Remember the Joy

The question was raised earlier in the week as to why we come to yoga class. Some come to get a good stretch, or a workout, depending on the type of class. And that is fine. Others come to de-stress, to relax, to get the kinks worked out after a long day sitting at the computer. And that, too, is fine. Some come to find peace, that stillness that so often seems elusive. There is no right or wrong for the reason why we come to mat, but there is a reason why we stay. For those that view yoga as an exercise, know that there is more here for you than just looser hamstrings, stronger arms, or weight loss. For everyone who is interested, there is the opportunity for ease, happiness, and a little joy. It all depends on how you practice.

The class this morning was not with my usual teacher. When I first began to take yoga classes, this bothered me. I liked certain teachers, and when they were gone and a substitute was teaching the  class, I felt disappointed. I often compared how they taught with the usual teacher. Of course, I was so caught up in this comparison and judging, that I completely forgot why I went. For peace. I allowed my mind to run the show. Instead of walking out of the studio feeling relaxed and soft, I was just as tense as I went in, and often with the added sense of, “See, I knew the class wouldn’t be like her class.” Since I’ve completed my teacher training, however, I welcome new teachers. They offer a fresh approach and I’m always interested in how they put their sequence together and the way they instruct the class to move into or out of a pose.

The focus this morning was joy. Remembering the joy in whatever we do. Granted, any person, yoga teacher or not, will be able to list several examples in which we as human beings will not be in joy. And we’re not supposed to be alright with all that goes on. As is always the invitation, we experiment with whatever the teacher offers as the focus for the class, and those of us who are students of yoga (practice more than just the asanas) we take the lesson off the mat to other areas of our lives, where it really counts.

So, joy. Yes, when we’re in our favorite pose, it is easy to be in joy. “I like this pose. I can do it well. It makes me feel good.” When we are partaking in our favorite activities, like cooking, horseback riding, skiing, reading, or gardening, it is easy to be in joy, to have the edges of our physical being and any thoughts fade to just the activity, being “in the zone”, where there is no separation between us and what we’re doing. A step further is to allow the joy to arise when we’re in a situation where it isn’t our favorite, such as traffic, standing in line at the bank when we’re late, having a boss or colleague share their dissatisfaction with a situation that we are involved in. There are all kinds of yoga tools and techniques to help us be in a more joyful space, even here, one that keeps the mind from creating all the stories and misery that color our experience and encourage us to fall into that trap of drama or victimhood or misery.

In my creativity blog, I consistently stress that there is no right or wrong. In yoga, a lot of that is the same. Sure, alignment is important, especially for beginners who often struggle with proprioception. But once we’ve been around a pose a dozen times or more, we begin to trust that the body knows where to go. It becomes more about getting there, about enjoying the transition, not about how quickly or how perfectly one arrives at the ‘finished pose’ (of which there really isn’t one). Sometimes we get so caught up in getting it right, in ‘showing off’ to the instructor or the person on the next mat, that we forget the joy, the peace that can arise if we allow it.

The class this morning was a reminder to move in joy, to move the way the body is asking to be moved. Everyone’s breath of joy looked different, some were in child’s pose between two particular poses while others chose down dog, because that is what the body needed, and that is what brought a smile to the student’s face. I propose that there are more opportunities for joy throughout our day than we realize. Both on and off the mat. Can we allow joy to accompany us in an inversion? (Difficult for me, but yes, it is possible.) When we are lat for an appointment, and we seem to hit every red light, can we find joy in that moment, and every one until we arrive, safely, at our destination? I think so. If an ailing parent passes, if our beloved dog has an incurable disease, if a man with a bomb steps into a crowded marketplace, can we still be in joy? Maybe (probably) not. And that’s okay. The practice then, is how quickly we can return to that state of peace. Sometimes it will be quicker than others. But this is where yoga comes in.

In my experience, my practice is like an emergency flashlight in the darkest of times. I start with the breath. I ask if I can accept what the circumstances are, and acknowledge if I can or not. If not, I give myself some more time, and practice a few more techniques; maybe meditation, pranayama, kirtan, or repeating a mantra. Once I can surrender to what is happening, then I’m in a place to take the next step. No guarantee that I won’t slip backward and have to apply another technique or use another tool that yoga offers. Eventually, I do return to the state of joy. Maybe that is a carrot to get me there, or maybe that is my reward, or maybe it feels better, my life is lighter, when I can return to that place of stillness that I know is always within me. I have recorded, in the form of 25 poems about yogic techniques that bring me back to joy. You can read three of them at my website: www.myjoyenterprises.com I welcome any comments you’d wish to leave regarding what you employ to bring you back to center, back to joy. Namaste.

Being Open

   There are many tools, techniques, and texts in yoga to help us live a more peaceful life. We can read the Gita and the Sutras, study books written by various gurus, but when all the extra stuff is lifted away, the barest bone is left.

   Yoga is a science. With that, one can apply the scientific method, the “if . . . then” that we learned in school when looking at the weather or how a mouse makes his way through a maze for a piece of cheese. “If I eat an entire box of cookies for lunch every day, then I will gain weight and may not feel so well,” or “If I let go of having to be perfect all the time, then I will not be so stressed,” or “If I am open to life, then I can experience all that it has to offer.” And then we carry out the experiment and see what the truth is.

   The barest bone is to just be. Let go of attachments, of agendas, of expectations. But we’re human and so we cling to some of these. The suggestion is to release what we can. It is very difficult, in my experience, to hold on to so much, and then just be in the moment. My mind ends up spinning on what happened in the past and how I can control the future. And when I’m allowing the ego to lead the show, I miss out on so much of what I’m offered. ‘Being’ consumed with how to control events, my likes and dislikes, and the perceived duties that I think I have, keeps me from just ‘being’ open to whatever comes along.

   This doesn’t mean that I sit on my couch and not work or be involved with family and friends or partake in hobbies. What I’m suggesting is that we carry out our usual chores, but begin to notice if we’re expecting things to be a certain way. How does that make us feel? Experiment with letting go of the need to have your experiences show up in a particular way. If there is construction on your way to work and you need to take a detour, do you feel flustered, or do you enjoy the drive? Perhaps you’ll discover a new park or a yard sale where someone is getting rid of just the thing that you’ve been looking for. But you will not see it, not find it, if you are too busy fuming in your car that you’re regular route, the one you cling to, has been changed.

   It does no good to review life and make judgements and criticisms about how you should have done this or should have gone there. Begin now. That is one of the greatest gifts of yoga. Every moment, every day, we have the opportunity to practice. We can continue to hold on desperately to the ‘old ways’, to perhaps drive up onto the sidewalk and swerve around barricades because this is the way we have always gone. Or we could be open to surprises on the detour. Maybe we enjoy the detour and decide to take that route to work every day. Perhaps we meet other travels who decide to do the same thing, and then we car pool, something we never could have conceived, had we not taken the detour.

   Being in the west, I, like most of us, place some importance on the New Year. The Eve and the Day are opportunities not only for quiet reflection, but also for looking forward and anticipating all the detours, planned and not, that may present themselves in the coming year. So I ask you, are you willing to be open to what is offered, what might come around the next corner, or will you cling to the past? Which way will serve you? Try it out. “If I am open to life, then I will experience untold events. Or, if I continue to close off those possibilities, then I will live as I have.” Not that one way is better than the other, but it is a chance to see how your habits help or hinder your daily happiness.  I have composed 25 poems regarding this transformation, three of which can be viewed on my website www.myjoyenterprises.com Leave a comment as to whether or not you choose to be open. Namaste.

An Untrained Yogi

I have recently had the fortune to meet a man who, through our conversation, made me realize that he practices yoga, and yet has received no formal training. Years ago, I overheard a couple of yoga instructors talking about these ‘untrained yogis’, but my experience had been only with those that I had met at the studio, either in class or in teacher training.

“What’s the difference?” you ask. Remember that the practice of yoga isn’t about the asana or pranayama or meditation or chanting. Yoga is about artful living, being happy and at peace now. We use the asanas, pranayama, meditation, and chanting as tools to study the sutras and other lessons in yogic texts on the mat, so that we can take the practice off the mat and apply it to our lives outside the studio. This being present and living in the now, having more ease and harmony in one’s life, settles the vrittis, the distractions and chatter in the mind, so that we create opportunities to see who and what we really are.

A person who hasn’t heard of the sutras, hasn’t read the Gita from cover to cover, would not know about Krishna’s conversation with Arjuna, nor would they have heard of the Yamas and Niyamas. Yet this person that I have met astounded me with how he lives his life. What he has learned, through trial and error (And isn’t that what yoga asks of us? Just to notice how our habits color our experiences?), how he treats himself and others, and the enormous capacity he has developed for accepting what is, has encouraged me to engage in conversation with him in order to discover how he has done it.

Everyone is presented with pain in their lives (I posted a blog about pain and optional misery earlier), but what we do with the experience, the tools we use, determines our level of understanding of yogic practices. He has taken difficult situations, accepted what occurred, kept the lesson, and then let go of all that did not serve him. I was in awe. People travel their whole lives barely moving in this direction, let alone mastering it to the point of creating balance, being aware of habits, and consciously living in a space of peace and ease.

Without any prompting, he shared, “Why hang on to all the pain and misery? Get past that, get to the hindsight where you learn the lesson, then move on. No baggage. Life is about living.”

In overhearing cell phone conversations in public places, I observe many people who do hang on to the misery and live in the drama. Life’s lesson is often not learned because they are too busy prolonging the uncomfortable emotions. They listen to the chattering ego instructing them to buy into the story that this is how life is, misery after misery with flashes of ‘happiness’. And because of this, most of us require some training, or even just an introduction, at a studio that offers yogic philosophy along with the teaching of tools, such as asana, pranayama, etc. Even then, it is up to the individual to practice what the instructor suggests. I know there are some people who attend classes and only have an interest in getting more flexible or improving their balance or strength. That is a choice. The other option is to check out how yoga can give us the means to be happy now.

Perhaps you know of someone like this. A person who is aware of their habits, is curious about how to live more artfully, who accepts and surrenders to what is, letting go of all that does not serve him. If you do, invite them to have coffee and pick their brain. How do they do it? What is their thought process? I know that one path that works for me is writing about my observations and thoughts regarding this practice. Visit my website www.myjoyenterprises.com to view three poems I wrote regarding my journey through teacher training and the transformation that I recognized. Leave a comment if you’ve met an untrained yogi, and share their insights. Namaste.

Transformation Initially Unnoticed

I’ve recently come across several people who ‘used to practice yoga’. I’m wondering if they fall under the category of “I used to go to the gym”, “I used to own a truck”, or “I used to travel a lot in my job”. It was something that they did with their time, like a number on a to-do list that was checked off once they attended class and spent the requisite 60 or 90 minutes on their mat. And that’s fine. In an effort to step back from judgement about how they could have used all that time on their mat, I choose whether or not to comment, or just smile and offer an encouraging word to get them to move back to the practice, even if it was solely an asana practice. I’m not sure how many conversations I can have regarding getting a ‘yoga butt’.

Even though I had been practicing at the studio for a couple of years before I entered teacher training, I had heard much regarding the philosophy of yoga and didn’t think I would be challenged to the degree I was as I completed the program. There are times even now that I revert back to a little confusion over the seemingly constant paradoxes presented in the yogic texts. But like any other subject to be learned and internalized, it is best to make sense of something as you teach it to others. I did that as I led my students through the Eight Limbs and other invitations yoga offers us as a way to live a more artful life. Sometimes I used an example from my life, and other times I kept it relegated to the physical practice on the mat.

Without knowing it, perhaps I wasn’t really paying attention, some event occurs, and I find I remind myself of, “allow”, “surrender”, “accept”, all of which don’t mean to roll over and take abuse from another person or buy into the story of the ego. Occasionally, and I always laughed when it occurred, a student would remind me of something I had said during our time together on the mat, such as, “just breathe”, or “it’s only sensation”, or “what is your intention?” Perhaps they were listening after all! And what I have found, with the time that I have been studying and reading and teaching others, is that a transformation has occurred, and I don’t believe I was aware of the entire process, only the outcome.

In the past ten days or so, I have had quite a roller coaster ride. My teaching position was eliminated (mutually agreed upon) so that I could serve in a different capacity. Schedule changes and myriad other details followed, causing the anxiety level of my colleagues to ramp up significantly. As I was helping with that transition, my father had a heart attack and had to be flown, via helicopter, to Phoenix where he underwent a quadruple bypass. A couple of days later, I was required to spend the day at the courthouse with a jury summons. Finals were scheduled that week at school, a friend went out of town and I offered to dog sit for her. On top of all of these events, I had to continue with my teaching schedule, my yoga students, and I even attempted to make a class or two at the studio for myself.

I know some people who would have been caught up in the drama, the ‘woe is me’ story that the ego plays hoping for attention. Instead, I, playing the part of Arjuna, did my duty. I received fewer hours of sleep, but there was little worry, anxiety, depression, or any other emotion that would normally swing a person wildly from one side of the spectrum to the other. The days were filled with facts: father in the hospital, courthouse appearance, horses to feed, classes to teach, etc. I would have been much more exhausted had I opted for the misery the mind creates. This has been such an experiment for me to detach from all the possible craziness and rest in the peace that I know is always inside of me. The funny thing is, beside the couple of times that I actually, consciously, thought about a tool or technique of yoga, I moved through my days and the events wholly present and doing the next thing that was in front me.

It wasn’t until the past day or so that I began to realize what has allowed me to remain in the middle section of the spectrum, and not swing from side to side. There were still emotions, and I still experienced them (I’m still human!), but they had less of an effect on my actions and thoughts. The transformation, seemingly so hard-fought during the teacher training, has apparently taken a firm hold. I admit that I’m not an expert, and that I don’t have it ‘down pat’, but I am thankful to acknowledge that a change has occurred, and though I wasn’t cognizant of it every step of the way, I recognize I’ve made it to the other side of a bridge or road or door . . . and the possible daily drama colors my experience less than it did before I began the program.

When I was learning how to be an Academic Language Therapist, so much of the intricacies of the English language were new to me simply because they had never been taught in any of my classes in school. We were told that we’d ‘learn right along with the students’ which I can tell you is a little disconcerting. As a teacher, we’re taught to know where the curriculum is going and to be prepared to answer myriad questions that students might generate. Learn along with the students? In some lessons, they were right.

I know that the transformation that began the first time I stepped onto my yoga mat will continue for the rest of my life. I will have new experiences with which to apply the practice of yoga, and I’ll have students that will request I explain the apparent paradoxes in a way that demonstrates my comprehension. This understanding, I believe, can only come from having made my own sense of the teachings of yoga. On this side of the thresh hold, I can hold open the door for others to follow. Is the transformation possible for my students? Absolutely. Will I know every step they must take to follow the change that will occur within them if they are vested in living with more peace and ease? Probably not. But I know enough to guide them with thoughtful questioning and an understanding smile when they begin to make their own connections.

Many of these connections that I made are expressed in 25 poems that I wrote during my teacher training. You can read three of them on my website: www.myjoyenterprises.com as well as order the entire poem project, Yogis All: A Journey of Transformation Volume I. Have you recognized a transformation from your journey on the mat while utilizing the tools and techniques yoga offers? I’d love to hear it, so leave a comment below. Namaste.

New to Yoga

I’ve lost track of how long I’ve been regularly attending yoga classes at my favorite studio. I even have to think about how many months it has taken me to complete the 500 hours for my yoga teacher certification. I’ve recently picked up another yoga student, and I’m reminded how difficult the poses and breathing and not thinking all at the same time can be.

Down dog (one of my favorite poses, though yoga asks us to let go of preferences) is a pose that most often elicits a sigh of relaxation from me. I feel that I can hold the pose for ten minutes at a time. I’m cognizant of how much pressure it asks of wrists and shoulders, and so when I direct new students to move into the pose, I try to not keep them there a long time. However, sometimes I do ask them to move into 3-legged dog or fire hydrant, and if I don’t move them quickly enough, they give up and spend the next several minutes in child’s pose rotating their wrists, their ego chattering away about how hard it is and why are they bothering anyway. Of course, child’s pose is always available, and that’s not the point.

One of the conditions I’ve noticed from practicing and then moving into being a teacher of yoga, is that I can ‘feel’ the postures in my body even though I’m not doing them. When I instruct a student into down dog, I can feel my spine lengthening, feel my hamstrings get a little love, and automatically roll my shoulders away from my ears. Because I have a kinesthetic memory (and most instructors and athletes do) of the postures, I can recall the energetic cues to encourage the student to reach this direction or lengthen that direction. And it is this muscle memory that aids me when I work with new students by asking them to remain in the pose long enough to get a sense of it, to just begin to break up the blockages, but not so long as to frustrate the student into never returning to their mat.

It is also the length of time that I’ve been practicing that has me recognizing how still my mind becomes in the postures, and how the breath is just there. No struggle (or very little), focus on the present moment and the sensations in the body, and noticing right away when the ego pipes up to say, “Good job balancing,” or “You hate inversions”. I’m still a student, and still engage in the practice of letting go of judgements and criticisms. It is because, I think, that I’m able to ‘ride both sides of the fence’, feel the quiet space when the mind is at ease and still have postures that challenge that peace, that I can relate to my students more easily.

By asking them to move into postures that I know they can ‘handle’ as well as others that are challenging, and keeping them there for a length of time where they get a sense of it and a bit of benefit, and yet not so long that the mind gives out (which nearly always happens before the body does), I give them an opportunity to taste the benefits of a consistent practice. I really enjoy initiating students into the practice of asana, and of course the philosophy that makes the asana work as it was intended. I recently posted on my Facebook page that I smile when I see my students smile because they’ve caught a glimpse of what can happen if they practice the lesson for the session on the mat, when their mind settles and gives them just a nanosecond of silence.

As I was finishing my course requirements, I wrote 25 poems about the practice of yoga, including the Yamas and Niyamas. These I put together, along with a few other goodies, into my poem project titled, Yogis All: A Journal of Transformation Volume I, which can be viewed on my website www.myjoyenterprises.com My creative muse has churned up more poems that offer a glance into my journey as a yoga teacher. I’m thinking to set that project aside, and instead bring forth writings that might inspire new students to the practice. Perhaps they can nod their heads in understanding of sore wrists in down dog, and smile as they recognize that for the last three breaths, they were completely, whole-heartedly present. There are so many nuances to one’s practice, and they are different for everyone, but perhaps if the new practitioners were given a peek at what is possible, perhaps they won’t be so quick to feed the monkey mind, but instead take a breath, and hold down dog for just another moment, a second where the ego has not won. Namaste.

 

The Truth of Yoga

   For the past several years, after Thanksgiving dinner at the friend’s house where I enjoy good food and great company, a fire is built-in the backyard, and we enjoy the cool night and perhaps some burnt marshmallows. Last night was no different. There were two people there that had shared Thanksgiving with my friend and I for the past few years. Two new people attended (my friend always opens his door to people who have no place else to go for Thanksgiving dinner), along with another woman who I have met a handful of times.

   A few of the people had wandered away from the fire, so it was just three of us, J., F., and me, staring into the mesmerizing flames. J. (initial used to protect the person) and I have known each other for about fifteen years. He is an avid hiker and engineer for one of the government agencies and is also a practitioner of yoga. Sitting around the fire, the conversation naturally led from how things were going in his life, to me inquiring about his recent hiking trips and projects he was involved in at work. I had offered before to give him free yoga sessions when I was working on completing my student teaching hours, but he gracefully declined. (I then heard him confess to another person at that gathering that if the other person was a ‘butt man’ then he should take a yoga class. I remember my face flushing, as the clothes worn by those of us in the West when partaking in an asana class is for the ease of movement, not to show off any particular body part!)

   When I asked if he was still doing yoga, he said he was, and talked about the location of the studio and when he takes classes. Then F. (the woman who I had met a few times) said she had paid a bit of money to see a ‘guru’ from India with a friend of hers who was into yoga. She said they were both disappointed in that all they received was a summary of a movie. I suggested that perhaps the teacher was using the movie as a metaphor for what he was attempting to teach. She agreed that could have been the case.

   To J., I asked, “Does the studio where you practice begin each class with philosophy?”

   He answered, “Yes, the teacher reads something out a book.”

   “Oh?” I said. “Does she read from the Tao? Patanjali?”

   Annoyed, he admitted, “I don’t know.”

   “Rumi?” I continued with my inquiry, looking for similarities in his teacher and mine.

   “I don’t know. I don’t listen,” he told me in a voice that he was not interested in continuing the conversation.

   I was quiet a minute, wondering if I should say something to perhaps illuminate these two companions of mine, one who has been a long-time yoga practitioner, and the other who failed to ‘get enlightenment’ from a guru, as to the truth of yoga. I glanced from the fire, the orange flames dancing along the dried wood, to the stars overhead. It was a clear night, and though we were in the middle of a city, several specks of white glittered overhead. In taking these moments to respond, rather than react, I thought it might serve them if I were to tell them what I knew regarding yoga.

   “It could well be that you had a difficult time understanding the guru visiting from India because in their culture, yoga is a way of life. Here in the West, we view enlightenment, and spirituality, very differently. Really, each of us is already enlightened. It’s just the optional misery and the stories, judgements, and comparisons and criticisms of the ego that we buy into that covers it up,” I said to the woman, who nodded in understanding.

   To J. I said, “Often people who ‘practice’ yoga refer to the asanas on the mat. Those asanas arose spontaneously because the physical body needed to move before it would sit still as the yogi practiced training the mind to quiet meditation. Yoga isn’t about yoga. It’s about stilling the vrittis in the mind to give us an opportunity to see who and what we truly are. If one is brave enough, they take the lessons learned on the mat out the doors of the studio to create more peace and harmony in their lives. There are many who attend asana classes to get a ‘yoga butt’, and that’s okay, too.”

   What followed was their attempt at a humorous conversation about what a ‘yoga butt’ was. I sighed and looked again at the stars. I was prepared, well versed enough in my understanding of yogic texts and the truth of yoga to share what I knew, what I had experimented with and discovered for myself. But these two people who shared the warmth of the fire with me were not yet ready to receive anything I might have offered. Maybe sometime later, they will think about what I said, perhaps ask a question, or even do their own research.

   In reviewing where these two people are in their lives, I knew why the discussion did not go any further than it did. J. had told me some years back that he was a ‘card carrying athiest’ for many years. I guess I had forgotten that when I found out he practiced yoga. Apparently, he chooses to use the asana as exercise and forego any teachings the instructor might offer. And that is fine. I wonder, though, if not a bit of studying of the Eight Limbs might offer him more happiness in his life when relationships end and he spirals into depression, desperately clinging to something that no longer exists. For F., her conversations abound with drama she creates in her own life. She plays the victim role very well, and a part of me longs to suggest some tools and techniques of yoga that would bring her some peace to her self-made turbulent world.

   In this conversation, as in others I have had, I find myself caught between religious dogma, esoteric fear and misunderstanding, and spiritual misalignment. As much as I’d like to offer those that I’ve engaged in conversations with about yoga (who are not students of yoga), I find myself treading carefully around strong religious upbringing, ‘woowoo’ deterents, and those simply not interested in having any more happiness or ease in their lives. So I’ll wait.

   The students that I teach privately are learning the tools and techniques that have brought peace and harmony into my life (and countless others). If it is my purpose, then I know others will excitedly enter in dialogue with me regarding the truth of yoga. To help me in my understanding, I composed 25 poems, three of which can be read for free on my website www.myjoyenterprises.com Please leave a comment if you’ve had a discussion about the truth of yoga. Namaste.

Yoga and Optional Misery

   Months ago, I was sitting in a restaurant, and when I looked around, I saw a man sitting two tables away. There was nothing that particularly stood out with this man, except his shirt. I could only read the back, but it said: “Misery is optional”. I would have liked to have seen the front of his shirt, but he was in a private conversation with another person and I didn’t want to interrupt. It immediately brought up a yoga lesson that I’d like to share.

   As we go through life, we inveritably will encounter pain. We will fail a class in school, get cut from the team, lose a job, get our hearts broken, bounce a check, have a car accident, or get sick on vacation. There is no way around ‘pain’. People get sick, and loved ones pass. ‘Pain’ is not an option. However, the story that the ego spins and the drama that it loves to create, is optional. We can say, “I can’t believe I got sick on vacation! It ruined the whole thing! I couldn’t go to the beach, go snorkeling, or attend the barbecue. My entire vacation was awful! And it’s Sue’s fault. If I hadn’t been babysitting the day before I left, I never would have gotten sick. After all, she had a cold, and I was fine until then!” and on and on it goes.

   The ego thrives on creating thoughts (‘good’ and ‘bad’ as that’s its job), and we allow it, we feed it, when we tell everyone we know about our horrible vacation. It just keeps spinning, and the misery grows. Sometimes, the misery grows so much that it affects the relationship with Sue’s parents, and any future plans we might have to take another vacation. When we’re led around by the ego, we allow it to stir up all kinds of trouble. I invite you to think about the man’s shirt in the restaurant: Misery is optional. You got sick on vacation. That’s the pain. The misery is how much attention you feed that event.

   Instead: You got sick on vacation. You rested the first couple of days, sleeping in, getting lots of fluids, taking short walks on the beach, maybe relaxing under an umbrella by the pool. By the third day you’re feeling good enough to take an excursion, your ‘sickness’ forgotten because you didn’t wallow in the misery of how horrible it was to be sick on your vacation. When you return home and your friends and family ask how things went, instead of lamenting that the whole time you were stuck in your hotel room and how miserable you were, you could say that you took the first couple of days to really relax and unwind, which then allowed you to enjoy the rest of your vacation.

   Two different scenarios, same event. We do this on the mat. We can’t touch our toes, have trouble balancing, or we’re afraid to do a  head stand. These are examples of ‘pain’. They are facts, the experiences we have in our lives on the mat. If we’re not paying attention, the ego will creep in with comments such as, “You’ve been doing yoga for months now, I can’t believe you can’t get your fingers to your toes in Uttanasana,” or, “Geeze, why can’t I balance like I did yesterday? It has to be the teacher. I don’t like moving into the pose this way,” or, “No way am I trying that. That is too difficult a pose for this class. What is the teacher thinking? I’ll break my neck. I’m never coming back to this class.” All misery. All optional. All so not worth the effort to follow the stories of the ego down into a pit of worry and angst and frustration. For what? Just because the mind creates opinions and judgments about our performance doesn’t mean we have to buy into it or follow it around and around until we have ourselves upset and decide to quit going to yoga completely.

   As with everything in this practice, it is just that. Practice. Each moment, every event in our lives (if we choose) gives us the opportunity to notice the pain and allow it space to be there (and it will eventually lessen, if not dissipate altogether). Try it, and notice what it does to your experience. Just this, just the facts, just the sensations of that moment and that event. Contrast it with feeding the ego and following the stories and drama that it manifests, and notice how long it takes before the ‘pain’ of the actual event begins to soften, to fade. Then decide how each works for you, which one allows for more peace and happiness in your life.

   Some things are a little easier to move through without the optional misery. A rude customer on the phone, someone cutting us off in traffic. Other events take more time and practice and effort to not attach misery, such as a difficult coworker, not getting a promotion, or the ending of a friendship. If we begin this practice on our mats in regards to tight shoulders or a wobbling Tree pose, then maybe, we can take it off the mat and allow the practice to ease a few of the other difficult ‘pains’ in our lives. In my attempt to make sense of this practice of yoga, I complied 25 poems. Three are available for viewing on my web site www.myjoyenterprises.com Leave a comment, and share a time when you chose to forego adding optional misery, or when you didn’t.

Why We Practice Yoga

Losing weight, getting stronger, increasing flexibility, and decreasing stress are all reasons why many people first step foot onto a yoga mat. Why we stay could be the same reasons, or for some of us, those that are shown the ‘real’ reason yoga exists, because it stills the mind and offers an opportunity to see who and what we really are. Okay, that’s it for the blog post because that’s the role that yoga plays, and if we practice fully, the reason why we do it.

Just kidding (about ending the blog!). There are times that I’ve had a particularly difficult day, and my old habit of wanting to go home and veg-out on the couch speaks loudly in my mind. I can usually call up all kinds of reasons why I shouldn’t go to class. I’m tired, it’s late, I’m hungry, I’ll go tomorrow . . . but at that point, what I really need, is to get on the mat. Not only to undo the years of my ego’s habit to procrastinate and take the easy road, but because it is when I step on the mat that I can settle my thoughts.

The asanas arose spontaneously from the gurus that spent their days meditating. Oftentimes, the body would become restless, which made the opportunity for recognition that much more out of reach. By ‘exercising’ the body, it was more likely to sit quietly, relaxed, while the practitioner connected to the breath and the awareness inside.

I find that they still serve this purpose today. After only a few moments of focusing on my breath, my thoughts begin to slow the seemingly ceaseless spinning of all that occurred earlier, and all that might transpire later. Instead of replaying conversations, second-guessing my choices, or wondering if I’d said or done the ‘right’ thing, my awareness settles on air moving in and out through my nose, and I’m able (though I admit it took a little time and effort to ‘train’ the mind) to let go of the spinning thoughts. I know they will still be there later, should I choose to pick them up.

As I move through the postures and listen to the voice of the teacher, there isn’t a chance to make a grocery list or wonder when the class will be over. I’m just there, putting one arm here, one leg there, and breathing. I’ve allowed my mind to take over my asana practice before, and then I fall out of tree pose (for which I’m reminded that falling is part of balancing, though if I’m not making a list, instead I’m just standing and breathing, then I don’t fall out of the pose) or I don’t allow the pose to be fully expressed. It is not for the teacher’s benefit that we work to our edge, but if I don’t, then I know that I’ve just wasted 90 minutes full of moments to be in the present and breathe. I’ve done it both ways, and have decided to let go of the habit that takes me off my mat mentally. I find it more stilling (the purpose of yoga) to be in the moment, allow the pose to arise how it will, work to my edge, and see if anything will be revealed to me. Sometimes it is, and sometimes it isn’t.

It becomes easier, with the guidance of a skilled teacher, to experiment with the teachings of yoga on the mat. The true test, though, is to take it off the mat to our work, relationships, living arrangement, and even standing in line. I wrote earlier that on difficult days I find many reasons why I shouldn’t attend class. I do take the practice off my mat and apply it to other areas of my life. It has helped me find some peace and contentment where before, there was none. But I find that I need to go to class because sometimes I forget.

As I listen to the instructions of the teacher and their reminders about how we sabotage our own happiness, I sometimes smile on the inside. How did they know that I needed to be reminded of that? Because we all do. We are forgetful creatures (thanks, Caroline!) and need to be refreshed on why we return to this practice. Sure, we all like the better balance, the stronger body and all those benefits that keep us healthier. But without a little settling in the mind, a glimpse of the recognition of who we really are, and then the subsequent stepping away from all that the ego strongly tells us we need to engage in, our lives will continue to be a whirling mess of stories and judgements and criticisms that probably have not served us very well.

So we come the mat, to this practice to gain physical differences, tangible changes that we can ‘see’ in the mirror or compare with how our performance was a week or a month ago. For some of us, we stay because the practice teaches tools and techniques to detach from the ramblings of the monkey mind and uncover the peace that is already within us. During my teacher training, I recorded my thoughts as they turned from yoga as ‘exercise’ to yoga as a way of life. You can view three of the poems at my web site www.myjoyenterprises.com or you can order the poem project, Yogis All: A Journey of Transformation Volume I. Leave a comment of your journey, or how your practice serves you, instead of you serving the ego.

 

To Transmit Yoga

   I stated in my writing post some time ago that for all the hats I wear in this lifetime, being a teacher is one. I’ve taught horseback riding lessons, I’ve taught just the horses, school age students  in a variety grades and topics, friends who wanted to go into business on their own, other teachers, and yoga students. I’ve been a student with some very talented teachers, and others who, though they knew their material, were not gifted with the ability to ‘transmit’ that information.

   What I have found, is that no matter where I am, there are certain abilities that good teachers have. One of those is the ability to observe and discern. As a matter of survival, we all can observe, but only some of us can discern when a student is struggling with a math concept and what words need to be spoken in order for comprehension to occur. Others will need to ask several questions and perhaps engage in quite a conversation to figure out where the student is stuck, and then what to do to help them understand. In observing horses, it takes a keen eye to know when one stride is shorter than the other, and whether it is because they are lame and hurting somewhere, or because they are being lazy and not driving from their hindquarters.

   It is the same in observing students on their yoga mats. With some experience, a combination of training and aptitude, one can see if a student is working beyond their edge, is just ‘hanging out’, has tightness some place that their misalignment is compensating for, or that they simply don’t know where to put their body parts. Being able to see the basic misalignments will clear up some issues, but being able to observe and discern the level that the student is practicing at, allows the teacher to direct the student in the most appropriate way.

   In talking with some of my fellow yoga teachers that graduated in the same class as me, they admit that they are good at asana instruction, but don’t feel comfortable in ‘transmitting’ the philosophy. I find that to separate the two is very difficult. In fact, I find myself sharing the teachings of yoga in every day conversations. The reciprocal also occurs, in that my every day experiences offer me fodder for my philosophical teachings with my students.

   In a previous post I mentioned that we were told to ‘teach from where you are’, and I gave several examples of that. I also mentioned that ‘we don’t teach yoga, we teach who we are’. Both of these speak to not just the instruction of alignment in an asana practice, but to go beyond the basic words and ‘transmit’ who we are as teachers and human beings. To share our struggles, shine a light on how yogic teachings assist in our own lives, direct the energy we see as stagnant or stuck in the physical body through the asanas, encourage students to practice the philosophy on the mat, where it is safe, and then be big and take it to other parts of their lives, and even to listen attentively and offer appropriate  feedback when a student comes to us for advice are all examples of a good teacher ‘transmitting’ yoga.

   To ‘transmit’ means more than just to ‘tell’. There is a sharing, verbal and nonverbal, an observing and responding in kind, a personal interest in the spiritual awakening of one’s students. I don’t believe my gratitude will ever fade for the opportunity to learn what I have through the teacher training program I completed. Because I am a student myself, I know I will continue to learn, to gather knowledge, and use my ability to ‘transmit’ those teachings to others. Teaching truly is an intuitive and creative art. Some of my understanding has taken the form of poems. You can read a few of them on my web site www.myjoyenterprises.com And just this week, you can now find me listed on Yoga Alliance as a CYT500. Namaste.

Yoga and the Breath

Any yoga instructor worth their weight continuously reminds their students about the inhale and the exhale. Any student who listens to the instructor can be heard taking a breath at the reminder. The breath is one tangible way that we can connect to the energy, or prana. When the prana leaves us, this life on earth is done.

In my sessions, I’ve become fond of asking students, in our opening mediation, to connect with the breath, and without manipulation, notice where it is that the breath goes. Front body? Back body? Are the side ribs moving away from the torso? Does the low belly move out as the diaphragm drops down? Is the breath even between both lungs? Beginners will often try too hard to connect with the breath, and thus move away from creating a quiet space. Once they’ve done a little mat practice, then they are more readily able to find where the breath goes, and what is moving with the inhales and exhales.

After the students have tapped in to the breath (and for many of them it is only for one round, and then the mind is off to something more interesting than sitting and breathing!), I ask them to notice the emotional body that showed up on the mat that day. As we move through sessions, I begin to ask them to link the breath to the emotions that they are feeling. If the breath is short and choppy, most likely the mind is similar. Agitation, anxiety, anger, fear, all of which takes us away from the quiet center.

As they follow my invitation to begin to manipulate the breath, by evening it out (same count for the inhale and the exhale), perhaps deepening the breath, or even taking a few audible exhales, I notice an energy shift. I ask them to check back in with the mind and notice if the thoughts have calmed any, if perhaps their driving emotion hasn’t had a few rough edges ‘breathed’ away. And if they don’t notice, I always reassure that that is okay, too. Everyone’s journey down the road of proprioception is different.

Moving the body on the mat will alter the breath. Balasana or a twist can restrict the breath to the front body where the abdomen is given less room to move. After completing several rounds of sun salutations, the breath is quick, and maybe not as deep as in the opening seated meditation. Reminding students to return the breath, an anchor that keeps us rooted in the moment, is always suggested. I sometimes take it a step further and ask them to notice the quality of their breath, and then check in with their thoughts. If the breath is ragged and the student is working past their edge, I would bet that their mind is in turmoil. They have then moved away from the practice of yoga.

There are times that I invite my students to notice their breath throughout the day. If they are feeling tired, to check in with how they are breathing. Shallow? It takes a dedicated practitioner to remember the tools and techniques of yoga when an event occurs. The sooner the student of yoga can realize that they have moved into the ego and have bought into the stories (i.e., lies) of the mind, then the quicker they can bring themselves back to center. I was grateful for this reminder earlier this week. A situation occurred, and I reacted the way most people would. I got angry for an instant, then very hurt. There were tears and all sorts of upset. In speaking with someone who also knows yoga, they mentioned to me, “We’ve been talking for ten minutes and I’ve yet to hear you take a full breath.” Ah. Yes. That is what I was missing. My thoughts were consumed with the event, and the emotions hijacked my breath, and with that, any attempt to use a technique was temporarily out of reach. I would have eventually come back, but her gentle reminder brought the fact that I had forgotten to breathe up front and center.

For the next three days, how my breath was showing up was something I checked in on several times. I spent some time with my pranayama practice before an extended seated meditation. What do you know? The long, deep breaths settled my mind. Viloma gave me the opportunity to enjoy a few moments where the breath was suspended. Kapalabati brought me out of a funk one afternoon. Why is it that one simple anger management tool, “Take a deep breath and count to ten,” is so often suggested? I believe it was Einstein who said, “We cannot solve a problem on the same level that it was created.” If the anger or sadness resides in the shortness of breath, and where the creative problem solving center of the brain is shut down, then how would we ever expect to respond (rather than react) to a particular situation? Deep breaths to a count of ten not only sends oxygen to the brain (which was previous starved and then sent into fight or flight mode) but floods the body with fresh energy. It is from this place, where the breath has leveled, and the thoughts are perhaps more rational, that a solution can be found.

This has been a lesson that I have learned well (and reminded of recently), so the next time I’m faced with a difficult situation, I can take a breath, or two or three or ten, and then respond from a place that is more centered, more quiet, than the irrational ramblings of the threatened ego. I’ve written and recorded other thoughts I’ve had about yoga’s teachings in 25 poems I’ve titled Yogis All: A Journey of Transformation Volume I, of which three poems can be read for free on my web site  www.myjoyenterprises.com, or you can order the whole project. Do you have suggestions for how students can use the breath in their practice? Leave a comment to share with others. Namaste.