Ego & Body: Less Ego, More Breath

Yoga class. Look around. Put your body on the mat, and see if you can get your mind to stay with you there. Every breath, awareness streaks through your body, is it really always saying "me, me, me?" Can we separate out ego in the practice so that the mind can simply be alert and not defining self constantly?

I am experiencing the oddest combinations of this as I attend classes in various Yoga Studios, Capital "Y," Capital "S." I feel very different in my little neighborhood storefront shelter-from-the-storm studio, and definitely in the classes I teach at the medical center and the shelter. This level of visibility is new for me, this witness to the ego during practice. It is a level beyond ego that observes the "me" watching the "me" on the mat. Perhaps it is because I am putting my self in a new and demanding context in which the judgment/assessment of others is more likely to be felt. My breath saves me every time, as each breath flows into my body, taking shape in the asana, somehow the "me" goes out with the exhale. I can literally become a body in space for which some "I" feels such compassion. Sometimes I can shake with love for the form taken, accepting this, and this, and this. It is "me" and "not me." Some part of me is laughing at the part of me that observes me, too. Watching "me" watch "me." Now that is funny!

Where am I when all this is going on? I am drawing my bones more squarely to my foundation, or pressing gently into the earth to find my core rising up, or simply softening whatever body parts I can notice that are clenching and opening the energy to flow more freely.

When I look around, I see ego in the bodies around me, sometimes ego seeps out and the bodies rest quietly in their shapes. Sometimes ego causes suffering, or even celebration. It raises questions for me about why people practice yoga especially in classes. I do think sometimes classes can build reactiveness, strengthen judgment, bolster existing tendencies, and increase attachment to form or goal. For some it will take a particular teacher to shake this up, or it might take a certain amount of practice before something begins to loosen the grip of ego. And it sometimes happens like a stroke of lightening, striking and obliterating what was always there; as though a solid object has simply burnt up and vanished leaving space, open space in its place.

There is no way that I can sit on the yoga mat and not be me. The wild thing is that I can truly be me on the mat and not be attached to any significance or meaning related to that. Lately I'm just flooded with gratitude for the opportunity to be doing and teaching yoga, to be breathing and sharing these moments. It is not a matter of ego if I can do this or that asana. It is not a matter of ego if I can let go or am still grasping. It is not a matter for judgment and self definition whether I do yoga or haul wood. The less I cling to ego on the mat, the more I find peace and joy in the practice.

May I just say that bodies are amazing. We humans have a remarkable vehicle in which to experience life on earth. Phew.

Taking Each Chord and Playing The Possibilities

I just heard a wonderful interview with jazz musician Herbie Hancock in which he eloquently explained a basic principle of my yoga practice. He was answering questions about his new project, and talked about his interest in all sorts of music making. He spoke of jazz and described that vulnerable place where he could respond fully to what was possible in the music, listening to what the other musicians were doing, and really being present. The interviewer referred back to Hancock's early training and the formative experiences he had working with mentor Miles Davis.

It was at that moment Hancock said, and I'm paraphrasing, that he was performing in Europe with Davis and everything was going so well, when in the middle of a performance, Hancock played a chord (he was on piano) that was glaringly awful and wrong. As his heart was sinking, Miles Davis took a breath, and then played notes that fit into the chord pattern, making that chord work in the piece. Asked about the importance of that moment, Hancock said that it was at that moment when he realized Miles Davis did not think the chord was wrong. He did not judge the chord. He simply took that as something new, an opening of possibilities. He went on to say that if, in playing jazz and in life, you can leave the judgment out of it, you make room for that vulnerable honesty that gives you access to the music (and the truth). He said in that space, you learn to trust the other musicians, and to trust your self, in essence being authentic. Being present. It helps him connect with people all over the world, and play all kinds of music.

In truth there is freedom, in letting go of judgment, the limitations are loosened. Imagine yourself on the yoga mat, with all your usual thoughts about what you can and cannot do. In the middle of a lunge, the teacher asks you to lean over your thigh. Stretching your spine, you lean over your thigh and then you're asked to hook your elbow and twist over your thigh bringing your hands to your heart in Anjoli Mudra. You've never done this before and yet you find yourself twisted, hands moving towards your heart, feet grounded in a lunge, gazing over your shoulder to the back of the room. If you had been thinking about this shape, or how hard it is to stay in lunge or how you twist better to this side than that, you would not be where you now find yourself. Is that all there is to it? No, just step forward keeping your knees bent and you will be twisting in Utkatasana. Is that hard or easy? Is that the right way to "come into" Utkatasana? Let it go. Perhaps being open, not judging, authentically in the inquiry, you will find out more about who you really are, and how to play with the chords you find in you.

Bring Body & Mind to Class & Find Your Practice

detail Seurat painting, Chicago Art Institute

When a student comes to a class, they sit on the mat, arrange their body, prepare to take directions from the teacher and assume in all good faith that this will be a satisfying yoga practice. There is a sense of relief that someone else will be in charge. There is sometimes a little anxiety, could it even be performance anxiety, about what will be asked and how it will go. Usually there is craving too, desire to feel or be or experience something beyond the day-to-day of work, household, relationships etc. Sometimes it is just yearning for healing that brings the body to the mat.

But what brings the mind to the practice? Why separate out the mind, as though it was the evil twin? We do not need to silence the mind, nor perfect the body in order to deeply explore yoga. It seems to me that we learn though yoga to unify that which is the experience of this life in this body/mind with a greater sense of listening to a larger way of being, tapping into something universal about living.

What if attending class was all about exploring who you are in such a way that it enabled you to continue exploring who you are when you are not in class and feel okay about what you find? That means accepting the anxiety or relief, acknowledging the cravings and desires, allowing the sorrow and the joy to percolate and not judging them as "good" or "bad" nor giving up on what might seem "hard" or taking too much for granted in what comes "easy."

So many students now take yoga for exercise, for a "sense of wellbeing," some for healing, and some for community. Ideally the class is a springboard to making yoga your own practice. Bring your self into the communal setting to share breath, to learn about the exploration in a safe way, and what you take away will be an ongoing support for your own practice.

One thing is for sure: the mind can help the body understand and sustain challenges and openings by focusing attention in specific ways and the body can help the mind let go of judgments and be open to possibilities through alignment and the breath. Yoga is an adventure along a path that combines the body's movements, breathing, alignments, challenges, and attitudes, with the mind's posturing, undulations, shifts, information and inspiration. So where is the heart in all of this? That steadfast organ, pumping away, circulating fresh energy and removing obstacles and toxins? Well, that's not what we think of really, is it? We think of that open warmth and spaciousness, that deep longing and giving, the rising joys and sorrows, the tenderness and fierceness, in essence the compassion of acceptance and gratitude that is shared with other living beings. So applying heart energy becomes part of the yoga practice too, the turning of compassion towards oneself may be the revelation of a class, and turning compassion towards others may transform your life.

I've been taking classes lately that focus on many different variables of the yoga spectrum. It has been mighty interesting from my teacher-viewpoint and my own body/mind assembly. The strongest feeling so far for me has been that all of this experience I am gaining through my own body and mind feeds my yoga practice and my teaching practice. Not a picking and choosing of this and that, or judging this better than or less than, but assimilating the on-the-mat-waiting-for-class experience opens my heart wide to my students, and introduces new elements into my personal practice.

Take your classes out of the studio and into your heart and see what happens!

Less Ego = Less Effort

The class I took today was introduced with the idea that the authentic self might not require so much ego at the center of everything. That this idea of "I" could actually get in the way of the yoga practice! Perhaps it is the way that thoughts have of turning towards judgment, comparison or criticism when they focus on the self. Maybe its that slight fictional quality of the way the mind looks at the self that tampers with the experience in the moment. It was interesting to pay attention to information that arose about the ego throughout the asana sequences, throughout the remembering and forgetting of the breath, in the middle of extending from the toe mound of the little toe or from the base of the spine, while finding one side responding differently than the other.

One remarkable effect of this little bit of attention to when and how the ego stepped in, or commented, was to notice how little it did for the practice. That judgmental quality, even the "wow this is better than I thought" idea, does not bring more energy or less stress to the physical self. What does it do for the emotional self? Is it useful in some other way? A question to investigate for yourself. I found that letting go of the ego, the mind, the "how do I look now" of the asana, the "what will this hip do" part too, relaxed me even within the strenuous qualities of sustaining or moving my body. My mind seemed relieved of that duty, and begin to notice new things about the breathing in the room, about the textures of the sounds, and even about my own alignment.

It is hard to let go of the competition with oneself, fears of what judgments from other's might be, and of the measuring of one's self against everyone and everything that seems outside the self. It is just as hard to let go of the grasping towards the story the mind wants to tell. If we can allow ourselves to understand that this is story and not the experience in this moment, it takes a lot less effort to swim through the hard stuff. There is resistance to letting go of the separations and definitions, even the concepts of "good" and "bad" or "flexible" and "inflexible." Without the judging, comparing, critical mind, what is simply is what it is. This might be more breaths in headstand than you ever thought you could do. It might mean falling over in an attempt to revolve your Ardha Chandrasana. Yet without the ego, it is effortless to move in and out of these situations. There is no pain or shame or inflated expectation involved. It is this freedom of taking things just as they are ... in a state of constant flux and possibility -- where effortless effort comes to life.

Walking Is Walking

Here it is - When I walk to the store, I am walking. When I walk to teach, I am walking. When I walk to the creek, I am walking.
Here it is - When I practice 15 minutes, I am practicing. When I practice an hour, I am practicing. When I practice 2 hours, I am practicing.

So don't tell me that you don't have time to breathe, or that you can't take ten minutes for yoga in 24 hours each day. Everyone gets the same number of minutes in a day... and we make so many choices about how we are going to spend them. In fact we spend way too much time on the planning, thinking, rationalizing, explaining, etc. side of things. It's the way our minds work, so that's fine, just accept it. But put the practice in the day. I am suspending all the rules for you about time of day and routines.

Today it hit me as I ate my morning melon: Listen. Loosen. Open. Relax. That's the practice. You can add challenges, you can work on specifics of anything within that framework. Try chanting. Use Ujjayi breath or Bandha locks. Balance. Twist. Invert. Let the mind go beyond and look back at itself. Send yourself or someone else compassionate acceptance.




LISTEN: Let the breath take over the whole system. Allow your interest to connect to being present. Find what your own wisdom has to offer you. Take the risks, find the sources. If this is all you do, it is your practice.

LOOSEN: Warm the joints, be merciful and compassionate towards your soft side, your weak limb, your striving nature. Allow your body to come to the breath for support and nurturing. Find where the catches are and let them go. If this is all you do, it is your practice.

OPEN: Explore where you actually are. Allow temptation to flow through you and open your question marks into movements and shapes, forms and breath. Find what leads to what and let the energy find you right there. If this is all you do, it is your practice.

RELAX: Take it in and let it go. Close your eyes in recognition that you have all you need within you, the earth below you, the breath -- the very air itself -- moving you as it will. If this is all you do, it is your practice.

So you have a lot to do today, or you did a lot today. Ten minutes. Twenty minutes. Listen. Loosen. Open. Relax.

Intentions and Actions

Every time I show up on the yoga mat, I have every intention of exploring myself and my understandings through yoga. Much of what I know has been learned over time either from teachers, or through direct observation and inquiry. I learn from my students as well, which makes teaching that much more rewarding. Lately I've rarely been able to attend classes taught by other teachers. Some of this is due to my schedule, some is the expense of taking classes, some is due to diverging approaches to practice.

My own practice evolved with every teacher I encountered in those first few years of practice. I was lucky to meet many earnest young teachers from many different yogic schools. Most were very generous with their knowledge and their interests. After my certification to teach at Kripalu, I was deeply curious about many aspects of yoga as they became more and more accessible or visible to me. Now, just as I did then, I am drawn to the teachings of others who have come by various paths and am tremendously curious about their approaches, the different pathways and encouragements to understanding what is all one... the breath, the present moment, the body, the mind, and the vastness beyond the mind, in other words, yoga!

So, I have decided to commit myself to two class cards and use them up within approximately six weeks at two different Manhattan yoga studios. Each has a signature style, well known originators, an eclectic merging of traditional spiritual practices with more contemporary physical tendencies towards motion and music. Both have integrated Buddhist and Hindu devotional undercurrents. Both will challenge me to open my heart and take in a new depth to my own practice. I've chosen these two to begin, but there are definitely others that are also calling to me! We'll see how this goes with my own teaching schedule, elder care travels, weekends upstate, family and other work responsibilities.

It can't help but infuse my personal practice with a variety of currents, energy, curiosity and confusion. This is all good. It is the experience and exploration that intrigues me. And I just know it will seep into my teaching, as I cultivate my own awareness. Around mid-October I'll evaluate the effect of these external influences. I may continue to develop relationships with these two studios, but I may take up a couple other studios that integrate these same aspects with a different style.

Thanks to my treasured blog friends who have so courageously been describing their practices and their struggles, their defining moments and their mechanisms of finding their way. What an inspiration they are. I am beginning to feel excited, as well as a little bit anxious, about taking my intentions into action. Even the "little bit anxious" part feels to me as growth.

Bones

Walking, feeling the swing in the joints, realizing that the skeleton is the frame, bound together by its fittings and tendons, by its uses and spaces.

Thinking about moving in the world. Sensing that being in the world relies upon this spaciousness and the tensions of tissues that hold me together, keep me flexible enough to move.

Distributing my weight throughout my body, my bones hold this human form. For now.

Some of the most beautiful moments of breath come when I see the dry arch of my ribcage like an ancestral skeleton on the earth bleached by the sun. I call this the cathedral of my ribs, and fill it with light and breath.

Walking, passing a front stoop piled with flowers in honor of someone who died, and later, passing the small neighhborhood church where a hearse stood out front. Feeling joy and wonder. The bones, resting without the tensions in the flesh or muscles, without the breath. Is there sorrow in the bones? I don't feel it.

Heat washing the outside of me, heat washing the inside of me. Letting go of the pressure to hold on to my body, I can allow my bones to move with the movement of the breath. Still breathing. For now.

Walking, part of me is contained in this container of bone and breath. Some of me is an electrical impulse or a chemical reaction. When my bones rest, where do I go then? Savasana. Corpse pose. The idea of letting go, allowing the bones to hold my form, my spirit free, my breath easy. For now.