Posted by ajoyfulpractice in "Impossible" People, Abhyasa, Art, Books, Changing Perspectives, Depression, Dharma, Food, Healing Stories, Hope, Life, Loss, Movies, Mysticism, One Hoop, Pain, Peace, Philosophy, Suffering, Tragedy, Vairagya, Vipassana, Wisdom, Women, Writing, Yoga.
Tags: bandhas, Haţha Yoga Pradipika, mental health, Michael Cunningham, Pancham Sinh, siddhis, The Air I Breathe, Virginia Woolf
[This is the post for Monday, 12521 – another palindrome practice! You can request an audio recording of this practice via a comment below or (for a slightly faster reply) you can email me at myra (at) ajoyfulpractice.com.
In the spirit of generosity (“dana”), the Zoom classes, recordings, and blog posts are freely given and freely received. If you are able to support the center and its teachings, please do so as your heart moves you. (NOTE: You can donate even if you are “attending” a practice that is not designated as a “Common Ground Meditation Center” practice, or you can purchase class(es).) Donations are tax deductible; class purchases are not necessarily deductible.]
Check out the “Class Schedules” calendar for upcoming classes.]
“surājye dhārmike deśe subhikṣhe nirupadrave |
dhanuḥ pramāṇa-paryantaṃ śilāghni-jala-varjite |
ekānte maṭhikā-madhye sthātavyaṃ haṭha-yoghinā || 12 ||
The Yogī should practise [sic] Haṭha Yoga in a small room, situated in a solitary place, being 4 cubits square, and free from stones, fire, water, disturbances of all kinds, and in a country where justice is properly administered, where good people live, and food can be obtained easily and plentifully.”
– quoted from “Chapter 1. On Āsanas” of the Haţha Yoga Pradipika, translated by Pancham Sinh (1914)
“… a woman must have money and a room of her own if she is to write fiction…”
– quoted from the essay “A Room of One’s Own,” as it appears in A Room of One’s Own And, Three Guineas by Virginia Woolf
In October 1928, Virginia Woolf gave two speeches to two different student societies at Newnham College and Girton College, which at the time were two of the all-women colleges at the University of Cambridge. (NOTE: Newnham is still an all-women’s college. Girton started accepting men in 1971 and started allowing men to be “Mistress,” or head of the college, in 1976.) The speeches were about women and fiction – and specifically detailed why there were so few women writers who had earned acclaimed (and, to certain degree, why those that did often did so anonymously or with “male” names). She also highlighted the absurd trichotomy between the two wildly archetypical way women are portrayed in literature and the reality of the very different types of women in the room, let alone in the world.
Born Virginia Stephen in Kensington, England, today in 1882, Ms. Woolf speculated about the works that might have come from a woman (say, in Shakespeare’s time) who had a helpmate to take care of the cooking, cleaning, children, and other household business. She also talked about the social constraints that not only prevented a woman from devoting copious time to the practical application of her craft, writing, but also the social constraints and inequalities that could result in what would amount to writer’s block. All this, she detailed, even before she addressed the issue of a market place predisposed to highlight male writers – and she introduced her ideas by establishing two (really three) of the things a woman would need to overcome the obstacles of society: (time), space, and money.
When I first started going deeper into my physical practice of yoga, I looked into some of the classic texts within the tradition. One of those texts was the Haţha Yoga Pradipika (Light on the Physical Practice of Yoga), a 15th Century text that focuses on āsanas (“seats” or poses), prāņāyāma (breath awareness and control), mudrās (“seals” or “gestures”), and Samādhi (that ultimate form of “meditation” that is absorption). Throughout the text, and in particular in the chapter on mudrās, there is a breakdown of how energy, power, or vitality moves through the body and the benefits of harnessing that power.
I would eventually appreciate how the text is almost a summary of the earlier Yoga Sūtras, but (as an English lit major), what struck me first was how similar these early instructions, on a practice that can be used to cultivate clarity and harness the power of the mind, were to Virginia Woolf’s advice to women writers – about cultivating clarity and harnessing the power of the mind.
“athāsane dṝdhe yoghī vaśī hita-mitāśanaḥ |
ghurūpadiṣhṭa-mārgheṇa prāṇāyāmānsamabhyaset || 1 ||
Posture becoming established, a Yogî, master of himself, eating salutary and moderate food, should practise [sic] Prâṇâyâma, as instructed by his guru.”
– quoted from “Chapter 2. On Prāņāyāma” of the Haţha Yoga Pradipika, translated by Pancham Sinh (1914)
“I feel a thousand capacities spring up in me. I am arch, gay, languid, melancholy by turns. I am rooted, but I flow.”
– quoted from “Susan” in The Waves by Virginia Woolf
Just as Virginia Woolf addressed misconceptions about women in her essays and fiction, Pancham Sinh addressed some misconceptions about people who practice yoga and the practice of prāņāyāma in an introduction to the Haţha Yoga Pradipika. Part of the introduction is an admonishment to people who would study the practice, but do not practice it, stating, “People put their faith implicitly in the stories told them about the dangers attending the practice, without ever taking the trouble of ascertaining the fact themselves. We have been inspiring and expiring air from our birth, and will continue to do so till death; and this is done without the help of any teacher. Prāņāyāma is nothing but a properly regulated form of the otherwise irregular and hurried flow of air, without using much force or undue restraint; and if this is accomplished by patiently keeping the flow slow and steady, there can be no danger. It is the impatience for the Siddhis which cause undue pressure on the organs and thereby causes pains in the ears, the eyes, the chest, etc. If the three bandhas be carefully performed while practicing [sic] the Prāņāyāma, there is no possibility of any danger.”
Siddhis are the powers or “accomplishments” achieved from continuous practice. They range from being able to extend peace out into the world and understanding all languages, to being able to levitate and understand all languages, to the six “powers unique to being human.” Bandhas are “locks” and refer to internal engagements used to seal sections of the body in order to control the flow of prāņā. The three major bandhas referred to in the text are the same engagements I encourage when I tell people to “zip up” and engage the pelvic floor and lower abdominal cavity (mūla bandha), the mid and upper abdominal cavity (uḍḍīyana bandha), and the throat (jālandhara bandha). I typically refer to a fourth – pada bandha – which is a seal for the feet; however, in classical texts the fourth bandha is the engagement of the three major bandhas (root, abdominal, and throat) at the same time.
Before anyone gets it twisted, let’s be clear that this introduction is not advice to grab a book and follow instructions without the guidance of a teacher. In fact, Pancham Sinh specifically advised people to find a teacher who practiced and indicated that while one could follow the directions from a (sacred) book, there are some things that cannot be expressed in words. There are some things that can only be felt. This is consistent with Patanjali’s explanation that the elements and senses that make up the “objective world” can be “divided into four categories: specific, unspecific, barely describable, and absolutely indescribable.” (YS 2.19) That is to say, there are some things that have specific sense-related reference points; some things that can be referred back to the senses, but on a personal level; some things that have no reference points, but can be understood through “a sign” or comprehension of sacred text; and some things which cannot be described, because there is no tangible reference point and/or “sign” – there is only essence.
One of the things we can feel, but not touch, is emotion. Emotions can come with visceral experiences and, in that way, can fall into the “unspecific” category, but more often than not what we feel is “barely describable” (or even indescribable) – and yet, writers are always trying to describe or capture the essence of what is felt. As the author of nine novels (including one published shortly after her death), five short story collections (most of which were published after her death), a hybrid novel (part fiction, part non-fiction), three book-length essays, a biography, and hundreds of articles, reviews, and essays, Virginia Woolf constantly endeavored to describe what she felt and what she felt she saw others feeling. Even more salient, she often focused on the disconnection between what her characters felt and what they could describe about what they felt.
The author’s efforts were hindered, or aided (depending on one’s viewpoint), by the fact that she experienced so much trauma and heartbreak; much of which led to emotional despair. She was possibly (probably) abused by one of her half-brothers from an early age. Then she suffered a mental breakdown at the age of 13, after her mother died. Then she had to deal with the death of her half-sister and a maternal role model just two years later. When her father he died, in 1904, she had another breakdown, the severity of which landed her in the country for a period of convalescence. It was during this period that she began to write in earnest (even though the doctors had recommended that she only write letters) and that she would meet Leonard Woolf, the author whom she would marry in 1912. The writing helped, in that she seemed to find some mental and emotional stability for about 15 years. But, she would experience another breakdown after correcting the proofs of her first novel, The Voyage Out. The novel was published by her half-brother’s publishing company (yes, that aforementioned half-brother) and introduced the world to “Clarissa Dalloway,” the protagonist of her fourth novel.
“evaṃ vidhe maṭhe sthitvā sarva-chintā-vivarjitaḥ |
ghurūpadiṣhṭa-mārgheṇa yoghameva samabhyaset || 14 ||
Having seated in such a room and free from all anxieties, he should practise [sic] Yoga, as instructed by his guru.”
– quoted from “Chapter 1. On Āsanas” of the Haţha Yoga Pradipika, translated by Pancham Sinh (1914)
“You cannot find peace by avoiding life.”
– quoted from The Hours: a novel by Michael Cunningham
It is interesting to me that while the instruction for the Haţha Yoga Pradipika instructed a person to practice when they were “free from…disturbances of all kinds” (HYP 1.12); “free from dirt, filth and insects” (HYP 1.13); and “free from all anxieties” (HYP 1.14), the vast majority of people practicing in the modern world do so in order to free themselves from the various maladies that plague them. Additionally, I find it interesting that historians, teachers of literature, and even psychiatrists spend a lot of time (theoretically) diagnosing a young woman (Virginia Woolf) who may have been experiencing (and working through) the most natural of emotions; natural, given her circumstances. Were her emotions extreme and potentially dangerous? Yes, by all accounts – including her own words and her death – her emotions were extreme and dangerous; as were her circumstances. Initially, she was able to work through her distress because she had the support of those to whom she was connected. In the end, however, she was left alone and feeling disconnected.
The Air I Breathe, one of my favorite movies, was released in the United States today in 2008. Inspired by the idea that emotions are like fingers on a hand, the main characters are known to the audience as Happiness, Pleasure, Sorrow, Love, and Fingers – and their stories are interconnected, even though they don’t necessarily realize it. In fact, some of the most desperate actions in the movie are motivated by fear and a sense of isolation. Promotional materials for the movie proclaimed, “We are all strangers / We are all living in fear / We are all ready to change” and in the movie Happiness asks, “So where does change come from? And how do we recognize it when it happens?” I think both the statement and the question could be applied to so many, if not all, of Virginia Woolf’s characters – and they could apply to all of us in the world right now.
“‘For,’ the outsider will say, ‘in fact as a woman, I have no country. As a woman I want no country. As a woman my country is the whole world.’ And if, when reason has had its say, still some obstinate emotion remains, some love of England dropped into a child’s ears… this drop of pure, if irrational, emotion she will make serve her to give to England first what she desires of peace and freedom for the whole world.”
– quoted from the novel-essay “Three Guineas,” as it appears in The Selected Works of Virginia Woolf by Virginia Woolf
As I have mentioned before, I consider the 8-Limbed Yoga Philosophy to have very real-time, practical applications and I normally think of the physical practice as an opportunity to practice, explore, and play with the various elements of the philosophy. I will even sometimes use aspects of alignment as a metaphor for situations in our lives off the mat. Given this last year, however, I have really started to consider how āsana instructions from classic texts like The Yoga Sūtras of Patanjali and the Haţha Yoga Pradipika, can be more practically applied to the most basic aspects of everyday life.
For instance, if we spend our time on the mat cultivating a “steady/stable, comfortable/easy/joyful” foundation in order to breathe easier and more deeply, doesn’t it make sense to spend some time cultivating the same type of foundation in our lives? Going out a little more, if we do not have the luxury or privilege of practicing “in a country where justice is properly administered, where good people live, and food can be obtained easily and plentifully,” doesn’t it behoove us to create that land? Finally, what happens if we (to paraphrase yoga sūtras 2.46-47) establish a baseline for stability and then loosen up a little bit and focus on the infinite? Patanjali and the authors of the other sacred texts told us we would become more of who we are: leaner in body, healthier, brighter, more joyful, “clearer, stronger, and more intuitive.” In other words: peaceful and blissful.
“lōkāḥ samastāḥ sukhinōbhavantu”
– A mettā (loving-kindness) chant that translates to “May all-beings, everywhere, be happy and be free.”
There is no playlist for the Common Ground practice.
“vapuḥ kṝśatvaṃ vadane prasannatā
nāda-sphuṭatvaṃ nayane sunirmale |
aroghatā bindu-jayo|aghni-dīpanaṃ
nāḍī-viśuddhirhaṭha-siddhi-lakṣhaṇam || 78 ||
When the body becomes lean, the face glows with delight, Anâhatanâda manifests, and eyes are clear, body is healthy, bindu under control, and appetite increases, then one should know that the Nâdîs are purified and success in Haṭha Yoga is approaching.”
– quoted from “Chapter 1. On Āsanas” of the Haţha Yoga Pradipika, translated by Pancham Sinh (1914)
“The human frame being what it is, heart, body and brain all mixed together, and not contained in separate compartments as they will be no doubt in another million years, a good dinner is of great importance to good talk. One cannot think well, love well, sleep well, if one has not dined well.”
– quoted from the essay “A Room of One’s Own,” as it appears in A Room of One’s Own And, Three Guineas by Virginia Woolf
If you are thinking about suicide, worried about a friend or loved one, or would like emotional support, you can call 1-800-273-TALK (8255). You can also call the TALK line if you are struggling with addiction or involved in an abusive relationship. The Lifeline network is free, confidential, and available to all 24/7. YOU CAN TALK ABOUT ANYTHING.
### OM SHANTI, SHANTI, SHANTHI OM ###
Posted by ajoyfulpractice in Bhakti, Changing Perspectives, Donate, Faith, Healing Stories, Health, Hope, Japa, Japa-Ajapa, Karma Yoga, Life, Love, Mala, Mantra, Meditation, Mysticism, New Year, One Hoop, Peace, Philosophy, Traditional Chinese Medicine, Vipassana, Wisdom, Writing, Yin Yoga, Yoga.
Tags: 108 Sun Salutations, Kwanzaa, New Year's Day, Nguzo Saba, Nia, Sun Salutations, Surya Namaskar
[“Happy New Year!” and “Kwanzaa, yenu iwe na heri!” – “May your Kwanzaa be happy!” to everyone who is celebrating!]
TRANSFORM • RENEW • HEAL • ENERGIZE
Celebrate the New Year with 108 Sun Salutations 10:00 AM – 1:00 PM CST!
AND/OR
RELAX • RELEASE • REST • RENEW • HEAL
Celebrate the New Year with Yin+Meditation
5:00 PM – 7:00 PM CST!
The New Year is a beginning and an ending… and it is also a middle. On New Year’s Day we honor and celebrate transition with 108 Sun Salutations in the morning (10 AM – 1 PM, CST) and/or a Yin Yoga plus Meditation practice in the evening (5 – 7 PM, CST). These practices are open and accessible to all, regardless of experience.
Please wear loose, comfortable clothing and make sure you are well hydrated before the practice. It is best to practice on an empty stomach (especially for the 108 ajapa-japa mala), but if you must eat less than 1 hour before the practice, make sure to keep it light. Make sure to have a towel (at the very least) for the 108 practice. For Yin Yoga, a pillow/cushion or two, blocks or (hardcover) books, and a blanket or towel will be useful. I always recommend having something handy (pen and paper) that you can use to note any reflections.
You can scroll down (or click here) for more details about these practices and other practice opportunities related to the New Year.
The 108 playlist is available on YouTube and Spotify.
The Yin+Meditation playlist is part of the “12042020 Bedtime Yoga” available on YouTube and Spotify.
Both practices are online and donation based. If you don’t mind me knowing your donation amount you can donate to me directly. You can also email me to request my Venmo or Ca$hApp ID. If you want your donation to be anonymous (to me) and/or tax deductible, please donate through Common Ground Meditation Center (type my name under “Teacher”).
Please note that there is still no late admittance and you must log in before the beginning of the practice (so, by 9:45 AM for the 108 or by 4:45 PM for the Yin+Meditation). You will be re-admittance if you get dumped from the call.)
### NAMASTE ###
Posted by ajoyfulpractice in Books, Changing Perspectives, Confessions, Healing Stories, Health, Hope, Life, Loss, Love, Men, One Hoop, Pain, Peace, Philosophy, Science, Suffering, Tragedy, Vipassana, Wisdom, Writing, Yoga.
Tags: Blackened Canteen Ceremony, David Montero, Don Stratton, Dr. Hiroya Sugano, Ed McGrath, FDR, Franklin Delano Roosevelt, Fukumatsu Ito, Ken Potts, Lauren Bruner, Leslie Kaminoff, Lou Contor, Pearl Harbor, Richard Rovesk, Susan Keating, USS Arizona
[The 75-minute Common Ground Meditation Center practice, in the spirit of generosity (“dana”), is freely given and freely received. You can use the link from the “Class Schedules” calendar if you run into any problems checking into the class. You can request an audio recording of Monday’s practice via a comment below or (for a slightly faster reply) you can email me at myra (at) ajoyfulpractice.com.
If you are able to support the center and its teachings, please do so as your heart moves you. (NOTE: You can donate even if you are “attending” my other practices, or you can purchase class(es). Donations are tax deductible; class purchases are not necessarily deductible.)
Check out the “Class Schedules” calendar for upcoming classes.]
“We have to do something in our bodies; it not just a switch in the central nervous system that shuts them off. We have to actually dampen the spaces, the sensory spaces, in our system where the emotions are experienced. You’re doing something – with your breathing mechanism – which by definition affects your posture. It affects your relationship to gravity, when you’re walking around in this state of suppressed breath. Suppressed breath is by definition suppressed emotions, and vice versa…. and can contribute to the pain.”
– quoted from Q&A about “Emotions – Back Pain – Yoga: What do they have in common?” from Yoga Anatomy to Life Online by Leslie Kaminoff
Samasthiti (“Equal-Standing”), which is also Tādāsana (“Mountain” Pose), is something I often equate with standing at attention; like a soldier, you are ready for what comes next. When standing at attention properly, the spine is long, the core is engage, the kneecaps are lifted – but not locked – and the soldier can breathe deeply in, and breathe deeply out. There’s another way of “standing at attention” from martial arts that is a little looser in the limbs, but no less erect in the spine. I mention all of this in part, because it is the exact opposite bearing of someone who has experienced trauma and especially someone who has been attacked by surprise. The trauma, and the surprise of the attack, can leave a person hunched over and either panting, shallow breathing, and/or holding their breath – especially if they are still under attack. They are no longer ready, even if they are braced for what comes next.
I was thinking about the way we stand and move today, as I was re-reading a Los Angeles Times article about Lauren Bruner and Ed McGrath. Long story, short, Mr. McGrath wrote a book about U. S. Navy Fire Control Chief Petty Officer Lauren Bruner, who was the “Second to the Last to Leave” the USS Arizona today in 1941, when the USS Arizona was sunk during the surprise attack on Pearl Harbor. When he passed last September, he was the “last to return” – as the other three survivors (Don Stratton, who passed earlier this year; Lou Contor; and Ken Potts all intended to be interred with their families.)
The Imperial Japanese Navy ordered 353 bombers, fighter plans, and torpedo planes to attack 8 U. S. Navy ships in Pearl Harbor, Oahu, Hawaii. The 2,400-plus men and women who died in the attack were the US’s first military casualties of World War II – even though the country wasn’t then involved in the war. Almost half of those casualties (1,700 sailors and Marines) were on the USS Arizona.
“Yesterday, December 7, 1941 – a date which will live in infamy –“
– quoted from the December 8, 1941 speech to the Joint Session of the U. S. Congress by President Franklin D. Roosevelt
The attack, the first of its kind on American soil, drew the United States into the war; which led to the retaliation strikes in Japan – including the 1945 atomic bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki (which killed between 129,000 – 226,000). The United States engagement in World War II, including the atomic bombings, led to the end of the war and, most importantly, the end of the Holocaust (thereby saving millions of lives). But the article wasn’t really about the attack so much as it was about the friendship that formed between two men and how that friendship led to healing.
What I originally remembered about the Los Angeles Times article by David Montero was how Mr. McGrath contacted a dozen survivors of the attack because he wanted to make a documentary – and that retired Fire Control Chief Petty Officer Bruner was the only person who responded. I remembered that the latter hadn’t talked about his experiences for multiple decades and that he didn’t initially talk about them to Mr. McGrath. I vaguely remembered that the Sailor was supposed to meet a beautiful woman for a first date, that never happened, and the dual images he recalled of two Sailors that he thought were OK, but clearly were not.
Oddly, I also remembered that he outlived four wives and/or significant girlfriends. Finally, I remembered being struck by how the lives of the two men changed as they continued to have conversations, conversations about life… and then, eventually, about the morning of Sunday, December 7, 1941. I remember thinking about finding Second to the Last to Leave USS Arizona: Memoir of a Sailor – The Lauren F. Bruner Story by Ed McGrath and reading more. There were a couple of things, however, very significant things, that I did not remember.
“My name is Lou Conter and like Lauren Bruner I was a crew member on the USS Arizona and today I am one of its last survivors. Lauren is my friend. I have this book from cover to cover, and I know how difficult some of its chapters were for him to write. I want to assure anyone who is considering to read Second to the Last to Leave, that Lauren’s story is exactly how it was, and a Hell on Earth for every crew member.”
– Lou Conter, QM3/c (Quartermaster, USS Arizona crew member and survivor)
I did not remember how badly Chief Petty Officer Bruner was injured. How after being shot, suffering burns over two-thirds of his body – including his hands – he “spent several months recovering in a hospital before ultimately taking an assignment as a gun captain on a destroyer in the Pacific theater in 1942.” Today I was struck by how that was even possible. It was a miracle that he and four other badly burned Sailors managed to escape the sinking battleship, but that he would return to battle. Then I learned that two of the three other survivors, still living at the time of the article, had also returned to service – despite their severe attack-related injuries! How would that look – how would that feel – to return to a profession where you are required to be “at the ready” after experiencing so much? How could you stand at a attention after enduring so much?
Yes, yes, I know that not every job in the military requires one to stand at attention for long periods of time. That wasn’t the point of my question. What I really want to know is how do you breathe and how does that affect your life (and your capacity to heal).
“‘Being able to tell him what happened lifted a great weight from my shoulders,’ Bruner says now….
‘I told Ed the books so I wouldn’t have to talk about it again.’”
– quoted from the Los Angeles Times article “A Pearl Harbor survivor spent decades trying to forget it. Then one man got him talking.” By David Montero
Chief Petty Officer Lauren Bruner said that the more he talked about his life, in general, the fewer nightmares he had. I imagine that “great weight” coming off of him – a weight he didn’t realize he was physically carrying – made it easier to breathe. His friendship with Ed McGrath was like a crane that helped lift that weight. It was something neither of them saw coming… and I think healing often begins like that.
A lot of stories come to mind when I think of healing beginning in unlikely places, especially as it relates to World War II and the attack on Pearl Harbor. One of those stories is the story of the blackened canteen ceremony, which started in Shizuoka, Japan in 1945.
According to the stories, during the raids over Shizuoka (which killed over 2,000 Japanese), two B-29’s crashed in mid-air. A Buddhist man, Fukumatsu Ito (who later became a monk), buried anyone killed during the raids – including all 23 members of the American aircrew. Mr. Ito found a blackened and crushed canteen as he was recovering the bodies from the crash and every year, on the June 20th anniversary of their deaths, he would pour whiskey from the canteen on a cross he had erected in their honor.
In 1972, Mr. Ito invited Americans from Yokota Air Base to the ceremony and, as he was aging, decided to pass the torch…er, canteen to a younger man, Dr. Hiroya Sugano. Dr. Sugano, who was 12 during the 1945 raids, was inspired by his grandfather (also a doctor) to honor all who had served during the conflict – regardless of their nationality. In 1992, the ritual of pouring whiskey from the canteen and sprinkling flowers petals into the water became a ritual during Pearl Harbor commemorations.
I could not confirm if, or how, the Blackened Canteen Ceremony was offered publicly this year. However, today I think of it, Fukumatsu Ito, Dr. Hiroya Sugano, and the friendship between U. S. Navy Fire Control Chief Petty Officer Lauren Bruner and Ed McGrath. I think of the healing that came from those friendships and from the simplest of gestures – being present with someone and their memories.
“‘The Blackened Canteen ceremony is more than appropriate,’ says [Richard] Rovesk. “Our two countries need to be role models during these difficult times in this turbulent and even dangerous world.”
– quoted from the People Magazine article “Long-Ago Secret Ceremony of the Crushed Canteen Now a Staple at Pearl Harbor” by Susan Keating (published 12/07/2018)
There is no playlist for the Common Ground practices.
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Posted by ajoyfulpractice in Art, Books, Changing Perspectives, Depression, Dharma, Faith, Gratitude, Healing Stories, Hope, Life, Loss, Mantra, Mysticism, Pain, Peace, Philosophy, Poetry, Suffering, Vipassana, Wisdom, Writing, Yoga.
Tags: Franz Xaver Kappus, Rainer Maria Rilke, ritual, sleep
“To Say Before Going to Sleep”
“I would like to sing someone to sleep,
have someone to sit by and be with.
I would like to cradle you and softly sing,
be your companion while you sleep or wake.
I would like to be the only person
in the house who knew: the night outside was cold.
And would like to listen to you
and outside to the world and to the woods.
The clocks are striking, calling to each other,
and one can see right to the edge of time.
Outside the house a strange man is afoot
and a strange dog barks, wakened from his sleep.
Beyond that there is silence.
My eyes rest upon your face wide-open;
and they hold you gently, letting you go
when something in the dark begins to move.”
– poem by Rainer Maria Rilke
We all have our bedtime rituals, traditions, and habits. Some of them started in our childhood, and we continue them because they serve us. Some are as comfortable as our favorite pair of pajamas. Then there are some that have stuck around even though they are clearly worn, out, holey, and ill-fitting – not to mention the fact that some of folks just don’t bother with things like pajamas. Perhaps mixed up in those rituals, traditions, and habits are prayers, a glass of water by the bedside, a quick fluff of the pillow, and a bedtime story.
Because who doesn’t love a good bedtime story? The only problem is that the older we get – especially if we’re a parent and/or a single adult – the less opportunity there is for someone to read us a story. On the flip side, as an adult, we can appreciate all the different forms a bedtime story can take.
Some bedtime stories rhyme like a poem. Others read like a letter. Some are just beautiful, “lyrically intense,” and create a cozy space in our hearts and mind. Some are full of adventure. Still others are full of advice and make us turn inward. My favorites are all of the above. Perhaps, that’s why I love the poems and letters of Rainer Maria Rilke, who was born today in 1875; because, they make great bedtime stories.
“Quiet friend who has come so far,
feel how your breathing makes more space around you.
Let this darkness be a bell tower
and you the bell. As you ring,
what batters you becomes your strength.
Move back and forth into the change.
What is it like, such intensity of pain?
If the drink is bitter, turn yourself to wine.
In this uncontainable night,
be the mystery at the crossroads of your senses,
the meaning discovered there.
And if the world has ceased to hear you,
say to the silent earth: I flow.
To the rushing water, speak: I am”
– quoted from Sonnets to Orpheus, II.29 by Rainer Maria Rilke
Even though we started with a focus on prānāyāma, the “First Friday Night Special” series started because a dear friend requested “Bed(time) Yoga” and a handful of other friends got excited about the idea. In all honesty, I was half asleep when I texted something like, “Sure. I’ll get on that.” Only to wake up hours later and wonder, “Wait? Did you want yoga to help you go to sleep or yoga to help you wake up?” I realize that to most people this sounds like a seriously dumb (and slightly rhetorical) question. You must realize, however, that I sometimes do a bed-sequence at night and a slightly different sequence (in or on the bed) in the morning. Which means, of course, that this first “Bedtime Yoga” practice – also known as “Sleepy Time Yoga” – is just the beginning.
This month’s “First Friday Night Special” is a sequence to help you release, relax, and rest. The practice will also include tips on how the poses can be adjusted to make it a morning “get out of bed” sequence. It is accessible and open to all, regardless of age, experience, or gender. And, naturally, it includes a bedtime “story” or two.
“Here, where I am surrounded by an enormous landscape, which the winds move across as they come from the seas, here I feel that there is no one anywhere who can answer for you those questions and feelings which, in their depths, have a life of their own; for even the most articulate people are unable to help, since what words point to is so very delicate, is almost unsayable. But even so, I think that you will not have to remain without a solution if you trust in Things that are like the ones my eyes are now resting upon. If you trust in Nature, in what is simple in Nature, in the small Things that hardly anyone sees and that can so suddenly become huge, immeasurable; if you have this love for what is humble and try very simply, as someone who serves, to win the confidence of what seems poor: then everything will become easier for you, more coherent and somehow more reconciling, not in your conscious mind perhaps, which stays behind, astonished, but in your innermost awareness, awakeness, and knowledge. You are so young, so much before all beginning, and I would like to beg you, dear Sir, as well as I can, to have patience with everything unresolved in your heart and to try to love the questions themselves as if they were locked rooms or books written in a very foreign language. Don’t search for the answers, which could not be given to you now, because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps then, someday far in the future, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer.”
– quoted from Letter #4 (dated July 16, 1903) addressed to 19-year old officer cadet Franz Xaver Kappus, published in Letters to a Young Poet by Rainer Maria Rilke
Please grab your pjs* and props* and join me today (Friday, December 4th) 7:15 PM for a 65-minute virtual yoga practice on Zoom – that you can practice on your mat or in your bed. The Meeting ID and link are in the “Class Schedules” calendar. You can request an audio recording of this practice via a comment below or email myra(at)ajoyfulpractice.com.
Tuesday’s playlists are available on YouTube and Spotify.
(The playlists contain a different variety of musical selections and you will only need one track/album for the practice. With one exception, the tracks play without interruption. There are more options on the YouTube playlist (and that has my preference), but there is a different Sigur Rós option on the Spotify playlist.)
*NOTE: Your regular yoga clothes will work for this practice. You can use standard props if you are doing the sequence on the mat, floor, or chair; however, I would suggest just using pillows and a strap if you are practicing in bed.
In the spirit of generosity (“dana”), the Zoom classes, recordings, and blog posts are freely given and freely received. If you are able to support these teachings, please do so as your heart moves you. You can also purchase a drop in class or use part of a package.
“You ask whether your verses are any good. You ask me. You have asked others before this. You send them to magazines. You compare them with other poems, and you are upset when certain editors reject your work. Now (since you have said you want my advice) I beg you to stop doing that sort of thing. You are looking outside, and that is what you should most avoid right now. No one can advise or help you – no one. There is only one thing you should do. Go into yourself. Find out the reason that commands you to write; see whether it has spread its roots into the very depths of your heart; confess to yourself whether you would have to die if you were forbidden to write. This most of all: ask yourself in the most silent hour of your night: must I write? Dig into yourself for a deep answer. And if this answer rings out in assent, if you meet this solemn question with a strong, simple “I must”, then build your life in accordance with this necessity; your whole life, even into its humblest and most indifferent hour, must become a sign and witness to this impulse. Then come close to Nature. Then, as if no one had ever tried before, try to say what you see and feel and love and lose.”
– quoted from Letter #1 (dated February 17, 1903) addressed to 19-year old officer cadet Franz Xaver Kappus, published in Letters to a Young Poet by Rainer Maria Rilke
Mark your calendars, because the first Friday of 2021 is January 1st and there will be two special offerings! See the “Class Schedules” calendar for details on how you can start the new year with 108 Sun Salutations or Yin+Meditation.
### Zzzzzzz ###
Posted by ajoyfulpractice in Books, Buddhism, Hope, Love, Meditation, Music, Philosophy, Suffering, Vipassana, Yoga.
Tags: Ann Patchett, Bel canto, J. R. R. Tolkien, Japanese Embassy, Lima Peru, pranayama, pratyahara, Pratyāhāra, Swami J, Swami Jnaneshvara, vinyasa, vinyāsa, Vipassana, Vipassanā
“The timing of the electrical failure seemed dramatic and perfectly correct, as if the lights had said, “You have no need for sight. Listen.”
– quoted from Bel Canto by Ann Patchett
There was a time, not too long ago really, when I felt like I had a certain amount of control over how I began a practice and, therefore, how I told the story that was the class. Sometimes, in part because of my history in technical theatre, I relished days like today when I could combine my thirst for the practice with my love of literature and of the performing arts. I relished creating a dramatic moment when some of my favorite things converged and collapsed into one moment. But, alas, things change and in rolling with the punches I am reminded of the original intention of the story. No matter the drama, it was always about love and the practice (and love of the practice).
In Yoga and in Buddhism, there are techniques that became so popular they are now seen as styles or traditions. There are people, in both cases, who practice the technique as if it is the whole practice. The classic example in Yoga is vinyasā – which literally means “to place in a special way” and involves sequencing poses that exaggerate the body’s natural tendencies (to expand on the inhale and flex on the exhale). In Buddhism, the classic example is vipassanā – which literally means “to see in a special way” and involves paying attention to the way the body responds to the breath (see above). Notice the common root in the Sanskrit words? Notice also the connection to the breath and the body?
There is more these two things have in common, but the most common thing may be people’s habit of translating them into English words that (sometimes) barely hint at their original meaning. So, vinyasā becomes “flow” and vipassanā becomes “insight.” The English words are true, but also make it easy to miss the point and also to miss two key elements of both practices: breath and sense withdrawal.
“She sang as if she was saving the life of every person in the room.”
– quoted from Bel Canto by Ann Patchett
Imagine singing as if you were saving lives; imagine the breath awareness and control that would take. When they hear the words bel canto, many people outside of classical music think of the novel written by Ann Patchett, who was born today in 1963. The novel is based on the 1996 – 1997 hostage crisis that took place at the Japanese Embassy in Lima Peru (Dec 17th – April 22nd). It details the interactions of the terrorists and their hostages – including a world renowned opera singer. Opera and music are central themes throughout the novel, which is named for the Italian term for “beautiful singing” or “beautiful song.” The thing is; bel canto, like vinyasā and vipassanā, is a technique that became known as a style – and it requires control (and awareness) of the breath.
At one time, “bel canto” was just a term applied to beautiful singing – much like some of the music on today’s playlist – but specifically beautiful Italian singing. During the later 18th and early 19th century, however, people started using it in reference to a very specific type of Italian singing, which emphasized even tone; legato (“tied together” or long) phrasing deliberately juxtaposed to staccato (“detached” or short) phrasing – which sometimes also involved dramatic tempo changes; and vibrato (“vibrating” or pulsating). There was also an emphasis on emphasis (or accent) and how emotion was being conveyed. The technique was sometimes applied (and understood) outside of Italian music, but often with less drama attached to it.
“Love was action. It came to you. It was not a choice.”
– quoted from Bel Canto by Ann Patchett
By the end of the 19th century, people were using the term “bel canto” to specifically distinguish a certain style of opera and classical music (mostly associated with Italian and French composers) from operatic and classical music that was described as “weightier, more powerful… speech-inflicted” (and mostly associated with German composers). Similarly, as we moved into the middle and late 20th century, people started using the term “vinyasā” – and even “vipassanā” – to distinguish one type of practice from other traditional styles of practice.
In the parallels I am drawing, one of the things to note is what gets lost in translation. Sometimes, without awareness of why we move the way we move in vinyasā, people just think it’s about putting poses together and moving as swiftly as one can. In fact, there are people who are drawn to that type of practice for the very same reason it turns some people off. Similarly, some people say that they “only practice vipassanā” as a way to distance themselves from Buddhism (or their understanding of cultural Buddhism). The things is, as I see it, the point of these techniques was to go deeper into the overall practice – and the minute you distance yourself from the intention of the practice is the minute you start spiraling into the “hear be dragons” part of the experience. Sure, it is cool to explore what is considered unchartered territory, but it must always be done (to paraphrase J. R. R. Tolkien) with awareness of the dragons / dangers.
“‘Most of the time, we’re loved for what we can do rather than for who we are. It’s not such a bad thing, being loved for what you can do.’
‘But the other is better,’ Gen said.
Roxane pulled her feet into the chair and hugged her knees to her chest. ‘Better. I hate to say better, but it is. If someone loves you for what you can do then it’s flattering, but why do you love them? If someone loves you for who you are then they have to know you, which means you have to know them.’”
– Roxanne Cross (the soprano) and Gen Watanabe (the translator) in Bel Canto by Ann Patchett
One of the “dangers” of being in close quarters for long periods of time, as people were during the hostage crisis and in the novel (and as we are now), is that people’s best and worst qualities get exaggerated. It becomes harder, sometimes impossible, to avoid conflict and other times it becomes harder (sometimes impossible) to ignore someone’s bad behavior. Similarly, however, we are confronted with people’s good behavior and the heart of people – if we’re paying attention and if we are open to that possibility. Certain situations are opportunities for more trauma and drama – as we have seen during the pandemic. These same situations are opportunities for forgiveness and healing. But because the lines get blurred with such close proximity, it can all happen at the same time and with the same people. And, I find, that these are the times when we need to withdraw a bit.
I know, I know, you’re thinking, “But where would I go? Where can I go when everything is closed and winter is upon us?” Well, I’m glad you asked.
Some people escape inside of books, some inside of music or movies, and some inside of themselves (through practices like meditation, prayer, yoga, Tai Chi, or Qigong). The idea here is not to escape as if you are running away from home. The idea is to take a moment to turn inward, reflect, and remind yourself of what is in your heart. It’s also a way to remind yourself of what you value and of your guiding principles. Sure, it is harder to do these things during the pandemic. However, it’s harder to do these things if you are in prison or in the middle of a hostage situation – and yet, people do!
I mentioned earlier that sense withdrawal is one of the key elements shared by vinyasā and vipassanā. In the Yoga Philosophy, pratyāhāra (“withdrawing the senses”) is the fifth limb of the practice. Swami Jnaneshvara Bharati, of the Himalayan tradition, explains that placement in the philosophy by writing that “The willingness or unwillingness to withdraw attention from sensory experience is a significant dividing line between those who experience true meditation and those who experience only physical relaxation.” In other words, in order to focus, concentrate, and meditate in a single point – to the point that we are completely absorbed into (and merged with) the object our focus – we must let go of everything else.
Pratyāhāra is not, as some people believe, forcefully ignoring something or someone. Instead, this is a gentle releasing of awareness. It is something we already do unconsciously or subconsciously when we are really invested in a project or a person. In those times, we may really enjoy the experience. On the flip side, sometimes, the letting go is neither gentle nor peaceful. Sometimes, it is unexpected and jarring and creates a great deal of stress and strain. On a certain level, over the last few months, we’ve all experienced both kinds of letting go. The question becomes, how have you perceived it (the letting go) and what have you received in turn?
“It was too much work to remember things you might not have again, and so one by one they opened up their hands and let them go.”
– quoted from Bel Canto by Ann Patchett
Please join me today (Wednesday, December 2nd) at 4:30 PM or 7:15 PM for a yoga practice on Zoom. Use the link from the “Class Schedules” calendar if you run into any problems checking into the class. You will need to register for the 7:15 PM class if you have not already done so. Give yourself extra time to log in if you have not upgraded to Zoom 5.0. You can request an audio recording of this practice via a comment below or by emailing myra (at) ajoyfulpractice.com.
Wednesday’s playlist is available on YouTube and Spotify.
In the spirit of generosity (“dana”), the Zoom classes, recordings, and blog posts are freely given and freely received. If you are able to support these teachings, please do so as your heart moves you. (NOTE: You can donate even if you are “attending” a practice that is not designated as a “Common Ground Meditation Center” practice, or you can purchase class(es). Donations are tax deductible; class purchases are not necessarily deductible.)
“But together they moved through the world quite easily, two small halves of courage making a brave whole.”
– quoted from Bel Canto by Ann Patchett
### HOW AWARE ARE YOU THAT YOU’RE BREATHING? ###
Posted by ajoyfulpractice in Books, Buddhism, Fitness, Health, Life, Loss, Meditation, Philosophy, Science, Tragedy, Vipassana, Wisdom, Yoga.
Tags: nervous system, Nyanasatta Thera, pranayama, Satipattthana Sutta, Will Johnson, yoga sutra 1.34
Yoga Sūtra 1.34: pracchardanavidhāraņābhyām vā prāņasya
– “Transparency and calmness of mind also comes by practicing [awareness of breath] that involves forceful exhalation and [natural] breath retention.”
“as you breathe in, breathe in through the whole body
as you breath out, breathe out the whole body
feel how the breath calms and heals the body
like a skilled potter watching clay turn on a wheel
notice how each inhalation turns into an exhalation
only to turn back again into an inhalation
over and over and over again”
– quoted from Breathing Through the Whole Body: The Buddha’s Instructions on Integrating Mind, Body, and Breath by Will Johnson
Take a deep breath in, through your nose. Open your mouth and sigh it out.
Deep breath in, through your nose; deep open mouth sigh.
Take the deepest breath you’ve taken all day, open your mouth and sigh it out.
Now, just breathe in through your nose… and out through your nose… and notice that you are breathing.
Some would say that this is the beginning of the practice – I’ve even said such a thing. However, before this awareness of breath there needs to be the ability to sit, stand, recline, and be still or move in a way that allows you to focus on the fact that you are sitting, standing, reclining, being still, and/or moving while breathing. This is something we may neglect to do all day on any given day – which means that all day, on any given day, we may be taking the shallowest and poorest breaths we’ve taken all day rather than the deepest and richest breaths we’ve taken all day. And the difference in our quality of breath translates into the difference in our physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual health.
Our autonomic nervous system is comprised our sympathetic and parasympathetic nervous systems. We can (and often do) simplify our understanding of these parts by thinking of the sympathetic nervous system in terms of our fight/flight/freeze response and the parasympathetic system in terms of rest/digest/create. Even with that simplified view of things, we can see how the each part of our nervous system affects the breath and other systems of the body. While there are some extreme cases of human (mental and physical) fitness whereby someone can mentally control their heart rate, pupil dilation, digestion, excretion, and even arousal regardless of outside stimulation, most people have limited control over the elements of their body (and therefore the mind) which are regulated by the autonomic nervous system. On the flip side, almost everyone can control some aspect of their breath.
Even when using a breathing machine, we can bring awareness to and control the breath. This, very simply put, is the most basic form of prāņāyamā. Furthermore, as we observe the breath, the breath changes and brings awareness to our ability to control the breath. I am constantly pointing out that what happens in the body happens in the mind; what happens in the mind happens in the body; and both affect the breath – and, the breath affects what happens in the mind and in the body.
“Thus he lives contemplating the body in the body internally, or he lives contemplating the body in the body externally, or he lives contemplating the body in the body internally and externally. He lives contemplating origination factors in the body, or he lives contemplating dissolution factors in the body, or he lives contemplating origination-and-dissolution factors in the body. Or his mindfulness is established with the thought: ‘The body exists,’ to the extent necessary just for knowledge and mindfulness, and he lives detached, and clings to nothing in the world. Thus also, monks, a monk lives contemplating the body in the body.”
– quoted from Satipatthana Sutta (The Foundations of Mindfulness) translated by Nyanasatta Thera
I know, I know, someone is thinking, “Didn’t we do this whole breathing things yesterday?” Yes, indeed we did. We do it every day and in every practice; however, it is way too easy to take this part of the practice for granted. We may be in the middle of a challenging practice or a challenging day and find that we are holding our breath. We may be shallow breathing during a peak moment in our practice or in our lives. We may find that we have made certain things a higher priority than our breath – and then we suffer the consequences.
Think for a moment, about all the things you want in your life and all the things you need. Make sure you are clear about what is a desire versus what is a necessity. Now, slowly, start thinking about your life without some of the things you desire. If you are honest with yourself and clear-minded, you know you can live your whole life without those things you desire. You may even live a happy life without those things.
Notice how you feel about that.
Now, slowly, go through the list of things you need. How long can you live without some form of protection from the elements? (It depends on your environment, climate, and other external factors.) How long can you go without some form of food? (On average, a relatively healthy and well hydrated adult can survive up to two months without food – although extreme symptoms of starvation kick in about 30 days.) How long can you live without water? (A typical adult could survive about 100 hours, or 3 – 4 days without any kind of hydration; but, again, this can be time line is dependent on temperature.) How long can you go without sleep? (I don’t have a definitive answer for this one. While people have been recorded as going without sleep for almost 2 weeks, the nervous system will drop a person into “microsleep” states. Microsleep may only last a few seconds, but those few seconds keep the body functioning.) Finally, how long can you go without breathing? (Again, there are some variables, but if the average person holds their breath, their body is going to force them to breathe within 3 minutes. If external circumstances cut off breathing, irreversible brain damage occurs after 5 – 10 minutes – unless there are other variables, like temperature.)
Notice how you feel about that.
We may experience great suffering if we have to live without the things we desire. We will experience pain and suffering if we have to live (for a brief period) without the things we need. We cannot, however, live without breathing. It has to be a priority. Additionally, when we start thinking about quality of life, and how the quality of the things we want and need contribute to our overall quality of life, we may find that we have not made quality of breathing a priority. It’s not just about air quality; it’s about quality of breath. And, both the Buddha and teachers like Patanjali indicated that anyone can practice with their breath.
“Mindfulness of breathing takes the highest place among the various subjects of Buddhist meditation. It has been recommended and praised by the Enlightened One thus: ‘This concentration through mindfulness of breathing, when developed and practiced much, is both peaceful and sublime, it is an unadulterated blissful abiding, and it banishes at once and stills evil unprofitable thoughts as soon as they arise.’ Though of such a high order, the initial stages of this meditation are well within the reach of a beginner though he be only a lay student of the Buddha-Dhamma.”
– commentary on the Satipatthana Sutta (The Foundations of Mindfulness) by Nyanasatta Thera
Please join me on the virtual mat today (Monday, October 26th) at 5:30 PM for a 75-minute virtual yoga practice on Zoom.
This is a 75-minute Common Ground Meditation Center practice that, in the spirit of generosity (dana), is freely given and freely received. You can use the link from the “Class Schedules” calendar if you run into any problems checking into the class. You can request an audio recording of this practice via a comment below.
If you are able to support the center and its teachings, please do so as your heart moves you. (NOTE: You can donate even if you are “attending” my other practices, or you can purchase class(es). Donations are tax deductible, class purchases are not necessarily deductible.)
There is no playlist for the Common Ground practices.
### TAKE THE DEEPEST BREATH YOU’VE TAKEN ALL DAY ###
Posted by ajoyfulpractice in Books, Buddhism, Changing Perspectives, Healing Stories, Life, Loss, Love, Meditation, Minneapolis, Minnesota, Movies, One Hoop, Philosophy, Science, Twin Cities, Vipassana, Wisdom, Writing, Yoga.
Tags: Anne Tyler, pranayama, prenatal, yoga, yoga sutra 1.34
“People always call it luck when you’ve acted more sensibly than they have.”
– Anne Tyler
Anne Tyler, born today in 1941, in Minneapolis, Minnesota, grew up in a way that was very different from the way most people reading this grew up. Her family was Quaker and she spent much of her childhood in intentional communities, where people raised their own food, created folk art, and sang traditional music. It wasn’t just the level of community that made life different, it was that every interaction – with herself, the environment, and the world – was different than it was when her family left commune-life. For instance, Anne Tyler was 11 years old before she used a telephone, went to public school, or regularly wore shoes.
Even though I also moved around a lot as a child, my life experiences were very, very different. Some differences could be easily attributed to race and education (one of the motivating factors behind our moves was that my father was earning his PhD), but then you have to explain some of the similarities – like our love of reading and writing, and our habit of observing people in order to tell their stories. If you take a moment to think about it, you too could categorize all many of ways in which you are also different from us…. But, then, what about the similarities.
“Missouri made an exasperated face. ‘You don’t know,’ she told her. ‘You don’t know how it would work out. Bravest thing about people, Miss Joan, is how they go on loving mortal beings after finding out there’s such a thing as dying. Do I have to tell you that?’”
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– quoted from The Tin Can Tree by Anne Tyler
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“‘Everything,’ his father said, ‘comes down to time in the end – to the passing of time, to changing. Ever thought of that? Anything that makes you happy or sad, isn’t it all based on minutes going by? Isn’t sadness wishing time back again? Even big things – even mourning a death: aren’t you really just wishing to have the time back when that person was alive? Or photos – ever notice old photographs? How wistful they make you feel? … Isn’t it just that time for once is stopped that makes you wistful? If only you could turn it back again, you think. If only you could change this or that, undo what you have done, if only you could roll the minutes the other way, for once.’”
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– quoted from Dinner at the Homesick Restaurant by Anne Tyler
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“You wouldn’t question your sanity, because you couldn’t bear to think it wasn’t real. And you certainly wouldn’t demand explanations, or alert anybody nearby, or reach out to touch this person, not even if you’d been feeling that one touch was worth giving up everything for. You would hold your breath. You would keep as still as possible. You would will your loved one not to go away again.”
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– quoted from The Beginner’s Goodbye
As different as our circumstances, our appearances, and personalities – and therefore our lives may be – there are certain things we all have in common. We all live and die, love and are loved, experience great wins and great loss. We are also, to paraphrase First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt, all in this together – even when we feel alone, isolated, and going through things we can’t imagine anyone else understanding. Yet, here we sit and stand and lie – here we are, struggling together and apart; finding our way together, even though we are apart.
Over the last few days, I spoke to some friends and we reflected on what how we’re getting through our current circumstances and constant changes versus how we were getting things in the middle of March… or the end of May and the beginning of July. Even with all of our differences and distances, we can all chart the highs and lows of what LG and S call the “coronacoaster.” I mentioned that at the beginning – or at what some might refer to as “the end of before” – I was firmly entrenched in the group of people who emotionally wanted bits of before, something familiar. By April, however, my body wanted (and needed) something a little different – but my mind wasn’t completely on board. So, I had to figure out how to compromise and navigate the conflict – just as if my body and mind were an old married couple (or new friends) suddenly finding themselves in lockdown together.
Then there were more changes, more challenges, more conflicts, and more compromises. And, through it all, I did the same thing you did – I kept breathing. What was helpful (and continues to be helpful), above and beyond everything else, was knowing how to breath and being surrounded by people who also were focused on knowing how to breathe. Breath, after all, is life. It’s not enough just to breathe, however, because how we breathe determines how we live.
“‘Breathing lessons – really,’ [Fiona] said, dropping to the floor with a thud. ‘Don’t they reckon I must know how to breathe by now?’”
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– quoted from Breathing Lessons by Anne Tyler
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“‘Oh honey, you’re just lucky they offer such things,’ Maggie told her…. ‘I mean you’re given all these lessons for the unimportant things–piano-playing, typing. You’re given years and years of lessons in how to balance equations, which Lord knows you will never have to do in normal life. But how about parenthood? Or marriage, either, come to think of it. Before you can drive a car you need a state-approved course of instruction, but driving a car is nothing, nothing, compared to living day in and day out with a husband and raising up a new human being.’”
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– quoted from Breathing Lessons by Anne Tyler
There is a whole industry built around teaching people how to breathe when they are giving birth. Certain techniques not only lower stress, and therefore trauma, they can also help everyone in the room stay focused on that task at hand – keeping everyone healthy and whole. Funny thing is, proper breathing techniques in our day-to-day lives also lowers stress; decreases our trauma-sensitivity (which means we may have a better recovery experience, even when the initial trauma is significant); and helps us stay focused on the present moment. Research has shown improper breathing leads to physical and mental fatigue, high blood pressure, brain fog, increase stress levels, and (ironically) poor sleep. Some people eat more when they are stressed, others eat less – but, either way, poor breathing can disrupt digestion: the body’s ability to absorb nutrients and expel waste. All of this leads to poor health – something the ancient yogis, Buddhist, and contemplatives documented long ago.
Patanjali specifically states, in yoga sūtra 1.34 that clarity of the mind comes from focusing on the breath. So, take a moment, to notice your breath. If you are not breathing deeply in and breathing deeply out, consider what you need to relax the tension in your body in order to breathe more fully. I’ll give you a hint: start with your belly, your fingers, and your toes… as you breathe through your nose.
“She thought of how she had kept at Fiona, whom pregnancy had turned lackadaisical and vague, so that if it hadn’t been for Maggie she’d have spent her entire third trimester on the coach in front of the TV. Maggie would clap her hands briskly – ‘Okay!’ – and snap off the Love Boat rerun and fling open the curtains, letting sunshine flood the dim air of the living room and the turmoil of rock magazines and Fresca bottles. ‘Time for your pelvic squats!’ she would cry….”
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– quoted from Breathing Lessons by Anne Tyler
Please join me for a 65-minute virtual yoga practice on Zoom today (Sunday, October 25th) at 2:30 PM. I am in the process of updating the links from the “Class Schedules” calendar; however, the Meeting IDs in the calendar are the same and are correct. PLEASE NOTE: Zoom 5.0 is in effect. If you have not upgraded, you will need to give yourself extra time to log into Zoom. You can always request an audio recording of this practice (or any practice) via email or a comment below.
Today’s playlist is available on YouTube and Spotify. [Look for “07192020 Compassion & Peace (J’Accuse!)”]
In the spirit of generosity (“dana”), the Zoom classes, recordings, and blog posts are freely given and freely received. If you are able to support these teachings, please do so as your heart moves you. (NOTE: You can donate even if you are “attending” a practice that is not designated as a “Common Ground Meditation Center” practice, or you can purchase class(es). Donations are tax deductible; class purchases are not necessarily deductible.)
### BREATHE IN, BREATH OUT ###
Posted by ajoyfulpractice in Books, Health, Life, Love, Men, Music, Mysticism, Philosophy, Science, Tragedy, Vipassana, Women, Yoga.
Tags: Antonie van Leeuwenhoek, Friedrich Nietzsche, Harry Houdini, James Randi, Microbiology, Yoga Sutra 2.44, yoga sutras
“He who fights with monsters should look to it that he himself does not become a monster. And if you gaze long into an abyss, the abyss also gazes into you.”
– #146 quoted from “CHAPTER IV. APOPHTHEISMS AND INTERLUDES” of Beyond Good and Evil: Prelude to a Philosophy of the Future by Friedrich Nietzsche (b. 10/15/1844)
Even in years like this, when I don’t actually teach on the anniversary of the birth of the philosopher of Friedrich Nietzsche, his words creep into my brain. I find myself, on the mat or on the cushion, seeking the form or āsana (“seat”) where power increases and overcomes resistance, so there is happiness. I find myself seeking truth by exploring the realm of “any form of scepticism to which I can reply, ‘Let’s try it!’ But I want to hear nothing more about all the things and questions that don’t admit of experiment.” And, while I definitely consider what makes us stronger, I also consider on what we focus, concentrate, meditate; and how that focus affects us.
Towards the end of the first section of the Yoga Sūtras, Patanjali offers various ways to meditate – which he later explains (YS 2.11) can destroy the afflicted thought patterns which cause suffering. But towards the end of that list, he seems to throw his hands up and say, “You know what, focus on whatever.” (YS 1.39) Yes, yes, the actual word he uses, abhimata (“well-considered”) is a little more precise than “whatever.” More importantly, however, is that he goes on to tell us “that meditating on different objects leads to different experiences.” (YS 1.41)
And there, again, is our old friend Nietzsche, making us consider into what we gaze!
“[M]y work, which I’ve done for a long time, was not pursued in order to gain the praise I now enjoy, but chiefly from a craving after knowledge, which I notice resides in me more than in most other men. And therewithal, whenever I found out anything remarkable, I have thought it my duty to put down my discovery on paper, so that all ingenious people might be informed thereof.”
– Antonie van Leeuwenhoek
Born today in 1632, in Delft, Dutch Republic, Antonie van Leeuwenhoek is known as the “Father of Microbiology,” because he gazed long into tiny microscopes and then wrote letters to the Royal Society in London describing what he found. Van Leeuwenhoek was not a scientist, however. Instead, he was a draper who used lenses (as drapers and jewelers do) to see the quality of the material. But he was also a very curious person and so he started playing around with making his magnifying glasses more magnificent. Eventually he developed a (teeny tiny) lens so strong he could see what he called “animalcules.” And those “tiny animals,” which we now know as “microbes,” were everywhere! On his fine linen, on his tables and chairs, on his skin, in his body, on (and in) his family and friends – even in the air he breathed.
Antonie Van Leeuwenhoek observed unicellular organisms as well as multicellular organisms (in pond water). He was the first to observe and document muscle fibers, bacteria, spermatozoa, red blood cells, and blood flowing in capillaries. In part because he wasn’t a scientist, and in part because no one else had observed such things, people were a little skeptical. The thing was (and is), his observations could be duplicated. Other people could see what he saw – using his super strong lenses that magnified up to 275 times.
To add a certain level of credibility, van Leeuwenhoek allowed people to believe he spent all day and all night grinding glass and then peering into it. And, in fact, he did make about hundreds of lenses of various intensities and at least 25 different types of single-lens microscopes. It did not, however, take as much time as he led people to believe. He was after all, a businessman who had a shop to run. Sometimes, however, credibility comes down to illusion.
“People who look for the first time through a microscope say now I see this and then I see that and even a skilled observer can be fooled. On these observations I’ve spent more time than many will believe, but I’ve done them with joy, and I’ve taken no notice those who have said why take so much trouble and what good is it?”
– Antonie van Leeuwenhoek
Today in 1926, the internationally acclaimed Harry Houdini performed his last show. He was at the Garrick Theater in Detroit, Michigan, performing with a 104˚ fever, cold sweats, and acute appendicitis. Additionally, he had fractured his left ankle when a piece of equipment accidentally struck him on October 11th and then, on Oct 22nd, a student at Montreal’s McGill University punched him in the stomach before he could brace himself. (Note: The student wasn’t trying to hurt Houdini, but instead wanted to see for himself if the illusionist could resist hard punches.) After the show in Montreal, Houdini complained of stomach pain; but the show must go on. He collapsed after the show in Michigan and was rushed to Grace Hospital, where he died in Room 401 on Halloween.
People were, and continue to be, fascinated by Harry Houdini’s life and death. To this day, people hold séances on Halloween night in an attempt to contact his spirit. James “The Amazing” Randi, a famous magician and (perhaps the most famous) skeptic, died on October 20th at the age of 92. He broke some of Houdini’s records and was one of the co-founders of the Committee for the Scientific Investigation of Claims of the Paranormal, which endeavors to debunk some larger than life myths and promotes (observable) science in classrooms. I’m guessing his husband, Jose, is not of the same mindset as Houdini’s wife, Bess, who set up the first Halloween séance 10 years after Harry Houdini’s death. However, I’m betting someone still tries to contact him, because wouldn’t that be the ultimate coup: winning The Amazing Randi’s $1M prize by successfully contacting his spirit.
“Magical thinking, you know, is a slippery slope. Sometimes it’s harmless enough, but other times it’s quite dangerous. Personally, I’m opposed to that kind of fakery, so I have no kinds of reservations at all about exposing those people and their illusions for what they really are.”
– James “The Amazing” Randi
James Randi, Antonie van Leeuwenhoek, Friedrich Nietzsche, and even Harry Houdini encouraged us to consider our thinking. Why can we be fooled and why do we sometimes not believe what is right in front of ours. There is also the question of what do we believe and what do we want to believe. All things that can best be answered by gazing long into ourselves – and this, again and again, is what Patanjali recommended.
One of the niyamās (“internal observations”) is svādhyāyā (“self-study”) which is a form of discernment whereby we look at ourselves – our thoughts and reactions – in relation to sacred text, chants, or even historical scenarios. In explaining the benefits of this type of internal observation, Patanjali references “bright being(s),” “angel(s),” or “God” (depending on the translation). It’s not the first, not the last time, Patanjali references something higher than our physical form. Each time, however, he is very deliberate about the word he uses. During the practice, I often say, “God – whatever that means to you at this moment” and, in the case of Yoga Sūtra 2.44 we have an opportunity to really focus, concentrate, meditate on what that means to us, and why it matters.
Yoga Sūtra 2.44: svādhyāyādişţadevatāsamprayogah
– “From self-study comes the opportunity to be in the company of bright beings [of our choice].”
Please join me for a 90-minute virtual yoga practice on Zoom today (Saturday, October 24th) at 12:00 PM. You can use the link from the “Class Schedules” calendar if you run into any problems checking into the class. Give yourself extra time to log in if you have not upgraded to Zoom 5.0.
You can request an audio recording of Saturday’s practice via a comment below or (for a slightly faster reply) you can email me at myra (at) ajoyfulpractice.com.
In the spirit of generosity (“dana”), the Zoom classes, recordings, and blog posts are freely given and freely received. If you are able to support these teachings, please do so as your heart moves you. (NOTE: You can donate even if you are “attending” a practice that is not designated as a “Common Ground Meditation Center” practice, or you can purchase class(es). Donations are tax deductible, class purchases are not necessarily deductible.)
Check out the “Class Schedules” calendar for upcoming classes.
Today’s playlist is available on YouTube and Spotify. (Look for “Guru Purnima 2020”)
### LOOK HERE, LOOK INSIDE HERE! ###
Posted by ajoyfulpractice in Books, Buddhism, California, Changing Perspectives, Depression, Faith, Healing Stories, Hope, Japa, Japa-Ajapa, Life, Loss, Love, Meditation, Men, Minneapolis, Minnesota, Mysticism, One Hoop, Pain, Philosophy, Suffering, Tragedy, Vipassana, Wisdom, Writing, Yoga.
Tags: dyana, John Cage, Paulo Coelho, Robert Pirsig, Zen Buddhism
“If something is boring after 2 minutes, try it for 4. If still boring, then 8. Then 16. Then 38. Eventually one discovers that it is not boring at all.”
– John Cage
“The truth knocks on the door and you say, “Go away, I’m looking for the truth,” and so it goes away. Puzzling.”
– quoted from Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance: An Inquiry into Values by Robert Pirsig
Yesterday was about the truth… the cagey truth about nothing. Today we start with the truth about words.
Words are amazing! And, when you know where they come from, words (and the way we use them) can be really funny. Take the word zen, for instance. The word zen is a Japanese word that comes to us from Sanskrit by way of Chinese, from a word that means “meditation.” So, when we say that someone practices “Zen meditation” what we are really saying is that someone practices “Meditation meditation.”
It’s funny to think of it that way, but it is also true – not only of a Zen practice, but of all meditation practices. When we sit, or even when we practice a moving meditation, the mind focuses on something again and again and again; meaning, it keeps coming back to the object of focus. Similar to japa-ajapa, we repeat and repeat, repeat and remember, repeat and understand – in other words, we gain insight. Not coincidentally, the Sanskrit word dyana (“thought, meditation”), which is the source word for zen, comes from the Greek root meaning “to see, look.” So, when we look at something again, and again, and again – even looking, as Paulo Coehlo suggested, from different perspectives – we see things “in a special way” (which is just another way to say “insight”). Our understanding of the moment (and movement) is a matter of perspective.
It’s like a road trip. The vehicle is moving but we are still inside the vehicle; the scenery is still, but appears to be moving. Everything merges and converges while we are still. Do you see where we’re going?
It’s OK if you don’t. This is kind of like that old joke where someone says, “I’m not lost. I know exactly where we are. We’re in the car.” Now, consider what happens if we could get out of the box or cage we’re in and become part of the scenery. Not walking necessarily, but riding. So that the scenery is simultaneously still and moving… but so are we. And, just like with a moving meditation, there is some part of us that always stays still.
“Get yourself out of whatever cage you find yourself.”
– John Cage
“In a car you’re always in a compartment, and because you’re used to it you don’t realize that through that car window everything you see is just more TV. You’re a passive observer and it is all moving by you boringly in a frame.
On a cycle the frame is gone. You’re completely in contact with it all. You’re in the scene, not just watching it anymore, and the sense of presence is overwhelming.”
– quoted from Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance: An Inquiry into Values by Robert Pirsig
Born today in 1928, in Minneapolis, Minnesota, Robert Pirsig was a writer and philosopher whose way above average IQ was identified at an early age. While he ultimately served in the United States Army and became a professor of creative writing, he is most well-known as the author of a fictionalized autobiography that centers around a road trip Pirsig took with his son Chris. The trip took them from Minneapolis to San Francisco. The book takes the reader along for the ride and also on a philosophical road trip, moving readers through a history of philosophy and an exploration of “quality” (an object of contemplation). While Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance: An Inquiry into Values received over one hundred rejection letters and no one expected it to have much of a shelf life, the book initially sold at least 5 million copies worldwide and has consistently appeared on best seller lists.
Pirsig served as vice-President of the Minnesota Zen Mediation Center and spent two additional years on its board of directors. But while he was familiar with motorcycles and Zen Buddhism (as well as electroshock therapy, which is also chronicled in the book), Robert Pirsig said that his seminal book shouldn’t be considered “factual” about either. The same can be said about his follow-up book, Lila: An Inquiry into Morals, which recounts a sailboat trip down the Hudson River. Lila picks up where the philosophical road trip left off and explores “quality” as Static or Dynamic and divides everything in the universe into four “static values” (inorganic, biological, social, and intellectual). His exploration about morals is also an exploration of perspective, and how perspectives change over time. Even though biographies indicate that a 1974 Guggenheim Fellowship “allowed” him to write the second book and the philosophical discourse into metaphysics is continuous, there is a seventeen-year gap between the books.
In the 17 years between his books, Pirsig divorced his first wife, married his second wife, lost his oldest son (who had been featured in the first book), and had a daughter. His son Christopher was killed in a mugging outside the San Francisco Zen Meditation Center. Pirsig would eventually explain that one of the reasons he and his second wife had their daughter Nell was because they believed she was a continuation of Chris’s “life pattern.” In other words, Nell was part of the same trip (metaphysically speaking, of course.)
“The truth knocks on the door and you say, “Go away, I’m looking for the truth,” and so it goes away. Puzzling.”
– quoted from Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance: An Inquiry into Values by Robert Pirsig
Please join me for a 65-minute virtual yoga practice on Zoom today (Sunday, September 6th) at 2:30 PM. You can use the link from the “Class Schedules” calendar if you run into any problems checking into the class. PLEASE NOTE: Zoom 5.0 is in effect. If you have not upgraded, you will need to give yourself extra time to log into Zoom. You can always request an audio recording of this practice (or any practice) via email or a comment below.
Today’s playlist is available on YouTube and Spotify.
“You look at where you’re going and where you are and it never makes sense, but then you look back at where you’ve been and a pattern seems to emerge. And if you project forward from that pattern, then sometimes you can come up with something.”
– quoted from Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance: An Inquiry into Values by Robert Pirsig
“The thing to understand is that if you are going to reform society you don’t start with cops. And if you are going to reform intellect you don’t start with psychiatrists. If you don’t like our present social system or intellectual system the best thing you can do with either cops or psychiatrists is stay out of their way. You leave them till last.”
– quoted from Lila: An Inquiry into Morals by Robert Pirsig
“The place to improve the world is first in one’s own heart and head and hands, and then work outward from there.”
– quoted from Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance: An Inquiry into Values by Robert Pirsig
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Posted by ajoyfulpractice in Books, Buddhism, Changing Perspectives, Dharma, Faith, Hope, Life, Meditation, Music, One Hoop, Pain, Peace, Philosophy, Suffering, Tragedy, Vipassana, Wisdom, Writing, Yoga.
Tags: 90 seconds, asana, Dag Hammerskjöld, Mahāsī Sayādaw, Markings, meditation, Nobel Peace Prize, Pauline Frederick, Philosophy, Religion, satipatthana, Theraveda Buddhism, United Nations, Värmärken, Vipassana, Waymarks, yoga
“The more faithfully you listen to the voices within you, the better you will hear what is sounding inside.”
– quoted from Markings by Dag Hammerskjöld
Come into a comfortable seated position. You can sit on the floor, your bed, a chair, or a cushion. You can sit on a bench, a stool, or a rock. You can kneel on the floor, a cushion, or a prie-dieu. You can lie down if you must, but make sure you are in a comfortable and stable position, with your back long and your jaw and shoulders relaxed. Let one or both hands rest so that your belly can soften into your hands. Close your eyes, if that is comfortable to you, and do that 90-second thing.
Today, really pay attention to how the soft belly rises and falls and the breath enters and leaves your body. Today, notice the temporal nature of things – how, like your breath, everything begins and ends; changes. Notice how the inhale causes the exhale and how the exhale causes the inhale. Notice any suffering, discomfort, or dis-ease you may be experiencing; and note or name your mental, physical, and emotional experiences, but without commenting or creating a story around the experiences.
Just breathe, with awareness.
This is a specific kind of meditation, meditation that arouses mindfulness.
Vipassanā literally means “to see in a special way” and is often translated into English as “insight.” It is a meditation style/technique, within Theraveda Buddhism, that has also become a tradition (meaning there are people who practice vipassanā, but no other aspects of Buddhism). The original practice, which includes the practice of satipaţţhāna (which is often translated as the “foundation of mindfulness”), was popularized by Mahāsī Sayādaw.
Born today in 1904, Mahāsī Sayādaw was a Burmese Theraveda Buddhist monk. He became a novice at 12 years old, was ordained at age twenty, and earned his degree as a teacher of dhamma in 1941. Upon his ordination, he assumed the name Mahāsī Sayādaw U Sobhana. In his mid-30s, he began teaching the technique of vipassanā in his home village, which was named for a massive drum (known as Mahāsī). He was eventually asked, by the Prime Minister of Burma (in what is now Myanmar), to be a resident teacher in the capital and then to help establish meditation centers throughout Burma (Myanmar), Sri Lanka, Indonesia, and Thailand. By his late 60’s, Mahāsī Sayādaw had trained over 700,000 meditators and by his mid-70’s he was traveling to the West to lead meditation retreats. One of the places where he led retreats was the Insight Meditation Society (IMS), which is now one of the leading meditation centers in the United States.
“We are not permitted to choose the frame of our destiny. But what we put into it is ours.”
– quoted from Markings by Dag Hammerskjöld
One of the great things about practicing vipassanā is that you can practice it anywhere. (You can even practice it standing or walking, even though I didn’t include those options at the beginning.) You can even practice at the United Nations Headquarters in “A Room of Quiet” that was established and designed by a team lead by Dag Hammerskjöld (b. 1905).
“Pray that your loneliness may spur you into finding something to live for, great enough to die for.”
– quoted from Markings by Dag Hammerskjöld
Born today in Sweden, exactly a year after Mahāsī Sayādaw, Hammerskjöld was the second Secretary General of the United Nations and the youngest person to ever hold the position. His second term was cut short when he was killed in an airplane as he traveled to the Congo to broker peace during the Congo Crisis. President John F. Kennedy called him “the greatest statesman of our century” and, he was posthumously awarded the Nobel Peace Prize. In fact, he is the only person to be posthumously awarded the Nobel Peace Prize. After his death, his journal was discovered and published as Värmärken (Markings, or Waymarks in English). The journal starts when Hammerskjöld was 20 years old and continues up until the month before his death.
Even though he thought the journalist who called him for a comment about his appointment to the UN was actually part of an April Fool’s joke, Hammerskjöld was pretty serious about peace. Peace on the inside and peace on the outside. That is why he was so dedicated to the UN’s Meditation Room being “a room of quiet” for all, without the trappings or outward appearance of any particular faith, creed, or religious belief. He led an interfaith group of Christians, Jews, and Muslims who combined their physical and mental efforts as well as financial resources – and he was very hands on. He not only had a hand in the painting, sculpture, and architecture of the room, but also in the fact that there are benches instead of chairs. He even, quite literally, had a hand in the carpet that was laid on the floor and the color that was painted on the walls. He wrote in letters and is quoted in interviews as saying that “This House” (which is how he referenced the UN) “should have one room dedicated to silence in the outward sense and stillness in the inner sense.” He indicated that this silence and stillness was something everyone carried within them and that his aim was “to create in this small room a place where the doors may be open to the infinite lands of thought and prayer.”
Go back to the beginning and do that 90-minute thing. This time, as you sit here and breathe here, noting your experience here, consider that all over the world there are people sitting and breathing, meditating and praying, opening to that same “center of stillness surrounded by silence” that you are opening to within yourself.
“The longest journey is the journey inwards.”
– quoted from Markings by Dag Hammerskjöld
“‘We want to bring back, in this room, the stillness which we have lost in our streets, and in our conference rooms, and to bring it back in a setting in which no noise would impinge on our imagination.’”
– Journalist Pauline Frederick quoting Dag Hammerskjöld (in an interview for the UN Oral History Collection dated June 20, 1986)
Please join me today (Wednesday, July 29th) at 4:30 PM or 7:15 PM for a meditative yoga practice on Zoom. Use the link from the “Class Schedules” calendar if you run into any problems checking into the class. You will need to register for the 7:15 PM class if you have not already done so. Give yourself extra time to log in if you have not upgraded to Zoom 5.0. You can request an audio recording of this practice via a comment below.
Wednesday’s playlist is available on YouTube and Spotify.
“Thou who art over us,
Thou who art one of us,
Thou who art –
Also within us,
May all see Thee – in me also,
May I prepare the way for Thee,
May I thank Thee for all that shall fall to my lot,
May I also not forget the needs of others,
Keep me in Thy love
As Thou wouldst that all should be kept in mine.
May everything in this my being be directed to Thy glory
And may I never despair.
For I am under Thy hand,
And in Thee is all power and goodness.
Give me a pure heart – that I may see Thee,
A humble heart – that I may hear Thee,
A heart of love – that I may serve Thee,
A heart of faith – that I may abide in Thee. Amen”
– prayer/meditation/poem from Markings by Dag Hammerskjöld
### PEACE IN, PEACE OUT ###
A Joyful Practice 