Yogi Gumby

Bend me, shape me, anyway you want me, as long as you love me, it's alright. Bend me, shape me, anyway you want me. You've got the power to turn on the light! -The American Breed, 1968

Groovy, baby! Let's talk about grooves: you know, like the grooves in a record, inset patterns and ruts. Yogis, you guessed it: samskaras! Oh yes, we yoga people love to talk about getting to the root of our samskaras (mental and physical patterns and habits).

Sometimes the way we groove can get us bent all out of shape, like Gumby on a really bad day.

Yogis have all kinds of tricks up their sleeves to bend and shape themselves into a more peaceful, balanced state. One of them deals with moving to a new groove: pratipaksha bhavana. Roughly, this term means "opposite thoughts." It's kind of like changing the radio station. Here, I'll throw you a freakin' bone, people: Patanjali uses the word twice in the Yoga Sutra. One sutra [2.33] says, “Vitarkabadhane pratipaksha bhavanam.” That’s a very simple sentence. It means that when we have afflicted thinking, then “Pratipaksha bhavanam”: Contemplate and take another view—look at the situation from another perspective. In another sutra [2.34] Patanjali says if you have negative thinking that comes from anger, greed, or delusion, whether you’re actively in it or just thinking about it, the fruit will be unending suffering and ignorance. Therefore, “Pratipaksha bhavanam”: Take another view, reframe your perspective on the situation. (Borrowed from a discussion on viniyoga.com, from March 24, 2011, author not identified).

So when Gumby gets bent out of shape, he's got one thing to be really thankful for: he's a plastic dude, plasticity is his middle name. He can be bent and reshaped, just that like that! He can reframe his perspective on the situation, with a little help from his friends (who have hands).

We humans have hands (and feet, and eyes and ears), and brains! We have brains. And guess what? We're plastic, too! Just like Gumby. Well, not exactly. While we may not be plastic we have something amazing in our brains and tissues, called: PLASTICITY! Hoooooo-ray.

What it is, homeys:

Plasticity in the body: the ability of a bodily tissue to have its shape molded or altered, and then retain that new shape (sort of like bubble-gum, or play dough).
            Some cells can do this, some tissues can do this. We heal. 

And it gets better:

Neuroplasticity, also known as brain plasticity, refers to changes in neural pathways and synapses due to changes in behavior, environment, neural processes, thinking, emotions, as well as changes resulting from bodily injury.

Some of your bodily tissues, along with the grooves and patterns rocking out in your brain, can be shaped, and reshaped, and shaped again, and YOU, yes you, can move to a new groove. You've got the power to turn on the light!

So get up, get grooving, move to a new beat, believe that you CAN become aware of negative, defeating patterns. You can move and shake and bend and shape yourself into who you want to be, baby.

Trust in the Face of Loss

When faced with loss, many of us feel untethered and frightened. Depending on the magnitude of the loss, the amount of time it takes to regain our peace and confidence can range from an hour to a decade. In some cases, the feeling of loss persists for a lifetime, even after we've made peace with it.

I experienced a deep personal loss over two months ago, and in working through it, I am finding some comfort in new depths of faith and trust. This week I was reading in the Yoga Sutras about the Hindu and Buddhist word for "faith," Shraddha. I did some research on the translation of the word and watched an uplifting talk about the role of faith in yoga practice, given by Dr. Douglas Brooks. I learned that the word shraddha is more similar to the concept of trust than to religious faith. It does include the notion of faith in God, but not in a God who regularly intervenes in our affairs. The God alluded to in the Yoga Sutras is a transcendent God, more akin to Paul Tillich's "ground of being" than to the personal savior in many forms of Christianity.

I was immediately drawn in when Dr. Brooks explained that shraddha has to do with where we place our hearts, that our very heart is the essence of true faith. The following root word analysis comes from Reflections on the Dharma by Harold Stewart, and closely resembles Dr. Brooks' explanation:

Shraddha derives from the Sanskrit shrat added to the verbal root dha, the t of the first assimilating to the d of the second in the compound. Shrat is related to the Greek kardia and the Latin cor and likewise means heart but it is also cognate with sat, from which comes satya, being or truth. The verbal root dha means to put, place, or set, so that the compound word shraddha signifies to put one's whole heart or being into something.

I had been reading about this concept of faith in Yoga Sutra 1.20, which has many varying translations of the original Sanskrit; some resonated with me more than others. My current favorite: "The concentration of the true spiritual aspirant is attained through faith, energy, remembrance, absorption and illumination." My mind affixed to this part, that the true spiritual aspirant gets further along the path with sure faith. Faith for me is definitely about where my heart is, and this brings to mind the verse from the Christian New Testament, "Where your treasure is, there will your heart be also," (Matthew 6:21). If we ask ourselves what we value the most, that's how we get to the root of our faith, and discover in whom or what we place our trust. In my study and self-inquiry on the concept of shraddha, I found that faith in oneself and in other people was at least as important as faith in a Higher Power. What's most important to you? What do you trust? In whom do you trust?

A loss of any kind, be it material or personal, catapults us into a questioning place. When we lose something or someone, we start asking questions: Why did this happen? What will I do now? How will I go on? How can I know I'm OK? In seeking these anchors in a storm, we discover our deepest values, our true reference points.

I want to share examples of two recent losses which are helping me find my anchors. The first is a fairly trivial one: my Iphone stopped working. It went completely dead even though it was fully charged. I had just sent a text to confirm an appointment with a client and the screen went black. Nothing I did worked to reboot the phone. I was somewhat anxiety-ridden for half an hour. The list of reasons I needed the phone typed itself out in my head: my client needs to let me know her arrival time and doesn't have my other number, the auto shop still has my husband's car and needs to reach me, my kids' school uses this number to contact me if they are ill, my husband is getting big news at work today and I don't want to miss his text... . When I accepted the fact that my phone was no longer working, I reassured myself that I trusted myself, my client, my mechanic, my kids and their school's employees, my husband, and God (the ground of being sort of God); my client would show up with or without confirming and if we mixed up the time, we could work it out later; my husband's car was fine sitting at the mechanic's for an extra day; the school has other emergency numbers; my husband will share the news with me as soon as we see each other; and most importantly, I trust God, myself and the people in my life more than I could ever trust a phone. In our technology driven world, that was a good reminder.

The second loss is more significant and personal, concerning a friendship and work relationship. In processing this loss, I have asked myself what it was I valued about this person in relation to both my professional development and my happiness. Just because we lose a person does not mean we have to lose the qualities and experiences we associated with that person. This is little consolation for those who have lost a family member or close friend to death or some other unforeseen tragic circumstance, yet over time, people find ways to go on and fulfill themselves. People are irreplaceable, yet in the face of loss, we remain whole. I am discovering that while I lost an irreplaceable person, I continue to trust myself and God; I am welcoming new people, experiences and opportunities into my life. The qualities I appreciated in the person I lost still exist abundantly in the world and can be accessed in innumerable other ways in new and different forms. I am being enriched day by day through the provision that is always made for me and by me, and learning to have faith in this provision.

It can take an entire lifetime to learn what we truly value, to confidently know where to place our hearts. I am finding out that my trust in life goes deeper than hanging onto one person, place or thing for fulfillment. My deepest trust resides in an unchangeable, immovable quality of joy, abundance and peace that lies at the heart of every person and at the very ground of our being on this Earth. I am learning little by little to access this place in myself and to see it in others. As I do this, I gain more trust, my faith grows, and with this growth comes a certain serenity, the peace that passes understanding. The song, It is well with my soul, by Horatio G. Spafford, is a poetic description of shraddha, real trust in the face of loss. I am finding a place where my heart can reside, coming one step closer to the true meaning of faith, trusting in the soul of all things and all beings.

In the face of loss, we find where our treasure resides. Where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.

Making Friends With Your Mind

I don't think we can calm the mind--I believe the best we can do is learn to live with it. -Judith Lasater

What do you think? Do you find it easy to shut off your thoughts and restrain your mind? When you have a drink or smoke a joint or pop a Xanax or do your deep breathing exercises, are you calming your mind specifically? Is it your mind you are calming, or is it your body? When your body is calm, do you perhaps notice your mind a bit less or find it less offensive? How do your mind and body work together to create your experience of what it means to be calm?

In working with the discipline of Yoga to improve our mental and physical health, we learn about the inter-relatedness of the parts of ourselves we may otherwise think of as separate. Yoga philosophy looks at five main aspects of our being that interconnect and cooperate to form our human experience. We can read about these five aspects in the Taittiriya Upanishad, the foundational source of the pancamaya or five dimensional model of the human being which includes the physical, mental, energetic, intuitive/innate and spiritual aspects of the self. Everything we do to affect one of these parts has an impact on the other parts; for example, eating a wholesome, delicious meal not only feeds the physical body, it also helps our mental clarity, heightens our awareness, increases our energy and uplifts us spiritually.

Some people speak about the five aspects in the pancamaya model as layers or sheaths moving progressively from the outside in, like the parts of a Russian doll. One of my teachers said to think of the five aspects as blended all together, like ingredients in a smoothie; each part is present with the others at all times, in every experience, so you can't really take one part of the Russian doll out and play with the remaining ones; you have to play with the whole doll.

In Judith Lasater's quote about the mind above, she seems to be saying something similar to the smoothie or "whole doll" (that's my quote) proposition--we can't single out the mind and lock it down--instead, the best we can do is find a way to make friends with our mind so it plays nicely with the rest of us.

In the five dimensional model just explained, our mind or mental aspect is referred to as manomaya, and includes our thoughts, feelings, beliefs, judgments and reactive tendencies. Disturbances in our mind impact our whole being, creating health imbalances such as eating disorders, anxiety, chronic depression, insomnia and addictions.

Our Yoga practice makes us more aware of our mind and its fluctuations so we can accept it with compassion and get along with it better. Yoga helps us learn to live with our mind. When we move our physical body through yoga postures, this has a particular effect on the other parts of us. Because we are moving and breathing mindfully, our energy is honed and our awareness is heightened, making our thoughts clearer and more conscious, rather than unconscious. We may then experience more spacious stillness in our meditation, where we greet the mind with acceptance and compassionate presence. When every part of us begins to harmonize, we're no longer resisting our thoughts and trying to clamp them down, instead we're observing them and consciously integrating them into the whole of our being. We're not only living with our mind, we're getting to know it better and making friends with it, bringing harmony to our whole self. A harmonized being is a healthy being.

As you do your postures, breathing and meditation, invite your thoughts and feelings to join in, just as they are. Notice how your movements, breath, thoughts and emotions interconnect in your practice; sometimes you'll notice tension and resistance, other times harmony and fluidity.Try to keep your practice varied rather than repeating an automatic routine, and notice how your mind reacts. Appreciate and play with the whole experience.Yoga is meant to be practiced holistically, so remember to invite your mind to the party.

A New Year's Ritual: Exhale to Let Go, Inhale to Receive

Many of us engage in some sort of annual secular ritual after the December religious holidays to mark the end of another year: one example is watching the ball drop in Times Square! Another one is kissing your lover when the clock strikes midnight on New Year's Eve!

Rituals mark the passage of time in our lives, helping us create meaning from events which could otherwise get lost or forgotten in catalog of ongoing yearly occurrences: birthdays, children losing first teeth, all kinds of anniversaries...we perform a special action to celebrate these moments.

New Year's celebrations mark the close of another year come and gone. We look back, remembering the good times and blessings as well as the struggles and hardships. This is a jubilant time, and also a time to let go of what is now behind us.

There is a concept in Yoga philosophy about letting go and surrendering: Isvara pranidhana, from Yoga Sutra 1.23. Read up on this concept on your own and see how you think it could apply to your life (certainly Patanjali was not writing to us with our modern, Western New Year's parties in mind, but I think we can take his wisdom and apply it to our willingness to let go).

Surrender requires courage, faith and trust: to let go of our efforts, our desires, our memories, our wounds, our former glory or achievements--we must believe that something else is on its way or already here to be welcomed!

Time will not stop when 2014 is over (we hope!) 2015 will rush in to fill the space created as 2014
departs. We don't know what kind of year it will turn out to be, but we trust and allow it to arrive anyway. We must, if we want to go on living. Time always marches forward, with our without us. Our Yoga practice teaches us to surrender and ride this wave of forward movement with ease.

In Yoga we place great emphasis on the breath; indeed, the breath is at the foundation
of our practice. Our breath teaches us how to surrender: with each exhale, we
let go. As we go deeper into the practice of mindful exhalation, we can let go with greater skill and awareness. In certain pranayama (yogic breathing) exercises, we pause at the end of the exhale, on purpose. We learn to rest in that temporary space of stillness because we trust that our inhalation will be there, that it is there, at the door. We allow the inhalation to come in and we are filled once
more, with the breath of life. The inhalation nourishes and renews us, and we exhale again. In each and every breath cycle, we let go and renew. We surrender our breath so we can in turn receive what we need from it.

Our breath is our own natural ritual of letting go to receive.

As you find some time to practice during this final week of 2014, tune into your breath to help you let go. Set an intention for your practice to release and surrender events from 2014 and anything else that's weighing you down or filling up space in your mind. We surrender everything, the good and the bad, to make space for a New Year. Then, we open up to receive new blessings. Let's welcome 2015 with hope and confidence! Exhale...and smile!

Ahimsa: Force vs. Violence

Today I experienced something new with my husband and sons, on the invitation of our neighbor, a hunter. We received a call around lunchtime on a Sunday to walk over and watch a man dress a deer he had killed that morning. Since none of us are vegetarians, I thought this would be a great learning experience for all of us, and it was. We enjoyed hearing about how our neighbor took down the deer, seeing exactly the places where the arrows pierced and envisioning how the second arrow was shot to hasten the deer's death and more skillfully avoid paining the animal. We heard the sounds and smelled the scents as we watched the hunter cut through the flesh and bone of the carcas. We saw him handle each of the organs and got an up-close look at muscle and fascia. We discussed how the deer would be cooked and eaten.

As someone practicing and instructing Yoga as it is taught in the West (though I retain a deep respect and fascination for this Indian tradition and read as much scripture as I can, and adapt yogic teachings to my personal, spiritual life) I am nonetheless an omnivore.

The first of the five yamas (Yoga's moral restraints) is Ahimsa, essentially meaning "Do no harm," a universal ethical principle with widely varying applications and interpretations. Many people around the world follow Ahimsa by adopting a vegetarian diet, and some avoid harming even the tiniest insects in their day-to-day activities. Some people understand that even our thoughts can result in actual harm, choosing to cultivate only peaceful thoughts. Most people understand, at least intellectually, that non-harming extends to speech, so cursing, taunting and verbally attacking others are considered vices across most cultures. Ahimsa is categorically understood to prohibit physical violence done to others or oneself.

Because I have lived a sheltered life in terms of physical violence, I have mainly tried to apply the principle of Ahimsa to my thoughts, speech, and writing, admittedly half-heartedly at times. I can be given to destructive thoughts that sometimes spill over into speech or writing. My legal background and past experience did not help me cultivate non-violence in thought, word and speech; in fact, I was a tough negotiator, thrived on conflict, and occasionally enjoyed vitriol in writing or speech, getting a cheap thrill out of it from an early age.

My sons are learning karate and when I watch them at their dojo, I often think that I would have benefited greatly from martial arts as a child. I notice that in martial arts, people learn the difference between force and violence, training to use the former to allay or deflect the latter. They learn to achieve a calm mind and balanced energy, directing their focus to cultivate constructive, directed force. This is an invaluable skill.

I believe that Ahimsa is the restraint of violence, but not force. Force is the directed use of strength towards an end. Violence is force used wantonly or recklessly, or with an intent to harm. The use of force is often necessary and beneficial for our well-being, be it in thought, word or deed. We use force to erect and maintain protective boundaries, to build and procure the things we need for survival, and to create and maintain forward momentum in our lives on all levels.

To me, force is directed strength. Through practicing yoga, we build strength in mind and body and we learn to direct it in positive ways, not so different from the way that martial artists do so. We learn that we ourselves are our greatest opponents and through self-study, we get to know the opponent better so we can more easily end conflicts before they start and forge a direct path through obstacles. It is not a practice for the weak, and notably, neither is veganism or vegetarianism, or a vow of silence. The way that our practice plays out in our lives is going to differ based on the individual in many respects, yet we must all acquaint ourselves with and master force, not shying away from the battles we must fight as part of our progression; realistically, some of those battles have to do with survival. Yoga is not an escape from the animalistic parts of ourselves, but instead a closer look at them, a healthy relationship with even our basest, most predatory instincts so we can hone them to the benefit of all beings, in a balanced relationship with all of nature and life.

As a teacher, I offer that you should embrace your strength, embrace your desire, embrace your power, and never be afraid to use force when you need it. Balance this respect for strength with an avoidance of violence of any sort, towards yourself or towards your neighbor. Do no harm, yet respect force and use it wisely to forge ahead on your path.

Simply Savor

We just hosted Thanksgiving with my sisters, their partners, my niece and three family dogs. There were nine people at our table and we were all grateful to be together and share an outstanding meal. Our menu: Baturducken (a chicken inside of a duck inside of a turkey, wrapped in a bacon lattice), stuffing, roasted brussel sprouts and cauliflower (olive oil, garlic and rosemary), chai mashed sweet potatoes (mascarpone, butter, cardamom, cloves and cinnamon), celery root and butternut squash gratin, homemade cranberry relish, pumpkin and pecan pies. The leftovers were as good if not better than the main meal.

Our family guests stayed for two nights. I am always grateful when I see my extended family members, as well as any guests we have in our home or people we share meals with in other venues. I am becoming increasingly aware that my siblings and I keep changing as we get older, our kids are all growing so fast that it's hard to keep up with their developments, and a year can pass without me even realizing I haven't talked with certain friends in far too long.

My father-in-law once mentioned to me that we are all "slipping away" from each other day by day. This is a true statement. This life we live is not permanent. Nonetheless, we cherish it. The fleeting nature of all relationships, all experiences, all emotions--this impermanence reminds me to savor every pleasure to the fullest, which is something that's easy to forget. I can be very forgetful. I forget to really look at my children when they are talking to me. I forget that this face they have today will be not be the same even in a few months. I want to look at their faces now. I want to hear my husband's voice now, really hear it...he is pretty loud in general, but I still want to hear him with my full capacity for hearing. I want to hear him now before we slip away from each other.

I want to taste and smell and see and hear and feel my life while I still have it. I want to savor it. There is an art to that. It's not just automatic. To truly savor anything, we must be present to it, and to ourselves. Presence is also an art, and it must be practiced. How do we practice presence? How do we teach ourselves to be fully present just where we are? I try to teach myself through yoga, through savoring my breath and my movement, savoring rest, savoring direct sensations. When I meditate, I practice savoring stillness. I know that if I train myself in these ways, the ability to be present and savor the other parts of my life will come easier.

In this month of gift preparing and gift giving and generous gathering with friends and loved ones, our spiritual practice, our physical practice, all of our practices can be aimed toward the goal of savoring all of our gifts. Our very life is a gift. In the grand scheme of the Universe, if we blink, we can miss it. I don't want to miss mine. I need my yoga practice to help me be present to my life.

This life and this body are gifts I wish to simply savor; therein lies the gratitude.

When we savor each moment, fully present in our experience, there is no past to cling to or future to anticipate; so much of our stress can dissolve that way.

Do something each day to train yourself in this art.

Let Go to Grow

Over the past two weeks, my life and yoga practice have revolved around letting go, loosening my grip and releasing certain ideas, beliefs, places, people, physical and mental habits I have been holding onto assiduously.

Because I couldn't let go of certain ideas, people, and even the need to frequently work and practice in a particular studio, that studio owner who is also my teacher terminated my employment there. At first very shocked by this turn of events in spite of how hard I had worked there (too hard, teaching three regular classes without fail, subbing at every opportunity, devoting extra unpaid time) and how much I loved the idea of teaching there (too much), I now understand that my attachment was imbalanced. It was for me as if my life depended on how well I was doing in those classes and whether I not I "belonged" with that group of teachers and practitioners. Seeing this, and not arriving at any kind of easy solution for it, my mentor simply decided to fire me. In the grand scheme of my path as a yoga practitioner and teacher, it was the best gift I could have received at the time.

In Yoga philosophy, the concept of vairagya is given in the Yoga Sutras and the direct translation of that word is usually "non-attachment," which implies something a little different from letting go. Non-attachment implies the equanimity and wisdom inherent in not grabbing on tightly to things in the first place. Detachment is letting go of something you've already grasped or held onto. Since I am still learning a lot about vairagya, I have to start with detaching before I can learn non-attachment.

Fortunately, since beginning earnestly on the path of yoga I have had some honest and humble teachers I've been able to watch as they modeled both detachment and non-attachment. Just as it is helpful to see a yoga teacher model a posture for the class, it is also helpful to witness a teacher model the application of yoga philosophy.

The teacher who fired me has been instructing his staff and students in the ways of letting go of cherished beliefs about what Yoga is and how it should be practiced and taught. A lot of this instruction is based on a solid knowledge of anatomy, sports biomechanics, functional movement and a studied approach to the history of Yoga and how it has been adapted and taught in the West. In keeping with this instruction, I signed up for an anatomy workshop for yoga teachers that I attended this past weekend, with some of my current and former yoga teachers. Everyone who participated in the workshop had to let go of some formerly held beliefs and habits to make room for valuable, new information on how to more skillfully cue and give hands-on assists to yoga students. There was a lot of cringing, jaw-dropping, head shaking, and even some face palms!

Yoga teaching is rapidly evolving as an occupation and the number of teachers graduating from training programs is growing exponentially. The anatomy teacher who conducted our workshop spoke positively about trends toward peer review for articles written about yoga. He spoke of himself and those of us present as teachers as trailblazers who are taking responsibility for evolving the yoga teaching profession to make it safer, more skillful and more credible.

Several years ago I regularly attended the classes of two of the teachers taking the training; I trusted them completely and their classes were a true refuge for me. One of them inspired me to learn to teach so I could attempt to share the gifts she imparted to me. This past weekend, my teachers' example of openness, humility and willingness to let go of what they have taught over the course of their career, (things I heard them say many times, cues I followed, assists I received) set the perfect example I need in my life and practice right now. I was touched very deeply by their example of non-attachment. I need to learn to humbly and graciously let go of ideas, attitudes, things, people and places I held onto tightly.

Not being able to let go is a serious mental and physical handicap. When we let go we open ourselves up to receive continual blessings, knowledge, information and nourishment. Gripping, grasping, hanging on for dear life, these behaviors prevent us from relaxing, receiving and renewing. They halt our progress. They keep us stuck. A concrete example from the weekend workshop is that isometric contraction of a muscle prevents blood flow into the muscle, so that circulation of oxygen and nutrients to the muscle are temporarily cut off. When we grip with our muscles, we are contracting them. When we grip with our attitudes and behaviors, we are also contracting our selves rather than expanding them; hanging on for dear life prevents the flow of life and energy.

When we hold on, we're held back. When we let go, we grow.

What can you let go of to allow yourself to grow? Sometimes we can let go on our own and other times we're forced to let go. Either way, try to see it as a good thing.