Unconditional Friendliness

Last week I was away on a one-week Thanksgiving vacation with immediate and extended family members. We stayed at an all-inclusive resort. Our every need was attended to by a large staff of cheerful servants: waiters, babysitters, bartenders, cooks, housekeeping staff and even entertainment specialists. I was struck by the consistently warm, joyful and friendly attitude of these workers. The resort welcomes guests from all over the world, from different cultures and with differing preferences and needs. I was impressed by how unfailingly accommodating the staff was to the various types of people they served.

Lounging by the pool, I read part of a book by Pema Chodron. When I read her explanation of the Sanskrit word, maitri, I looked up from my book at the waiters strolling around the pool area. I then re-read this bit, “The word for loving-kindness in Sanskrit is maitri. Maitri is also translated as unconditional friendliness.” I thought to myself, “the staff at this resort excels in displaying unconditional friendliness to every guest who is here.” It was a perfect example of how I could immediately apply the concept of Maitri in my own life; what if I could do the same for myself and the people I am supposed to serve? I decided to work towards unconditional friendliness to my extended family members during the trip and this holiday season, as well as unconditional friendliness to myself during the stressful moments of travel and holiday preparation. I don’t expect to change all of my reactions and develop a new personality overnight just because I set a new Holiday Maitri goal, but keeping it in my mind as a theme this season feels right.

The concept of Maitri is present in Yoga philosophy as well as in Buddhist and Hindu teachings. I thought about unconditional friendliness in my yoga practice and my relationship with myself. My practice is where I work on developing Maitri, in asana and especially in meditation. I did water aerobics and Zumba on vacation. I also practiced yoga in my room. What made the yoga different from the other two activities was the practice of connecting with myself, and working on that relationship. This is what sets yoga apart from other physical pursuits. On this vacation, I had to apply the concept of Maitri when I realized my muscles were loose after a massage and a mid-day cocktail; the practice felt very different. I would normally never have a drink before yoga, and I rarely treat myself to a massage. Both of those things change the state of the mind/body, so I couldn’t do certain postures the way I normally like them. I did not freak out and get off the mat. I just found other postures to practice and took more time in savasana.

Every time we practice is like that—we are experiencing different states in our minds and bodies, accommodating different types of guests: high or low energy, up and down emotions, aches and pains, good or bad digestion. It all affects our practice, both physical and mental. When we can accept all of it with unconditional friendliness, going with the flow instead of resisting our experience, we are practicing Maitri with ourselves.  Gradually this makes it easier to practice Maitri with other people. We don’t have to judge our experiences in our practice as good or bad—we can simply accept it all and keep on breathing, moving or sitting. No need to freak out or stop. We can learn to live that way, too. I tried it on the airplane on the way home. We had 30 minutes of uninterrupted turbulence. It was scary. I felt nauseous. I didn’t resist those feelings. I closed my eyes and breathed into those sensations, fear and nausea, and said to myself, “of course you are frightened. Of course you feel sick,” and comforted myself that way.

Whether or not you choose “Maitri to All and to All a Good Night” as a theme for your Holiday Season, at least try it out on your yoga mat. When you feel tight, when you feel unbalanced, or scattered, or hungover from holiday parties, or perhaps you'll even feel happy and giddy some days: instead of resisting the experience, accept it with unconditional friendliness. “Of course I feel tight, but I will breathe into it.” Welcome each passing sensation with Maitri, and as the poet Rumi wrote, remember that “this being human is a guest house.” That attitude removes a lot of stress from the holidays and from all of our everyday experiences. 

THE GUEST HOUSE

This being human is a guest house.

Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,

some momentary awareness comes

as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!

Even if they are a crowd of sorrows,

who violently sweep your house

empty of its furniture,

still, treat each guest honorably.

He may be clearing you out

for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice.

meet them at the door laughing and invite them in.

Be grateful for whatever comes.

because each has been sent

as a guide from beyond.

-- Jelaluddin Rumi,

    translation by Coleman Barks

Don't Lose Your Touch

We live in a hyper-connected culture: FaceTime, Facebook, texting, Skyping, Tweeting, chat rooms, message boards. We connect through technology more than ever, staying in touch with record numbers of people at one time...but how many people really touch us? How many people do we touch, with our hands, our eyes, our hearts? Experts such as social psychologists and our own grandparents have suggested that most of us are actually out of touch...we're missing out on true connection. We are becoming lonelier. 

A Facebook friend of mine, who also happens to be one of my very few true friends, recently posted an article about loneliness and social media, confessing that she cried after reading it. We are holding our phones and tablets instead of each other: “the very magic of the new machines, the efficiency and elegance with which they serve us, obscures what isn’t being served: everything that matters. What Facebook has revealed about human nature—and this is not a minor revelation—is that a connection is not the same thing as a bond, and that instant and total connection is no salvation, no ticket to a happier, better world or a more liberated version of humanity. Solitude used to be good for self-reflection and self-reinvention. But now we are left thinking about who we are all the time, without ever really thinking about who we are.” 

In our fast-paced lifestyles which prioritize multitasking, we are not only spending less time physically connected to our tribe, the members of our social and familial circles; we are also spending less time with ourselves. Although loneliness is a growing problem, we have all but eliminated solitude. This explains our growing interest in yoga and meditation. We need time to connect through disconnection. 

Practicing yoga, alone or in a class, cultivates a deep interior connection. Through our practice we tune into who we really are. We go within and connect deeply, accessing our natural qualities of empathy and compassion. This allows us to make more meaningful connections in the world. Seeing the suffering in ourselves and learning to ease it helps us to recognize suffering in others, and informs us as we reach out on a deeper level than just a chat room, just a text message, just a "like" on Facebook. 

A focused, physical practice like yoga is self-care for the mind, body and spirit. By steadying the breath and the mind, we learn how to take care of our own feelings, our own injuries, our own hearts; in turn, we become better able to cultivate sweetness and openness in our relationships. As we connect on our mats, we become better connectors in the world outside, experiencing deeper connections and facilitating them for others. 

Do this for yourself today. Don't be a lonely heart. Light your heart aflame and shine that torch for others. I tell this to myself, too: put the phone down, get off the computer and go hug someone, knock on your neighbor's door, call your friend instead of texting her (I did call my friend when she posted that she was crying!) Maybe even go to a yoga class! Hug yourself on your mat. I ask my students to do this. Try it. Be present for yourself, not virtually, but completely. 

Why Marcel Proust was a Yogi

From the time we are in our mother's womb, we learn and follow patterns that help us to survive. Our brains and nervous systems are wired to pick up and settle into patterns; in the womb we attune to our mother's heartbeat, her particular voice quality, her unique biorhythms and the predictable schedule of her life: when she eats, when she is physically active, when she sleeps. A baby is born into the world having already learned that life unfolds in predictable rhythms and patterns. As it grows, it develops its own patterns based on stimuli and reactions to the stimuli; some reactions work and others do not, so the brain adapts and finds a predictable structure of behaviors to follow, allowing the little baby to grow up, survive and thrive.

Beyond survival and comfort tactics, we develop and follow all sorts of patterns in our day to day lives as humans. Most of our physical and mental patterns operate on an unconscious level. Some patterns are what we call habits. We like to think we choose our habits and have control over them, and sometimes that is true. Anyone who has ever tried to stop smoking or kick a sugar or other dietary habit knows that we can master certain habits, but it takes determination.

In Yoga philosophy there is a term for the deeper or latent causes behind our habits: samskaras. The word sounds like "some scars," and that is a helpful way to think about the concept because a scar is a fixed imprint, like a brand that is burned into the skin of cattle. Scars and brands are deeply implanted grooves in the skin.

At a deeper level of the body, in our brains and nervous systems, we have grooves called neuropathways; when we perform an action, think a thought or experience a sensation repeatedly, a particular neuropathway is activated each time; that repetition forms a groove, like a groove on a record player or a line in the sand that gets deeper as we build a moat for a sand castle. When a wave washes up on the shoreline, the water goes right into the groove we created for it. Eventually, the groove will wash away or get replaced when someone else builds a new sandcastle. Our brains can work that way, too. Thanks to a scientifically observed phenomenon called neuroplasticity, our neuropathways are pliable enough to be weakened and overridden; in other words, we can consciously apply ourselves to recognize our thought and behavior patterns and create new ones when needed.

Our habits are formed based on the structure of our neuropathways. Samskaras are thought to be patterns which run even deeper than our neuropathways. Yogas chitta vritti nirodhah, reads the second sutra of Book One of The Yoga Sutras of Patanjali (the restraint of the modifications of the mind-stuff is yoga). Do yoga--free your mind and the rest will follow. Sutras 9 and 10 in Book Three describe the process of observing samskaras, sort of catching them in the act, and then restraining them. A major goal of Yoga philosophy is to restrain not only our thoughts, but our deeply ingrained patterns so that our true Self can emerge. This is deep stuff. Many yoga teachers and yoga experts don't even want to talk about it for fear of sounding like proponents of pop psychology or pseudo-science or a mind-erasing cult. Maybe it doesn't seem practical to talk about the deep, spiritual roots of thoughts and habits. On the other hand, it is certainly practical to use Yoga as a framework for dealing with habits.

Our habits are both physical and mental and it takes effort and awareness to notice and change them. Some habits we can't help, and they may even be good for us; if you are someone who always double checks the locks on your home and car, does it make you neurotic or judiciously careful? In any case, why fight it? Some habits we can change, and when we do, we prevent harm to ourselves and others and enhance our health and happiness. Through Yoga we can work with the habits that are holding us back in life: these can be as simple as poor posture, shallow breathing and weak abdominal muscles, or as complex as holding onto harmful beliefs about ourselves. In our practice, we repeat similar movements and breathing exercises again and again; this repetition brings our habitual patterns to the surface; we may prefer a certain style of yoga or react to a certain posture the same way each time; the repetition alerts us to our habitual patterns.

When we can break out of our patterns, even for just a few moments, a whole new world opens up to us. We can perceive things differently. Our slate gets a little cleaner, we become more childlike, our view becomes less clouded.

One of my favorite writers, Marcel Proust, wrote about, "The deadening effect of habit, which cuts away from things we have seen many times the taproot of deep impression and thought which gives them their real significance." (The Past Recaptured). Habit impedes inspiration, joy, the fullness of life. It protects us from painful truths, and in so doing it anesthetizes us from living an impassioned life. To uncloud our perception and uncover the most powerful parts of ourselves, we must confront our own habits.

We will work with habits in our practice today by staying aware and remaining open to trying new things. Notice your preferences and reactions. Notice how you feel when a preferred sun salutation or transition into a posture is changed. Come into Warrior I in a new way. Then try it your favorite way. Notice the differences. See if something opens up for you, in your body, your mind, or both.

“Habit enables us to cling to the familiar, to the self we think we know with a persistence almost irresistible. An anodyne for the terror of the unknown, it effectively keeps us from knowing, and is fatal in itself. Habit is a fiction the organism requires to dim perception. It screens us from the world, and from the true world of the self. Habit—no matter how intense the suffering it causes—is the last thing the personality will give up. It is arming itself against danger. The weapons may be more painful to use than the pain they seek to deflect. No matter. Habit allows us to live—by which Proust means it allows us to exist while it simultaneously compels us to miss Life.” 
― Howard Moss, The Magic Lantern of Marcel Proust

Whole Body Listening

I love school. As a yoga student and yoga teacher, I have found an ongoing way to continue the experience of school.  Right now I get to play the role of the teacher, but I know that each of us are teachers, no matter our jobs or our age. Some of my greatest teachers are my family members. I learn from my family each and every day. 

Last week my kindergarten-aged son Rhys brought home an award he received from his teacher: it was a Whole Body Listener certificate, and attached to it was a poster illustrating what it means to be a Whole Body Listener, with pictures of the eyes, mouth, hands, feet, brain and heart. Here is what I read from the poster:

Whole Body Listening is more than just “hearing” with the ears. It includes:

• listening with the eyes (looking at the speaker)
• listening with the mouth (closed and quiet - no talking or making sounds)
• listening with the body (facing the speaker)
• listening with the hands (quietly at the side of the body or in the lap)
• listening with the feet (standing still or quietly on the floor)
• listening with the brain (thinking about what the speaker is saying)
• and listening with the heart (caring about what the speaker is saying)

Rhys was so proud to get this award. I know he has worked on his listening skills in kindergarten. While he was telling me about his award, he said, "Mommy, you're not listening with your whole body right now," because I was distracted by the dog and my other son, and we were sitting on a bench so my body was turned partly away from him. Even more importantly, I know that I am not a Whole Body Listener most of the time. I told him I was sorry and that I want to listen better. 

The next day, my Mom arrived from Missouri to visit us for a week. Obviously, she is another one of my teachers. Just this morning, as I was thinking about what to say to yoga students about Whole Body Listening, she said, "I need to talk to you. I am asking for just ten minutes of your time so that you can sit and really listen to me. I need you to listen to me about how I feel left out of your life." I sat and truly listened to her. Listening with my eyes was easiest. Facing her with my body was also pretty easy. Listening with my heart was a conscious choice, and it was hard because it hurt a little. I had to let down my usual defenses. Listening with my brain turned out to be even harder, because when she asked me questions or needed feedback, my brain jumped in with all sorts of ideas and words I wanted to say to her, and in turn I stopped listening with my mouth. Then I came back to my intention of Whole Body Listening and became quiet again. At the end of that ten minutes, which had turned into half an hour, my Mom and I worked through something that had been troubling our relationship. We found a good solution to serve us both: so that we can both practice speaking and being heard, giving and in turn receiving communication, we will schedule bi-weekly phone calls, one with just me and one with my boys present as well. 

In the context of Yoga, my teacher Al Bingham has been instructing a group of yoga teachers in how to best listen to our students. As a teacher, I need to be a good Whole Body Listener. Students listen to the yoga teacher, but they also need to be heard. If I am listening to you instead of just up here giving cues and doing postures, then I'll be able to respond to you effectively. Sometimes I will make mistakes, and other times, because it's a group setting, I won't be able to listen simultaneously to every person. At those times, keep listening to yourself and move from your own wisdom, not always in the way I guide you to move. 

Through Yoga, we learn, practice and teach the art of the listening. What are we doing when we get quiet and centered and focus on the breath? We are listening. Listening to what? We are intently listening to ourselves, our own bodies, our own minds, our own hearts and souls. If we have spiritual beliefs, we can expand this idea to listening to the Divine, however we may call it. As we move through postures we move with consciousness, focusing our attention and listening to what our hands, feet, hips, shoulders, knees and heart have to say to us. If we mindlessly force ourselves into pretzel poses, we are not listening, but instead talking over our own body's wisdom--we want to do the opposite of that. If our body, our breath and our heart tell us to slow down, then we slow down. If our chests and hearts soar in a certain posture, then we open up freely and deeply and we go for it. If we listen to our heart in savasana, sometimes we shed a few tears. That's a beautiful thing because it shows we are listening. 

The art of Whole Body Listening is always at the foundation of our practice, but we will set this as our whole intention today. The chakra system, Yoga's metaphorical map of our energetic body, has a particular area devoted to communication: the throat. Vishuddha is the name for the throat chakra, which is responsible for speaking, hearing and listening; located at the throat, vishuddha also covers the area of the ears. Many postures we will go through today are traditionally associated with vishuddha. We will use both sound and movement to channel our energy towards listening. This will help us listen to our own bodies and our inner voice, so that we can hear what we need to hear. In our lives off of the mat, this will help us in our relationships with ourselves and others, so we can listen when we need to listen and say what we need to say, at the right time and in the right way. 

Surrender to the Dark Side

This week Halloween will be celebrated in the United States and in a few other places around the world that give credence to this modern, American festival, tenuously linked to the Celtic Samhain celebration.  We had a German visitor in our house this summer--when we asked her if she ever dressed up for Halloween, she replied, "I think Halloween is shit." Whatever you may think of the costumes, the candy and the glorification of guts and gore, one positive aspect of Halloween is the permission it gives us to delve into the Shadow side of reality and of ourselves.  

We live in a culture where everyone is supposed to be pretty, death is taboo and the Shadow is suppressed.  Our collective Shadow is the violence that keeps sprouting up in our culture--we see it in road rage and gun violence, for example. We turn a blind eye to violence as a society, and so it continues to get worse. The solution to this dilemma is to stop running from our Shadow and shine some light into it. At least on Halloween, we can give safe expression to the darker sides of humanity. It is better to dress up like an ax murderer and be playful with that role, than to actually become an ax murderer. 

Working with your Shadow, the aspects of yourself that you condemn or don't want to recognize, is a very powerful practice.  When you open up to your selfishness, your vanity, your anger, your neediness, then you become the master of those tendencies. How do we recognize our Shadow in the first place? We have to greet it with acceptance before it will even show itself to us. If we are fearful and anxious about our destructive tendencies, they will grow stronger--the Shadow feeds on fear and anxiety. To get out of that rut, we need to feel safe enough to let the Shadow out to play. When the Shadow can emerge in a safe and constructive framework, then we can begin to shine some light into it.  

In addition to Halloween, Yoga is a framework we can use for working with our Shadow side. When we sit in meditation, or when we move through our asana, all sorts of fears, aversions and strong emotions arise. When we meditate we sometimes have disturbing and unsettling thoughts. As we sit quietly, we can greet those with our compassionate presence. When we move through postures there are certain ones we hate or feel like we can't do. We may stiffen, frown, engage halfheartedly or refuse altogether. There are other postures we love and believe we perform well, and in these we may show off, look at ourselves in the mirror or even have a few narcissistic photos taken to share. We may relish lion's breath or obnoxiously loud ujjayi breathing. We may sigh audibly and moan with contentment in certain stretches. We may laugh out loud or snort when we fall out of a balancing posture. It's all OK because in yoga, we are safe and free to be who we are in the moment. Our practice is the time we carve out of our lives to relax the restrictions, bring ease to our bodies and go with the flow. Yes, yoga is a discipline, but it isn't about consistently doing something right--instead, it's about consistently accepting ourselves. 

So, today in our practice, let's make friends with the Shadow if and when it arises. Let's watch for it, warmly greeting it and inviting it to stay awhile.  There is a favorite story about the Buddha and his interactions with the Demon God called Mara. As the Buddha sat under the Bodhi tree just before he became enlightened, he was often visited by Mara, who came to defeat him. Instead of fighting Mara or pushing him away, the Buddha calmly greeted him and invited him to stay for tea. In the end, Mara went away, frustrated and bewildered, and the Buddha achieved Enlightenment. When our Shadow shows up in our practice today, let's see what happens if we let it hang out.  We might even give some safe expression to our Shadow side here. I am up for anything, so if tigers come we'll let them roar. 

I'm not suggesting, as Darth Vader did, that we permanently join the Dark Side.  He said, "give into your anger and hate and your journey to the Dark Side will be complete!" Yoda is more my speed, and he probably would have offered some Jedi tea instead. Our Shadows are inevitable companions on our journeys, but they don't have to steer the ship. 

Happy Halloween. 

~~~

“Your life will be transformed when you make peace with your shadow. The caterpillar will become a breathtakingly beautiful butterfly. You will no longer have to pretend to be someone you're not. You will no longer have to prove you're good enough. When you embrace your shadow you will no longer have to live in fear. Find the gifts of your shadow and you will finally revel in all the glory of your true self. Then you will have the freedom to create the life you have always desired.” 

― Debbie Ford

“Surrender is the ultimate sign of strength and the foundation for a spiritual life. Surrendering affirms that we are no longer willing to live in pain. It expresses a deep desire to transcend our struggles and transform our negative emotions. It commands a life beyond our egos, beyond that part of ourselves that is continually reminding us that we are separate, different and alone. Surrendering allows us to return to our true nature and move effortlessly through the cosmic dance called life. It's a powerful statement that proclaims the perfect order of the universe.

When you surrender your will, you are saying, "Even though things are not exactly how I'd like them to be, I will face my reality. I will look it directly in the eye and allow it to be here." Surrender and serenity are synonymous; you can't experience one without the other. So if it's serenity you're searching for, it's close by. All you have to do is resign as General Manager of the Universe. Choose to trust that there is a greater plan for you and that if you surrender, it will be unfolded in time. 

Surrender is a gift that you can give yourself. It's an act of faith. It's saying that even though I can't see where this river is flowing, I trust it will take me in the right direction.” 

― Debbie Ford, Spiritual Divorce: Divorce as a Catalyst for an Extraordinary Life

The Secret to Getting Nowhere

This autumn in the Hudson Valley has been mild, luscious and luminous. The apple harvest this year was extra plentiful, the foliage colors seem more vivid and the slightly warmer temps and ample sunshine have allowed for more time outdoors. When I walk my dog in the mornings I use that time to practice mindfulness, anchoring to the present moment and connecting to the Source of All. 

Last week I had a few flashes of bliss on those sunny autumn mornings that brought a particular sutra to my mind, from The Yoga Sutras of Patanjali. Sutra 2.27 is Tasya Saptadha Prantabhumih Prajna-- the translation given in my version of the text is, "One's wisdom in the final stage is sevenfold," and then seven qualities are listed. My teacher Liz Schulman who trained me to teach yoga gave us her interpretation of sutra 2.27: "When we are without ignorance, we realize there is nothing more to know, nothing to avoid, nothing new to gain, nothing more to do, there is no sorrow, no fear and no misunderstanding because we understand the true nature of ourselves and God. In other words, we have all we really need within us. We are already whole." 

Experiencing the knowledge that we are truly whole, that we don't have to chase anything, run from anything or acquire anything more, is a rarity. Some of us may believe this notion to be false. Others may intellectually grasp the truth of this idea, yet never have experienced it. Still others may believe it is true, though they have only experienced it in brief flashes, aided by external stimuli such as holding a sleeping baby, sailing on a clear day or seeing vibrant red leaves reflected through the morning sunlight and stopping in stillness to breathe the autumn air. We reach for the truth of our wholeness in those feel-good moments. But if we believe that we are already completely whole and lack nothing, then shouldn't we be able to experience this bliss and freedom without any external help? This is where compassion enters the picture: we are only human and we are often at the mercy of our prevailing culture, not to mention our own bodies and minds. 

Think about our culture and the conditioning that has trained us away from blissful realization of our wholeness. We base our lives on seeking, avoiding, acquiring and holding onto things, people and ideas.
We are oriented towards next steps, precautions, goals, planning weddings, vacations, parties, wardrobes and home renovations. This outward seeking isn't wrong in and of itself. It can just get excessive. The balance can tip towards neurosis, fatal attraction, obsession, greed, hatred and prejudice, instead of contentment, detachment, equanimity, lovingkindness and peace.

Sutra 2.27 hits on some of the deepest principles of yoga. It guides us to the concept of transcendence and being in the world, but not of it. When we can experience glimpses of this in our practice, we are experiencing a new kind of conditioning, one that is mostly absent from our popular culture. The knowledge of our inviolable wholeness is like a precious little seed planted in the soil of our minds and bodies; with time, if we keep watering the seed through more practice and attentiveness to this free and contented state of mind, the seed will sprout into all aspects of our lives: our work, our relationships, our habits of consuming food and other material things. We will become more peaceful and balanced and less prone to blindly run
after the next thing or person or idea we think we desperately need.

In our yoga practice today we can simply begin with the thought, and possibly even the feeling, of this blissful wholeness.  We can bring to mind one person or experience that makes us smile from the inside, that opens our heart, that softens our exterior and centers us. We can use this mental picture of a loved one's smile, or a blissful memory, to guide us toward the seat of bliss within us. First we can tap into that bliss. It is our true nature. Then we can orient today's practice to embrace our wholeness. We have no need to be anywhere else or seek anything more than the present embodiment of each posture and each breath. Sitting on our mat: just this. Standing in Warrior II: just that. Opening into Triangle: nowhere else to go. Just be here now, and know that you are whole.

Yoga is Self Serving

I am a practicing Yogi(ni) and a parent.  I very often hear other parents and other Yogis talk about selfishness and not wanting to be or appear "selfish." For example, a working mother I know who loves to practice yoga recently joked with a group of friends about having gone back to work, "It's been a hard year. I guess I could lie around and do yoga instead." I have heard other people say that they just can't make time to meditate, do yoga, or any other type of exercise or self-care because their jobs and families are just too important.  There is a suggestion that once we grow up and live in the real world, we must dispense with such selfishness. That is one of many viewpoints we can choose to adopt, or not. I would like to share an alternative perspective.

Yoga, meditation, time in stillness, time to simply be, and go with the flow... these things are not selfish in the sense of lacking consideration for others. On the contrary, when we center ourselves, when we make time to become grounded, to connect to the Self at our core, to attain unity and wholeness within ourselves, this has a positive impact on everyone around us, even those beyond our immediate reach. The Sanskrit word "Yoga" means "union," and the root of this word, yuj, is literally, "yoke." As human beings, we are collectively yoked in this life. Everything that happens in our sphere of existence, everything each of us thinks and does, has a far-reaching impact, whether we are aware of it or not. We sometimes get glimpses into our interconnectedness and shared consciousness. Some people are very attuned to others' feelings, even when they are far away, like a mother who knows that her child is sick or frightened though they are miles apart, or twins who always know when to call one another if something is wrong. If you are familiar with the movie Star Wars, then you may remember this quote from Obi-Wan Kenobi: "I felt a great disturbance in the Force, as if millions of voices suddenly cried out in terror and were suddenly silenced. I fear something terrible has happened." The Star Wars films allude to a shared energy that unites everyone and can be properly harnessed with the right training. Like the Jedi, we can do practices to refine our own energy, empowering ourselves to fight the good fight. Training takes time, but training is never selfish.

Our own energy is affected by the energy of the people around us, and vice versa. We are inextricably woven into a World Wide Web of Consciousness. There is some level of scientific evidence affirming this, resulting in the "unified field theory" in Physics. Some people believe in the power of collective prayer, and even more believe in the power of collective action to bring about change in the world. We should first understand that change begins within the individual. Through practicing yoga and meditation we can transcend the isolated self and deeply connect to life and to others; this is a real connection, not a text message or Instagram or Facebook kind of connection, but a connection that impacts the whole of our being, individually and collectively.

We are each part of a greater whole--our altruistic, empathetic nature wants to reach out and serve the collective. We don't want to be selfish. But we must realize that our individual consciousness is tied into a greater, collective consciousness. When we connect to the purest part of ourselves, when we access the peace and equanimity deep within us, that action has a limitless ripple effect. It is not only in doing for others that we help others. We help others by our being, as well.  Improving the quality of our presence and consciousness helps us, and in turn has an inevitable impact on others. To be or to do? That is the question: the answer is, both, yet emphasize quality over quantity. When the quality of our being improves, the quality of our doing follows, and we can do greater things for others.

As parents, this translates as centering ourselves and practicing mindfulness in our parenting, being truly present with our children in this age of unlimited distractions.

As yogis, this translates as an effort to be present and connected in our practice. In our time on our mats today, we can focus our attention to cultivate union, connection and wholeness with each breath, with each asana, and in the flow from one asana to the next. As we leave class or end our practice, we take that deeper, connected quality of being off the mat and back into our homes, our work, our relationships. This does serve the self, but in so doing, it serves the whole world.