Posted by ajoyfulpractice in "Impossible" People, Abhyasa, Art, Books, Changing Perspectives, Faith, Fitness, Gratitude, Harlem Globetrotters, Healing Stories, Health, Hope, Life, Loss, Love, Meditation, Men, Music, One Hoop, Pain, Philosophy, Poetry, Suffering, Tragedy, Vairagya, Vipassana, Wisdom, Women, Writing, Yoga.
Tags: 988, Abhyasa, AIDS, Alice Marble, Althea Gibson, Angela Buxton, anti-Semitism, Arlyn Gajilan, Arnold Rampersad, Arthur Ashe, Billie Jean King, Black History Month, Camera Ashe, cardiovascular, Chicago Tribune staff, Dean Radin, Dr. Abraham Maslow, Dr. Reggie Weir, Ed Fitzgerald, Eric Fishl, Eric Goulder, Evonne Goolagong, Frank DeFord, Grand Slams, heart, HIV, Howard Thurman, inner game, Jeanne Moutoussamy, Johnnie Ashe, Louise Brough, Love, Men's Health, military, Neil Amdur, positive psychology, Racism, Rhiannon Walker, Richard Curtis, Serena Williams, siddhis, Swami Satchidananda, tennis, tennis elbow, Vairagya, Venus Williams, W. Timothy Gallwey, Yoga Sutra 1.2, Yoga Sutra 3.24, Yoga Sutra 3.37, Yoga Sutra 4.29, yoga sutras, Yoga Sutras 1.30-1.31
Many blessings to everyone and especially to anyone observing the Dormition (Theotokos) Fast; and/or working to cultivate friendship, peace, freedom, understanding, and wisdom — especially when it gets hot (inside and outside).
Stay hydrated & be kind, y’all!
This is the “missing” for Sunday, August 25th. Technically, it is also the “long lost” post for the 2021 practice. You can request an audio recording of this practice via a comment below or (for a slightly faster reply) you can email myra (at) ajoyfulpractice.com.
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“III.24. Extraordinary strength, resulting from samyama on the concept of physical strength (the aphorism specifically mentions the strength of an elephant, which was undoubtedly the strongest creature in Patanjali’s world), but it might also include mental, moral, or spiritual strength. This could be interpreted as an exceptional form of mind-body control or as a mind-matter interaction effect. Swami Satchidananda sums up this siddhi with the comment, ‘You can lighten yourself; you can make yourself heavy. It’s all achieved by samyama. Do it; try it. Nice things will happen’ (p.188).”
“III.37. Siddhis may appear to be supernormal, but they are normal. This is not a description of a siddhi, but rather a caution to avoid regarding or attaining the siddhis as unnatural or supernormal, as that could become a distraction to sustaining and deepening samadhi.”
— quoted from the “Taxonomy” section of “Part I: From Legendary Yoga Superpowers… Chapter 7: The Siddhis” in Supernormal: Science, Yoga, and the Evidence for Extraordinary Psychic Abilities by Dean Radin, PhD
In the Yoga Sūtras, Patanjali defined yoga (“union”) as a moment when all the internal chatter fades away (YS 1.2) and devoted a whole chapter to describing the powers that come when you focus-concentrate-meditate on a single thing and harness the power of the entire mind-body. He also outlined a process by which one can become completely absorbed into (or merged with) the point of their focus-concentration-meditation. Some of it sounds magical, extraordinary, or supernatural; but, it’s actually extra ordinary and very much supernormal. The ability to be single-minded and absorbed into something (or someone) is something we all do at various times in our lives.
We do it when we are “in the zone” and we do it when we are in the “first blush” of love.
Being in the zone is what athletes call it when you are in the moment, see exactly what needs to be done, and can do it in a way that almost appears effortless. Things just fall into place. Sometimes it even feels effortless and magical to the person that is in the zone. (YS 4.29) Other times, an athlete may find themselves running into the same obstacles and hinderances described in the Yoga Sūtras (YS 1.30-1.31) — not realizing that they need to practice non-attachment. Patanjali recommended focusing on the breath and, thousands of years later, a tennis player and coach recommended the same thing.
“It is said that in breathing humans recapitulate the rhythm of the universe. When the mind is fastened to the rhythm of breathing, it tends to become absorbed and calm. Whether on or off the court, I know of no better way to begin to deal with anxiety than to place the mind on one’s breathing process.”
— quoted from the “Focus During a Match” section of “7. Concentration: Learning to Focus” in The Inner Game of Tennis: The Classic Guide to the Mental Side of Peak Performance by W. Timothy Gallwey
Letting go of your own ego and getting out of your own way are foundational lessons in The Inner Game of Tennis: The Classic Guide to the Mental Side of Peak Performance (1974) by W. Timothy Gallwey. A tennis player and coach, Mr. Gallwey used his own experiences to help others play better psychologically — because sometimes you can up your game by changing what you are doing mentally, emotionally, and even energetically. Years after The Inner Game of Tennis was published (and after he published a companion book in 1976), Mr. Gallwey found that people were applying his book to other areas and in other disciplines. So he wrote Inner Skiing (1977), The Inner Game of Golf (1981), The Inner Game of Winning (1985), The Inner Game of Music (1986), and The Inner Game of Work: Focus, Learning, Pleasure, and Mobility in the Workplace (1999), and The Inner Game of Stress: Outsmart Life’s Challenges, Fulfill Your Potential, Enjoy Yourself (2009). In each book, the bottom line is to get to a place where the mind is quiet.
Which brings us back to the other time when everything else disappears: love.
Love, nothing else matters — except in tennis.
“Perhaps this is why it is said that great poetry is born in silence. Great music and art are said to arise from the quiet depths of the unconscious, and true expressions of love are said to come from a source which lies beneath words and thoughts. So it is with the greatest efforts in sports; they come when the mind is as still as a glass lake.
Such moments have been called ‘peak experiences’ by the humanistic psychologist Dr. Abraham Maslow.”
— quoted from the “‘Trying Hard’: A Questionable Virtue” section of “3. Quieting Self 1” in The Inner Game of Tennis: The Classic Guide to the Mental Side of Peak Performance by W. Timothy Gallwey
Full disclosure: When I was growing up, I was the only person in my immediate family who didn’t play tennis. So, there are a bunch of things about tennis that just don’t make sense to me. For instance, why does “love” mean “zero” in tennis? There are a lot of different theories about why “love” equals “zero” in tennis. Some of these theories don’t have a lot of supporting evidence; they just seem like old wives tales that may or may not be true. They stick around, however, because they are funny. For instance, there is the idea that English speakers were mispronouncing the French word l’ œuf (“egg”) — so it sounded like they were saying “love” — and that the number zero looks like an egg. This is sometimes paired with the idea that if you make a bunch of mistakes (and score no points) you’ve laid a goose egg. The biggest problem with this theory is that when in France, where tennis was first developed, people simply used the word zéro.
Another prevalent (and possibly more credible) theory about the term, that dates back to the 1700s, is that when you have no score, but you still give it all you’ve got, then you are playing for the love of the game. This is a slightly more credible theory, because, according to the Webster’s 1828 Dictionary, the word “amateur” comes from the Latin words anator (“a lover”) and amo (“to love”), referring to a person who does something for love rather than for money.
Of course, every professional begins as an amateur and one could argue that every professional wants to feel the way they did when they were an amateur — as if nothing else matters, but that moment and the love of the game in that moment. And, this is where things get interesting; because, in tennis, the most prestigious tournaments are “open” to amateurs and professionals. They all play for the same stakes. They all play with love so palpable it can make other people fall in love with the game. Some even play with the kind of passion that can also change the face of the game.
“I always wanted to be somebody. If I made it, it’s half because I was game enough to take a lot of punishment along the way and half because there were a lot of people who cared enough to help me.”
— quoted I Always Wanted to Be Somebody by Althea Gibson, edited by Ed Fitzgerald
Born today in 1927, Althea Gibson was a professional tennis player as well as a professional golfer. In 1949, she was the first Black woman and the second Black athlete (after Dr. Reggie Weir) to play in the National Indoor Championships hosted by the United States Lawn Tennis Association (USLTA, now known as the USTA). While she earned a full athletic scholarship to Florida A&M University (FAMU) and was considered an elite athlete all around the world, her race and ethnicity meant that she was not able to play in some of the most prestigious competitions in the world. To be clear, USTA had anti-discrimination rules in the 1950s; however, to qualify for certain tournaments, a player had to have a certain amount of points. In order to earn those points, a player had to play (and place) at a number of tournaments. Of course, some tournaments were held at clubs that were white-only — which meant that a player like Althea Gibson couldn’t play.
The first crack in that glass ceiling came when American Tennis Association (ATA) officials and 18 time Grand Slam championship-winner Alice Marble very publicly lobbied for Althea Gibson to be the first African-American to receive an invitation to the Nationals. Three days after her 23rd birthday, Ms. Gibson made her debut at Forest Hills and won. The world took notice; even though she ultimately lost the next match (in a delayed round) to Louise Brough, the then three-time defending Wimbledon champion, who also lobbied for inclusion.
Six years later, in 1956, Althea Gibson became the first African-American to win a Grand Slam event when she won the singles crown at the French Championships (now known as the French Open). She and Angela Buxton (from the United Kingdom) also won the doubles. Later that season, she won the championships in Rome, Italy; New Delhi, India; and Ceylon (now Sri Lanka). The following year, and the year after that, she won both Wimbledon and the US Nationals (which preceded the US Open) and was named “Female Athlete of the Year” by the Associated Press. (1957 was also the year she beat Louise Brough, who by then had won 35 major championships.)
“According to [American sculpture Eric] Goulder, each [of the five granite blocks] represents the ‘boxes’ society puts people in. [Althea] Gibson’s image emerges from the highest one, which balances on its corner to emphasize how she transformed the world’s view of African American athletes.
‘Her shoulder is exposed to make clear that those who followed stand on her shoulder,’ said Goulder. The final box, which is aligned differently from the others, is meant to show that the world has changed, but not entirely.
Its inscription reads: ‘I hope that I have accomplished just one thing: that I have been a credit to tennis and my country.’”
— quoted from the August 26, 2019, Reuters article “Trailblazer Althea Gibson honoured with statue at U.S. Open” by Arlyn Gajilan
Overall, Althea Gibson won a total of 11 Grand Slam events — including five singles titles, five doubles titles, and one mixed doubles title. In 1964, she became the first African-American woman to join the Ladies Professional Golf Association (LPGA) tour, where she broke course records and was among the 50 money winners for fives years. She was inducted into the International Tennis Hall of Fame (in 1971); was one of the first six inductees into the International Women’s Sports Hall of Fame (in 1980); and, in 2007, on the 50th anniversary of her first victory at the US National Championships, she was inducted into the US Open Court of Champions.
Althea Gibson was also inducted into the the Florida Sports Hall of Fame, the Black Athletes Hall of Fame, the Sports Hall of Fame of New Jersey, the New Jersey Hall of Fame, the International Scholar-Athlete Hall of Fame, and the National Women’s Hall of Fame. Additionally, she received a Candace Award from the National Coalition of 100 Black Women (in 1988) and was the first woman to receive the National Collegiate Athletic Association’s Theodore Roosevelt Award (in 1991). In 2000, Sports Illustrated placed her at #30 on their “100 Greatest Female Athletes” list. In 2013, the United States Postal Service honored her with a postage stamp and, in 2019, a bust of her was unveiled outside of the USTA Billie Jean King National Tennis Center in Flushing Meadows, where the US Open is now held.
“In a statement Sunday, tennis champion and activist Billie Jean King had this to say: ‘We all know people who influence us and, if we are lucky, we meet a few in our lives who improve us. Althea Gibson improved my life and the lives of countless others. She was the first to break so many barriers, and from the first time I saw her play, when I was 13 years old, she became, and remained, one of my true heroines.
‘It was truly an inspiration for me to watch her overcome adversity. Her road to success was a challenging one, but I never saw her back down. Althea did a lot for people in tennis, but she did even more for people in general.’”
— quoted from the September 29, 2003, Chicago Tribune article “Althea Gibson” (by the Chicago Tribune staff)
Even though Ms. Gibson broke so many color barriers that people compared her to Jackie Robinson, she couldn’t overcame all the obstacles put in her way. Despite winning multiple times at Wimbledon, she and her doubles partner, Angela Buxton, who was Jewish, were denied membership to the All England Club on more than one occasion.1 While many of the competitors that she beat were receiving endorsement deals, similar deals never came her way. That sort of racism and prejudice led her to join the LPGA, but even there she ran into literal barriers to entry. Sometimes she was not allowed to compete. Sometimes she had to change clothes in her car, because the clubs, hotels, and dressing rooms were segregated and no accommodations were available to her. While the highest earners (during the years she played on the tour) averaged, almost $35,000 a year, Althea Gibson’s lifetime golf earnings were under $25,000 (plus or minus a car she won at a Dinah Shore tournament).
Despite the ongoing challenges, Althea Gibson kept persevering. Maybe one of the reasons she never seemed to back down was because she was always fighting to survive. She dropped out of school when she was 13 years old and ran away from home because her father was abusive. At one point she lived in a Catholic shelter for abused children. By that time, she was already a paddle tennis champion in New York City and her neighbors had pooled their resources together to purchase her a junior membership and lessons at the Cosmopolitan Tennis Club in the Sugar Hill section of Harlem. But, young Althea didn’t initially love tennis. It was a means to an end; it was one of her many means of escape.
“‘Being a champ is all well and good,’ I would tell the well-meaning people who asked me about my retirement, ‘but you can’t eat a crown. Nor can you send the Internal Revenue Service a throne clipped to their tax forms. The landlord and grocer and tax collector are funny that way: they like cold cash. I may be the Queen of Tennis right now, but I reign over an empty bank account, and I’m not going to fill it by playing amateur tennis, even if I remain champ from now until Judgement Day.’”
— quoted from “So Much to Live For” in So Much to Live For by Althea Gibson with Richard Curtis
In addition to being an accomplished athlete, Althea Gibson was also a singer, a saxophone player, an actor, a sports analyst, and an author. She turned to all of those mediums in an effort to support herself and pushed the limits of everything she did so that each industry was better than she found it. She even opened for the Harlem Globetrotters by playing exhibition games with Karol Fageros and ran for public office. For much of her adult life, she was also a mentor and coach. She facilitated Pepsi Cola’s national mobile tennis project in underprivileged areas and ran multiple other clinics and tennis outreach programs. She inspired her competitors, as well as players in subsequent generations: like Billie Jean King and Serena and Venus Williams.
The Williams sisters, in particular, sought advice on how to play and how to deal with racism (on and off the court). In fact, Serena Williams won her first (of six) US Open titles in 1999, shortly after faxing a letter and a series of questions to Ms. Gibson. In 2000 and 2001, Venus Williams followed in Althea Gibson’s footsteps by winning back-to-back championships at Wimbledon and the US Open. Like Evonne Goolagong, the Australian Aboriginal (Wiradjuri) athlete who became the second non-White woman to win a Grand Slam championship (in 1971), the Williams Sisters and other African-American athletes experienced a different financial landscape than Althea Gibson, but they still had to deal with racism and prejudice.
“You can’t compare tennis with baseball, basketball, or football. When Jackie Robinson broke the color line in 1947 with the Brooklyn Dodgers, dozens of good baseball players in the Negro leagues were waiting to follow. When Althea Gibson, the first prominent black in tennis, won national grass-court titles at Forest Hills in 1957 and 1958, there was no reservoir of black talent waiting to walk in if the door ever opened. Blacks had no identification the sport — on or off the court.”
— quoted from “3. The Passage” in Off the Court by Arthur Ashe with Neil Amdur
Another person Althea Gibson inspired was Arthur Ashe, who who won the US Amateur Championships today in 1968. A couple of weeks later, on September 9th, the Army lieutenant at West Point, followed in Althea Gibson’s footsteps: winning the first US Open and becoming the first African-American man to win a Grand Slam event. He also became the first person (period) to win the US Amateur and the US Open in the same calendar year. These were not his first, nor his last, groundbreaking achievements in tennis. In 1963, he was the first Black player selected for the US Davis Cup team and, so far, he has been the only Black man to win the singles titles at Wimbledon, the US Open, and the Australian Open.
Up until 1968, the US National Championship events were held at a variety of locations and only open to amateurs. When it became the US Open, it was open to professionals as well as to amateurs — which is what Arthur Ashe was at the time. In fact, he was the underdog, going up against a professional. He was also active duty, during a war — his younger brother Johnnie accepted an extra tour in Vietnam, which allowed him to compete since the United States had a policy against sending brothers into a war zone. First Lieutenant Ashe’s amateur status meant that his prize money went to the runner up.
“‘Money makes me happy.’ Who would make such a crass remark? I did, in my book Portrait in Motion, written with Frank DeFord. But the truth is that I’m glad I have enough money to live comfortably, and I enjoyed adding to my bank account as I earned money on the tennis court and in various business deals when I was a professional. I was not born poor, but my father was hardly rich. I long ago decided that, on the whole, I much prefer having money to not having it. In that sense, it makes me happy.
On the other hand, I also learned a long time ago what money can and cannot do for me. From what we get, we can make a living; what we give, however, makes a life.”
— quoted from “6. The Striving and Achieving” in Days of Grace: A Memoir by Arthur Ashe and Arnold Rampersad
Arthur Ashe was inducted into the Virginia Sports Hall of Fame (in 1979), the Intercollegiate Tennis Association (ITA) Hall of Fame (in 1983), and the International Tennis Hall of Fame (in 1985). In 1975, he received the inaugural Player of the Year Award from the Association of Tennis Professionals (ATP) and was named the BBC Overseas Sports Personality of the Year. In 1977, other players on the ATP-tour awarded him the ATP Sportsmanship Award. In December 1992, just a few months before he died, he received the “Sports Legend” Award from the American Sportscasters Association. In 1993, he was posthumously awarded the Presidential Medal of Freedom by President Bill Clinton, the Congressional Black Caucus Foundation’s George Thomas “Mickey” Leland Award, and ATP’s Arthur Ashe Humanitarian of the Year Award by the ATP. He was also an author and an Emmy Award winner. In 1997, the newly constructed Arthur Ashe Stadium became the largest venue at the USTA Billie Jean King National Tennis Center in Flushing Meadows, home of the US Open. “Soul in Flight,” a statue sculpted by Eric Fishl, was unveiled in 2000 as a memorial to Arthur Ashe and to the spirit of sportsmanship and humanitarianism that he embodied. In 2005, the United States Postal Service issued a commemorative stamp in his honor.
Throughout his career, Arthur Ashe was an activist. He was part of the Civil Rights Movement in the United States and also part of the anti-apartheid movement in South Africa. He also advocated for Haitian refugees and was a campaign chairman for the American Heart Association. In 1983, he contracted HIV after a blood transfusion during heart bypass surgery and, when he announced his diagnosis in April of 1992, he became a very public HIV/AIDS advocate and educator. He also founded the Arthur Ashe Foundation for the Defeat of AIDS and the Arthur Ashe Institute for Urban Health.
“Perhaps my favorite prayer-poem by Howard Thurman is ‘The Threads In My Hand.’ The speaker of the poem says that he holds only one end of a number of threads, which come to him from ‘many ways, linking my life with others.’ Some threads come from the sick and troubled, some from the dreaming and ambitious; still others are knotted beyond the speaker’s power to understand and unravel. But one thread is different from all others:
One thread is a strange thread—it is my steadying thread;
When I am lost, I pull it hard and find my way.
When I am saddened, I tighten my grip and gladness glides along its quivering path;
When the waste places of my spirit appear in arid confusion,
the thread becomes a channel of newness in life.
One thread is a strange thread—it is my steadying thread.
God’s hand holds the other end…”
— quoted from “10. The Threads in My Hands” in Days of Grace: A Memoir by Arthur Ashe and Arnold Rampersad
In chapter 10 of Days of Grace: A Memoir, Arthur Ashe described himself as “a fortunate, blessed man… [with] no problems” — aside from two really major health problems. Those two health problems were not the one’s most commonly associated with tennis players. In fact, neither Arthur Ashe nor Althea Gibson seemed to have dealt with the one of the health issues most commonly associated with a non-contact sports like tennis: “tennis elbow” — which is a bit of misnomer. While 50% of tennis players report elbow pain — 75% of which is considered true “tennis elbow” — tennis players only make up about 10% of all the cases of nationwide. In other words, you can have “tennis elbow” even if you’ve never played tennis. It’s simply a repetitive stress issue. So, if you do certain movements repeatedly, without stability, you could end up with tendonitis or tendinosis. Tennis, even when done on a table, is very asymmetrical; making unilateral stability a priority.
But, neither of these record-breaking seemed to have a problem with tendonitis or tendinosis. Unfortunately and ironically, Althea Gibson and Arthur Ashe both had cardiovascular issues.
Two cerebral hemorrhages, in the late 1980s, a stroke in 1992, and related medical expenses left Althea Gibson in dire straits. No help was forthcoming when she reached out to various tennis organizations; however, Angela Buxton, her former doubles partner, was able to engage the tennis community and raised nearly $1 million in donations from around the world. In 2003, she suffered a heart attack and then, later that year, died from complications related to respiratory and bladder infections.
Arthur Ashe had a family history of cardiovascular disease and was 36 years old when he suffered his first heart attack in 1979. His heart was in such bad condition, despite his athleticism, that he needed a quadruple bypass. A few months later, he had to delay his return to tennis, because of chest pains. In 1983, he had a second bypass surgery — which is when it is believed he contracted HIV. Paralysis in his right arm led to a battery of tests, exploratory brain surgery, and the HIV diagnosis. Due to the stigma associated with HIV and AIDS, Arthur Ashe and his wife initially decided that the best way to protect their young daughter was by not publicly disclosing his diagnosis. In the fall of 1992, he had a second heart attack and learned that a newspaper was planning to release his diagnosis. A few months later, in 1993, he died from AIDS-related pneumonia.
“By the time you read this letter from me to you for the first time, I may not be around to discuss with you what I have written here. Perhaps I will still be with you and your mother, sharing in your daily lives, in your joys and in your sorrows. However, I may be gone. You would doubtless be sad that I am gone, and remember me clearly for a while. Then I will exist only as a memory already beginning to fade in your mind. Although it is natural for memories to fade, I am writing this letter in the hope that your recollection of me will never fade completely.”
— quoted from “11. My Dear Camera” in Days of Grace: A Memoir by Arthur Ashe and Arnold Rampersad
As I mentioned before, I grew up as the non-playing member of a tennis-loving family. Most of the time I didn’t mind not playing tennis, because I was absorbed in other things. I loved other things. There was one time, however, when I was really grateful that I didn’t play — and so were my parents.
It was during a time when we were living in the Maryland-D.C. area, late 70s or early 80s. If memory serves me2 — and if I go by the 1981 publication date of Off the Court — I was probably have been as old as 12 or 13. Either way, I was small (spoiler alert: I have always been small). Since I wasn’t playing in the tournament, I wasn’t restricted to certain areas the way my brothers were restricted. So, my parents lifted me over the fence with a copy of Arthur Ashe’s autobiography. Being the man that he was, he didn’t hesitate to sign it.
It was a very memorable day that I will never forget, but, to him, it was: “Just another day at the office…”
“…he told the Baltimore Sun’s Jim Caffrey[,] ‘I never get too excited about winning anything; it’s just my philosophy of life.’”
— quoted from the August 13, 2017, Andscape (“#RememberWhensdays”) article, “The day Arthur Ashe became the first black man to win the US Open: Ashe earned the top ranking in the country with the five-set victory” by Rhiannon Walker
Sunday’s playlist is available on YouTube and Spotify. [Look for “08252021 Love from Althea & Arthur”]
NOTES: 1The All England Lawn Tennis and Croquet Club (AELTC), also known as the All England Club, is a private members’ club in Wimbledon, London, England. Established on July 23, 1868, the majority of the nearly 600 members are are Full Members — who, along with Life Members and Honorary Members, make up no more than 500 members. A little over 50 members are Temporary Members of Junior Temporary Members.
To be placed on the waiting list, full and temporary membership candidates must submit an application with formal letters of support from four existing full members, “two of whom must have known the applicant for at least three years.” While some honorary members are occasionally elected by the club’s committee, “past [Wimbledon] Singles Champions, other eminent Lawn Tennis players…” are typically (and automatically) invited to become honorary members. While Black players and Jewish players were theoretically eligible to join the club in 1951 and 1952, respectively, neither Althea Gibson nor her doubles partner Angela Buxton (who retired at the age of 22, because of tenosynovitis) ever made the cut.
2In July 2025, my father randomly texted me about getting Arthur Ashe’s autograph. He remembered it being on a program, which would have made me a lot younger than the age I remembered.
CORRECTION: During the 2024 practice, I referred to Arthur Ashe as a photographer; however, I was confusing him with his wife, the photographer and graphic artist Jeanne Moutoussamy.
Extreme heat can not only make people lethargic and unmotivated, it can also lead to extreme agitation and anxiety-based fear. We may find it hard to think, hard to feel (or process our feelings), and/or hard to control our impulses. If you are struggling in the US, help is available just by dialing 988.
If you are thinking about suicide, worried about a friend or loved one, or would like emotional support, you can dial 988 (in the US) or call 1-800-273-TALK (8255) for the Suicide and Crisis Lifeline. You can also call this 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.
White Flag is a new app, which I have not yet researched, but which may be helpful if you need peer-to-peer (non-professional) support.
If you are a young person in crisis, feeling suicidal, or in need of a safe and judgement-free place to talk, you can also click here to contact the TrevorLifeline (which is staffed 24/7 with trained counselors).
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Posted by ajoyfulpractice in Uncategorized.
Tags: Alfred Dreyfus, Andrea M. Bain, anti-Semitism, avidya, compassion, compassionate abiding, Emile Zola, J'Accuse!, L'Affaire, loving-kindness, Nelson Mandela, Pema Chodron, Racism, Ralph Waldo Emerson, Shenpa & The Practice of Getting Unhooked, Suffering, truth, yoga philosophy, yoga practice
“And now the image of [our country] is sullied by this filth, and history shall record that it was under your presidency that this crime against society was committed.
At the root of it all is one evil man. … Nobody would ever believe the experiments to which he subjected the unfortunate….
… what a cesspool of folly and foolishness, what preposterous fantasies, what corrupt police tactics, what inquisitorial, tyrannical practices! What petty whims of a few higher-ups trampling the nation under their boots, ramming back down their throats the people’s cries for truth and justice, with the travesty of state security as a pretext.”
– from “J’Accuse” by Emile Zola, published in L’Aurore on January 13, 1898
J’Accuse! I accuse you! Yes, you! This is all your fault!!!
Loudly, publicly, and bluntly, I accuse you of doing something heinous. Before we get into the details of the accusation, pause for a moment. Consider how you are feeling. Don’t be surprised if you are feeling a tightening; maybe an immediate impulse to do something to defend yourself; maybe – before we even get into the details – you are already spinning the story, as if you know what I’m going to say. Even though this is a safe place (and you probably do know what I’m doing here: i.e., giving you a container in which to practice), you may already be feeling the bite of the hook. Shenpa; it’s the Tibetan word that American Tibetan Buddhist nun Pema Chödrön translates as hook, urge, impulse, charge, or attachment. She points out that while it is usually involuntary “it gets right to the root of why we suffer.”
When you feel it, even a little bit, you are feeling the “urge” or “impulse” to do something to defend/protect yourself… or, at least, defend/protect the afflicted thought that is your false sense of self. Remember, that while this may feel, physiologically, as if someone is threatening you with bodily harm – and while your body will react accordingly – shenpa in this context is not related to physical harm. It is related to suffering and, therefore, Recognizing what you are feeling (and why you are feeling it) is the first “R” in the practice of getting “unhooked.”
“At the subtlest level, we feel a tightening, a tensing, a sense of closing down. Then we feel a sense of withdrawing, not wanting to be where we are. That’s the hooked quality. That tight feeling has the power to hook us into self-denigration, blame, anger, jealousy and other emotions which lead to words and actions that end up poisoning us.”
– quoted from “How We Get Hooked and How We Get Unhooked” by Pema Chödön (published by Lion’s Roar, 12/26/2017)
“Resentment is like drinking poison and then hoping it will kill your enemies.”
– Nelson Mandela
We are living in a time when a lot of people are getting “hooked” by a large number of things. One thing in particular that stands out is people experiencing shenpa because of loud, public, and blunt accusations. The accusations are all related to what in the yoga philosophy would be called avidyā (ignorance) and all four of the other afflicted or dysfunctional thought patterns. The loudest of the accusations comes in the form of one of several words: racist, sexist, anti-Semitic, homophobic, Islamaphobic, or xenophobic. And, let’s be honest, if someone uses the right “mean” word, they don’t have to do it loudly (or publicly) for the accused to feel the bite of the hook. Furthermore, this shenpa-related reaction is so prevalent right now that we don’t have to turn on the news, read about it, or look online to see someone experiencing this particular form of suffering: all we have to do is look in the mirror.
Just to clarify, the suffering to which I refer – the suffering that comes from this particular type of ignorance – is not the suffering of the person who is doing the accusing. Yes, there is suffering when someone is subjected to another person’s hatred and small thinking (and yes, it is related to this same kind of dysfunctional/afflicted thinking), but that’s not the point of today’s practice. Today is more about the suffering of the accused.
Wait, what?
I know, I know, some of you are thinking I’m sleep deprived again – but stick with me.
“Shenpa thrives on the underlying insecurity of living in a world that is always changing.”
– quoted from “How We Get Hooked and How We Get Unhooked” by Pema Chödön (published by Lion’s Roar, 12/26/2017)
For further clarification, let’s talk about a former housemate of mine. This person is a person of color (really, a member of more than one ethnic minority group) and held a position of power within a certain organization. They are also male-presenting and, let’s get real, there’s some power in that. At one point while we were living together, my former housemate was accused of being racist and sexist. Now, he was troubled by this for a number of reasons – not the least of which was that (a) as a minority he felt like he couldn’t be racist, (b) he adored and respected women, and (c) he had personally been the victim of a lot of different kinds of racism. Being accused of such a thing is hard on its on, it’s harder when you know how it feels to have that hatred directed at you.
Part of what makes it hard to be accused of being {fill in the blank} is that for many of us the idea of holding a negative and/or stereotypical view of someone because of something they can’t change goes against who we think we are at our core. We reject the very notion that we could hold views that have been described as “unmitigated evil.” Additionally, even if we think there’s nothing wrong with our view, we recognize that such views and the behavior associated with them are not socially acceptable. So, even if we think we’re right, it’s embarrassing to be accused of something that the populace views as wrong.
It all comes down to perception. As I told my housemate at the time, as soon as someone says something is racist, sexist, anti-Semitic, homophobic, Islamaphobic, or xenophobic – it is. Full stop. The urge to argue about it is coming from being “hooked” and generates an endless (and, I’d argue, useless) cycle of suffering. Practice the second and third “R’s”: Refrain, Relax. We don’t solve anything by denying what is real in the moment. Our denial, however, is part of what is real and may prevent us from getting to the root of the problem: avidyā.
“I call it, it’s ‘dog-whistle racism.’ It’s something that, everybody could be in the same room as you, but you’re the only person who’s hearing it. And it’s loud and clear to you, as to the reason why you’re being treated this way or not allowed to come here; or being asked for your ID, several times; asked why you’re here; told to go sit somewhere else, even though you’re with a group of people – they don’t see you as part of that group. It happens a lot.”
– Canadian author and CTV news anchor Andrea M. Bain, appearing on ET Canada (07/16/2020)
There are very few, if any, modern (First World) societies that were not built on a foundation of ignorance. Here in the United States, racism, sexism, and xenophobia are – in many ways – the very bedrock of our civilization. (Are you tightening up over these statements? Take a deep breath. Sigh it out. Repeat and then read on.)
To me, a woman of color (from the South, no less), everyone in this country has been socialized to be have ignorant thoughts (be they racist, sexist, anti-Semitic, homophobic, Islamaphobic, xenophobic, ageist, and/or ableist. Yes, everyone! To turn away from this is to turn away from the opportunity to fix the problems that result in racist, sexist, anti-Semitic, homophobic, Islamaphobic, xenophobic, ageist, and/or ableist behavior. Let’s be clear here, we may not (at this stage) be able to change our thoughts, but we can in this moment change our words and deeds/actions by paying attention to our thoughts. An accusation brings awareness to what’s real in this moment. It’s an engraved invitation to practice. Yes, it is a really stressful, awkward, and horrible invitation, but it’s still an invitation.
By accepting the invitation, we accept the opportunity to make real change. Bringing awareness to what’s going on in our minds (consciously, unconsciously, and subconsciously) gives us the opportunity to decide how we want to engage the world and the people in the world. In other words, pausing for a moment to recognize what is happening in this moment allows us to move forward with the final “R,” Resolve. It gives us the opportunity to internally declare, “I just had a racist thought, but I’m not going to follow that up with straight-up racist behavior. I’m not going to be racist today. I’m going to be {fill in the blank}.”
Here’s the thing though: You only get to fill in the blank if you let go of the impulse to defend yourself against the accusation. You only get to fill in the blank if you let go of the attachment you have to believing you are something you like when someone is accusing you of being something you dislike. You only get to fill in the blank if you allow your “false sense of ego” to die. Yes, you have to let go of you think you are. All of that is to say, you only get to fill in the blank if you let go of your avidyā.
“If we can see shenpa just as we’re starting to close down, when we feel the tightening, there’s the possibility of catching the urge to do the habitual thing, and not doing it. Without meditation practice, this is almost impossible to do. Generally speaking, we don’t catch the tightening until we’ve indulged the urge to scratch our itch in some habitual way. And unless we equate refraining with loving-kindness and friendliness towards ourselves, refraining feels like putting on a straitjacket. We struggle against it. The Tibetan word for renunciation is shenlok, which means turning shenpa upside-down, shaking it up. When we feel the tightening, somehow we have to know how to open up the space without getting hooked into our habitual pattern.”
– quoted from “How We Get Hooked and How We Get Unhooked” by Pema Chödön (published by Lion’s Roar, 12/26/2017)
“As they have dared, so shall I dare. Dare to tell the truth, as I have pledged to tell it, in full, since the normal channels of justice have failed to do so. My duty is to speak out; I do not wish to be an accomplice in this travesty. My nights would otherwise be haunted by the spectre of the innocent man, far away, suffering the most horrible of tortures for a crime he did not commit.”
– from “J’Accuse” by Emile Zola, published in L’Aurore on January 13, 1898
Today in 1898, the novelist and essayist Emile Zola fled France after being found guilty of libel in a case associated with the “Dreyfus Affair.” The libel case and subsequent conviction were based on an open letter in which Zola accused the army, the government, and even the court system of illegally arresting and convicting Captain Alfred Dreyfus of espionage and treason. Dreyfus was a French artillery officer, who was also Jewish, and there was no indication (or evidence) that he committed the crimes in question. In fact, two years after Dreyfus was court martialed and imprisoned for crimes he did not commit, evidence proved that the real culprit was a French Army major named Ferdinand Walsin Esterhazy. Esterhazy was tried, found “not guilty” of conspiring with the Germans, and allowed to retire in 1898, with the rank of Major. Lieutenant Colonel Georges Picquart, who brought forward the evidence against Esterhazy, was transferred to Tunisia. Once he was out of the country, military officials portrayed Picquart as anti-Semitic. Meanwhile, military officials manufactured evidence against Dreyfus (and convicted him a second time) – and all of this was leaked to the press.
While historians still debate why Dreyfus was arrested, framed, and convicted, everyone agrees that he was innocent. This is not revisionist history. His innocence was firmly established at the time – which is why Zola, a noted writer of the time, was so outraged. Knowing the power of his words and the power of his reputation, Zola penned a 4,500-word article which was published on the front page of L’Aurore. The headline, above the fold, read “J’Accuse…!” and almost 300,000 copies were distributed (on January 13, 1898). That was 10x the normal distribution. The open letter was a detailed timeline of “L’Affaire.” It included names of officials, accused them of anti-Semitism, and provided explicit details to back up the accusations. Zola wanted to “hook” the government and force them to sue him for libel so that all of the evidence from the secret court martial cases would be made public. Additionally, Zola’s letter further incensed the French public, which became even more outraged by Zola’s trial and conviction. His sentencing did not go well, as it turned the already volatile populace further against the military. As Zola fled, more publications took up the fight, the world started watching, and the citizens of France began what many consider major social reformation. They took a look at themselves and the reality of what they were versus what they professed to be: a Catholic nation or a republic where all citizens had equal rights regardless of religion.
“The government of the Republic has given me back my freedom. It is nothing for me without my honor.”
– Alfred Dreyfus, after accepting a Presidential pardon
Dreyfus was offered a Presidential pardon in 1899, which he accepted; however, he was still considered a traitor to France and spent several years under house-arrest. It would be 1906 before he was officially exonerated by a military commission, readmitted to the army and promoted to major, and then named to Knight of the Legion of Honor. He retired within a year, but returned to the army at the beginning of World War I. He would eventually be promoted to lieutenant colonel and be awarded the rank of “Officer” within the Legion of Honor. When he died in 1935, he was given full military honors – plus a little extra pomp and circumstance since his funeral procession occurred during Bastille Day. His tombstone inscription is in Hebrew and English, and only refers to his unfaltering service to France.
Zola returned to France after the French government collapsed, but would die of carbon monoxide poisoning in 1902. In 1908, during a ceremony to honor Zola by interring his ashes at the Panthéon, a right-wing reporter would attempt to assassinate Dreyfus. In 1953, a roofer admitted, in a death-bed confession, that he had murdered Zola by initially blocking the chimney. Years after the fact, there were still people getting “hooked.”
“Working with shenpa softens us up. Once we see how we get hooked and how we get swept along by the momentum, there’s no way to be arrogant. The trick is to keep seeing. Don’t let the softening and humility turn into self-denigration. That’s just another hook. Because we’ve been strengthening the whole habituated situation for a long, long time, we can’t expect to undo it overnight. It’s not a one-shot deal. It takes loving-kindness to recognize; it takes practice to refrain; it takes willingness to relax; it takes determination to keep training this way. It helps to remember that we may experience two billion kinds of itches and seven quadrillion types of scratching, but there is really only one root shenpa—ego-clinging. We experience it as tightening and self-absorption. It has degrees of intensity. The branch shenpas are all our different styles of scratching that itch.”
– quoted from “How We Get Hooked and How We Get Unhooked” by Pema Chödön (published by Lion’s Roar, 12/26/2017)
Please join me for a compassionate 65-minute virtual yoga practice on Zoom today (Sunday, July 19th) 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.
“Your actions speak so loudly, I cannot hear what you are saying.”
– Ralph Waldo Emerson
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A Joyful Practice 