uses the energy of this moment, and what manner of reward or outcome one expects or seeks. This seems to me to be connected to one's self concept as much as whether to eat toast or raw whole grains. We operate based on what we think is best or right or meets our criteria for usefulness, or offers us part of a goal we seek. This goal might be the betterment of living conditions for other living beings, or equitable means of resolving conflicts, or ensuring nutrition for malnourished infants, or helping a random passerby cross the street safely, or ending one's class on time. There is no hierarchy that makes one choice "better" other than how we see the choice and that, I think, is deeply colored by self interest and our ability to perceive who we are.

Spending one's life truly doing and being on behalf of others rather than just for one's self has a totally different impact in the world in the moment,  and in its consequences. This might be more obvious in one endeavor than another, say changing laws or governments versus nurturing a student's meditation practice. Yet the expenditure of energy that helps one's own child with homework or a co-worker resolve a moral dilemma, or in cooking one's own food from unprocessed local foods rather than buying a processed cheese food product,  is of the same temperament. Each of these small uses of energy serves the purpose of giving the self a clarity of purpose beyond selfishness even though the motive may be self interest. Perhaps it is a question of seeing the self in others, of recognizing that the self has an interest in the benefit to others.

Some people believe in heaven and hell, some believe in karma and the endless cycles of samskara; while some believe that all we have is this moment with no deeper consequence than that of this moment.  In any of these belief systems, it makes sense to me to use the energy we have to actively take on self interest, while at the same time developing our ability to be aware of what we do and why we do it. This cultivation of awareness, developing the ability to perceive our self and our patterns, is the basic nature of yogic practice and meditation experiences. This is the path towards recognizing the self and its interests in the welfare and conditional nature impacting other living beings.

Yoga does not make me a better person nor put me in a realm outside of self interest. It is as if yoga gives me the purest intelligence, like that of a bee: honing in on the pollen, using everything I have in me to collect from this one and that one until I must rest in the coolness of the evening. The bee in me is  doing what I have within me to do with all my energy, unflinchingly and without concern for the potential consequences of pollination and flowering, fruiting and feeding others. The bee in me is on the path, fully realizing my potential in the moment, doing what I can do in my present form.

So when I think about my teaching and find myself searching for motives, arranging and planning outcomes, I laugh and shrug it off. It is the energy of the bloom itself that draws the bee, the energy of the bee that brings the bloom. Letting go and seeing the dualities, I can feel my self interest in the benefits to my students -- whatever they are, and remain grateful to my students for my own practice. Will this get me points on the karmic scale? Who is doing the counting?

Let Go of That To Do List!

I resist the whirling vortex of the list of what must be done and relax into this moment, fully free. You could say that I am taking refuge in the completeness of acceptance, or just that idea of "being here now." There really is nothing that must be done, (I am breathing in and breathing out), though there are many many ways I could use my energy, (I need to call the hospital and take that package to the post), and I do turn my energy. Every where I turn, my energy turns. Where I turn my drishte (my focus), so my attention turns.

This is a direct learning from my yoga practice. It is the focus of the attention that draws the energy to that point. We are breathing all the time we are alive here in this body, and yet when we sit still and focus on our breathing suddenly we hardly know how to breathe in and breathe out. We watch ourselves struggle to simply hold our own attention in one place. So it is a worthy practice to let go of the judging and the constant review of the items on the list, and practice simply being present.

Just when I start thinking, "oh my life is so complicated, I don't have time to do this, no one would imagine all the things I am juggling," someone else says these same things to me about them! I smile, maybe even laugh, fully accepting this is human nature. Celebrating that we are alive, we have nearly infinite (did I say "nearly?") ways of using the moment-to-moment life we have. Yet so often the focus is far away on something projected or remembered. That way is the path of anxiety, stress, insufficiency, and sorrow, in a word "suffering."

Resisting that whirling vortex of "must do this" and "should have done that" and "how will I ever get all this done!" I can quietly wash the beets, enjoy the red stain on my cutting board, hear the happy clicking of the oven lighting, and feel the firmness of my hand gripping the knife. Later, after I teach a few sessions of yoga, I will share these delicious roasted beets with someone I love. I do not have to put that on the list, nor resist it.

Mass is just a form of energy

I am delighted to accept that we are nothing but interactions of patterns woven in a web. Maybe it isn't important whether this left hip opens so much, or if I fall out of a standing balance when I close my eyes. Perhaps this constantly moving, shimmering breathing body is truly just as Eastern mystics and advanced physics posit: a form of energy for me to use to explore this impermanent moment. I do not have to cling to making anything happen. I am not invested in looking a part or wearing a mantle of wisdom and grace. The fact that I exist in this moment is remarkable enough for me to celebrate my little coagulation of energy.

I cannot predict what my life will be in three days or in two years nor describe what my dreams will be tonight. What I know is that where I draw my attention, my awareness goes. On the yoga mat I am learning to experience truth, and to use my breath to keep me right there, in the experience without the judgment and attachment that deadens me to the moment itself. As moving energy, there is no duality, only the story of duality added by the beautiful human mind. And I can appreciate that without attaching to it.

It seems to me that on the yoga mat I am everything and nothing. My breath has no hierarchy. My heart beat has no ulterior motive. My amusement knows no rules, my heart opens to the floor and the sky, the cold nose of my blind cat, the waft of cool morning air from the window. I am simply energy in the form of mass.

Defining all beings, and all "things" in these terms, we are constantly exchanging, moving patterns of tiny particles; weaving the web that gives the world its appearance, and all the sensibilities that notice and experience that world.

Honoring the grace and magnificence of this cosmic dance in all beings and 'nonbeings.' Namaste.

Those Blooming Beings!

In Brooklyn walking to teach, I pass the rose bushes that inhabit the small garden spaces, overhang the wrought iron fences, and scatter their petals across the sidewalks. I feel waves of joy and gratitude as I observe the blooms, half open, full blown, and wilted, browning petals and the infinite potential of the buds. Just like remembering my own breathing, I nod in recognition of this continuous cycle of creative energy. Without a judgment of what is beautiful or what is not beautiful, or, acknowledging the human tendency to make such judgments, I feel intensely present.

In my upstate world it is earlier than that. It is the crowning moment of the iris bloom. Only the hardiest of shrub roses are open -- it is a rare one of the flamboyant sisters in Brooklyn that could survive the winters here. Yet the irises have outdone themselves as they must with variations and each as wonderful as the next, they stand folded and unfolding their treasures. Tall, short, single, multiple, every hue, fragrant or not, shade or sun, there they are. In the sun the petals are sometimes like the wavering wings of insects, translucent and veined. In the shade they are sparkling glowing and luminescent. A sudden pouring rain and they are drenched, sodden, leaning, and in some cases broken. In every aspect theirs is a direct expression of energy. Each moment is a marvel. When there were only three open blooms, they were an amazement. Now there are hundreds and they are still an amazement. Slug eaten, wind torn, or delicately perfuming the world, this year's bloom will come and go.

When the blooms are done, their leaves will spread open to the sun, their tubers will sink roots more fully into the soil and in time their seasonal death will come. Each moment fully present, just like those Brooklyn roses, rotting on the sidewalk or cascading over the fence. Thank you for sharing the path with me.

Energy Rising

Get up and be.
Take myself there, even if I feel the resistance.
Acknowledge the backwards pull and seek the source.
Is it fear? Is it lack of faith? Is it judgment?
Can I tolerate that I have no other moment than this one?
Let that change everything.

Sometimes I think, "one day I will do this or that, this way or that way..."
That is thinking.
Now I understand that if I intend to do it, that is an intention.
If I do it, I do it.
If I do not do it, I do not do it.
Now is now.
Giving myself this is the gift of my own life.

Perhaps it is giving myself the time to do yoga.
Perhaps it is sitting and not doing any asana.
Perhaps it is ensuring that I keep my words, perhaps that I let all my words go.
Perhaps it is drinking the wine, perhaps it is not drinking the wine.
Eat the meat, do not eat the meat.
Watch the sun rise, watch the sun set.
Keep my eyes closed. Open my eyes.
Everything in the mind is in the mind.
Is the body in the mind?
Is the breath in the body?

I make choices. I choose to live this moment.
Do I put off breathing? I breathe in, I breathe out.
Sweep myself up in the energy of breath.
Let myself rest in the peace of breath.

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

Inviting Softness in the Fierce

Lots of people use yoga to tone and strengthen their bodies. It's a natural system of using the whole self, so it works pretty well for the purpose. I notice, though, how effortful this is when my students are pushing towards goals rather than being where they are. Just staying with a fairly simple asana, or posture, can be strenuous and fierce. Lately my instructions have been including this one, "soften your mind." Well, that's a strange thing to say, but I know that the mind clenches tightly when the body is muscling through something, and I see the results in the whole body when a student can release that hard grip. All the fundamentals of yoga asana come into play as I soften the mind: releasing into my foundation, finding the space in the body, relaxing effort that is not necessary to the pose, letting go of judgment about oneself, benefiting fully from the breath, and finding freedom in the moment itself.

For me Utkatasana, known also as chair pose or fierce pose, is a good asana in which to explore softening the mind, releasing resistance and enabling strength from that place of ease. Basically, this standing pose is folded as though sitting in a chair, without the chair. Weight rests in the way the feet connect to the earth, tailbone balancing lightly over the heels with knees bent, body extending through an elongated spine, energy flowing from the earth through the top of the head. We can do lots of different things with our arms in this posture -- shoulders remain easy, neck relaxed. That seems like a joke! Most people tighten everything - especially the shoulders and neck, but it's not necessary at all for the pose. The state of mind is often reflected in the state of the jaw -- clenched tightly! This is a total waste of energy.

I recommend drinking in the breath in Utkatasana. Drawing a full breath up from the deepest place brings a sense of buoyancy to the body, releasing tension on the exhale in the form of consciously letting go of the shoulder and jaw gripping. It is an exploration of keeping the belly soft enough to expand with breath, while drawing the core muscles up and into the energy center. This brings a wonderful feeling of the body hovering over the base rather than that crunching tight gripping in the thighs and lower back. Imagine that your breath is energy flowing through you, bringing ease throughout the body.

Yoga practice can redefine fierceness as well as softness. Warrior pose (Virabhadrasana) can be a light balance of core body over extended legs, and it is the drawing of energy through the whole being that creates that sense of fierceness as well as grace and ease. Relaxed muscles respond much faster than gripping ones, making ease in the warrior a vital trait. The same is true for Utkatasana, that ease will make this "fierce pose" one of lightness and joy. Allow the mind to let go of judgment and attachment to performance and the body can release the associated anxieties and fears. With much amazement, you may find Utkatasana a welcome space for your heart energy to expand!

Connecting in the dark

My 88 year old dad called me in the middle of the snowstorm to tell me that the electricity was out but that he and his wife were fine. He told me that he wasn't sure how long his cell phone charge would last. He told me that a kind neighbor had shoveled their stoop and that, although the street was not plowed, he could at least walk to it. He said it was cold in the house, but the stove and plumbing were still working fine.

I am 350 miles away. There was a flood of feelings at his call. I heard the exuberance in his voice over the beauty of the storm, the slight edge of anxiety over the unknown duration of the power outage and its implications, and the pleasure that he could share his adventure with me even so far away. Whether I had been concerned about him or not, his reaching out to me brought me into his experience and placed him solidly in my day. I told him to turn off his phone to save charge, and that I would like to hear from him later to get a progress report.

The blizzard opens that energy channel of compassion that connects us. Sharing food, a fireplace, shovels and playfulness, people in my father's neighborhood feel a natural inclination to connect to one another, be helpful, and even to ask for help. His call to me spread this even deeper into our relationship, allowing us to feel the closeness of people who care for and support one another from any distance. It was not always so.

The freedom in this relationship has evolved in the same space that the neighborhood snowstorm connections have grown. Understanding that we share a set of conditions by being human beings, whereby we suffer more without one another than we suffer with each others' open hand and steady gaze. The position or stature of father-daughter became irrelevant when the channels opened. Past history, inner turmoils, what I call "the story" faded away. It is the release of judgment, the end of the attachment to the roles of the past and the projections of the future that liberated us. Just as in the snowstorm, from miles away I can help him shovel and throw a snowball from his front stoop. Not warning him of this or that, nor directing his attention here or there, I can just let him feel my presence beside and in him, my willingness to include his wellbeing in my own heart.