“L’Shana Tovah U’Metukah!” to anyone who is observing Rosh Hashanah and many blessings to all!
For Those Who Missed It: The following compilation was originally posted in 2022. Class and date-related details (as well as some formatting) have been updated.
“I dwell in Possibility –
A fairer House than Prose –
More numerous of Windows –
Superior – for Doors –”
— quoted from the poem “I dwell in Possibility (466)” by Emily Dickinson
Consider the possibilities of a do over. We all make mistakes; we all choose one path and then (even if it works out) consider what might have been; and we all have moments when we want a do over. And, on a certain level, we get one: every time we inhale, every time we exhale.
Every time you inhale, every time you exhale; something begins and something ends. Every time you exhale, every time you inhale; one year ends and a new one begins. We don’t necessarily think about time and life that way – but it doesn’t make it any less true.
Rosh Hashanah, “the the Head of the Year,” began at sunset on Friday night. So, for Jewish people around the world (and for people who observe the commanded holidays outlined in Deuteronomy), today is the second day of the New Year and the second day of the High Holidays; the “Ten Days of Atonement,” also known as the “Ten Days of Awe” which culminate with Yom Kippur, “The Day of Atonement.” It is one of the holiest times of the year and is celebrated by people who might not typical go to services. Unlike a secular new year, it is more than a celebration – it is an observation: a time for reflection, remembrance, and repentance.
“Who will be calm and who will be tormented? Who will become poor and who will get rich? Who will be made humble and who will be raised up? But teshuvah and tefillah and tzedakah [repentance and prayer and righteous acts] deflect the evil of the decree.”
— quoted from the poem “Unetaneh Tokef” (“Let Us Speak of the Awesomeness”)
Even if you are not Jewish, even if you’ve never attended services during the High Holidays, there’s a good chance you’ve heard some of the words from the liturgical poem “Unetaneh Tokef” (“Let Us Speak of the Awesomeness”). It begins with the belief that on Rosh Hashanah G-d writes people’s names and fates in the “Book of Life” and that book is sealed on Yom Kippur. Then there is a litany of fates. Some people will go to services specifically to hear the poem, some will avoid it (as parts are explicit and can be triggering). Many of the fates are included in a beautifully haunting song by a young Leonard Cohen – which will stick with you! However, outside of the tradition, people don’t really focus on the end of the poem, which highlights the fact that (in theory) we each have 10 days to ensure our name and fate are sealed favorably. The end of the poem outlines three key elements to the observation of this holiest of times. These three key elements can also be described as key elements to living a good life: repentance/return, prayer (or reflection), and righteous acts.
That first one, repentance, is really huge. It’s one of the key elements of this time. Teshuvah (or Tchuvah), the Hebrew word for “repentance,” is not about self flagellation; it’s not about beating yourself up. It’s up recognizing when you’ve made a mistake – even the same mistake again and again – and deciding you’re going to STOP making that mistake. Then you express some REMORSE and, how ever possible, actually articulate or VERBALIZE that remorse. This is a time when people are very deliberately, very intentionally, asking for and/or offering forgiveness. Then, because there’s a good chance the mistake is a habit – maybe even a deeply ingrained habit that forms a “mental impression” (samskara) and a literal “dwelling” (vasana) – people PLAN how they want to move forward with their lives. They consider not only what they want to turn away from, but also what they are turning away from – or, even better, what they are turning towards.
Turning towards something, returning, is the active ability of coming, going, sending, or putting something back to a place or activity. A return is also something one gets from an investment of time or money. In Hebrew, teshuvah can also be translated as “return.” Many secular/cultural Jews return to their homes, their families, and the traditions of their birth during the High Holidays. When they return physically and spiritually, they also engage in the possibility of returning to their best version of themselves and the possibility of living their best lives. This is not taken lightly, nor should it be. This is an invitation to the rest of your life!
RSVP
— Acronym for Répondez s’il vous plaît [French for “Respond if you please”]
In her vlog “Lori, Almost Live,” Rebbetzin Lori Palatnik once talked about how you accept the invitation to the rest of your life the same way you would accept any other invitation: You RSVP. Except, the steps you take to RSVP for your life are slightly different (as you can see in her video and by the words in all caps above). Yes, it’s true, when we get a regular invitation we consider all kinds of things, but today I want you to think about two things:
First, in what possibilities do you want to dwell?
Second, how do you “RSVP” so you can show up to your life?
Please join me for a 65-minute virtual yoga practice on Zoom today (Sunday, September 17th) at 2:30 PM.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.
Sunday’s playlist is available on YouTube and Spotify. [Look for “Rosh Hashanah 2021”]
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 YOUR NAME BE WRITTEN & SEALED IN THE BOOK OF LIFE ###
“L’Shana Tovah U’Metukah!” to anyone who is observing Rosh Hashanah and many blessings to all!
This is a “missing” post for Saturday, September 16th. NOTE: Portions of the following were previously posted in a (slightly) different context. You can request an audio recording of either 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.
“Although both kriya and karma can be translated as ‘action,’ there is a vast difference between them. Both are derived from the verb root kri…, which means ‘to do.’ Kriya refers to an action in process as well as to the dynamic force propelling the action. Karma refers to completed action. Unless a fresh wave of action is exerted on karma, it remains unchanged. Karma is an unchanging field of completed action waiting to be harvested by the performer of the action, while kriya is ever-moving, ever-changing energy. Kriya yoga is yoga in action, not yoga of action, and should not be confused with karma yoga.”
— quoted from the commentary on Yoga Sūtra 2.1 from The Practice of the Yoga Sutra: Sadhana Pada by Pandit Rajmani Tigunait, PhD
According to the Hebrew calendar, Rosh Hashanah, “the Head of the Year” started at sunset on Friday night (making Saturday the first day of the new year and beginning of the High Holidays). The High Holidays, also known as the “Ten Days of Awe” or “Ten Days of Repentance” culminate with Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement and are one of the holiest times of the year. This period is so auspicious that it is celebrated by very devout people as well as by people who might not typical go to services. Unlike a secular new year, this is more than a celebration — it is an observation: a time for reflection, remembrance, and repentance.
For Jewish people around the world (and for people who observe the commanded holidays outlined in Deuteronomy), the High Holidays are time for a specific kind of action. This is a time to actively get ready for a new year of life — beginning anew, with a clean slate — and that requires some effort (to combat the effort). From a yoga (and yoga philosophy) perspective, we can think of this as kriyā to combat karma — in other words “doing” to combat “what has been done.”
In Yoga Sūtra 2.1, Patanjali defined kriyā yoga (“union in action”) as a combination of the final three niyamas (internal “observations”): discipline/austerity, self-study, and trustful surrender to a higher power (other than one’s self). In this context, kriyā yoga is a purification ritual. It is an opportunity to let go of what no longer serves us and move with more strength, focus, and determination. In the Kundalini Yoga tradition, “kriyā” is the term applied to sequences with specific energetic intentions. I think either understanding can be considered a prescription and, as I often mention, there are rituals and traditions outside of yoga that fall within this rubric.
“Who will be calm and who will be tormented? Who will become poor and who will get rich? Who will be made humble and who will be raised up? But teshuvah and tefillah and tzedakah [repentance and prayer and righteous acts] deflect the evil of the decree.”
— quoted from the poem “Unetaneh Tokef” (“Let Us Speak of the Awesomeness”)
Even if you are not Jewish, even if you’ve never attended services during the High Holidays, there’s a good chance you’ve heard some of the words from the liturgical poem “Unetaneh Tokef” (“Let Us Speak of the Awesomeness”). It begins with the belief that on Rosh Hashanah G-d writes people’s names and fates in the “Book of Life” and that the book is sealed on Yom Kippur. Then there is a litany of fates. Some people will go to services specifically to hear the poem, some will avoid it (as parts are explicit and can be triggering). Many of the fates are included in a beautifully haunting song by a young Leonard Cohen — which has a tendency to stick with you! However, outside of the tradition, people don’t really focus on the end of the poem, which highlights the fact that (in theory) we each have 10 days to ensure our name and fate are sealed favorably. The end of the poem outlines three key elements to the observation of this holiest of times. These three key elements can also be described as key elements to living a good life: repentance/return, prayer (or reflection), and righteous acts.
Teshuvah (or Tchuvah), Hebrew for “return” and also “repentance,” is not about self flagellation; it’s not about beating yourself up. It’s about recognizing when you’ve made a mistake — even the same mistake again and again — and then taking the steps to stop making the mistake, express remorse for making the mistake, and planning how to not make the mistake (again and again) in the future. It’s about returning to G-d, to community, and/or to your true self.
“After the day is gone we shall go out, breathe deeply, and look up – and there the stars will be, unchanged, unchangeable.”
— quoted from The Stars: A New Way to See Them by H. A. Rey
At the end of the day, we each have some work that only we can do. Sometimes, we can do that work all on our own (even though it may be easier in community). Sometimes, however, we need to actually ask for and/or offer forgiveness. Sometimes, we need the grace of an outside perspective, the insight of a someone who can help us see the light.
It is up to the Saturday “irregulars” to determine if I am succeeding or not, but one of my goals in focusing on the four kinds of kripa (“grace”) has been to convey that kripa — and, in particular, guru kripa — is an energy. It is an energy that can manifest in different ways, which means that “the remover of darkness” (or “light”), i.e., the guru, can show up in different ways and places. In other words, we can learn valuable lessons from a curious teacher (or two).
The following is an abridged (and slightly revised) version of a 2020 post.
“Now run along and play, but don’t get into trouble.’ George promised to be good. But it is easy for little monkeys to forget.”
— quoted from Curious George by Margaret and H. A. Rey
Hans Augusto Reyersbach, better known as H. A. Rey, was the author of The Stars: A New Way to See Them and the co-author of children’s books featuring Curious George and The Man in the Yellow Hat. Born today in 1898, he and his wife Margaret (born Margarete Elisabeth Waldstein, on May 16, 1906) were German Jews who originally met in their hometown of Hamburg, but then both ended up in Brazil and reconnected in Rio de Janeiro. It was in Brazil that H. A. changed his last name to Rey and Margarete changed her first name to Margaret. They married in Brazil and took a honeymoon cruise to Europe before settling in Paris, France. During the cruise, their pet marmoset monkeys died. These pets may have been the beginning of the idea that became George; because, when they settled in France, they began creating the drawings and stories that would become “Curious George and Friends.”
George, however, did not start off as “George.” Like the Reys, he went through a series of name changes, starting with “Fifi” and “Zozo.” He also has different names in different translations, including (but not limited to) Jordi (in Catalan), Peter Pedal (in Danish), Coco (in German), Golgol in Galacian), and Nicke Nyfiken (in Swedish). I am particular fond of “Peter Pedal,” because it makes me think of how Curious George, and his creators, escaped the Nazis. A back story that is as much of an adventure as the stories themselves.
“It seems ridiculous to be thinking about children’s books. [But] life goes on, the editors edit, the artists draw, even during wartime.”
— H. A. Rey
Margaret, who H. A. originally remembered as the kid sister who slid down banisters, ended up in Brazil specifically because she was escaping the Nazi’s rise of power in Germany. In 1939, the now married Reys wrote and illustrated a book called Rafi and the 9 Monkeys. From the beginning it was an equal collaboration, but only H. A.’s name appeared on the original publications. (On a side note, Rafi would become “Raffi” when the book was published in the United Kingdom and “Cecily” when it was published in the United States.) Rafi was a giraffe whose friends and family had been captured and placed in a zoo. She made friends with a family of nine monkeys — the most prominent of whom would become “George.”
By the time the war broke out, the Reys had been contracted to publish a book featuring the gregarious monkey. They were working on other books as well; however, in June of 1940, the couple decided to put everything on hold and flee from the Nazi invasion. H. A. built two bicycles and, taking little more than the drawings and manuscript for “Fifi,” they headed south. Their four-month journey eventually landed them in New York City, where the first Curious George book was published (in 1941).
One of the things that aided their escape was the fact that they were officially Brazilian citizens. Another thing that helped them was “Fifi.” At one point in their escape, an official suspected them of being German spies (because they were Jewish people with German accents and Brazilian visas), but let them go when he searched their belongings and found nothing more than a children’s story.
“George can do what kids can’t do. He can paint a room from the inside. He can hang from a kite in the sky. He can let the animals out of their pens on the farm. He can do all these naughty things that kids would like to do.”
— Margaret Rey
“Curious George does exactly what he’s supposed to do for his age and development (and species)! By nature and by name, he is curious. He explores his world fully and completely. This is his job as a young, continually developing little person, er, monkey. This is why my kids love the show–they relate so well to George’s genuinely curious nature and all of the honest (and funny) mistakes that ensue. But what I find most refreshing about ‘Curious George’ is The Man in the Yellow Hat.
The Man in the Yellow Hat never punishes George for his mistakes. He is more concerned with solving the problem. The man helps George put things away, fix things that broke, apologize to people who were involved in any indiscretions, and generally restore order.”
— quoted from “Why I Like Curious George” posted on the blog Parenting From Scratch by Kelly Bartlett
Saturday’s playlist is available on YouTube and Spotify. [Look for “Rosh Hashanah 2021”]
“Shana Tovah U’Metukah!” to anyone who is observing the High Holidays.
For Those Who Missed It:The following was originally posted in 5781/2020. Class and date-related details have been updated. An extra quote and a recent video have also been embedded within the main text.
“Why can’t we talk it over? Oh it seems to me That sorry seems to be the hardest word”
– quoted from “Sorry Seems to Be the Hardest Word” by Sir Elton John and Bernie Taupin
For years, I avoided saying the words, “I’m sorry.” It wasn’t that I never made a mistake or didn’t feel remorse about something I had said or done or even thought. Instead, I very deliberately, very intentionally, practiced expressing my remorse with other words. Because, despite the song and the old saying, “sorry” is a word I think it is far too easy for people to say.
We say we’re sorry when we accidentally bump into someone while walking or when we both reach for the same prop in a yoga class. We say “sorry” when we hit the wrong button on the elevator and the door closes on someone who was trying to catch it or when we don’t hold the door open for someone who has their hands full. We say “sorry” when we didn’t hear or understand something someone says and we say we’re sorry when we don’t want to do something that’s clearly not right for us to do. We use the same word for the little inconsequential stuff as for the really big stuff and we do this despite the fact that we have so many other words; words that in some cases are much more appropriate for a situation. (Say hello, “excuse me” and “pardon me.”)
I apologize.
I didn’t mean to hurt you.
I’ll do better next time.
Please forgive me.
I was wrong.
Please give me a second chance.
Pardon me.
I regret what I did/said.
My bad.
Excuse me.
Please accept my regrets.
Mea culpa.
Earlier in the New Year (that started this past Sunday at sunset), I mentioned that words are one of our super powers – and by that I mean they are one of the siddhis (or “powers”) unique to being human according to Indian philosophy. In fact, the process of asking and/or offering forgiveness is something that utilizes all six (6) of the powers unique to being human.
First, there is uha (“knowledge without doubt, clear understanding, intuitive knowledge”). In a dhamma talk entitled “The Ancient Heart of Forgiveness,” Buddhist teacher Jack Kornfield refers to the act of forgiveness as a “a deep process of the heart, which requires a person to process and honor ”the betrayal of yourself or others, the grief, the anger, the hurt, the fear.” I’ll add to that the need to process and honor the love, expectation, and disappointment that are usually involved in the situation. In order to reach the point where we can truly ask and/or offer forgiveness we have to understand the situation and the underlying emotions. The absolute worst “apologies” ever – and I put that in quotes, because they really aren’t apologies – are conditional and redirect action towards those who have been harmed. For instance, when people say something like, “I’m sorry if you were offended, but…” and/or “I apologize to anyone I may have offended,” they aren’t actually apologizing. The act of asking for and/or offering forgiveness is similar to the act of expressing gratitude: the more specific one can be, the more genuine the act – and this requires truly understanding the situation.
The second “power unique to being human” is shabda (“word”) and it is our ability to not only form a sound, but also to assign meaning that sound; depict that sound and meaning visually; to remember the sound, meaning, and visual depiction and to convey that meaning to others. I think it is obvious how this power comes into play when we are talking about forgiveness and repentance. However, for the record, let me reiterate that the words we use matter because of how we use them! (Also, this is one of those powers where one could say that this is a power other beings in the animal kingdom share with being human. And while this is true, humans have the ability to deliberately and intentionally hone this ability. Consider, also, the power of the written word. A handwritten apology is akin to a love letter.)
Adhyayana is the ability to “study, analyze, and comprehend” and it is directly tied to the first “power unique to being human.” This analytical ability not only allows us to turn inward and gain an understanding of our own intentions (as well as the intentions of others), it also means we can dig deep inside of ourselves and gain a clear understanding of what we are feeling. We can’t always understand how other people are feeling, but we can take a moment to cultivate empathy by considering how we would feel if the shoe were on the other foot. This third power also gives us the ability to understand why one person’s actions, words, and thoughts can hurt us in a way it is hard to get past, while another person’s actions, words, and thoughts feel inconsequential. Finally, it gives us the ability to predict the cause and effect of our thoughts, words, and deeds – which means we have the capacity to not hurt someone and/or to stop making the same mistake over and over again.
“It’s a deep work of the heart that purifies and releases – and somehow permits us to love and be free.”
– quoted from a dhamma talk entitled “The Ancient Heart of Forgiveness” by Jack Kornfield
The fourth “power unique to being human” is dukha-vighata-traya, which means we are born with the ability to eliminate three-fold sorrow (“physical-mental-spiritual suffering”) because we have the ability to understand the cause and the cure of what ails us. Forgiveness and repentance are powerful healing agents. They are a balm to the soul. Letting go of what no longer serves us (or only serves in dividing us) can feel like a cool breeze on a summer day. It’s a clean slate and is like hitting the reset button on a relationship. Remember, as teachers like Jack Kornfield point out, forgiveness is for you: “It’s not for anyone else.”
The final two powers are suhrit-prapti (which is “cultivating a good heart; finding friends”) and dana (“generosity, the ability to give”). I put these two together not because they are less than the others, but because they – along with the fourth – can defy logic. They are, in every tradition, heart practices. The ability to cultivate friendship and emotionally invest in others carries with it the risk of being hurt. There is a reason why the word “passion,” which comes to us from Latin, by way of Old French and Middle English is more closely associated with love (and strong emotions) than with its original meaning “to suffer.” The ability to cultivate a good heart means that we open up to the wisdom that is part of the heart (according to Eastern philosophies) and also that we are capable of thinking beyond our own needs and desires. This last part – the ability to consider the needs and desires of others – is directly tied to our ability to give others what they need, including what is legally ours. We can spend all day considering what material possessions we have that could benefit others, but let us not forget the priceless value of what is in our own hearts. We are the only one who can offer our forgiveness.
“It’s one of the greatest gifts you can give yourself, to forgive. Forgive everybody.”
– Dr. Maya Angelou
Teshuvah (or Tchuvah), the Hebrew word for “repentance, return, turn,” is a big part of the High Holidays. On Yom Kippur, The Day of Atonement, there is even an absolution of vows (every vow). But remember, this is not about self flagellation (or even, really, about condemnation). In offering forgiveness to ourselves and others we are not required to forget or condone bad behavior. Neither are we required to stay in a bad situation. The practice does not require us to be perfect. The practice does, however, require us to open our hearts to the possibility of a new beginning.
“To err is human, to forgive, divine.”
– quoted from “An Essay on Criticism” (line 525) by Alexander Pope
Please join me today (Wednesday, September 28th) 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. You can request an audio recording of this practice via a comment below.
Wednesday’s playlist is available on YouTube and Spotify. [Look for “High Holidays: Sorry”]
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.)
A Joyful Practice 