First Friday Night Special #14: “What’s at the Edge of Your Light?” (a “missing” post practice post) December 6, 2021

“Happy Chanukah!” for those who are celebrating. May everyone’s light shine long after the holiday.

This is the post for the “First Friday Night Special” #14 from December 3^rd. This Chanukah-inspired practice featured a YIN Yoga sequence focusing on the Urinary Bladder and Kidney meridians.

You can request an audio recording of Friday’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.]

“We have arranged and furnished the different spaces in our Cove to reflect the brain’s movement between the two poles of creativity and efficiency, as well as the fact that spaces strongly affect our perceptions while we are occupying them. For instance, dimmer light increases creativity, whereas brighter light improves analytical thinking. Ceiling height improves abstract and relational thinking, and lower ceilings do the opposite. A view of generative landscapes improves generativity, whereas mild exertion temporarily improves memory and attention.”

– quoted from “Chapter 9. Celebrate Doubt” in Deviate: The Science of Seeing Differently by Beau Lotto 

An asana (“seat”) practice involves moving the body around, positioning the body in different ways to generate different effects – in much the same way one might shift around their living/working space. Of course, people have different needs and different understandings of the needs. Not to mention the fact that different configurations can produce similar effects.  So, it’s no wonder that there are a lot of different ways to physically practice yoga.

The different styles and traditions of the physical practice of yoga range in intensity and quantity of movement. There are very active, solar, yang-like practices on one end of the spectrum. These are practices like Ashtanga, Power Yoga, and other forms of vinyasa (as well as Hot Yoga) that tap into the sympathetic nervous system and involve a lot of doing. Then there are very passive, lunar, yin-like practices on the other end of the spectrum. These practices stimulate the parasympathetic nervous system and are all about resting, digesting, and creating. These practices can feel the most like seated meditation and, therefore, are great for contemplation.

For the most part, these physical practices of yoga – along with their sister science, Ayurveda (as they come to us from India) – are based on the energetic mapping system consisting of nadis, marmani, and chakras. YIN Yoga, on the other hand, is based on the energetic system found in Traditional Chinese Medicine, which consists of meridians (and points along those meridians). According to each system, the vitality of the mind-body (and the mind-body’s organs) can be accessed in very specific ways. On the outside, YIN Yoga can look like Restorative Yoga; however, the intention and execution of the practices is very different. Ultimately, the effects of the practices are also very different. 

Urinary bladder and kidney meridians are associated with water, the emotion of fear (which, in Eastern philosophies, is often considered the opposite of wisdom), and winter. The pair are also associated with the month of December and 12 AM, which are considered the most YIN time(s) of the year/day. From the perspective of Nature, these are times of stillness… and darkness. These are times to turn inward.

“I was always looking outside myself for strength and confidence but it comes from within. It is there all the time.”

Many people might think of Anna Freud (born December 3, 1895) as living in her father’s shadow. Really, as the youngest of six, some might think that she lived in her whole family’s shadow. It’s possible that being in everyone’s shadow gave her the perspective needed to see possibilities for other children. Either way, she didn’t stay in the shadows for long. She made a name for herself – first as a primary (or elementary) school teacher and then as a psychoanalyst. Her work as a psychoanalyst was slightly different from that of her illustrious father. She focused on the functions and benefits of a healthy ego and was able to parlay her experience in as an educator to become one of the pioneers of child psychology.

In her late twenties, Anna Freud presented a paper to the Vienna Psychoanalytical Society and then became a member. Within a year of joining the society, she was serving as its chairperson and had established her own practice (for children). In 1925, she started teaching her techniques and approach at the Vienna Psychoanalytic Training Institute. In 1927, she published her system. She spent nine years as the Secretary of the Vienna Psychoanalytic Training Institute and then, ten years after she started teaching, she became the institute’s director. A year later, in 1936, she published her groundbreaking study, The Ego and the Mechanisms of Defence, which postulated the ways by which humans protect themselves. Her ideas around these methods – including repression (which she said develop naturally and unconsciously in children); projection (of one’s own feelings onto another); directing aggressive behavior towards one’s self; identification with an overpowering aggressor; and divorcing ideas from feelings – became one of the cornerstones of adolescent psychology.

After the Nazi’s annexed Austria in March of 1938, Anna Freud was interrogated by the Gestapo. Being a Jewish woman and an intellectual, she had good reason to fear the worst and was prepared to protect herself using one of the same methods she had described in her work. She was eventually allowed to return home and, when her father was offered a way out of Vienna, she organized the Freud family’s immigration to London. In England, she not only continued her work, she broadened it. First she focused on the effects of war on children and their development. Later, after she had spent some time traveling and lecturing in the United States, she broadened her horizons and began studying the effects of being emotionally and/or social deprived and/or disadvantaged. She also did some work around how crime affected children’s development and published her collaborations with regard to laws and policies that could help children thrive.

“When she was eighty-five, a depressed young man sent her a lament about the chaotic state of the world, and she sent him a succinct statement of her credo: ‘I agree with you wholeheartedly that things are not as we would like them to be. However, my feeling is that there is only one way to deal with it, namely to try and be all right oneself, and to create around one at least a small circle where matters are arranged as one wants them to be.’“

– quoted from “Preface to the First Edition” of Anna Freud: A Biography (second edition) by Elisabeth Young-Bruehl

This week’s practices were inspired by Chanukah, the Jewish festival of light, and a series of light-related question:

1. Monday: When do you shine the brightest? 

2. Tuesday: Why so much focus on light?

3. Wednesday: How do you shine (brighter)?

With the exception of question number 2 (on Tuesday), I provided some information related to the questions, but no real answers – because (spoiler alert) the questions are not for me to answer. What I mean is that they are not for me to answer on your behalf. The questions (even Tuesday’s) are for you to contemplate, meditate, live and breathe. They are a form of practice.

Just to be clear, all of these light-related questions are connected to each of our “fields of possibilities” and are an opportunity to consider how you might arrange that “small circle” that Anna Freud referenced. 

Friday’s question, like Monday’s question, can be taken in more than one way. It could be asking you to consider what you can see sitting right on the edge of your light, just before there is darkness. In other words, what is an obvious possibility for you? What aren’t you doing right in this moment, but you could be doing in the next few (metaphorical) moments?

If, on the other hand, you think of the edge of light as twilight (like dusk or dawn), then the question becomes about those little whispers of possibility in the back of your mind or heart, that you’re not necessarily working towards… but in a direction that you could start working. Of course, in this case, you could also start working in a different direction.

Or, the question could be asking you to consider what you can’t (yet) see, because it is sitting on the dark, just beyond the light. This might be something that someone else might be able to see you doing –  because they have a different picture of you – but you have to move (i.e., change your perspective) and/or “shine a little brighter” in order for that possibility to come into the light. 

Finally, it could be asking all of the above. 

“Darkness. Few things frighten us more. The fear it creates is a constant in our existence: The living darkness of our bedrooms after our parents turn out the lights. The pregnant darkness beyond the glow of the bonfire as we listen to ‘spooky’ stories. The ancient darkness of the forest as we walk past deep shadows between trees. The shivering darkness of our own home when we step inside wondering if we’re alone.

Darkness is a fundamental, existential fear because it contains all the fears that we carry with us in our brains – fears both real and imagined, engendered from living life and from the life lived in stories, from culture, from fairytales.”

– quoted from “Chapter 9. Celebrate Doubt” in Deviate: The Science of Seeing Differently by Beau Lotto 

Of course, as you consider your light – and what it symbolizes – you must also consider the dark. After all, we don’t really appreciate the light, until we contrast it with the dark. During Friday’s class I shared a little fear I experienced driving my old truck in the city (where there were so many bright lights that I couldn’t see my own headlights) and how that fear was, ironically, alleviated, when I was driving in the country where there were less cars and street lights. It’s a weird scenario, I know; but in the latter case I had a better understanding of my reference points, a better (and more consistent) understanding of where the light ended and the darkness began. You can think of it as a better understanding of the safety of what is known/seen versus the danger of what is unknown/unseen.

This holds true with all the different paradigms: good and evil, life and death, love and hate, knowledge and ignorance, kindness and anger/frustration, hope and despair, wisdom and fear; etc. We appreciate what we have more when there is the possibility of not having it. However, we can’t truly appreciate what we don’t have (or can’t see ourselves having).

Another way to look at this idea is vis-à-vis proprioception. Remember, when the “brain finds the body in space” and realizes it has more room, it stretches out. When the mind-body bumps into an obstacle, it pulls back. In was very similar to the defense mechanisms described by Anna Freud, when we faced with the danger that we perceive as failure (or other people’s judgements), we pull back.

The Chanukah story (and the miracles within the story) highlight how all of the things that can be symbolized by darkness are overcome by the things that are symbolized by light. The story is very different if people – specifically Matīṯyāhū, his sons, and the people that follow them – don’t let their lights shine (metaphorically speaking). If we think of fate as history and destiny as their future, the story is really different if they don’t know (and believe) the stories of their ancestors. The story is very different if they cannot see beyond the darkness. 

“‘Destiny. My destiny! Droll thing life is – that mysterious arrangement of merciless logic for a futile purpose. The most you can hope from it is some knowledge of yourself – that comes too late – a crop of inextinguishable regrets. I have wrestled with death. It is the most unexciting contest you can imagine. It takes place in an impalpable greyness, with nothing underfoot, with nothing around, without spectators, without clamour, without glory, without the great desire of victory, without the great fear of defeat, in a sickly atmosphere of tepid scepticism, without much belief in your own right, and still less in that of your adversary. If such is the form of ultimate wisdom, then life is a greater riddle than some of us think it to be.'”

– the character Charles Marlow speaking of Kurtz’s death in Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad

Born Józef Teodor Konrad Korzeniowski in Berdychiv, Russian Empire (in what is now Ukraine, but was originally part of the Crown of the Kingdom of Poland) in 1857, Joseph Conrad was known as “Konrad” by his Polish family. If you look at his family history, you might think that he was fated (or destined) to be a writer. Given the cultural interactions and socio-political clashes that he experienced growing up, perhaps he was even destined to write the dark plots and twisted characters that are found in his novellas. Dark plots and twisted characters that are often the subject of criticism and debate and sometimes analyzed through a (Sigmund) Freudian lens. Personally, I wonder what Anna Freud might have said about how his experiences informed his topics; but she was only three when the Heart of Darkness was serialized in Blackwood’s Magazine (February, March, and April of 1899) and only five when the last portion of Lord Jim appeared in the same magazine. 

When Anna Freud said, “Creative minds have always been known to survive any kind of bad training,” she could have easily been talking about the “Prince of Darkness,” John Michael “Ozzy” Osbourne. Born in November 3, 1948, the lead singer of Black Sabbath has a reading disorder, was abused as a child, dropped out of school at 15, spent some prison (as a young man), and discovered late in life that he was suffering from an undiagnosed central nervous system disorder. He worked at a variety of trades, but was inspired to be a singer at a very young age. Despite (or maybe because of) his childhood trauma, he persevered. But, there was a cost and a toll and a lot of darkness that played out in the music and on the stage. That cost, toll, and darkness have included years of substance abuse, mixed in with periods of sobriety, and criticism about how his music and behavior have (negatively) impacted young people. That criticism has included him being banned from certain cities and several lawsuits surround death and violence that people have attributed to his music.

“People look to me and say
Is the end near, when is the final day?
What’s the future of mankind?
How do I know, I got left behind

Everyone goes through changes
Looking to find the truth
Don’t look at me for answers
Don’t ask me, I don’t know”

– quoted from the song “I Don’t Know” by Ozzy Osbourne

For some, there is only one answer to all the mysteries, coincidence, and miracles that occur within the Chanukah story: that answer is God. For others, however, the answer is like the that song and lyric by Ozzy Osbourne: “I don’t know.”

“I don’t know,” is also one of the the reason I don’t answer all the questions I ask in class. Or, at least, one of the reasons I don’t answer them for you. At the end of the day, each of us to focus on our own inner light; figure out how we show up shine in the world; notice the situations that enable us to shine our brightest; and also notices “what’s at the edge of [our] light.” There’s a few more questions in this rubric, but consider how the answers start pointing you in certain directions. Notice how the questions and their answers can start opening up your field of possibilities.

Sometimes it may seem like you are wearing a head lamp (or heart lamp) and you’re moving in a way that changes your field of awareness. And that’s fine, that happens – it’s part of life and part of the practice. But, sometimes, we experience a brightening and a widening of our field. Sometimes we find that what we couldn’t imagine was actually just outside our field of vision: It was always there, waiting for us.

Yes, eventually, what is waiting for us all is Death. But, prior to that, there is an opportunity, “one tiny moment in time / For life to shine to shine / Burn away the darkness /”

“An old woman living in a nightmare, an old woman who has fought a thousand battles with death and always won. Now she’s faced with a grim decision—whether or not to open a door. And in some strange and frightening way she knows that this seemingly ordinary door leads to the Twilight Zone.”

“There was an old woman who lived in a room. And, like all of us, was frightened of the dark. But who discovered in a minute last fragment of her life that there was nothing in the dark that wasn’t there when the lights were on. Object lesson for the more frightened amongst us in, or out of, the Twilight Zone.”

– “Opening” and “Closing” narration, quoted from “Episode 81 (3.16) – ‘Nothing in the Dark'” of The Twilight Zone (premiered January 5, 1962)

Friday’s music is available on YouTube and Spotify. [Look for “Chanukah (Eve/Day 6) for 12032021”]

Note: The YouTube and Spotify playlists are slightly different. Track 12 on YouTube is Track 1 on Spotify (and can be used interchangeably).

“‘Did he live his life again in every detail of desire, temptation, and surrender during that supreme moment of complete knowledge? He cried in a whisper at some image, some vision – he cried out twice, a cry that was no more than a breath:

“‘” The horror! The horror!’

“I blew the candle out and left the cabin….”

– the character Charles Marlow describing Kurtz’s death in Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad

### “…take to you pure olive oil, crushed for lighting, to kindle the lamps continually. Outside the dividing curtain of the testimony in the Tent of Meeting, Aaron shall set it up before the Lord from evening to morning continually. [This shall be] an eternal statute for your generations.” (V-L 24:2-3)