p.s. it's a paradox

So here's the thing about developing a contemplation practice, I get to contemplate stuff. And what I love and appreciate about the practice is that I am often transported to the land of paradox. Because I didn't yet have the stability that all of my practices and life experience brought, paradox used to be a scary place for me. Living with paradox often made me feel as though something was wrong with me. I wondered how I could hold such contradictory feelings within one experience or a day's time.

But then Aaa... many years ago I was introduced to Tantra philosophy, where I was plunged right into the teachings of paradox. And a funny thing happened along the way, I became less fearful, more willing to embrace the many nuances that life offers, and I began to trust in myself more.

Nowadays, when a strong feeling, an inclination, an experience, an insight arises, I sit with it. I do my self-inquiry practices and the next thing I know, what I've written in my journal, what I've shared here on these pages may have taken a surprising turn. Maybe it spins out far and wide, or maybe it pulls in and moves up the spiral. It's neither right, nor is it wrong. It has simply shown more of itself. As a result of the practice I've discovered a nuance, a paradox, and rather than pull away from it in fear, I move towards it. I am able to see that my life, who I am, my personal experiences and relationships are many faceted and never one thing, much like Russian nesting dolls. The good news is that freedom exists in that realization.

Maybe you're wondering, "so what's the point?" Well, the point is that recently I've written about why I teach and practice formidable poses. I revealed strong personal feelings on the subject, and I hold all of what I shared to be true. But something kept nagging, as if I couldn't quite remember an important message I needed to deliver. So I did what I do - I sat with it again, and I uncovered another doll.

By whose criteria am I classifying formidable poses? What does a formidable pose look like? Perhaps for many practitioners, at first glance, formidable poses are advanced poses, harder poses, poses that require strength, flexibility, and the ability to perform like Mr. Iyengar demonstrates in Light On Yoga. But is that a deep enough contemplation?

In my last post I also talked about practicing poses that I call Slugasana. I still love Slugasana, the word, the visualization of moving slow, quiet and deep on my mat, the actual doing of it. But now after further contemplation, the paradox as I see it, is that sometimes Slugasana, whether it be triangle or child's pose, are equally as formidable as Handstand.

As in the last post, in reflection of a time in my life when getting out of bed was a feat, the mere act of laying down my mat was the sublime execution of a formidable pose.

Why I practice and teach formidable poses.

"True fearlessness is not the reduction of fear, but going beyond fear. 

...fearlessness comes from working with the softness of the human heart."

                                                                             The Sacred Path of the Warrior, Chogyam Trungpa

Recently a dear student emailed me to share how excited he was about his practice. He thanked me for preparing the body effectively in order to explore difficult peak poses with more successful outcomes. His comments were generous and thoughtful, while also inspiring a deeper contemplation.

Why do I choose to practice formidable poses? Why do I teach them? Of course on the surface layer, it's because asana is a process. We start with basic poses and move towards more difficult poses. It's simply what we do as practitioners, and as teachers. It's the expected natural course.

But every now and then I can't stop myself from asking, who really cares if I ever get my leg behind my head? What does it say about me that I can go from Vasistasana to Hanumanasana and back? Does it make me a better person? Am I more enlightened?

A few awarenesses bubbled up in thinking about my student - the expansion and evolution of his practice. First, I saw myself reflected in his eyes. And it gave me pause to take yet a deeper look. I continue to practice, engage and explore challenging poses because on the initial surface level it's fun! And if I look underneath that layer, it truly does build a solid foundation for life. I've learned that no separation exists from on the mat to off the mat. Subsequently, life is yoga and yoga is life.

Sometimes my mat is a play ground, where I either play alone, or I gather with friends and students, and we encourage one another to attempt something new, or to go further. We place our mats so that we are able to see one another, and yes at times we still even applaud. Whether they, or I, "get" the pose or not, is often beside the point. We support each other in the practice because we inspire one another to delve deeper inside our physical home, and our energetic home. We learn to laugh at ourselves and at the craziness of what we are doing. We become mirrors for one another so that when our stuff comes up we can see ourselves more clearly, more honestly, and with compassion.

Yet, at other times, my mat in not a playground. It becomes "The field of Kurukshetra", my personal battlefield. It's here where I often come face to face with my dharma, with my demons, and with whatever is ripping my heart wide open not only with joy, but with sadness or despair.

A few years ago, as I was living through the most incredibly painful and frightening time of my life, I saw my practice in an even more purposeful light. Intellectually, I understood that the practice is preparation. And it did help me through what I naively considered difficult times. But until I was faced with a nightmare of such outlandish proportions I had no real clue what this practice truly offers.

Reflecting back, some days all I had the stamina for is what I call Slugasana. Rolling myself around on the mat, maybe a few standing poses, and a long held child's pose. Honestly, even today, now living on the other side of that terror filled time in my life, I don't care a whit about standing drop back. Yet, those Slugasana days flow one into the other and the next thing I know, I'm back at it. Full force. Hatha yoga after all is the "forceful" yoga.

What I received on a deeper level, is that the challenge of unpacking, playing, struggling with formidable poses, poses that exposed a deep seated fear, cultivated an inner strength that I never really believed I possessed. Building those muscles on my mat, in my head and heart, built the muscles of fortitude and fearlessness, while firing up my will so I would never give up.

Equally important for me is to balance out the hatha yoga, where I practice one of the most formidable poses of all; the seat of meditation. Meditation can be equally challenging, and equally asks a lot of the practitioner. Which may be a contemplation for another day. Yet, what I know to be true, is that without the mat, without the cushion, I would have been a goner.

I have witnessed and lived through the intensity of hatred and vengeance that quite possibly can burn one alive. And I have been embraced with love, compassion and spaciousness. Each day I live on the other side of my experience is a precious fragile jewel. My capacity to live and love more fully, and arise each sunrise with gratitude has exponentially expanded.

When I see myself reflected back in my dear student I see the reflection of the difficult times and how they have reshaped me. The times I've wondered if I literally would live through, the times that have shattered me into fine little pieces, I see have shifted me in deeply profound ways. The gift of the unraveling is that I bring this new me to the mat and to the cushion, and my practices are forever changed.

Just wondering - who is really doing “the work?”

“What ever we refuse to recognize about ourselves has a way of rearing its head

and making itself know when we least expect it.” Debbie Ford

There is a great conversation and debate taking place on many face book groups right now about the phrase, “looking for the good". The discussion is that if we only “look for the good” then we may be pushing down the shadow side of the self even deeper into the dark depths of the unconscious. The thought is that in being human we must address and uncover all the aspects of our selves, in order to be honest about the fullness of the possibilities held within us. The light, the good, the in between, and the scary dark places where our ugly potential lies hidden just waiting to strike. I agree. In only “looking for the good” we are not clearly seeing the whole person. We see only one aspect. I'm not suggesting we wallow in the shadow side of self for eternity. But, quite frankly we are not all pink fuzzy unicorns filled with bright sunshine and light.

Some days we greet the morning with a growl and a hiss. We wake up anticipating that first cup of coffee to find that the coffee maker is broken, and we're pissed. We misplace our keys, frantically racing around the house to finally find them buried in the dirty laundry basket.Then the car won't start. We pick up the phone to hear the wracking sobs of a loved one. A dear friend has passed. We argue with our boss. A friend betrays us. Our heart is broken, again. We are sad, disappointed, angry, envious, mean-spirited and hurtful. We rage, we rant, and we bully. And somewhere along the continuum we become aware of these misplaced feelings and we admit, yes, we are capable of acting out in multifarious ways.

And then we begin to post on face book. We admit to our darker ways. We talk talk talk. We talk about doing our inner work. We talk about going deep. We talk about bringing these aspects of our nature out into the light so that they may dissipate and loose the strong armed grip it has on our hearts, minds and bodies.

But I'm wondering, is that enough? This “talk therapy?” This face book processing? I'm wondering what the ratio is to talking, having the awareness conversations, to what is called Bhavana practice? For every hour spent reading a post, responding, reading articles and books on doing our inner work, to every hour sitting on our cushion, and actually doing the inner work?

Meditating. Journaling. Self-inquiry. Contemplation. Meditating. Sitting in the sanctuary of our own Self and allowing all the random crazy thoughts to surface. Sitting and allowing all the deeply held hurts and wild feelings to hit like a tsunami almost drowning out the life force. Then sit again until the volcanic eruption of emotions settles, so we can begin to sift through the ashes. Then journal about it.

Then sit again. Then journal again, and hold the conversation with the Self. Why are we so angry at this person? What is underneath this intense rage and sense of betrayal? How much of our sense of identity was misplaced? Have we been hurt? Yes. Was it a personal affront? Yes. Are we confused? Yes, yes, yes.

Then sit again and continue to ask the tough questions. What is in here for us to learn about ourselves? What part did we play in this drama? Why did we stay in this relationship? What was random, what was karma, what was dharma?

What are we capable of? And what the hell do we do with all of this? Sit. The practice, the yoga, is to sit day after day after day. No excuses. No BSing ourselves.

Sit in the uncomfortableness. Sit in the messiness of our life. Sit in the messiness of all Life. Sit, and not only allow the darkness to surface, but invite it to surface. And then sit across from it, look it in the eye, scared, and shaky until we no longer are. 

A Raven Came Calling

A Raven Came Calling

“Forget your perfect offering

There is a crack, a crack in everything

That's how the light gets in

That's how the light gets in...”

Leonard Cohen

A Raven came calling today. It was a bit startling to see her swoop down from the darkened cloudy sky and land silently on an arm of a gnarled Saguaro cactus. Yet on some deeper level of my subconscious

I was not surprised to see her, she has visited before. Unusually hushed, Raven fanned out her immense purple black iridescent wings. Like royalty she perched upon the cactus whose five arms reached upward towards the heavens in what seemed to be a benediction. Though quiet she none the less arrived with a message for me. I sensed it. Sitting in my reading chair I looked out from my office door, fascinated as I observed her. Slowing rotating her head she gazed at me and I felt as though she was looking right into the depths of my heart and mind. Unexpectedly she flapped her silky wings and took flight. Just like that. No longer in my view I heard her caw and squawk. She was talking to me. Minutes later she swooped down onto the arm of the cactus again and continued calling me out. “Pay attention,” my mind cried. “What is she saying? What does she want you to hear? What does she want you to remember?” Raven continued this dance of flight and return for several minutes. Until finally, with one last unnerving cry she was gone.

I have a choice now, I can either ignore the call of Raven on my doorstep or heed her message. But first I must remember. Here's what I know about the power of Raven medicine. I know that in many indigenous cultures Raven represents the dark mystery of the Universe. The form and the formless. Raven's dark inky black color symbolizes the great void. However, not the void of death, but the container that holds the unlimited potential of the Universe, the potential of life itself. If you look closely you can peer within Raven's deep iridescent blackness and see the same sparkles of light that exists within the deep abyss. Raven also holds the alchemical power of consciousness and creativity. So I wonder again, “What does this mean for me, to my life, to my present circumstances?”

Perhaps she came to address the cavern of darkness I have willingly plunged myself into these past several months. Perhaps she arrived today to reassure me that without entering into the chasm of one's own soul an imbalance exists within and a false sense of reality arises. I am oddly comforted by this thought, and curious as well as to why as a culture, as a society, we are afraid to explore this terrain? Why as children do we need the assurance of a night light in order to keep away the bogeyman? Where and how is the fear initiated?

Consider the possibility that the bogeyman is simply our refusal, or our inability to acknowledge and accept all the fractured pieces of ourselves? If we enter into the realm of darkness and allow ourselves to sit in the fear, to stay with the uncomfortableness long enough, maybe our eyes will adjust, and in time the soft shimmer of light will be revealed through the cracks of our brokenness and the light of awareness will grow ever stronger and more powerful -dissipating the hold we believe the darkness has over us.

Maybe Raven came calling me this day to remind me that there is nothing to fear. Maybe she came calling to remind me that the Universe is a great mystery and to trust not only in the mystery of life, but in my own alchemical process.

"Because you can-should you?”

Several months ago, eons before the Anudrama hit the yoga world like a maelstrom, I began contemplating the expression, “because you can!” This theme seemed to sprout out of nowhere in my local yoga community. Handstand, drop-back, splits, whatever the chosen apex pose of the class, the message was clear - do it, try it, go for it because you can. Initially I was taken in with the mantra. “Yeah, why not. Do it because you can.” This perspective has a ring to it that complements the philosophy of the yoga of yes, so on the surface I bought in. Yet rooted even deeper in my psyche than the sprouts of “do it because you can” lies the fundamental belief that there are ethical personal boundaries that exist in our world and in our relationships-on the mat, in the classroom and as we participate in the yoga of life.

Over ten years ago I learned another expression from one of the yoga community's most respected Tantric philosophy scholars: “yoga is skillful choice-making.” I fell in love with the concept that my yoga practice not only teaches me how to stand on my head for ten minutes or more, but also provides me with guidelines and a method to become more discerning. This powerful method and guide establishes a roadmap which I have used to make decisions that are life-affirming and meaningful. However, the practice and the philosophy does not teach the student what is right or wrong. Inherent in its premise is that the student is already a grown up whose moral compass is strong and pointed True North. Yet, let's be honest, there are a plethora of choices we are asked to make on a daily basis. Consider the number of coffee shops one drives by in the course of a day, let alone the types of coffee offered on the menu. Just thinking about the choices makes my head swirl and my taste buds froth. A benign example perhaps, yet the awareness that we are faced every day with a multitude of opportunities in which we either stay true to our North Star or become tantalized and veer off course, is paramount to making skillful life choices.

“Because you can” suggests that simply because the opportunity sits right in front of us, like the proverbial brass ring, it is our right to reach out and grab hold of it. Yet, what if it isn't our brass ring? 

Or perhaps we succumb to temptation and press the return button on our computer to access personal information of another individual. Simply because the knowledge is easily available we make the silent choice to invade someone's privacy. As a result of “because we can” an invisible boundary has been crossed. Albeit frightening at times, we live in the age of social media and the information highway. Through it we have access to an insurmountable amount of data. Facebook, Google, Yahoo, etc., are all powerful instruments to be reckoned with in that they may serve or destroy. The world has recently observed history in the making as we have witnessed dictators overthrown by the power of this new paradigm. So is it wrong then to use this method of communication and research? From my perspective it is not a question of right or wrong, but one of skillful choice-making. It is a question of, is this yoga?

Interestingly enough, pre-Anusara debacle, these stirrings arose in my heart when I witnessed the painful effects of another's poor choice making. As a result it begs the question, where does the boundary of personal integrity lie? What if our lines are utterly dissimilar? 

What if my edge is different than your edge? For example, what if you are curious and desire to learn more about me? Perhaps you find me interesting, intriguing and you sense I am withholding a compelling story. You begin to ask furtive, leading questions. However, my antennae are raised and I state clearly that I am not willing to satisfy your fascination. Now with heightened curiosity you begin to push against my steadfastness and a dance of yes and no ensues. Foiled in your attempts, you choose another course. With the ready access of information provided 24 hours a day, you make the choice to delve deeply into my history simply to soothe your self-interest. And poof, you have crossed the invisible line. 

Thus, I circle back to my original contemplation, “because you can - should you?”

Don't Take Anything Personally - Seriously?!

I have a confession to make. You know the bible, well not The Bible, but the bible that was being touted a few years back called The Four Agreements; a simple little book filled with ethical codes of conduct that ordinary everyday people in the supermarket line would and often did quote from?

Here, let me remind you...they're short, pithy, easy to take in. One: Be Impeccable With Your Word. Two: Don't Take Anything Personally. Three: Don't Make Assumptions. Four: Always Do Your Best.

Well, on the whole I am, sort of, in agreement with these ideas and beliefs. You see I was born and raised Catholic and then fell head over heels in love with Anusara yoga and Tantrik philosophy as taught to me by my teachers. So either of these darshanas (points of view), are in alignment with living a moral and ethical life. Most people want that. Perhaps even Classical Patanjali might concur with the ideas set forth.

Let's start with One: Be Impeccable With Your Word. OK - how we speak, the tone of our voice, the words we say all hold power. We all know that. We can AGREE with that. We teach our children to use inside voices, not to say anything hurtful, please don't use potty talk, and if you can't say anything nice about someone, well don't say anything at all.

As for Two - I'll get back to that later.

Three: Don't Make Assumptions. It all comes down to communication. One of my Tantrik teachers, Dr. Douglas Brooks, defines yoga as an on going conversation. If we are in conversation, if we are communicating with one another, we can avoid the pitfalls of misunderstanding and misperceptions that the voices in our heads often lead us into.

Four: Always Do Your Best. Of course. Why wouldn't we? To do something with half an effort is well, it's a waste of time and energy. Anything worth putting your heart and effort into asks that you do it with passion. Passion is not passive.

It's Two - Don't Take Anything Personally that I take issue with. It doesn't tell the whole story. The Four Agreements states, " What others say and do is a projection of their own reality, their own dream. When you are immune to the opinions and actions of others, you won't be the victim of needless suffering." While I support that the actions of others is revealing and tells us more about them than us, sometimes it does feel and is personally directed. Sometimes a betrayal, a lie, a thoughtless comment is totally meant to harm. Individuals choose to harm in the same way one chooses to comfort. Somewhere along the line an individual makes a choice to tear another down or hold them up. When you are the target of an arrow of ugliness aimed at your heart how can you not feel the intended pain when the goal is a great big OUCH! To deny that someone has mindfully intended you harm, to deny that a loved one has hurt you is to deny a very basic and human quality - we feel pain. Have you ever closed your finger in a car door, or grabbed a hot dish from the oven? It darn well hurts. Why is a hurt to our hearts, our souls, any different than a hurt to our physical body?

However, I circle back around again and believe that although the actions and words of another may and very often hurt us to the core, we too have a choice to make. How do we respond? After we pause and lick our wounds we can either lash out and engage in a battle of the wits, or we can recognize the pain that has initially motivated an individual to willingly and willfully strike out against us. We do not need to wear the hurt like a new coat of arms, nor do we need to embrace the pain as we do our beloved. We have choices - I love that part.

Tantrik teachings tell us that we have a choice to feel the pain, feel the ouch, be with it to its fullest and then as Pema Chodron says, "lay it down." Then get the heck out of the sandbox and go play at another park.