Happy Pride! Many blessings to everyone and especially to anyone observing Eastertide; Counting the Omer, and/or working as a force of peace, freedom, and fulfillment (inside and outside).
This post-practice note for Monday, June 3rd. It includes excerpts from several date-related posts. You can click on the titles (or the embedded link) for the entire posts. The prompt question was, “Do you use glasses, contacts, and/or other visual assistance (& for how long have you used them)?”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.
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.
“After the banquet, at a Harvard decennial class reunion in 1895, [Ernest] Thayer recited Casey and delivered an eloquent speech, tinged with ironic humor and sadness. (It is printed, along with Casey, in Harvard University, Class of 1885: Secretary’s Report No. V, 1900, pp. 88-96.)…. Surely the following passage is but a roundabout way of saying that it is easy to strike out:
We give today a wider and larger application to that happy phrase of the jury box, ‘extenuating circumstances.’ We have found that playing the game is very different from watching it played, and that splendid theories, even when accepted by the combatants, are apt to be lost sight of in the confusion of active battle. We have reached the age, those of us to whom fortune has assigned a post in life’s struggle, when, beaten and smashed and biffed by the lashings of the dragon’s tail, we begin to appreciate that the old man was not such a damned fool after all. We saw our parents wrestling with that same dragon, and we thought, though we never spoke the thought aloud, ‘Why don’t he hit him on the head?’ Alas, comrades, we know now. We have hit the dragon on the head and we have seen the dragon smile.”
— quoted from “There was Ease in Casey’s Manner…” in The Annotated Casey at the Bat: A Collection of Ballads about the Mighty Casey / Third, Revised Edition, Edited by Martin Gardner
In The Hobbit, Or There and Back Again, J. R. R. reminded us “It does not do to leave a live dragon out of your calculations, if you live near him.” Well, folks, we have been living with several dragons in our midst and, having not included that fact in our previous calculations, we find ourselves recalculating — and “[hitting] the dragon on the head…” only to see it smile.
I realize that everyone may not identify my metaphorical dragon in the same way that I intend it. So, let me be clear: the dragon equals our problem(s) and how we deal with our problem(s).
“Science is not an intelligence test. Intuition is important, knowing what questions to ask. The other thing is a passion for getting to the core of the problem.”
— Dr. Torsten Wiesel (b. 06/03/1924), co-winner of the 1981 Nobel Prize in Physiology or Medicine
Every person, every organization, every family, village, city, state, and country has a problem (or two… or more). Some problems seem uniquely ours and others transcend all the different labels we may apply to ourselves.
Back in a June 2022 side note, I posted that “… we may have different opinions about why we, here in the USA, have a problem — but we really can’t deny that there is a problem. We also can’t afford to deny or ignore the fact that it’s a problem no one else in the world is having. Neither can we deny or ignore the fact that if we keep speaking with ourselves, instead of with each other, than we will keep having this problem.”
The subtext to my observation is also the subtext to the speech Ernest Thayer gave in 1895 and to his poem, “Casey at the Bat: A Ballad of the Republic, Sung in the Year 1888,” which was originally published in The Daily Examiner (now The San Francisco Examiner) today in 1888. To extend the dragon metaphor just a little more, we can look at that subtext as the dragon’s tail. What beats us, bashes us, and biffs us — what lashes us and, ultimately, may defeat us — is our own ego and our reluctance (or inability) to see things from a different perspective.
Again, I realize this metaphor isn’t perfect. I realize some people may interpret in a different way than I intend it and that some people just won’t get it. I also understand that some people may understand it in a different way today than the would have last week or last year (when it wasn’t the Year of the Dragon)… or last century. That’s kind of the point.
Each of us perceives things the way we perceive them based on our previous experiences and then we move through the world accordingly. Patanjali pointed this out in the Yoga Sūtras (particularly in YS 2.20) and outlined ways to bring our awareness to our awareness, to notice what we notice — in order to expand our awareness and, in the process, expand our understanding.
Another way to look at this same concept is through the eyes of scientists like Dr. Torsten Wiesel (who was born today in 1924) and Dr. David Hubel, who collaborated on research that centered on the way we physically see — and sometimes don’t see.
“We’re interested in how the brain works, and we work on the part of the brain that has to do with vision. And we…we record from single cells in the brain, and ask how it is you can influence those cells by shining lights and patterns.”
— Dr. David Hubel, summarizing research with Dr. Torsten Wiesel that won the 1981 Nobel Prize in Physiology or Medicine
There is no playlist for the Common Ground Meditation Center practices.
“Certainly it reminds me very much of Bilbo in the last years, before he went away. He used often to say there was only one Road; that it was like a great river: its springs were at every doorstep, and every path was its tributary. ‘It’s a dangerous business, Frodo, going out of your door,’ he used to say. ‘You step into the Road, and if you don’t keep your feet, there is no knowing where you might be swept off to. Do you realize that this is the very path that goes through Mirkwood, and that if you let it, it might take you to the Lonely Mountain or even further and to worse places?’ He used to say that on the path outside the front door at Bag End, especially after he had been out for a long walk.’”
— Frodo reminiscing with Sam and Pippin in “Book 1, Chapter 3: Three is Company” in The Fellowship of the Ring (Volume 1 of the Lord of the Rings) by J. R. R. Tolkien
A new year means a new (and/or continuing adventure). Here’s an excerpt from a post related to just that!
“The thing we sometimes forget is that our ordinary lives can not only lead us to great adventures, they can themselves be great adventures. We may not, as a young Herman Melville did when he set sail for the South Seas today in 1841, find ourselves actually taking part in a mutiny; landing in a Tahitian jail; escaping from that same jail; and then wandering around the island for two years before serendipitously befriending another great literary mind. We may not, as J. R. R. Tolkien was today in 1892, be born into a family of clock, watch, and piano makers; have an Aunt Jane who lived on a farm called Bag End (with no reference to us); and have cousins named Mary and Marjorie who made up a language called ‘Animalic’ (inspiring us to make up our own languages); nor might we spend our adulthood in close friendships with some of the greatest literary minds of our time; and neither might we share those friendships with our son. Still, just as Melville and Tolkien did, we could write about our own lives and life experiences in a way that (sometimes) entertained and amused others. I say ‘sometimes,’ because both authors produced work that has had mixed reviews….”
— quoted from “Chapter I. Loomings” in Moby Dick, or The Whale by Herman Melville
Please join me today (Wednesday, January 3rd) at 4:30 PM or 7:15 PM for a (virtual or in-person) yoga practice.You must be registered to attend in person. 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 or (for a slightly faster reply) you can email myra(at) ajoyfulpractice.com.
Wednesday’s playlist is available on YouTube and Spotify. [Look for “01032021 Melville Sails Tolkien Beginnings”]
NOTE: The YouTube playlist has been updated for continuity of timing.
“‘Nobody else calls us hobbits; we call ourselves that,’ said Pippin….
‘I’ll call you Merry and Pippin, if you please – nice names. For I am not going to tell you my name, not yet at any rate.’ A queer half-knowing, half-humorous look came with a green flicker into his eyes. ‘For one thing it would take a long while: my name is growing all the time, and I’ve lived a very long, long time; so my name is like a story. Real names tell you the story of things they belong to in my language, in the Old Entish as you might say. It is a lovely language, but it takes a very long time saying anything in it, because we do not say anything in it, unless it is worth taking a long time to say, and to listen to.’”
— Pippin and Merry meeting “Treebeard” in “Book 4, Chapter 4: Treebeard” in The Two Towers (Volume 2 of the Lord of the Rings) by J. R. R. Tolkien
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.)
May you be safe and protected, during the 16 Days of Activism Against Gender-based Violence (November 25th – December 10th) and on all the other days of your life.
For Those Who Missed It: The following was originally posted in 2020. Some sections have been edited to bring the context into the present.
“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 each 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 are 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, 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, to 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 thing 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 all were in 2020), is that people’s best and worst qualities get exaggerated. It becomes harder, sometimes impossible, to avoid conflict. 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 ever since the beginning of 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 a pandemic. However, it’s harder to do these things if you are in prison or in the middle of a hostage situation… or a war — 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 on 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 years, 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 (Saturday, December 2nd) at 12:00 PM, for a 90-minute yoga practice on Zoom. 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 or by emailing myra (at) ajoyfulpractice.com.
Saturday’s playlist is available on YouTube and Spotify. [Look for “12022020 Ann P’s Beautiful Singing”]
“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
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.)
### HOW AWARE ARE YOU THAT YOU’RE BREATHING? (How about now) ###
“[Public health researcher Arline Geronimus from the University of Michigan] coined a term for this chronic stress — she calls it ‘weathering,’ which, she says, ‘literally wears down your heart, your arteries, your neuroendocrine systems, … all your body systems so that in effect, you become chronologically old at a young age.’ She writes about the phenomenon in her new book, Weathering: The Extraordinary Stress of Ordinary Life in an Unjust Society.”
— quoted from the NPR: Fresh Air segment entitled “How poverty and racism ‘weather’ the body, accelerating aging and disease” by Dave Davies
It’s that time of year, again, Hurricane Season. As people in Bermuda battle Hurricane Franklin (currently Category 4, but still moving) and people on the west coast of Florida are preparing for Idalia (currently Category 3, but still moving and growing), we mark the anniversary of some of the most destructive and deadline hurricanes making landfall in 2005 (Katrina, Category 5); 2017 (Harvey, Category 4, on its fifth landfall); and 2021 (Ida, Category 4). Not to mention Hurricane Andrew (Category 5), which dissipated today in 1992, and Hurricane Maria, Category 5, which hit Puerto Rico in 2017.
Just like there is a difference between the weather (short-term changes in the atmosphere) and the climate (atmospheric changes over decades), there is a difference between ‘weathering’ and weathering the storm. The latter is about how we recover from temporary setbacks, stress, and single moments of trauma. The former, however, is about what happens when someone experiences chronic stress without periods of relief and recovery. As much as we need to prepare for dragons and as much as we need to be there for each other, we also need to consider how natural disasters (not to mention man-made disasters) affect our ability to withstand trauma – and what we can do to weather the storm.
“‘It’s not that every Black person has more damage than every white person,’ [Geronimus] says. ‘It’s really about how much stress versus social support you get in your everyday life.’”
— quoted from the NPR: Fresh Air segment entitled “How poverty and racism ‘weather’ the body, accelerating aging and disease” by Dave Davies
Please join me today (Tuesday, August 29th) at 12:00 PM or 7:15 PM for a yoga practice on Zoom. 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 or (for a slightly faster reply) you can email myra(at) ajoyfulpractice.com.
Tuesday’s playlist is available on YouTubeand Spotify. [Look for “08292020 Katrina, Harvey…”]
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.)
### TAKE AN AX OR A HAMMER IF YOU GO TO THE ROOF. ###
For Those Who Missed It: The following was originally posted in January 2021 and re-posted in 2022.I have made some slight revisions and updated some links and class details.
“Consider the subtleness of the sea; how its most dreaded creatures glide under water, unapparent for the most part, and treacherously hidden beneath the loveliest tints of azure. Consider also the devilish brilliance and beauty of many of its most remorseless tribes, as the dainty embellished shape of many species of sharks. Consider, once more, the universal cannibalism of the sea; all whose creatures prey upon each other, carrying on eternal war since the world began.
Consider all this; and then turn to the green, gentle, and most docile earth; consider them both, the sea and the land; and do you not find a strange analogy to something in yourself? For as this appalling ocean surrounds the verdant land, so in the soul of man there lies one insular Tahiti, full of peace and joy, but encompassed by all the horrors of the half-known life. God keep thee! Push not off from that isle, thou canst never return!”
– quoted from “Chapter LVIII. Brit” in Moby Dick, or The Whale by Herman Melville
On more than one occasion, I have compared breathing to our “own personal ocean.” I even once honored one of my teachers by sharing that at the end of her classes people felt like there were floating on a surfboard after a spending a whole day riding the waves; muscles completely relaxed, the mind-body completely one with the rising and falling of the waves as they ebb and flow. Those are just my words to express very common experiences. And, before you ask; no, I don’t actually surf. I have, however, spent all day, for several days, learning how to sail and much of my young life playing and swimming in the ocean water of the Gulf. I also read a lot. And, the way the brain works, it’s not uncommon for me to make the visceral connection between something I’ve done and something I’ve read.
It happens with the very best of books: we find ourselves in the middle of a grand adventure, full of pirates, mutineers, and cannibals, or elves, dwarfs, and hobbits. There may be dragons to slay, train, or befriend; there may be fire on the mountaintop; there may be rings of temptation or friendship; there may be wagers in the middle of battles and so much merriment we can barely contain the laughter that pops out loudly enough that we find ourselves, suddenly, back in the our ordinary lives.
“Certainly it reminds me very much of Bilbo in the last years, before he went away. He used often to say there was only one Road; that it was like a great river: its springs were at every doorstep, and every path was its tributary. ‘It’s a dangerous business, Frodo, going out of your door,’ he used to say. ‘You step into the Road, and if you don’t keep your feet, there is no knowing where you might be swept off to. Do you realize that this is the very path that goes through Mirkwood, and that if you let it, it might take you to the Lonely Mountain or even further and to worse places?’ He used to say that on the path outside the front door at Bag End, especially after he had been out for a long walk.’”
– Frodo reminiscing with Sam and Pippin in “Book 1, Chapter 3: Three is Company” in The Fellowship of the Ring (Volume 1 of the Lord of the Rings) by J. R. R. Tolkien
The thing we sometimes forget is that our ordinary lives can not only lead us to great adventures, they can themselves be great adventures. We may not, as a young Herman Melville did when he set sail for the South Seas today in 1841, find ourselves actually taking part in a mutiny; landing in a Tahitian jail; escaping from that same jail; and then wandering around the island for two years before serendipitously befriending another great literary mind. We may not, as J. R. R. Tolkien was today in 1892, be born into a family of clock, watch, and piano makers; have an Aunt Jane who lived on a farm called Bag End (with no reference to us); and have cousins named Mary and Marjorie who made up a language called “Animalic” (inspiring us to make up our own languages); nor might we spend our adulthood in close friendships with some of the greatest literary minds of our time; and neither might we share those friendships with our son. Still, just as Melville and Tolkien did, we could write about our own lives and life experiences in a way that (sometimes) entertained and amused others. I say “sometimes,” because both authors produced work that has had mixed reviews.
While Melville’s first two sea-based novels met with quite a bit of success, his third book was so poorly received he said that he wrote the fourth and fifth just for the money. His sixth novel, Moby Dick, or The Whale, was first published in London in three installments and is now easily considered his most famous novel, but it was a critical flop when first published. On the flip side, Tolkien was surprised that his first book of fiction, The Hobbit, Or There and Back Again, turned out to be such a hit… with children – and was later surprised that he and his work inspired a very passionate, loyal, and scholastic fan base. Even though his books were heavily influenced by his Catholic upbringing, his experiences at war, and his fascination with all things mythical and mystical, he was not always a fan of other work in the “fantasy adventure” genre and thought people read way too much into his books.
“Call me Ishmael”
– quoted from “Chapter I. Loomings” in Moby Dick, or The Whale by Herman Melville
“‘Nobody else calls us hobbits; we call ourselves that,’ said Pippin….
‘I’ll call you Merry and Pippin, if you please – nice names. For I am not going to tell you my name, not yet at any rate.’ A queer half-knowing, half-humorous look came with a green flicker into his eyes. ‘For one thing it would take a long while: my name is growing all the time, and I’ve lived a very long, long time; so my name is like a story. Real names tell you the story of things they belong to in my language, in the Old Entish as you might say. It is a lovely language, but it takes a very long time saying anything in it, because we do not say anything in it, unless it is worth taking a long time to say, and to listen to.’”
– Pippin and Merry meeting “Treebeard” in “Book 4, Chapter 4: Treebeard” in The Two Towers (Volume 2 of the Lord of the Rings) by J. R. R. Tolkien
Remember that, in the yoga tradition, our ability to combine meaning with sound, remember and share the combination, and create and share a visual representation of the combination of sound and meaning all fall into one of the “powers unique to humans;” and, as I mentioned yesterday, the brain likes naming things. So, there is great power in a name. J. R. R. Tolkien was very clear about this on more than one occasion in his books and the idea of words being powerful is further emphasized by the fact that he made up languages to solidify the cultures of the different characters he created. Herman Melville, on the other hand, started off his most well-known novel with the introduction and naming of a character that plays a major role in the telling of the story, but a minor one in the action.
The opening line to Moby Dick, or The Whale is easily in the top 5 most well-known (and quoted) opening lines of fiction. It is extra interesting when we consider the name (Ishmael) as it is connected to the Abrahamic religions. First, the name is often associated with people of little means and few (blood) relational ties – and Melville’s narrator explains that he was both, at the time of the story, “having little or no money in my purse and nothing particular to interest me on shore[.]” Second, the name itself can be translated into English as “God has hearkened” – meaning “God (has) listened.” Which begs the question, how can we (mere mortals) not listen?
“‘I wish it need not have happened in my time,’ said Frodo.
‘So do I,’ said Gandalf, ‘and so do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given, us. And already, Frodo, our time is beginning to look black. The Enemy is fast becoming very strong. His plans are far from ripe, I think, but they are ripening. We shall be hard put to it. We should be very hard put to it, even if it were not for this dreadful chance.’”
– quoted from “Book 1, Chapter 2: The Shadow of the Past” in The Fellowship of the Ring (Volume 1 of the Lord of the Rings) by J. R. R. Tolkien
“I try all things; I achieve what I can.”
– quoted from “Chapter LXXIX. The Prairie” in Moby Dick, or The Whale by Herman Melville
In a normal year (depending on which study you read and the time period studied), only about 20% – 40% of people who make New Year’s resolutions actually achieve their desired goals. I know that’s a big gap, but either way you look at it over half of people who make resolutions don’t follow through. There are all kinds of explanations for this, and all kinds of “life hacks” to improve your odds, but ultimately it all comes down to little things. Little things and baby steps can make a big difference. They keep us focused on our intentions and they keep us progressing on the right track – even when there’s a detour. Little things and baby steps even help us appreciate the detour that is actually the scenic route. As we leave a year that was hard for just about everyone – and figure out a way to look forward to what’s to come – I wouldn’t be surprised if the odds are stacked against us.
Daunting thought I know. But, as Tolkien reminds us (in The Hobbit, Or There and Back Again), “It does not do to leave a live dragon out of your calculations, if you live near him.” So, think for a moment about the fact that something as small and powerful as a word, or a name, can change the odds in your favor. Now ask yourself: What name would you choose for yourself to indicate how you want to move through this New Year? What’s you symbol, what’s your sign, for this new beginning? What will be your own personal reminder throughout the year and thus, at the end of the year, part of your story?
“I know not all that may be coming, but be it what it will, I’ll go to it laughing.”
– quoted from “Chapter XXXIX. First Night-Watch: Fore-Top (Stubb solus, and mending a brace)” in Moby Dick, or The Whale by Herman Melville
“‘No!” said Thorin. ‘There is more in you of good than you know, child of the kindly West. Some courage and some wisdom, blended in measure. If more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world. But sad or merry, I must leave it now. Farewell!’”
– quoted from “Chapter XVIII: The Return” in The Hobbit, Or There and Back Again by J. R. R. Tolkien
Even though many, maybe most, are still struggling with all those we’ve lost and everything we experienced, these last few years have reinforced the value of friendship, fellowship, kinship and a good laugh shared at the expense of no one. They have also made people reevaluate their values – although, again, this is one with which some are still struggling. But, no matter where you are in your journey, I encourage you to never underestimate the power of being nice, smiling, and eating a second dinner (and then dancing or walking it off, you know, Hobbit style).
Keeping that in mind, I just want to say, for the record, that I have not forgotten about those of y’all who are counting the “Days of Christmas.” To catch up, today is the 9th or 10th day (depending on when you start counting). According to the catechism myth attached to the “12 Days of Christmas” song, the gifts for these days translates to: “a partridge in a pear tree” for Jesus (and the cross); “two turtle doves” representing the Old and New Testament; “three French Hens” for the theological virtues of Faith, Hope, and Charity (Love); “four calling birds” for the four canonical New Testament Gospels (or their corresponding evangelicals, Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John); “five gold rings” are the first Five Books of the Hebrew Bible and the Christian Old Testament (which provide the back story for the three Abrahamic religions); “six geese a-laying” for the six days of creation; “seven swans a-swimming,” the consistently most expensive gift, stand for the seven gifts of the Holy Spirit (wisdom, understanding, knowledge, counsel, fortitude, piety, and fear of the Lord) or the seven sacraments (Baptism, Eucharist, Confirmation, Reconciliation, Anointing of the Six, Marriage, and Ordination); “eight maids a-milking” for the eight beatitudes (or blessings); “nine ladies dancing” for the nine fruits of the Holy Spirit; and “ten lords a-leaping” for the ten commandments.
Note, again, that there are different versions of the list and the last four or five days worth of gifts deviate the most (in type of gift and order) from one version to another – which might be the cause of the effect of people getting all mixed up. In fact, The Journal of American Folk-lore, Volume XXX, No. CXVII (published July-September 1917, edited by Franz Boas), features an article on “Ballads and Songs” (edited by G. L. Kittredge) specifically listing a wide variety of versions that include (but are not limited to): “some part of a juniper tree;” “a-bleating lambs;” “a-bleating rams;” “fiddlers fiddling;” “bulls a-roaring;” “stags a-leaping;” “silver florins;” “golden pippins;” “hounds a-howling” – and a 78-year old singer from Massachusetts who, according to assistant editor Kittredge, forgot the eighth day gift on December 30, 1877.
“But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. Against such things there is no law.”
– The Epistle of Paul the Apostle to the Galatians (2:22 – 5:23, NIV)
Please join me today (Tuesday, January 3rd) at 12:00 PM or 7:15 PM for a yoga practice on Zoom. 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 belowor (for a slightly faster reply) you can email me at myra (at) ajoyfulpractice.com.
Tuesday’s playlist is available on YouTube and Spotify. [Look for “01032021 Melville Sails Tolkien Beginnings”]
“It is a way I have of driving off the spleen, and regulating the circulation. Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth; whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before coffin warehouses, and bringing up the rear of every funeral I meet; and especially whenever my hypos get such an upper hand of me, that it requires a strong moral principle to prevent me from deliberately stepping into the street, and methodically knocking people’s hats off – then, I account it high time to get to sea as soon as I can. This is my substitute for pistol and ball. With a philosophical flourish Cato throws himself upon his sword; I quietly take to the ship.”
– quoted from “Chapter I. Loomings” in Moby Dick, or The Whale by Herman Melville
“Not all those who wander are lost.”
– quoted from a letter dated “Midyear’s Day, Shire Year 1418” from Gandalf to Frodo, delivered by Strider/Aragon/Elessar in “Book 1, Chapter 10: Strider” in The Fellowship of the Ring (Volume 1 of the Lord of the Rings) by J. R. R. Tolkien
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.)
The following was originally posted in January 2021. I do not typically use music for the Monday night practice associated with Common Ground Meditation Center, but I have left the playlist links for this post.
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.
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.]
“Consider the subtleness of the sea; how its most dreaded creatures glide under water, unapparent for the most part, and treacherously hidden beneath the loveliest tints of azure. Consider also the devilish brilliance and beauty of many of its most remorseless tribes, as the dainty embellished shape of many species of sharks. Consider, once more, the universal cannibalism of the sea; all whose creatures prey upon each other, carrying on eternal war since the world began.
Consider all this; and then turn to the green, gentle, and most docile earth; consider them both, the sea and the land; and do you not find a strange analogy to something in yourself? For as this appalling ocean surrounds the verdant land, so in the soul of man there lies one insular Tahiti, full of peace and joy, but encompassed by all the horrors of the half-known life. God keep thee! Push not off from that isle, thou canst never return!”
– quoted from “Chapter LVIII. Brit” in Moby Dick, or The Whale by Herman Melville
On more than one occasion, I have compared breathing to our “own personal ocean.” I even once honored one of my teachers by sharing that at the end of her classes people felt like there were floating on a surfboard after a spending a whole day riding the waves; muscles completely relaxed, the mind-body completely one with the rising and falling of the waves as they ebb and flow. Those are just my words to express very common experiences. And, before you ask; no, I don’t actually surf. I have, however, spent all day, for several days, learning how to sail and much of my young life playing and swimming in the ocean water of the Gulf. I also read a lot. And, the way the brain works, it’s not uncommon for me to make the visceral connection between something I’ve done and something I’ve read.
It happens with the very best of books: we find ourselves in the middle of a grand adventure, full of pirates, mutineers, and cannibals, or elves, dwarfs, and hobbits. There may be dragons to slay, train, or befriend; there may be fire on the mountaintop; there may be rings of temptation or friendship; there may be wagers in the middle of battles and so much merriment we can barely contain the laughter that pops out loudly enough that we find ourselves, suddenly, back in the our ordinary lives.
“Certainly it reminds me very much of Bilbo in the last years, before he went away. He used often to say there was only one Road; that it was like a great river: its springs were at every doorstep, and every path was its tributary. ‘It’s a dangerous business, Frodo, going out of your door,’ he used to say. ‘You step into the Road, and if you don’t keep your feet, there is no knowing where you might be swept off to. Do you realize that this is the very path that goes through Mirkwood, and that if you let it, it might take you to the Lonely Mountain or even further and to worse places?’ He used to say that on the path outside the front door at Bag End, especially after he had been out for a long walk.’”
– Frodo reminiscing with Sam and Pippin in “Book 1, Chapter 3: Three is Company” in The Fellowship of the Ring (Volume 1 of the Lord of the Rings) by J. R. R. Tolkien
The thing we sometimes forget is that our ordinary lives can not only lead us to great adventures, they can themselves be great adventures. We may not, as a young Herman Melville did when he set sail for the South Seas today in 1841, find ourselves actually taking part in a mutiny; landing in a Tahitian jail; escaping from that same jail; and then wandering around the island for two years before serendipitously befriending another great literary mind. We may not, as J. R. R. Tolkien was today in 1892, be born into a family of clock, watch, and piano makers; have an Aunt Jane who lived on a farm called Bag End (with no reference to us); and have cousins named Mary and Marjorie who made up a language called “Animalic” (inspiring us to make up our own languages); nor might we spend our adulthood in close friendships with some of the greatest literary minds of our time; and neither might we share those friendships with our son. Still, just as Melville and Tolkien did, we could write about our own lives and life experiences in a way that (sometimes) entertained and amused others. I say “sometimes,” because both authors produced work that has had mixed reviews.
While Melville’s first two sea-based novels met with quite a bit of success, his third book was so poorly received he said that he wrote the fourth and fifth just for the money. His sixth novel, Moby Dick, or The Whale, was first published in London in three installments and is now easily considered his most famous novel, but it was a critical flop when first published. On the flip side, Tolkien was surprised that his first book of fiction, The Hobbit, Or There and Back Again, turned out to be such a hit… with children – and was later surprised that he and his work inspired a very passionate, loyal, and scholastic fan base. Even though his books were heavily influenced by his Catholic upbringing, his experiences at war, and his fascination with all things mythical and mystical, he was not always a fan of other work in the “fantasy adventure” genre and thought people read way too much into his books.
“Call me Ishmael”
– quoted from “Chapter I. Loomings” in Moby Dick, or The Whale by Herman Melville
“‘Nobody else calls us hobbits; we call ourselves that,’ said Pippin….
‘I’ll call you Merry and Pippin, if you please – nice names. For I am not going to tell you my name, not yet at any rate.’ A queer half-knowing, half-humorous look came with a green flicker into his eyes. ‘For one thing it would take a long while: my name is growing all the time, and I’ve lived a very long, long time; so my name is like a story. Real names tell you the story of things they belong to in my language, in the Old Entish as you might say. It is a lovely language, but it takes a very long time saying anything in it, because we do not say anything in it, unless it is worth taking a long time to say, and to listen to.’”
– Pippin and Merry meeting “Treebeard” in “Book 4, Chapter 4: Treebeard” in The Two Towers (Volume 2 of the Lord of the Rings) by J. R. R. Tolkien
Remember that, in the yoga tradition, our ability to combine meaning with sound, remember and share the combination, and create and share a visual representation of the combination of sound and meaning all fall into one of the “powers unique to humans;” and, as I mentioned yesterday, the brain likes naming things. So, there is great power in a name. J. R. R. Tolkien was very clear about this on more than one occasion in his books and the idea of words being powerful is further emphasized by the fact that he made up languages to solidify the cultures of the different characters he created. Herman Melville, on the other hand, started off his most well-known novel with the introduction and naming of a character that plays a major role in the telling of the story, but a minor one in the action.
The opening line to Moby Dick, or The Whale is easily in the top 5 most well-known (and quoted) opening lines of fiction. It is extra interesting when we consider the name (Ishmael) as it is connected to the Abrahamic religions. First, the name is often associated with people of little means and few (blood) relational ties – and Melville’s narrator explains that he was both, at the time of the story, “having little or no money in my purse and nothing particular to interest me on shore[.]” Second, the name itself can be translated into English as “God has hearkened” – meaning “God (has) listened.” Which begs the question, how can we (mere mortals) not listen?
“‘I wish it need not have happened in my time,’ said Frodo.
‘So do I,’ said Gandalf, ‘and so do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given, us. And already, Frodo, our time is beginning to look black. The Enemy is fast becoming very strong. His plans are far from ripe, I think, but they are ripening. We shall be hard put to it. We should be very hard put to it, even if it were not for this dreadful chance.’”
– quoted from “Book 1, Chapter 2: The Shadow of the Past” in The Fellowship of the Ring (Volume 1 of the Lord of the Rings) by J. R. R. Tolkien
“I try all things; I achieve what I can.”
– quoted from “Chapter LXXIX. The Prairie” in Moby Dick, or The Whale by Herman Melville
In a normal year (depending on which study you read and the time period studied), only about 20% – 40% of people who make New Year’s resolutions actually achieve their desired goals. I know that’s a big gap, but either way you look at it over half of people who make resolutions don’t follow through. There are all kinds of explanations for this, and all kinds of “life hacks” to improve your odds, but ultimately it all comes down to little things. Little things and baby steps can make a big difference. They keep us focused on our intentions and they keep us progressing on the right track – even when there’s a detour. Little things and baby steps even help us appreciate the detour that is actually the scenic route. As we leave a year that was hard for just about everyone – and figure out a way to look forward to what’s to come – I wouldn’t be surprised if the odds are stacked against us.
Daunting thought I know. But, as Tolkien reminds us (in The Hobbit, Or There and Back Again), “It does not do to leave a live dragon out of your calculations, if you live near him.” So, think for a moment about the fact that something as small and powerful as a word, or a name, can change the odds in your favor. Now ask yourself: What name would you choose for yourself to indicate how you want to move through this New Year? What’s you symbol, what’s your sign, for this new beginning? What will be your own personal reminder throughout the year and thus, at the end of the year, part of your story?
“I know not all that may be coming, but be it what it will, I’ll go to it laughing.”
– quoted from “Chapter XXXIX. First Night-Watch: Fore-Top (Stubb solus, and mending a brace)” in Moby Dick, or The Whale by Herman Melville
“‘No!” said Thorin. ‘There is more in you of good than you know, child of the kindly West. Some courage and some wisdom, blended in measure. If more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world. But sad or merry, I must leave it now. Farewell!’”
– quoted from “Chapter XVIII: The Return” in The Hobbit, Or There and Back Again by J. R. R. Tolkien
Even though many, maybe most, are still struggling with all those we’ve lost and everything we experienced, this last year reinforced the value of friendship, fellowship, kinship and a good laugh shared at the expense of no one. It also made people reevaluate their values – although, again, this is one with which some are still struggling. But, no matter where you are in your journey, I encourage you to never underestimate the power of being nice, smiling, and eating a second dinner (and then dancing or walking it off, you know, Hobbit style).
Keeping that in mind, I just want to say, for the record, that I have not forgotten about those of y’all who are counting the “Days of Christmas.” To catch up, today is the 9th or 10th day (depending on when you start counting). According to the catechism myth attached to the “12 Days of Christmas” song, the gifts for these days translates to: “a partridge in a pear tree” for Jesus (and the cross); “two turtle doves” representing the Old and New Testament; “three French Hens” for the theological virtues of Faith, Hope, and Charity (Love); “four calling birds” for the four canonical New Testament Gospels (or their corresponding evangelicals, Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John); “five gold rings” are the first Five Books of the Hebrew Bible and the Christian Old Testament (which provide the back story for the three Abrahamic religions); “six geese a-laying” for the six days of creation; “seven swans a-swimming,” the consistently most expensive gift, stand for the seven gifts of the Holy Spirit (wisdom, understanding, knowledge, counsel, fortitude, piety, and fear of the Lord) or the seven sacraments (Baptism, Eucharist, Confirmation, Reconciliation, Anointing of the Six, Marriage, and Ordination); “eight maids a-milking” for the eight beatitudes (or blessings); “nine ladies dancing” for the nine fruits of the Holy Spirit; and “ten lords a-leaping” for the ten commandments.
Note, again, that there are different versions of the list and the last four or five days worth of gifts deviate the most (in type of gift and order) from one version to another – which might be the cause of the effect of people getting all mixed up. In fact, The Journal of American Folk-lore, Volume XXX, No. CXVII (published July-September 1917, edited by Franz Boas), features an article on “Ballads and Songs” (edited by G. L. Kittredge) specifically listing a wide variety of versions that include (but are not limited to): “some part of a juniper tree;” “a-bleating lambs;” “a-bleating rams;” “fiddlers fiddling;” “bulls a-roaring;” “stags a-leaping;” “silver florins;” “golden pippins;” “hounds a-howling” – and a 78-year old singer from Massachusetts who, according to assistant editor Kittredge, forgot the eighth day gift on December 30, 1877.
“But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. Against such things there is no law.”
– The Epistle of Paul the Apostle to the Galatians (2:22 – 5:23, NIV)
There is no playlist for the Common Ground practice.
“It is a way I have of driving off the spleen, and regulating the circulation. Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth; whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before coffin warehouses, and bringing up the rear of every funeral I meet; and especially whenever my hypos get such an upper hand of me, that it requires a strong moral principle to prevent me from deliberately stepping into the street, and methodically knocking people’s hats off – then, I account it high time to get to sea as soon as I can. This is my substitute for pistol and ball. With a philosophical flourish Cato throws himself upon his sword; I quietly take to the ship.”
– quoted from “Chapter I. Loomings” in Moby Dick, or The Whale by Herman Melville
“Not all those who wander are lost.”
– quoted from a letter dated “Midyear’s Day, Shire Year 1418” from Gandalf to Frodo, delivered by Strider/Aragon/Elessar in “Book 1, Chapter 10: Strider” in The Fellowship of the Ring (Volume 1 of the Lord of the Rings) by J. R. R. Tolkien
“The dwarves were still passing the cup from hand to hand and talking delightedly of the recovery of their treasure, when suddenly a vast rumbling woke in the mountain underneath as if it was an old volcano that had made up its mind to start eruptions once again. The door behind them was pulled nearly to, and blocked from closing with a stone, but up the long tunnel came the dreadful echoes, from far down in the depths, of a bellowing and a trampling that made the ground beneath them tremble.
Then the dwarves forgot their joy and their confident boasts of a moment before and cowered down in fright. Smaug was still to be reckoned with. It does not do to leave a live dragon out of your calculations, if you live near him.”
– quoted from “Chapter XII. Inside Information” of The Hobbit, Or There and Back Again by J. R. R. Tolkien
Most times, when I refer to this passage from The Hobbit, Or There and Back Again, I only use the last sentence. It’s one that Dr. Daryl Koehn highlights in Living With the Dragon: Thinking and Acting Ethically in a World of Unintended Consequences, which is all about what happens when we don’t think things through – and, as I mentioned yesterday, I get a little hooked by the times when people (myself included) don’t think things through. However, when I went back to the original text, something else jumped out at me – two things actually: the joy of the dwarves, who are ever present in the moment (or swept up in the joy of the moment) and the anger of the awakening dragon, Smaug.
This year, however, I got to thinking about the fact that it’s not enough to recognize our fears and/or the fact that we may “live near a dragon.” We must also consider what type of person we are. After all, there are people who are so fearful of dragons that, if they can, they avoid living near them. Then there are those people who invite the proverbial dragon to a “tea” party. There are those for whom calculating the effects of living near a dragon are an afterthought. And, also, those who never calculate the effects of living near a dragon. Finally, there are those who are always prepared for the possibility of an enraged dragon waking up in their midst.
It is all too easy, to think that the different types of person/personality are based on experience. However, history teaches us otherwise. We can look at the current public health situation – not (just) the crisis; but the fact that people have had such different reactions and responses to the issues at hand. I could say the same about the issue of guns in America, mental health in America, homelessness in America, racism in America….
I could go on and on, but today – as it has been for the last 16 years, my thoughts make their way to Louisiana, Mississippi, and to the rest of the Gulf Coast. In this case, the dragon(s) is the hurricane(s) that hit today in 2005 (Katrina, Category 5) and 2017 (Harvey, Category 4, on its fifth landfall). Not to mention Hurricane Andrew (Category 5), which dissipated today in 1992. Then there is Hurricane Ida (currently, Category 4, but still moving) which is hitting landfall today… in the same areas that have been decimated not just by the big storm systems I mentioned above, but also by the “dragons” I mentioned in the previous paragraph.
If you’re not living near this particular dragon, you can send thoughts and prayers, make donations, volunteer, offer safe haven, and/or generate some good energy. But, keep in mind, for next time: None of us is on a “dragon-free” island in the middle of nowhere.
“‘I’d like to be better prepared. There’s a few things I’m thinking we could have done. But this storm came pretty quick, so you only have the time you have,’ [Nick] Mosca said.”
– quoted from the 08/29/2021 Huffington Post article “Hurricane Ida Intensifies To Category 4 As It Barrels Toward Gulf Coast” by Kevin McGill, Jay Reeves
Please join me for a 65-minute virtual yoga practice on Zoom today (Sunday, August 29th) at 2:30 PM.You can use the link from the “Class Schedules” calendar if you run into any problems checking into the class. You can always request an audio recording of this practice (or any practice) via email or a comment below.
Sunday’s playlist is available on YouTube and Spotify. [Look for “08292020 Katrina, Harvey…”]
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.)
[You can request an audio recording of Sunday’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.]
“Consider the subtleness of the sea; how its most dreaded creatures glide under water, unapparent for the most part, and treacherously hidden beneath the loveliest tints of azure. Consider also the devilish brilliance and beauty of many of its most remorseless tribes, as the dainty embellished shape of many species of sharks. Consider, once more, the universal cannibalism of the sea; all whose creatures prey upon each other, carrying on eternal war since the world began.
Consider all this; and then turn to the green, gentle, and most docile earth; consider them both, the sea and the land; and do you not find a strange analogy to something in yourself? For as this appalling ocean surrounds the verdant land, so in the soul of man there lies one insular Tahiti, full of peace and joy, but encompassed by all the horrors of the half-known life. God keep thee! Push not off from that isle, thou canst never return!”
– quoted from “Chapter LVIII. Brit” in Moby Dick, or The Whale by Herman Melville
On more than one occasion, I have compared breathing to our “own personal ocean.” I even once honored one of my teachers by sharing that at the end of her classes people felt like there were floating on a surfboard after a spending a whole day riding the waves; muscles completely relaxed, the mind-body completely one with the rising and falling of the waves as they ebb and flow. Those are just my words to express very common experiences. And, before you ask; no, I don’t actually surf. I have, however, spent all day, for several days, learning how to sail and much of my young life playing and swimming in the ocean water of the Gulf. I also read a lot. And, the way the brain works, it’s not uncommon for me to make the visceral connection between something I’ve done and something I’ve read.
It happens with the very best of books: we find ourselves in the middle of a grand adventure, full of pirates, mutineers, and cannibals, or elves, dwarfs, and hobbits. There may be dragons to slay, train, or befriend; there may be fire on the mountaintop; there may be rings of temptation or friendship; there may be wagers in the middle of battles and so much merriment we can barely contain the laughter that pops out loudly enough that we find ourselves, suddenly, back in the our ordinary lives.
“Certainly it reminds me very much of Bilbo in the last years, before he went away. He used often to say there was only one Road; that it was like a great river: its springs were at every doorstep, and every path was its tributary. ‘It’s a dangerous business, Frodo, going out of your door,’ he used to say. ‘You step into the Road, and if you don’t keep your feet, there is no knowing where you might be swept off to. Do you realize that this is the very path that goes through Mirkwood, and that if you let it, it might take you to the Lonely Mountain or even further and to worse places?’ He used to say that on the path outside the front door at Bag End, especially after he had been out for a long walk.’”
– Frodo reminiscing with Sam and Pippin in “Book 1, Chapter 3: Three is Company” in The Fellowship of the Ring (Volume 1 of the Lord of the Rings) by J. R. R. Tolkien
The thing we sometimes forget is that our ordinary lives can not only lead us to great adventures, they can themselves be great adventures. We may not, as a young Herman Melville did when he set sail for the South Seas today in 1841, find ourselves actually taking part in a mutiny; landing in a Tahitian jail; escaping from that same jail; and then wandering around the island for two years before serendipitously befriending another great literary mind. We may not, as J. R. R. Tolkien was today in 1892, be born into a family of clock, watch, and piano makers; have an Aunt Jane who lived on a farm called Bag End (with no reference to us); and have cousins named Mary and Marjorie who made up a language called “Animalic” (inspiring us to make up our own languages); nor might we spend our adulthood in close friendships with some of the greatest literary minds of our time; and neither might we share those friendships with our son. Still, just as Melville and Tolkien did, we could write about our own lives and life experiences in a way that (sometimes) entertained and amused others. I say “sometimes,” because both authors produced work that has had mixed reviews.
While Melville’s first two sea-based novels met with quite a bit of success, his third book was so poorly received he said that he wrote the fourth and fifth just for the money. His sixth novel, Moby Dick, or The Whale, was first published in London in three installments and is now easily considered his most famous novel, but it was a critical flop when first published. On the flip side, Tolkien was surprised that his first book of fiction, The Hobbit, Or There and Back Again, turned out to be such a hit… with children – and was later surprised that he and his work inspired a very passionate, loyal, and scholastic fan base. Even though his books were heavily influenced by his Catholic upbringing, his experiences at war, and his fascination with all things mythical and mystical, he was not always a fan of other work in the “fantasy adventure” genre and thought people read way too much into his books.
“Call me Ishmael”
– quoted from “Chapter I. Loomings” in Moby Dick, or The Whale by Herman Melville
“‘Nobody else calls us hobbits; we call ourselves that,’ said Pippin….
‘I’ll call you Merry and Pippin, if you please – nice names. For I am not going to tell you my name, not yet at any rate.’ A queer half-knowing, half-humorous look came with a green flicker into his eyes. ‘For one thing it would take a long while: my name is growing all the time, and I’ve lived a very long, long time; so my name is like a story. Real names tell you the story of things they belong to in my language, in the Old Entish as you might say. It is a lovely language, but it takes a very long time saying anything in it, because we do not say anything in it, unless it is worth taking a long time to say, and to listen to.’”
– Pippin and Merry meeting “Treebeard” in “Book 4, Chapter 4: Treebeard” in The Two Towers (Volume 2 of the Lord of the Rings) by J. R. R. Tolkien
Remember that, in the yoga tradition, our ability to combine meaning with sound, remember and share the combination, and create and share a visual representation of the combination of sound and meaning all fall into one of the “powers unique to humans;” and, as I mentioned yesterday, the brain likes naming things. So, there is great power in a name. J. R. R. Tolkien was very clear about this on more than one occasion in his books and the idea of words being powerful is further emphasized by the fact that he made up languages to solidify the cultures of the different characters he created. Herman Melville, on the other hand, started off his most well-known novel with the introduction and naming of a character that plays a major role in the telling of the story, but a minor one in the action.
The opening line to Moby Dick, or The Whale is easily in the top 5 most well-known (and quoted) opening lines of fiction. It is extra interesting when we consider the name (Ishmael) as it is connected to the Abrahamic religions. First, the name is often associated with people of little means and few (blood) relational ties – and Melville’s narrator explains that he was both, at the time of the story, “having little or no money in my purse and nothing particular to interest me on shore[.]” Second, the name itself can be translated into English as “God has hearkened” – meaning “God (has) listened.” Which begs the question, how can we (mere mortals) not listen?
“‘I wish it need not have happened in my time,’ said Frodo.
‘So do I,’ said Gandalf, ‘and so do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given, us. And already, Frodo, our time is beginning to look black. The Enemy is fast becoming very strong. His plans are far from ripe, I think, but they are ripening. We shall be hard put to it. We should be very hard put to it, even if it were not for this dreadful chance.’”
– quoted from “Book 1, Chapter 2: The Shadow of the Past” in The Fellowship of the Ring (Volume 1 of the Lord of the Rings) by J. R. R. Tolkien
“I try all things; I achieve what I can.”
– quoted from “Chapter LXXIX. The Prairie” in Moby Dick, or The Whale by Herman Melville
In a normal year (depending on which study you read and the time period studied), only about 20% – 40% of people who make New Year’s resolutions actually achieve their desired goals. I know that’s a big gap, but either way you look at it over half of people who make resolutions don’t follow through. There are all kinds of explanations for this, and all kinds of “life hacks” to improve your odds, but ultimately it all comes down to little things. Little things and baby steps can make a big difference. They keep us focused on our intentions and they keep us progressing on the right track – even when there’s a detour. Little things and baby steps even help us appreciate the detour that is actually the scenic route. As we leave a year that was hard for just about everyone – and figure out a way to look forward to what’s to come – I wouldn’t be surprised if the odds are stacked against us.
Daunting thought I know. But, as Tolkien reminds us (in The Hobbit, Or There and Back Again), “It does not do to leave a live dragon out of your calculations, if you live near him.” So, think for a moment about the fact that something as small and powerful as a word, or a name, can change the odds in your favor. Now ask yourself: What name would you choose for yourself to indicate how you want to move through this New Year? What’s you symbol, what’s your sign, for this new beginning? What will be your own personal reminder throughout the year and thus, at the end of the year, part of your story?
“I know not all that may be coming, but be it what it will, I’ll go to it laughing.”
– quoted from “Chapter XXXIX. First Night-Watch: Fore-Top (Stubb solus, and mending a brace)” in Moby Dick, or The Whale by Herman Melville
“‘No!” said Thorin. ‘There is more in you of good than you know, child of the kindly West. Some courage and some wisdom, blended in measure. If more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world. But sad or merry, I must leave it now. Farewell!’”
– quoted from “Chapter XVIII: The Return” in The Hobbit, Or There and Back Again by J. R. R. Tolkien
Even though many, maybe most, are still struggling with all those we’ve lost and everything we experienced, this last year reinforced the value of friendship, fellowship, kinship and a good laugh shared at the expense of no one. It also made people reevaluate their values – although, again, this is one with which some are still struggling. But, no matter where you are in your journey, I encourage you to never underestimate the power of being nice, smiling, and eating a second dinner (and then dancing or walking it off, you know, Hobbit style).
Keeping that in mind, I just want to say, for the record, that I have not forgotten about those of y’all who are counting the “Days of Christmas.” To catch up, today is the 9th or 10th day (depending on when you start counting). According to the catechism myth attached to the “12 Days of Christmas” song, the gifts for these days translates to: “a partridge in a pear tree” for Jesus (and the cross); “two turtle doves” representing the Old and New Testament; “three French Hens” for the theological virtues of Faith, Hope, and Charity (Love); “four calling birds” for the four canonical New Testament Gospels (or their corresponding evangelicals, Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John); “five gold rings” are the first Five Books of the Hebrew Bible and the Christian Old Testament (which provide the back story for the three Abrahamic religions); “six geese a-laying” for the six days of creation; “seven swans a-swimming,” the consistently most expensive gift, stand for the seven gifts of the Holy Spirit (wisdom, understanding, knowledge, counsel, fortitude, piety, and fear of the Lord) or the seven sacraments (Baptism, Eucharist, Confirmation, Reconciliation, Anointing of the Six, Marriage, and Ordination); “eight maids a-milking” for the eight beatitudes (or blessings); “nine ladies dancing” for the nine fruits of the Holy Spirit; and “ten lords a-leaping” for the ten commandments.
Note, again, that there are different versions of the list and the last four or five days worth of gifts deviate the most (in type of gift and order) from one version to another – which might be the cause of the effect of people getting all mixed up. In fact, The Journal of American Folk-lore, Volume XXX, No. CXVII (published July-September 1917, edited by Franz Boas), features an article on “Ballads and Songs” (edited by G. L. Kittredge) specifically listing a wide variety of versions that include (but are not limited to): “some part of a juniper tree;” “a-bleating lambs;” “a-bleating rams;” “fiddlers fiddling;” “bulls a-roaring;” “stags a-leaping;” “silver florins;” “golden pippins;” “hounds a-howling” – and a 78-year old singer from Massachusetts who, according to assistant editor Kittredge, forgot the eighth day gift on December 30, 1877.
“But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. Against such things there is no law.”
– The Epistle of Paul the Apostle to the Galatians (2:22 – 5:23, NIV)
“It is a way I have of driving off the spleen, and regulating the circulation. Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth; whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before coffin warehouses, and bringing up the rear of every funeral I meet; and especially whenever my hypos get such an upper hand of me, that it requires a strong moral principle to prevent me from deliberately stepping into the street, and methodically knocking people’s hats off – then, I account it high time to get to sea as soon as I can. This is my substitute for pistol and ball. With a philosophical flourish Cato throws himself upon his sword; I quietly take to the ship.”
– quoted from “Chapter I. Loomings” in Moby Dick, or The Whale by Herman Melville
“Not all those who wander are lost.”
– quoted from a letter dated “Midyear’s Day, Shire Year 1418” from Gandalf to Frodo, delivered by Strider/Aragon/Elessar in “Book 1, Chapter 10: Strider” in The Fellowship of the Ring (Volume 1 of the Lord of the Rings) by J. R. R. Tolkien
“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.”
(“Ramadan Mubarak, Blessed Ramadan!” to anyone who is observing Ramadan. I typically talk about Ramadan at the end of the season, so keep your eyes open.)
NOTE: Yes, another surprise! This post from Kiss My Asana 2016 was never posted in real time. In other words, it’s a bonus!)
“And so you have found out that secret – one of the deep secrets of Life – that all, that is really worth the doing, is what we do for others? Even as the old adage tells us, ‘What I spent, that I lost; what I gave that I had.’ Casuits have tried to twist ‘doing good’ into another form of ‘doing evil,’ and have said ‘you get pleasure yourself by giving this pleasure to another: so it is merely a refined kind of selfishness, as your own pleasure is a motive for what you do.’ I say ‘it is not selfishness, that my own pleasure should be a motive so long as it is not the motive that would outweigh the other, if the two come into collision?’ The ‘selfish man’ is he who would still do the thing, even if it harmed others, so long as it gave him pleasure; the ‘unselfish man’ is he who would still do the thing, even if it gave him no pleasure, so long as it pleased others. But, when both motives pull together, the ‘unselfish man’ is still the unselfish man, even though his own pleasure is one of his motives! I am very sure that God takes real pleasure in seeing his children happy!”
– from letter Lewis Carroll (author of Alice in Wonderland) wrote to the actress Ellen Terry, dated November 13, 1890*
There’s a certain family, with siblings all around the world, who are, even as you read this, pointing out that Yogi #30 (Anthony) is not “Bonus.” And, I want to go on record as saying, “I know that, however…” He and Yogi #31 (Paula) are the bonus yogis for a Kiss My Asana yogathon offering that started four years ago (2016) when the yogathon was in February, during Leap Year, and I only needed 29 yogis. You can say I’m four years, 2 months, and 2 weeks late with this post (or maybe, just a week, or 2, late), but none of that changes the fact that these two yogis are two of the kindest people you’re ever going to meet.
First and foremost, let me point out that Anthony and Paula don’t really know me. They know of me. We’ve met once, and that was the one time they took a class from me. If memory serves, I’ve answered yoga questions for Anthony, over the telephone, a time or two. But, they live in another part of the country and they found out about the 2016 Kiss My Asana yogathon from a friend of mine. The friend told them that making these video would help a lot of people. So, simply out of the kindness of their hearts and without having a whole lot of knowledge about Mind Body Solutions or how making the video would help people do yoga, they answered my questions. And then, they waited to see what would happen.
And they waited…
And they waited…
And they waited…
(but only through 398 days of summer)
“I’ve got a man to stick it out And make a home from a rented house oh oh oh And we’ll collect the moments one by one I guess that’s how the future’s done oh oh oh
How many acres how much light Tucked in the woods and out of sight Talk to the neighbours and tip my cap On a little road barely on the map
Old dirt road (mushaboom, mushaboom) Knee deep snow (mushaboom, mushaboom)”
– from “Mushaboom” by Feist
And, while they were waiting, life changed. Anthony and Paula got married. Then, as they were still waiting, they had a baby. A very lucky baby who will spend her life surrounded by kindness and love, an appreciation for the great outdoors, and an appreciation for all that the world – and all the different cultures in the world – have to offer. (A baby who will be happy and cherished even when she starts saying the very word her papa tries not to say in yoga!)
All the while they waited they continued their adventures in the mountains, in the world, and in yoga. My guess is that they didn’t give these videos a second thought.
At first glance, Anthony isn’t the person you would automatically assume practices yoga. Yet, he’s the first to admit that he has received a lot of physical and mental benefit from his practice. He’s even encouraged others to practice. If you read the description in her video, you will see that I mention clapping for Paula. She is a nurse and, although I haven’t spoken to her recently, my guess is that even if she isn’t able to actively practice yoga right now, she is still benefiting from the practice.
I mentioned in the last 2016 Kiss My Asana post (two weeks ago) that there’s a method in the madness. But, I’m off schedule and, you might think that throws everything off. It does and it doesn’t, but (for those of you who are curious) here’s the bonus behind-the-scenes look at why I do what I do:
If I were teaching today, it would be a bonus day of teaching and I’d either carry forward the themes of love, kindness, and compassion from earlier this week – with a little (double bonus) focus on mastering the beautiful art of humility – or I would take a look at George Lucas’s view of the Hero’s Journey (as today is GL’s 76th birthday). Had I stayed on schedule, this year, I would have posted this on the birthday of the author Annie Dillard, who grew up in the Blue Ridge Mountains, or given myself a little grace and posted this during International Nurses Week, a fitting tribute to Yogi #31.
Back in 2016, had I stayed on schedule, Anthony and Paula’s videos would have been posted on March 1st, Saint David’s Day. Saint David is the patron saint of Wales, poets, and vegetarians. He is associated with dragons and doves and his miracles include healing the sick and (as I like to joke) creating mountains out of molehill. According to the legends, Saint David was giving a sermon to a large crowd, which was having a hard time hearing him, when a dove landed on his shoulder and then, suddenly, the ground beneath him rose and lifted him up above the crowd.
Mountains, doves, miraculous healings… – Can you see why I thought March 1st would be a good day for this pair? But, there are also dragons. So, on Saint David’s Day I usually quote Sarah Ban Breathnach (who wrote in Simple Abundance, “Always remember it’s simply not an adventure worth telling if there aren’t any dragons.”) and conclude with J. R. R. Tolkien (who wrote in The Hobbit, or There and Back Again, “It does not do to leave a live dragon out of your calculations if you live near him.”). Today, however, we’ll wrap up with a quote inspired by Tolkien:
“Some believe it is only great power that can hold evil in check, but that is not what I have found. It is the small everyday deeds of ordinary folk that keep the darkness at bay. Small acts of kindness and love.”
– from the movie version of The Hobbit, or There and Back Again, adapted by Peter Jackson
Mind Body Solutions, and the work they do to help those who have experienced trauma, loss, and disability find new ways to live by integrating both mind and body, thrives because of “small everyday deeds of ordinary folk…. Small acts of kindness and love.” That’s what gets a person with limited mobility to their yoga class; that’s what inspires a person using a BiPAP machine to keep practicing; that’s what gets the caregiver to get up every morning and take it day-by-day, moment-by-moment; that’s what gets a teacher in Rochester, New York or somewhere in England to study adaptive yoga in Minnesota; that’s what got Matthew Sanford to load up his lap with mats and roll into Courage Center for the first time; that’s what gets every single one of us coming back to the mat, knowing that a bad day off the mat can turn into a good day on the mat, because we will be surrounded by “ordinary folk” and “small acts of kindness and love.”
A Big Hallelujah Asana / Five-Pointed Smile goes to Anthony and Paula, as well as to Meghan and Kelsey (who were the ordinary folk in the background rocking their own small acts of kindness and love). Thank you, also, to everyone who did yoga, shared yoga, and helped others during this year’s yogathon (and the previous 6 yogathons). Friday is the last day to donate and I have one more Kiss My Asana post for y’all. Stay tuned!
*In 1998, November 13th became World Kindness Day (so far as I know, it’s just a happy coincidence that someone picked the date that coincided with Lewis Carroll’s letter on kindness…but I could be wrong about that.)
A Joyful Practice 