FTWMI: A Song or 2 For You *REVISED* December 2, 2023
Posted by ajoyfulpractice in Books, Buddhism, Hope, Love, Meditation, Music, Philosophy, Suffering, Vipassana, Yoga.Tags: Ann Patchett, Bel canto, J. R. R. Tolkien, Japanese Embassy, Lima Peru, pranayama, pratyahara, Swami J, Swami Jnaneshvara, vinyasa, Vipassana
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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”]
Click here for links to the music we used during last year’s First Friday Night Special.
“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) ###
Sitting in Grace & FTWMI: “A center of stillness surrounded by silence” July 29, 2023
Posted by ajoyfulpractice in Books, Buddhism, Changing Perspectives, Dharma, Faith, Hope, Life, Meditation, Music, One Hoop, Pain, Peace, Philosophy, Suffering, Tragedy, Vipassana, Wisdom, Writing, Yoga.Tags: 90 seconds, asana, Dag Hammerskjöld, Mahāsī Sayādaw, Markings, meditation, Nobel Peace Prize, Pauline Frederick, Philosophy, Religion, satipatthana, Theraveda Buddhism, United Nations, Värmärken, Vipassana, Waymarks, yoga
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Peace, blessings, and stay hydrated!!!
For Those Who Missed It: This “missing” post for Saturday, July 29th was originally posted in 2020. It includes some updated links. How ever you define “grace,” it can be found in the fact that you can do this practice anywhere…. including at the United Nations. 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.
Check out the “Class Schedules” calendar for upcoming classes.)
“The more faithfully you listen to the voices within you, the better you will hear what is sounding inside.”
– quoted from Markings by Dag Hammerskjöld
Come into a comfortable seated position. You can sit on the floor, your bed, a chair, or a cushion. You can sit on a bench, a stool, or a rock. You can kneel on the floor, a cushion, or a prie-dieu. You can lie down if you must, but make sure you are in a comfortable and stable position, with your back long and your jaw and shoulders relaxed. Let one or both hands rest so that your belly can soften into your hands. Close your eyes, if that is comfortable to you, and do that 90-second thing.
Today, really pay attention to how the soft belly rises and falls and the breath enters and leaves your body. Today, notice the temporal nature of things – how, like your breath, everything begins and ends; changes. Notice how the inhale causes the exhale and how the exhale causes the inhale. Notice any suffering, discomfort, or dis-ease you may be experiencing; and note or name your mental, physical, and emotional experiences, but without commenting or creating a story around the experiences.
Just breathe, with awareness.
This is a specific kind of meditation, meditation that arouses mindfulness.
Vipassanā literally means “to see in a special way” and is often translated into English as “insight.” It is a meditation style/technique, within Theraveda Buddhism, that has also become a tradition (meaning there are people who practice vipassanā, but no other aspects of Buddhism). The original practice, which includes the practice of satipaţţhāna (which is often translated as the “foundation of mindfulness”), was popularized by Mahāsī Sayādaw.
Born today in 1904, Mahāsī Sayādaw was a Burmese Theraveda Buddhist monk. He became a novice at 12 years old, was ordained at age twenty, and earned his degree as a teacher of dhamma in 1941. Upon his ordination, he assumed the name Mahāsī Sayādaw U Sobhana. In his mid-30s, he began teaching the technique of vipassanā in his home village, which was named for a massive drum (known as Mahāsī). He was eventually asked, by the Prime Minister of Burma (in what is now Myanmar), to be a resident teacher in the capital and then to help establish meditation centers throughout Burma (Myanmar), Sri Lanka, Indonesia, and Thailand. By his late 60’s, Mahāsī Sayādaw had trained over 700,000 meditators and by his mid-70’s he was traveling to the West to lead meditation retreats. One of the places where he led retreats was the Insight Meditation Society (IMS), which is now one of the leading meditation centers in the United States.
“We are not permitted to choose the frame of our destiny. But what we put into it is ours.”
– quoted from Markings by Dag Hammerskjöld
One of the great things about practicing vipassanā is that you can practice it anywhere. (You can even practice it standing or walking, even though I didn’t include those options at the beginning.) You can even practice at the United Nations Headquarters in “A Room of Quiet” that was established and designed by a team lead by Dag Hammerskjöld (b. 1905).
“Pray that your loneliness may spur you into finding something to live for, great enough to die for.”
– quoted from Markings by Dag Hammerskjöld
Born today in Sweden, exactly a year after Mahāsī Sayādaw, Hammerskjöld was the second Secretary General of the United Nations and the youngest person to ever hold the position. His second term was cut short when he was killed in an airplane as he traveled to the Congo to broker peace during the Congo Crisis. President John F. Kennedy called him “the greatest statesman of our century” and, he was posthumously awarded the Nobel Peace Prize. In fact, he is the only person to be posthumously awarded the Nobel Peace Prize. After his death, his journal was discovered and published as Värmärken (Markings, or Waymarks in English). The journal starts when Hammerskjöld was 20 years old and continues up until the month before his death.
Even though he thought the journalist who called him for a comment about his appointment to the UN was actually part of an April Fool’s joke, Hammerskjöld was pretty serious about peace. Peace on the inside and peace on the outside. That is why he was so dedicated to the UN’s Meditation Room being “a room of quiet” for all, without the trappings or outward appearance of any particular faith, creed, or religious belief. He led an interfaith group of Christians, Jews, and Muslims who combined their physical and mental efforts as well as financial resources – and he was very hands on. He not only had a hand in the painting, sculpture, and architecture of the room, but also in the fact that there are benches instead of chairs. He even, quite literally, had a hand in the carpet that was laid on the floor and the color that was painted on the walls. He wrote in letters and is quoted in interviews as saying that “This House” (which is how he referenced the UN) “should have one room dedicated to silence in the outward sense and stillness in the inner sense.” He indicated that this silence and stillness was something everyone carried within them and that his aim was “to create in this small room a place where the doors may be open to the infinite lands of thought and prayer.”
Go back to the beginning and do that 90-minute thing. This time, as you sit here and breathe here, noting your experience here, consider that all over the world there are people sitting and breathing, meditating and praying, opening to that same “center of stillness surrounded by silence” that you are opening to within yourself.
“The longest journey is the journey inwards.”
– quoted from Markings by Dag Hammerskjöld
“‘We want to bring back, in this room, the stillness which we have lost in our streets, and in our conference rooms, and to bring it back in a setting in which no noise would impinge on our imagination.’”
– Journalist Pauline Frederick quoting Dag Hammerskjöld (in an interview for the UN Oral History Collection dated June 20, 1986)
The 2023 playlist is available on YouTube and Spotify. [Look for “07292023 Still Breathing, Noting, Here & at the UN”]
The 2020 playlist is also available on YouTube and Spotify. [Look for “07292020 Breathing, Noting, Here & at the UN”]
“Thou who art over us,
Thou who art one of us,
Thou who art –
Also within us,
May all see Thee – in me also,
May I prepare the way for Thee,
May I thank Thee for all that shall fall to my lot,
May I also not forget the needs of others,
Keep me in Thy love
As Thou wouldst that all should be kept in mine.
May everything in this my being be directed to Thy glory
And may I never despair.
For I am under Thy hand,
And in Thee is all power and goodness.
Give me a pure heart – that I may see Thee,
A humble heart – that I may hear Thee,
A heart of love – that I may serve Thee,
A heart of faith – that I may abide in Thee. Amen”
– prayer/meditation/poem from Markings by Dag Hammerskjöld
### PEACE IN, PEACE OUT ###
Breathe As If… (mostly the music and links) December 2, 2022
Posted by ajoyfulpractice in Books, Buddhism, Hope, Love, Meditation, Music, Suffering, Vipassana, Yoga.Tags: Ann Patchett, Bel canto, Japanese Embassy, Lima Peru, pratyahara, Pratyāhāra, vinyasa, vinyāsa, Vipassana, Vipassanā
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“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.Click here to read more of the post from 2020.
*
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 Song or 2 For You (the “missing” post) December 2, 2020
Posted by ajoyfulpractice in Books, Buddhism, Hope, Love, Meditation, Music, Philosophy, Suffering, Vipassana, Yoga.Tags: Ann Patchett, Bel canto, J. R. R. Tolkien, Japanese Embassy, Lima Peru, pranayama, pratyahara, Pratyāhāra, Swami J, Swami Jnaneshvara, vinyasa, vinyāsa, Vipassana, Vipassanā
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“The timing of the electrical failure seemed dramatic and perfectly correct, as if the lights had said, “You have no need for sight. Listen.”
– quoted from Bel Canto by Ann Patchett
There was a time, not too long ago really, when I felt like I had a certain amount of control over how I began a practice and, therefore, how I told the story that was the class. Sometimes, in part because of my history in technical theatre, I relished days like today when I could combine my thirst for the practice with my love of literature and of the performing arts. I relished creating a dramatic moment when some of my favorite things converged and collapsed into one moment. But, alas, things change and in rolling with the punches I am reminded of the original intention of the story. No matter the drama, it was always about love and the practice (and love of the practice).
In Yoga and in Buddhism, there are techniques that became so popular they are now seen as styles or traditions. There are people, in both cases, who practice the technique as if it is the whole practice. The classic example in Yoga is vinyasā – which literally means “to place in a special way” and involves sequencing poses that exaggerate the body’s natural tendencies (to expand on the inhale and flex on the exhale). In Buddhism, the classic example is vipassanā – which literally means “to see in a special way” and involves paying attention to the way the body responds to the breath (see above). Notice the common root in the Sanskrit words? Notice also the connection to the breath and the body?
There is more these two things have in common, but the most common thing may be people’s habit of translating them into English words that (sometimes) barely hint at their original meaning. So, vinyasā becomes “flow” and vipassanā becomes “insight.” The English words are true, but also make it easy to miss the point and also to miss two key elements of both practices: breath and sense withdrawal.
“She sang as if she was saving the life of every person in the room.”
– quoted from Bel Canto by Ann Patchett
Imagine singing as if you were saving lives; imagine the breath awareness and control that would take. When they hear the words bel canto, many people outside of classical music think of the novel written by Ann Patchett, who was born today in 1963. The novel is based on the 1996 – 1997 hostage crisis that took place at the Japanese Embassy in Lima Peru (Dec 17th – April 22nd). It details the interactions of the terrorists and their hostages – including a world renowned opera singer. Opera and music are central themes throughout the novel, which is named for the Italian term for “beautiful singing” or “beautiful song.” The thing is; bel canto, like vinyasā and vipassanā, is a technique that became known as a style – and it requires control (and awareness) of the breath.
At one time, “bel canto” was just a term applied to beautiful singing – much like some of the music on today’s playlist – but specifically beautiful Italian singing. During the later 18th and early 19th century, however, people started using it in reference to a very specific type of Italian singing, which emphasized even tone; legato (“tied together” or long) phrasing deliberately juxtaposed to staccato (“detached” or short) phrasing – which sometimes also involved dramatic tempo changes; and vibrato (“vibrating” or pulsating). There was also an emphasis on emphasis (or accent) and how emotion was being conveyed. The technique was sometimes applied (and understood) outside of Italian music, but often with less drama attached to it.
“Love was action. It came to you. It was not a choice.”
– quoted from Bel Canto by Ann Patchett
By the end of the 19th century, people were using the term “bel canto” to specifically distinguish a certain style of opera and classical music (mostly associated with Italian and French composers) from operatic and classical music that was described as “weightier, more powerful… speech-inflicted” (and mostly associated with German composers). Similarly, as we moved into the middle and late 20th century, people started using the term “vinyasā” – and even “vipassanā” – to distinguish one type of practice from other traditional styles of practice.
In the parallels I am drawing, one of the things to note is what gets lost in translation. Sometimes, without awareness of why we move the way we move in vinyasā, people just think it’s about putting poses together and moving as swiftly as one can. In fact, there are people who are drawn to that type of practice for the very same reason it turns some people off. Similarly, some people say that they “only practice vipassanā” as a way to distance themselves from Buddhism (or their understanding of cultural Buddhism). The things is, as I see it, the point of these techniques was to go deeper into the overall practice – and the minute you distance yourself from the intention of the practice is the minute you start spiraling into the “hear be dragons” part of the experience. Sure, it is cool to explore what is considered unchartered territory, but it must always be done (to paraphrase J. R. R. Tolkien) with awareness of the dragons / dangers.
“‘Most of the time, we’re loved for what we can do rather than for who we are. It’s not such a bad thing, being loved for what you can do.’
‘But the other is better,’ Gen said.
Roxane pulled her feet into the chair and hugged her knees to her chest. ‘Better. I hate to say better, but it is. If someone loves you for what you can do then it’s flattering, but why do you love them? If someone loves you for who you are then they have to know you, which means you have to know them.’”
– Roxanne Cross (the soprano) and Gen Watanabe (the translator) in Bel Canto by Ann Patchett
One of the “dangers” of being in close quarters for long periods of time, as people were during the hostage crisis and in the novel (and as we are now), is that people’s best and worst qualities get exaggerated. It becomes harder, sometimes impossible, to avoid conflict and other times it becomes harder (sometimes impossible) to ignore someone’s bad behavior. Similarly, however, we are confronted with people’s good behavior and the heart of people – if we’re paying attention and if we are open to that possibility. Certain situations are opportunities for more trauma and drama – as we have seen during the pandemic. These same situations are opportunities for forgiveness and healing. But because the lines get blurred with such close proximity, it can all happen at the same time and with the same people. And, I find, that these are the times when we need to withdraw a bit.
I know, I know, you’re thinking, “But where would I go? Where can I go when everything is closed and winter is upon us?” Well, I’m glad you asked.
Some people escape inside of books, some inside of music or movies, and some inside of themselves (through practices like meditation, prayer, yoga, Tai Chi, or Qigong). The idea here is not to escape as if you are running away from home. The idea is to take a moment to turn inward, reflect, and remind yourself of what is in your heart. It’s also a way to remind yourself of what you value and of your guiding principles. Sure, it is harder to do these things during the pandemic. However, it’s harder to do these things if you are in prison or in the middle of a hostage situation – and yet, people do!
I mentioned earlier that sense withdrawal is one of the key elements shared by vinyasā and vipassanā. In the Yoga Philosophy, pratyāhāra (“withdrawing the senses”) is the fifth limb of the practice. Swami Jnaneshvara Bharati, of the Himalayan tradition, explains that placement in the philosophy by writing that “The willingness or unwillingness to withdraw attention from sensory experience is a significant dividing line between those who experience true meditation and those who experience only physical relaxation.” In other words, in order to focus, concentrate, and meditate in a single point – to the point that we are completely absorbed into (and merged with) the object our focus – we must let go of everything else.
Pratyāhāra is not, as some people believe, forcefully ignoring something or someone. Instead, this is a gentle releasing of awareness. It is something we already do unconsciously or subconsciously when we are really invested in a project or a person. In those times, we may really enjoy the experience. On the flip side, sometimes, the letting go is neither gentle nor peaceful. Sometimes, it is unexpected and jarring and creates a great deal of stress and strain. On a certain level, over the last few months, we’ve all experienced both kinds of letting go. The question becomes, how have you perceived it (the letting go) and what have you received in turn?
“It was too much work to remember things you might not have again, and so one by one they opened up their hands and let them go.”
– quoted from Bel Canto by Ann Patchett
Please join me today (Wednesday, December 2nd) at 4:30 PM or 7:15 PM for a yoga practice on Zoom. Use the link from the “Class Schedules” calendar if you run into any problems checking into the class. You will need to register for the 7:15 PM class if you have not already done so. Give yourself extra time to log in if you have not upgraded to Zoom 5.0. You can request an audio recording of this practice via a comment below or by emailing myra (at) ajoyfulpractice.com.
Wednesday’s playlist is available on YouTube and Spotify.
In the spirit of generosity (“dana”), the Zoom classes, recordings, and blog posts are freely given and freely received. If you are able to support these teachings, please do so as your heart moves you. (NOTE: You can donate even if you are “attending” a practice that is not designated as a “Common Ground Meditation Center” practice, or you can purchase class(es). Donations are tax deductible; class purchases are not necessarily deductible.)
“But together they moved through the world quite easily, two small halves of courage making a brave whole.”
– quoted from Bel Canto by Ann Patchett
### HOW AWARE ARE YOU THAT YOU’RE BREATHING? ###
“A center of stillness surrounded by silence” July 29, 2020
Posted by ajoyfulpractice in Books, Buddhism, Changing Perspectives, Dharma, Faith, Hope, Life, Meditation, Music, One Hoop, Pain, Peace, Philosophy, Suffering, Tragedy, Vipassana, Wisdom, Writing, Yoga.Tags: 90 seconds, asana, Dag Hammerskjöld, Mahāsī Sayādaw, Markings, meditation, Nobel Peace Prize, Pauline Frederick, Philosophy, Religion, satipatthana, Theraveda Buddhism, United Nations, Värmärken, Vipassana, Waymarks, yoga
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“The more faithfully you listen to the voices within you, the better you will hear what is sounding inside.”
– quoted from Markings by Dag Hammerskjöld
Come into a comfortable seated position. You can sit on the floor, your bed, a chair, or a cushion. You can sit on a bench, a stool, or a rock. You can kneel on the floor, a cushion, or a prie-dieu. You can lie down if you must, but make sure you are in a comfortable and stable position, with your back long and your jaw and shoulders relaxed. Let one or both hands rest so that your belly can soften into your hands. Close your eyes, if that is comfortable to you, and do that 90-second thing.
Today, really pay attention to how the soft belly rises and falls and the breath enters and leaves your body. Today, notice the temporal nature of things – how, like your breath, everything begins and ends; changes. Notice how the inhale causes the exhale and how the exhale causes the inhale. Notice any suffering, discomfort, or dis-ease you may be experiencing; and note or name your mental, physical, and emotional experiences, but without commenting or creating a story around the experiences.
Just breathe, with awareness.
This is a specific kind of meditation, meditation that arouses mindfulness.
Vipassanā literally means “to see in a special way” and is often translated into English as “insight.” It is a meditation style/technique, within Theraveda Buddhism, that has also become a tradition (meaning there are people who practice vipassanā, but no other aspects of Buddhism). The original practice, which includes the practice of satipaţţhāna (which is often translated as the “foundation of mindfulness”), was popularized by Mahāsī Sayādaw.
Born today in 1904, Mahāsī Sayādaw was a Burmese Theraveda Buddhist monk. He became a novice at 12 years old, was ordained at age twenty, and earned his degree as a teacher of dhamma in 1941. Upon his ordination, he assumed the name Mahāsī Sayādaw U Sobhana. In his mid-30s, he began teaching the technique of vipassanā in his home village, which was named for a massive drum (known as Mahāsī). He was eventually asked, by the Prime Minister of Burma (in what is now Myanmar), to be a resident teacher in the capital and then to help establish meditation centers throughout Burma (Myanmar), Sri Lanka, Indonesia, and Thailand. By his late 60’s, Mahāsī Sayādaw had trained over 700,000 meditators and by his mid-70’s he was traveling to the West to lead meditation retreats. One of the places where he led retreats was the Insight Meditation Society (IMS), which is now one of the leading meditation centers in the United States.
“We are not permitted to choose the frame of our destiny. But what we put into it is ours.”
– quoted from Markings by Dag Hammerskjöld
One of the great things about practicing vipassanā is that you can practice it anywhere. (You can even practice it standing or walking, even though I didn’t include those options at the beginning.) You can even practice at the United Nations Headquarters in “A Room of Quiet” that was established and designed by a team lead by Dag Hammerskjöld (b. 1905).
“Pray that your loneliness may spur you into finding something to live for, great enough to die for.”
– quoted from Markings by Dag Hammerskjöld
Born today in Sweden, exactly a year after Mahāsī Sayādaw, Hammerskjöld was the second Secretary General of the United Nations and the youngest person to ever hold the position. His second term was cut short when he was killed in an airplane as he traveled to the Congo to broker peace during the Congo Crisis. President John F. Kennedy called him “the greatest statesman of our century” and, he was posthumously awarded the Nobel Peace Prize. In fact, he is the only person to be posthumously awarded the Nobel Peace Prize. After his death, his journal was discovered and published as Värmärken (Markings, or Waymarks in English). The journal starts when Hammerskjöld was 20 years old and continues up until the month before his death.
Even though he thought the journalist who called him for a comment about his appointment to the UN was actually part of an April Fool’s joke, Hammerskjöld was pretty serious about peace. Peace on the inside and peace on the outside. That is why he was so dedicated to the UN’s Meditation Room being “a room of quiet” for all, without the trappings or outward appearance of any particular faith, creed, or religious belief. He led an interfaith group of Christians, Jews, and Muslims who combined their physical and mental efforts as well as financial resources – and he was very hands on. He not only had a hand in the painting, sculpture, and architecture of the room, but also in the fact that there are benches instead of chairs. He even, quite literally, had a hand in the carpet that was laid on the floor and the color that was painted on the walls. He wrote in letters and is quoted in interviews as saying that “This House” (which is how he referenced the UN) “should have one room dedicated to silence in the outward sense and stillness in the inner sense.” He indicated that this silence and stillness was something everyone carried within them and that his aim was “to create in this small room a place where the doors may be open to the infinite lands of thought and prayer.”
Go back to the beginning and do that 90-minute thing. This time, as you sit here and breathe here, noting your experience here, consider that all over the world there are people sitting and breathing, meditating and praying, opening to that same “center of stillness surrounded by silence” that you are opening to within yourself.
“The longest journey is the journey inwards.”
– quoted from Markings by Dag Hammerskjöld
“‘We want to bring back, in this room, the stillness which we have lost in our streets, and in our conference rooms, and to bring it back in a setting in which no noise would impinge on our imagination.’”
– Journalist Pauline Frederick quoting Dag Hammerskjöld (in an interview for the UN Oral History Collection dated June 20, 1986)
Please join me today (Wednesday, July 29th) at 4:30 PM or 7:15 PM for a meditative yoga practice on Zoom. Use the link from the “Class Schedules” calendar if you run into any problems checking into the class. You will need to register for the 7:15 PM class if you have not already done so. Give yourself extra time to log in if you have not upgraded to Zoom 5.0. You can request an audio recording of this practice via a comment below.
Wednesday’s playlist is available on YouTube and Spotify.
“Thou who art over us,
Thou who art one of us,
Thou who art –
Also within us,
May all see Thee – in me also,
May I prepare the way for Thee,
May I thank Thee for all that shall fall to my lot,
May I also not forget the needs of others,
Keep me in Thy love
As Thou wouldst that all should be kept in mine.
May everything in this my being be directed to Thy glory
And may I never despair.
For I am under Thy hand,
And in Thee is all power and goodness.
Give me a pure heart – that I may see Thee,
A humble heart – that I may hear Thee,
A heart of love – that I may serve Thee,
A heart of faith – that I may abide in Thee. Amen”
– prayer/meditation/poem from Markings by Dag Hammerskjöld
### PEACE IN, PEACE OUT ###
How We Learn To Feel (and what we learn from feeling) May 27, 2020
Posted by ajoyfulpractice in Uncategorized.Tags: asana, beauty, compassion, Edward Bradford Titchener, empathy, Jim Chee, Joe Leaphorn, matter, Nature, Navajo Way, Rachel Carson, Rosalind Dymond Cartwright, Silent Spring, sympathy, Tony Hillerman, vinyasa, Vipassana
2 comments
“But it seems reasonable to believe — and I do believe — that the more clearly we can focus our attention on the wonders and realities of the universe about us the less taste we shall have for the destruction of our race. Wonder and humility are wholesome emotions, and they do not exist side by side with a lust for destruction.”
– Rachel Carson accepting the John Burroughs Medal (April 1952) and printed in Lost Woods: The Discovered Writing of Rachel Carson
“It had been Nashibitti who had taught Leaphorn the words and legends of the Blessing Way, taught him what the Holy People had told the Earth Surface People about how to live, taught him the lessons of the Changing Woman – that the only goal for man was beauty, and that beauty was found only in harmony, and that this harmony of nature was a matter of dazzling complexity.”
– from Dance Hall of the Dead (Navajo Mysteries #2) by Tony Hillerman
This week, as we step back and really take a look at “role models,” the roles of our ancestors and elders, and the lessons they’ve taught us about how to live and interact with ourselves and each other, I thought we might take a moment to consider how we’ve learned to live and interact with the planet we call home. Behavioral scientists, and people who are interested in the science of our behaviors, are quick to point to incidences of animal mutilation in childhood whenever someone perpetrates great violence against humanity. There were signs, you see. And, sometimes, we missed the signs or didn’t pay enough attention to the signs.
A recent incident in New York sheds an interesting light on this subject, especially when it is viewed through the lens of everything else that is happening around us. In a situation where one person is committing emotional violence against another person and physical violence against a pet, some people quickly turn their focus on the pet’s distress. Others condemn such a reaction. However, it’s a very real and honest reaction. Rather than condemning how someone else reacts to trauma, I suggest we go deeper.
“‘Don’t think a man don’t care about one goat because he’s got a thousand of ‘em,’ Hosteen Nakai would say. ‘He’s got a thousand because he cares more about goats than he cares about his relatives.’”
– from People of Darkness (Navajo Mysteries #4) by Tony Hillerman
People who react to the pet’s distress (what they can see as well as hear), as opposed to the other person’s distress (what they may not be able to hear or completely understand as they cannot see the person) are still expressing empathy. This is important, because when scientist, writers, and lay people talk about childhood instances of animal mutilation part of their focus is on a lack of empathy. So, first and foremost consider the importance of empathy. While empathy is a natural emotion , we learn lessons throughout our lives about whether or not to trust – let alone engage – emotions like empathy. If we don’t trust our own emotions and intuition, it’s harder – almost impossible – to trust the emotions of others.
EMPATHY [Greek > German] – The action of understanding, being aware of, being sensitive to, and vicariously experiencing the feelings, thoughts, and experience of another…without having the feelings, thoughts, and experiences fully communicated in an objective and explicit manner.
SYMPATHY [Greek >> Latin] – Feelings of pity and sorrow for someone else’s misfortune.
COMPASSION [Latin>> Old French > Middle English] – To suffer with.
There is a difference between empathy, sympathy, and compassion – and the difference is critical. Compassion and sympathy are a much older words than empathy. Compassion refers to our ability to understand another’s pain and suffering, and to simultaneously have the desire that the other’s pain and suffering ends. Sympathy holds multiple meanings, including “having an affinity, association, or relationship between persons or things wherein whatever affects one similarly affects the other” and “a feeling of loyalty; tendency to favor or support.” When we speak in terms of the emotional experience of sympathy, however, there is a layer of pity. That is to say, our feelings of sympathy are more often than not associated with the feeling that someone of something is beneath us: we feel sorry for them. Furthermore, while we may feel sorry for someone, we may not every feel or express the desire that their pain and suffering ends. We may not ever make the connection between what they feel and what we can feel.
Empathy, on the other hand, is the emotion that bridges the gap between what we are feeling and what another is feeling. Coined (from German) by English psychologist Edward Bradford Titchener, the word “empathy” was used in the early 1900’s to describe the process of projecting one’s own emotions (and thoughts) onto another person or object. This emotional projection was considered a kind of animation or emotional play that allowed one to feel kinship (or sympathy) with another. Over time (and thanks in part to the work of experimental psychologist and sleep expert Rosalind Dymond Cartwright, in collaboration with her mentor, sociologist Leonard Cottrell), the word “empathy” became associated with the final experience: feeling the same as another, without experiencing what the other experiences.
“‘I didn’t want to believe it. Too many old friends are dying. I didn’t really think I could learn anything about that diamond out here. I just wanted to see if I could bring back some old memories…. Maybe it would help me get into harmony with living with so many of my friends gone.’”
– from Skeleton Man (Navajo Mysteries #17) by Tony Hillerman
Some of Dr. Cartwright’s research focused on how empathy related to a patient’s “need to change” and ability to progress in therapy. So, there is the even deeper side to the conversation on empathy. The role empathy plays in allowing us to put ourselves in someone else’s shoes may also be the role it plays in our ability to change.
As you consider that, also consider the last time you paused and really considered why you react to what you can see more than what you feel?
Writers and other artists are in the business of creating work that cultivates empathy. It’s why most of us can say, would say, we have never been a dog – but on a certain level we can imagine a dog’s life (as there are plenty of books and movies that have encouraged that viewpoint). Rachel Carson (born today in 1907) started Silent Spring with a parable, in part to elicit empathy for Nature before she started getting into the science. Tony Hillerman (born today in 1925) was a veteran and a journalist who wrote 18 novels about Navajo police officers and their role in protecting the people, the heritage, and the landscape within their keeping. If you miss the fact that Joe Leaphorn and Jim Chee are environmental and cultural gatekeepers, you missed part of what made Hillerman’s work so emotionally compelling.
“‘Everything is connected. The wing of the corn beetle affects the direction of the wind, the way the sand drifts, the way the light reflects into the eye of man beholding his reality. All is part of totality, and in this totality man finds his hozro, his way of walking in harmony, with beauty all around him.’”
– from The Ghostway (Navajo Mysteries #6) by Tony Hillerman
“In these troubled times it is a wholesome and necessary thing for us to turn again to the earth and in the contemplation of her beauties to know the sense of wonder and humility. There is modern truth to the ancient wisdom of the psalmist: `I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my help.’”
– from Rachel Carson’s original submission to “Words to Live By” for This Week Magazine (1951)
The question now becomes, when was the last time you put yourself in the shoes of someone you perceive to be different from you? When was the last time you imagined the life of someone whose life experience and life lessons are very different – or may seem very different – from yours? When was the last time you empathized without sympathizing (or pitying) another?
These are tricky questions that lead to a tricky conversation. And, while I say “conversation,” understand that the conversation is mostly an internal dialogue. Discernment, recognizing the movements of one’s own heart, is an internal process. Sure, we can have conversation with one another, but that requires gut-wrenching honesty. In order to have that gut-wrenching honesty with another person, we must first have it with ourselves. And that’s the tricky part: gut-wrenching honesty is gut-wrenching for a reason; it’s painful and pain is one of those things we want to avoid at all costs. So, rather than truly feel another’s pain – rather than truly feel our own pain – we “pity the fool” and go on about our day.
“We stand now where two roads diverge. But unlike the roads in Robert Frost’s familiar poem, they are not equally fair. The road we have long been traveling is deceptively easy, a smooth superhighway on which we progress with great speed, but at its end lies disaster. The other fork of the road — the one less traveled by — offers our last, our only chance to reach a destination that assures the preservation of the earth.”
– from Silent Spring by Rachel Carson
“It was not a Navajo concept, this idea of adjusting nature to human needs. The Navajo adjusted himself to remain in harmony with the universe. When nature withheld the rain, the Navajo sought the pattern of this phenomenon – as he sought the pattern of all things – to find its beauty and live in harmony with it. Now Leaphorn sought the pattern in the conduct of a man who had tried to kill a policemen rather than accepting a speeding ticket.”
– from Listening Woman (Navajo Mysteries #3) by Tony Hillerman
In Coyote Waits (one of my favorite Leaphorn and Chee mysteries), Hillerman wrote, “‘I think from where we stand the rain seems random. If we stand somewhere else, we see the order in it.” The Sanskrit word vinyasa means “to place in a special way” and shares a root with vipassana, which means “to see in a special way.” The practice is all about order, and also about what we think (and see) because of where we stand. It also, gives us an opportunity to stand (and see) in another place/way and to find harmony. Remember, we cannot understand what our minds have not shown us.
Please join me today (Wednesday, May 27th) at 4:30 PM or 7:15 PM for a practice and reflection on what we’ve learned about interacting with harmony and beauty. 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.
Wednesday’s playlist is available on YouTube and Spotify.
Don’t forget that you can request an audio recording of any class via a comment below. If you have been thinking about joining us, but haven’t been able to work it out, this is the week to request a class recording. If one of the themes from this week doesn’t immediately resonate, I am happy to offer a suggestion.
“‘Terrible drought, crops dead, sheep dying. Spring dried up. No water. The Hopi, and the Christian, maybe the Moslem, they pray for rain. The Navajo has the proper ceremony done to restore himself to harmony with the drought. You see what I mean. The system is designed to recognize what’s beyond human power to change, and then to change the human’s attitude to be content with the inevitable. ’”
– from Sacred Clowns (Navajo Mysteries #11) by Tony Hillerman
“Those who contemplate the beauty of the earth find reserves of strength that will endure as long as life lasts. There is something infinitely healing in the repeated refrains of nature — the assurance that dawn comes after night, and spring after winter.”
– from Silent Spring by Rachel Carson
If you are thinking about suicide, worried about a friend or loved one, or would like emotional support, you can call 1-800-273-TALK (8255). You can also call the TALK line if you are struggling with addiction or involved in an abusive relationship. The Lifeline network is free, confidential, and available to all 24/7. YOU CAN TALK ABOUT ANYTHING.
A Joyful Practice 